Roy Blakeley in the Haunted Camp Part 10

"No joking," said Warde. "I was--"

"I never joke," said Roy, "except from Mondays to Sat.u.r.days, and on Sundays, morning, afternoon and evening."

Warde tried again, "I was going to ask you about test four."

"I'll tell you about it," said the irrepressible Pee-wee.

"How about writing the satisfactory account?"

"It doesn't include worms and ginger snaps," said Roy.

"But what's the usual way?" Warde persisted.

Seeing his new member to be serious and knowing with what a fine conscience Warde sought every honor, Roy answered him with the best knowledge he had.

"This is the way Mr. Ellsworth says," he answered. "You must describe everything that might be helpful to your troop or to other troops or to the whole country, maybe. That's the way it is. Everything that's important or unusual you must notice.

"Mostly Mr. Ellsworth or one of the local council in Bridgeboro goes over the ground and sees if the account is satisfactory. In some troops they don't do that. If it's just written up all right they say it's all right and let it go at that. But Mr. Ellsworth says it isn't just the description that counts; it's whether you notice everything. It isn't just knowing how to write. That's just being a good author. The other is being a good scout. See?"

"Some scouts think they are authors," said Pee-wee.

"The pleasure is mine," said Roy. "I'm going to keep on writing our adventures as long as I have any paper. Then I'm going to buy some more."

"I'm sorry for the fellow that buys the books," said Pee-wee.

"So am I," said Roy, "as long as you're in the books."

"That's what I meant," said Warde, trying to keep his companions on the subject. "The description is a scout test?"

"Anyway, it is in our troop," said Roy. "Some scoutmasters just take the description and if it's good they say all right. But Mr. Ellsworth and Mr. Kinney, he's councilman, they're crazy about hiking. They usually take a sprint over the ground and most always they see something that the scout forgot to mention. That doesn't mean they'd turn him down though. You should worry, you'll get away with it all right."

Roy had no doubt of that, and Pee-wee had no doubt of anything which made for the glory of others. But they both noticed that during the rest of their hike Warde was watchful and preoccupied, occasionally jotting something down but oftener storing it in his clear, fine memory. He was taking no chances and they knew it. Here was his opportunity, he had grasped it just in the moment when it seemed to be pa.s.sing from him, and he was resolved that before he laid his head upon his balsam couch that night he would be able to call himself a scout of the first cla.s.s....

CHAPTER XIV

BAFFLED?

After a hike of about eight miles, part way across country and part way along roads, the three scouts reached the beautiful Woodcliff Lake which lies in a northwesterly direction from the old camp. Upon its sh.o.r.e they rested and ate the compact little lunch which they had brought. The afternoon sun flickered on the waters, the gentle slope across the lake was clad in the rich green of the midsummertime, not a boat was to be seen upon that clear forbidden expanse, and no sound was there in all the quiet country round about, save only the elated voice of an angler on the causeway as he pulled up his line with a fish wriggling on the end of it.

It is the duty of Woodcliff Lake to supply water to many thousands of homes and the quietude of its sh.o.r.es and water breathes a kind of cleanliness and purity, which imparts to the lake a character quite its own. An unique feature of it is the causeway which bisects it, forming twin lakes, as it seems to the nearby beholder. But from a distant elevation this straight clean roadway across the very center of the lake stands out in bold relief, having none of the appearance of a bridge nor yet of a dam. From this causeway people are permitted to fish and their good luck is contemplated enviously by auto parties pa.s.sing to and fro.

The scouts had no difficulty in finding the home of Miss Helen Shirley Bates in this fair neighborhood. They were told to go up a road till they came to another road and to go up that road till they saw a gray house, etc., which direction brought them at last face to face with an electric b.u.t.ton which Pee-wee pushed.

By the luck which he claimed to be his, a girl of perhaps nineteen or twenty came to the door, who proved to be none other than the young lady of the calling card. Here, however, Pee-wee's luck deserted him.

"We're boy scouts and this is your card," said the young spokesman. "Do you like fudge?" he added, producing also a specimen of his confectionery skill.

"Oh I just adore it," said the girl, "but where did you get my card?

Won't you sit down?"

The scouts were glad to rest in the comfortable wicker chairs on the deep, shady porch, and here the girl listened to Pee-wee's graphic account of his finding of the old wallet. He explained that it was his regular custom to find things and that this need give her no surprise.

"But to think that it had my card in it," she said; "and that it has been stuck away in that damp, spooky place for two years. I think it's _just wonderful_ for you to come and find me. And I think it's lovely for you to want to send the letter to that soldier's mother; oh I think it's just _fine_."

"Scouts have to do good turns," Pee-wee said.

"It makes me feel as if I can just see that soldier now," she said, reading the old letter. "And to think he was on his way here. But I just don't know any more about him than you do because he never got here. I just don't know a _single thing_ about him."

"Not even his name?" Warde asked, hopefully.

"Not even his name. You see, I'll tell you how it was," she continued, drawing her chair a little closer to them. "All the people around here used to have soldiers from camp to dinner on Sundays."

"I know, they did that in Bridgeboro where we live," said Warde. "We had a couple of them one Sunday."

"We just sent word to the Y.M.C.A. that we would be glad to have two soldiers come. I sent my card because I thought that would be nicer. We did that several times, mother and I. And we never knew the names of the soldiers till they got here. The camp officials wouldn't let us invite them by name. It was lots of fun to see what kind of boys came. Some of them belonged 'way, 'way out west. Once when we were expecting two, only one came. He said the other was going to hike here. But the other one never came. We _waited_ and _waited_ and _waited_, and then we had dinner."

The boys' hopes fell at this recital. The girl, too, seemed to take her inability to help them very much to heart. The boys all recalled now that patriotic custom of the wartime of inviting soldiers from the camp to enjoy a little interval of home life at week ends. The rule which prevented hospitable citizens from making choice of their guests gave the kindly custom the pleasant character of a game of chance. One never knew what one would draw out of the camp grab-bag.

"I--I never thought about that," Roy said plainly disappointed.

"Do you remember the name of the soldier that did come?" Warde asked.

"No I don't," she confessed, regretfully. "You see we had two each Sunday for a while. I think it's just too bad you can't send the letter."

"Maybe it doesn't make so much difference," said Warde. "He's home by this time, or perhaps he never went over."

But this did not impress her and she could only say, "Oh I think it's just too bad. It's such a _lovely_ letter. I'd just like to see that home. I just feel as if I _can_ see it--the broken window and all. And to think of all the trouble you have gone to. Oh I _wish_ I could help you."

"It's all right," Roy said; "you should worry."

"Maybe you think we're foiled," said Pee-wee, "but that shows how much you know about scouts. As long as we've got a broken window and a dog that must have a collar because he's supposed to be tied, to go by--and a puddle and some things.... Do you know what those things are? They're clues."

"Oh but you can _never_ do it," she said.

"Do you want to do a good turn?" Pee-wee asked.

"Indeed I do," she said, anxiously.

"Do you know what a legal doc.u.ment is?"

"_Good night_," said Roy. "You're not going to get out a warrant for him?"

"That shows how much you know," said Pee-wee. "I want a great big long envelope like a legal doc.u.ment comes in. Did you ever see a deed?"

"Sure," said Roy, "a kind deed, I've done a lot of them."