Roy Blakeley's Adventures in Camp Part 16

"_You_--_bet_--_your_--_sweet_--_life_, that's all I'm ever going to admit," I said.

"Bully for you," he said; "you're about the best little scout I ever knew--next to Skinny."

"I can stick up for a friend, that's one thing," I said.

"Through thick and thin?" he asked me; "in spite of circ.u.mstantial evidence?"

"I should worry about circ.u.mstantial evidence," I told him. "Why should I care about circ.u.mstantial evidence? What did circ.u.mstantial evidence ever do for _me_, I'd like to know?"

Then he began to laugh. Gee, _I_ didn't know what he was laughing at.

"Nothing would shake you, huh?" he said.

"Believe me, it would take an earthquake," I told him.

He looked all around and moved the stick around on the shingles, as if he was thinking.

Then he said, "Well, Skinny went over to the Hudson to that house-boat you fellows came up on. He followed the old bed of Bowl Valley creek.

Now don't get excited. He had as much right to go there as you have. He was all worked up, and he isn't just exactly right in his head, you know that. He just wanted to go home and be all alone by himself. The house-boat was the only home he knew. I didn't go on the boat, because I had no right to, and because there was no need to. I didn't know he had any key. I don't believe he hid anything, if that's what you're thinking about. I tracked him because I wanted to make sure he was safe and know what he was doing. As soon as I saw where he was headed for, I just beat it back. Nothing to it, Blakeley; don't worry."

"But now you know he had a key to a locker," I said.

He just said, "Well, what of it? I believe in him and there you are. I wouldn't care if he had keys to all the banks and safe deposit vaults in the United States."

Gee, it just kind of gave me a thrill, the way he spoke. I said, "Anyway, now I know that I like you. I ought to have had sense enough to know before."

Then he said, "You see, Blakeley, Skinny's a mighty queer little proposition. If it wasn't for that scoutmaster you fellows have, I'd say he would never make a regular tip-top scout. But I think that Mr.

What's-his-name--Ellsworth--is a wonder."

"Believe me, you said something," I told him.

"You know yourself," he said, "how that kid talks--shouts, I mean.

Stealing silver, picking pockets! What are all these fellows to think?

Most of the fellows here come from good folks. They don't understand a poor little codger like Skinny who is half crazy, because he's been half starved. You know yourself that he doesn't fit in here. I don't say he isn't going to. But I'm good at arithmetic, Blakeley--"

"Gee, you're a peach on tracking, too," I said.

"Well, and I know how to put two and two together," he said. "I knew, I just felt it in my bones, that that gold dust twin with his swell bathing suit and his waterproof mackinaw was going to lose his roll in the water. He carried it loose in his mackinaw pocket--a camper, mind you. He had a wad big enough to pay off the national debt, and I knew it would tumble out and it did. Skinny's one of those poor little codgers that's always unlucky. He happened to be there. He happened to have a key. He happened to go to the house-boat. I got hold of his tracks just because I didn't want him to come to any harm while he was all worked up. The reason I didn't say anything about where he went was, because there are a whole lot of fellows in this camp that would put two and two together and get five. Understand? They'd say he went to hide Goldie's freight shipment of dollar bills. So I kept still. No harm in keeping still."

"Oh, cracky," I said, "but I like you. _I'm_ keeping still about something too and you can bet I know how to keep my mouth shut. You can just bet I'd do anything for a friend, I would."

"Well, Skinny's got a good friend," he said.

"I didn't mean Skinny," I told him; "but he has got two good friends, anyway, and that's us, hey?"

He just said, "That's us," and then he slid right down the roof and jumped off the edge, awful funny like.

CHAPTER XXIII

TELLS ABOUT HOW I DID A GOOD TURN

That night Mr. Ellsworth wasn't at camp-fire and n.o.body knew where he was. All the time I had a funny feeling and I kept looking away from the fire and up the dark path to see if he was coming. I wasn't listening to the yarns at all.

And that night I didn't sleep--I just kind of felt that something was wrong. You know what I mean--I could just feel it in the air. The next morning was nice and bright and sunny and it seemed good, because there had been such a lot of rain lately. On my way over to breakfast, I stopped outside of Council Shack to read the bulletin board and see what was on for the day. I saw that the Elks were going stalking, and I was glad of that, because I knew Skinny liked stalking and I was glad he was with them at last. But just the same I felt kind of funny all the while I was having eats.

