The Banner Boy Scouts on a Tour Part 1

The Banner Boy Scouts on a Tour.

by George A. Warren.

PREFACE

DEAR BOYS:

While this volume is complete in itself, it forms a second link in the chain of books issued under the general t.i.tle, "The Banner Boy Scouts Series." You will, no doubt, be glad to find most of the old favorites on parade once more; and perhaps make the acquaintance of several new characters who figure in these pages.

In the preceding volume, "The Banner Boy Scouts; or, The Struggle for Leadership," I endeavored to interest my readers in an account of the numerous trials and adventures that befell Paul and his chums when forming the first Red Fox Patrol. You will remember how the mystery of the disappearing coins continued to puzzle Paul and Jack almost up to the very conclusion of the story. And doubtless you were also ready to admit that, hard pressed by jealous rivals at home, as well as forced to compete with two neighboring troops who longed to possess the prize banner, the Stanhope scouts certainly did have a warm time of it, right up to the close of the tournament.

The wonderful way in which they carried off first honors at that same compet.i.tion certainly ought to inspire all Boy Scouts to emulate their example, and never be satisfied with half-hearted efforts. I sincerely hope and trust the stirring happenings that fall to the lot of Paul and his chums, as related between the covers of the present volume, may give every reader the same amount of pleasure that I have experienced in writing them.

Cordially yours,

GEORGE A. WARREN.

THE BANNER BOY SCOUTS ON A TOUR

CHAPTER I

THE OPEN DOOR

"Here we are at your father's feed store, Joe!"

"Yes, but there isn't a glimmer of a light. Didn't you say he was going to stay here till you came from the meeting?"

"Shucks! he just got tired waiting, and went home long ago; you can trot along now by your lonesome, Joe."

"Listen! didn't you hear it, fellows? What was that sound?"

The four boys stood, as Joe asked this question, almost holding their breath with awe, while no doubt their hearts pounded away like so many trip-hammers.

It was after ten o'clock at night, and the town of Stanhope, nestling on the bank of the Bushkill, usually closed its business doors by nine, save on Sat.u.r.days.

This being the case, it was naturally very quiet on Anderson street, even though electric lights and people abounded on Broad street, the main thoroughfare, just around the corner.

These lads belonged to a troop of Boy Scouts that had been organized the preceding summer. They wore the regular khaki suits that always distinguish members of the far-reaching organization, and one of them even carried a bugle at his side.

The first speaker was Paul Morrison, the scout leader, to whom much of the labor of getting the troop started had fallen. Paul was the son of the leading doctor in Stanhope.

His comrades were the bugler, known as Bobolink, because he chanced to answer to the name of Robert Oliver Link; Jack Stormways, Paul's particular chum; and Joe Clausin, the one who had asked his friends to stroll around in his company, to the feed store, where he expected to find his father waiting for him.

The lads had been attending a regular weekly meeting of the troop at one of the churches that offered them the free use of a gymnasium.

"There's no light inside," said Bobolink, in a husky voice, "but the door's half open, boys!"

This announcement sent another thrill through the group.

Anyone unacquainted with the wearers of the Scout uniforms might even imagine that they had been attacked by a spasm of fear; but at least two members of the group had within recent times proven their valor in a fashion that the people of Stanhope would never forget.

In the preceding volume of this series, issued under the name of "The Banner Boy Scouts; or, The Struggle for Leadership," I related how the boys got together and organized their patrol and troop. Of course, there was considerable opposition, from jealous rivals; but in the end the boys of Stanhope won their right to a prize banner by excelling the troops from the neighboring towns in many of the things a true scout should know and practice. Hence, no one who has perused the first book of this series will imagine for an instant that any of these lads were timid, simply because they cl.u.s.tered together, and felt their pulses quiver with excitement.

"Do you hear that sound again, Joe?" demanded Paul, presently, as all listened.

"I thought I did just then," answered Joe Clausin, drawing a long breath; "but perhaps it was only imagination. Dad's been doing more work than he ought, lately. Mebbe he's been taken with one of his old fainting spells."

"Say, that's just what it is, I reckon," observed Bobolink, quickly; "or else he forgot to shut the door when he went home."

"He never could have done that, boys," declared Joe; "you know how careful he always is about everything. I was just thinkin' about the Skarff robbery, and wonderin' if those fellows had come back to town.

The police never caught 'em, you remember."

Joe's voice had once more dropped to a whisper. What he said seemed to make considerable impression on his comrades, for the heads drew even closer together.

"But why would they want to break open a feed store?" ventured Jack Stormways, dubiously; "it isn't like the Skarff place, which was a jewelry shop."

"'Sh!" went on Joe, nervously; "I happen to know that dad keeps quite some money in his safe about the first of the month, when people pay their bills. Mother has often told him he ought to put it in the bank; but he only laughs at her, and says he'd like to see the thief who could open his safe. Paul, what should we do?"

"Go in, I reckon. Wait till I find my matches," returned the scout leader, without the least hesitation.

"Oh! what if we should run up against a man hiding there?" suggested Joe.

"Well, there are four of us, you know, boys. But what are you doing, Jack?" Paul continued, seeing that his warmest chum was bending down, as though he might be tugging at something.

"Look here what I've got, fellows! And there's a lot more to be had for the taking," with which Jack Stormways held up a stout stick of wood, which, coming with some of the hay or feed that reached the store during the day, had been cast aside.

Immediately the three others made haste to possess themselves of similar weapons.

"Ready?" asked Paul, as he prepared to advance boldly into the dense darkness.

"Sure! We're going to back you up, old fellow. Say the word!" shrilled Bobolink, close to the other's shoulder.

"Come on, then!"

The lads had hardly advanced five steps when every one caught the dread sound that Joe claimed to have heard. And Paul, perhaps because he was the son of a doctor, somehow guessed its true import sooner than any one of his chums. He knew it was a groan, and that some human being must be suffering!

There was a slight crackling sound, which was caused by the sudden drawing of a match along Paul's trousers. Instantly a tiny flame sprang into existence; and every eye was strained to discover the cause of the groan.

As the match burned, and the light grew stronger, the boys discovered that some one lay upon the floor inside the gla.s.s enclosed office, and close to the desk where Mr. Clausin usually sat. Paul, looking further, had seen that there was a lamp on the stand, and knowing the need of some better means of illumination than a succession of matches, instantly moved forward, and started to remove the chimney of this.

It was still a trifle warm, showing that the light must have been blown out not more than a couple of minutes previously.