Afterward Artie Van Arlen (he's head of the Ravens) came and told me that Mr. Ellsworth wanted to see me. I felt awful shaky. When I went into Council Shack he was sitting there all alone, and on the table right in front of him were the key and a lot of money all crunched up.

Oh, but didn't Mr. Ellsworth look sober and serious.

He said very low as if he was all discouraged sort of, "Roy," he said, "you said something about going home for your sister's birthday?"

I said, "Yes, sir, I'd like to go down Friday and come back Monday.

I'll go both ways by train, because that's quicker. I won't go if it isn't all right, but Marjorie is going to have a graduation party and they're going to have cocoanut cake, but anyway, I don't care so much about that." But, oh, boy, cocoanut cake is my middle name.

He said kind of slow, sort of, as if he was trying to make up his mind, "Well, Roy, I have an idea I'll let you take little McCord home. I don't know what else to do with him. I'm afraid he's too much for me.

You see there are a good many boys who have to be considered. This isn't much of a place for a campaign of reformation," that's just what he said.

I said, "Are you mad at Skinny?"

He said, "I'm not mad, Roy, but I'm disheartened--a little hopeless, I'm afraid. I'm willing to believe that he isn't just right in his head, but you see I can't help him; I'm not a doctor. His heroism is just a phase of his condition--he gets excited." That's just exactly what Mr. Ellsworth said, because I remember. Then he just lifted the money and dropped it again. It was all crunched up and damp sort of.

Even where I stood near him I could smell how it was damp--you know, kind of mildewed.

"Alfred went down to the house-boat and hid this in the locker," Mr.

Ellsworth said. "The key he had fitted the padlock and he must have known that. It's the right sum, as nearly as our friend across the lake remembered what he had; a little over two hundred dollars--seven dollars over. It's a miserable piece of business, Roy. I've been lying awake thinking it over all night, and I guess the best thing is to send the poor little wretch home. I'll send a letter to Mr. Benton about him. He'll get him into some inst.i.tution. Maybe we can help him later.

He's a little young for us." Then he began whistling to himself and drumming on the table.

Gee, I just stood there watching him and I didn't know what to say. I wondered what Bert Winton would say if he were there in my place.

Pretty soon I said, "Maybe I won't go home to my sister's birthday after all. Gee, I don't care so much about cocoanut cake anyway." He just didn't say anything, only kept drumming and whistling.

Then I said, "Did you say anything to Connie and the Elks?"

"No," he said, "but I shall; they'll have to know why I take him out of their patrol. They'll have to know what he did."

For a couple of minutes I couldn't say anything at all, and I just stood there gulping. One thing, no fellow can stand up and say that I ever talked back to Mr. Ellsworth--no, siree, no fellow can say that.

But I just happened to think of something I wanted to say and so as soon as I could get started, I said it right out. This is what I said:

"Mr. Ellsworth, you always said a scout ought to stand up for a fellow through thick and thin--no matter what, because we're all brothers. And that's what Bert Winton thinks too. You know it says in the Handbook how we're all brothers. So Skinny is my brother and I should worry about my sister's racket. I've got a week's extra time due me at the camp, on account of twelve snapshots last season. [Footnote: It was the rule at Temple Camp that any scout obtaining twelve good snapshots of birds, should have a week at camp in addition to his regular time, and this he could transfer to another scout as a good turn.--EDITOR.] So I've decided I'll give that to Skinny. I suppose that if the trustees say he's a thief they can send him away, no matter what. But the trustees don't have any meeting till next Wednesday. Maybe you'll be willing to tell me how I can go and register Skinny for that week of mine, because I don't know how to do it. If they want to say he's a thief let them go ahead and do it, but anyway, I should worry, they can't do it before next Wednesday and his week will be up then. And that will give me a chance to prove he didn't do it."

Mr. Ellsworth smiled, kind of, and shook his head, then he just sat looking at me. He said, "Roy, you ought to make a good lawyer when you grow up. You have put one over on your scoutmaster." I guess he wasn't mad. Anyway he said, awful nice like, "Go over to the Administration rooms in the Pavilion and see the record clerk. I won't interfere, my boy."

Gee, I was afraid I had made him sore, kind of, but when I was going out I could see that he was just sitting there smiling at me.

Anyway, I bet you'd have done the same thing, if you'd been me.