Under Boy Scout Colors Part 25

"Fine!" smiled Mr. Curtis. "I thought I could count on you. When Mr.

Thornton comes on Friday we'll show him something that will surprise him. And we'll give those folks at the rally something to think about, too."

"But are we still going to have the rally, sir?" asked Bob Gibson.

Mr. Curtis laughed. "Of course we are," he said emphatically. "You mustn't think, Bob, that a state of war is going to disrupt the entire country. That would be hysterical. There'll be unusual doings, of course.

Things will be a bit different in many ways. But school and ch.o.r.es and all the ordinary routine of your daily lives must go on as they always have. Suppose we get out now and work up a little program for Mr. Thornton's benefit."

The days that followed, so radically different from anything the boys had planned, showed up their spirit admirably. Of course there were grumblers; those develop in any situation where discipline is involved.

There were many moments of weariness and discouragement, too, when it seemed as if proficiency could never be attained. But underneath it all, stirring, invigorating, that wonderful sense of service--service to another, service to their country, perhaps, upheld and strengthened them. What they were doing was not merely play. Some day or other, far away or near, it would be of value; and the measure of that value no man could tell.

Mr. Thornton was due to reach camp Friday afternoon. The _Aquita_, in charge of Wesley Becker and another scout, went over to meet him, and as soon as the motor-boat was seen returning, a bugle blast summoned the others hastily from their tents.

"Fall in!" ordered Mr. Curtis, crisply. "Phelps will take charge while I go down to the dock."

Only their eyes moved, but these followed him to the landing and they saw Mr. Thornton step ash.o.r.e and pause for a moment or two of conversation before heading for the parade-ground. The banker's face looked tired and his shoulders drooped a little. But as he caught sight of the scouts drawn up in a straight, soldierly line behind the colors his head went up and his eyes brightened with surprise and interest.

"'Tention, troop!" called Mr. Curtis, sharply. "Right dress!--Front!--Present arms!"

The "arms" were, of course, their staves, but the manoeuver was executed with a snap and precision which many a company of militia might have envied. Then came the command, "Count off!" followed by, "Fours left--march!" and the squad swung smartly down the parade-ground.

In the half-hour of manoeuvering which followed--and this included some fairly difficult formations for new recruits--every boy gave the best that was in him. And when it was all over, the expression on Mr.

Thornton's face was quite reward enough. At the command, "Fall out!" they surged around him, shaking him by the hand, thanking him exuberantly, and all trying at once to tell him how much more wonderful everything was than they had expected.

The council-fire that night was built out on the point instead of in the great stone fireplace. Because of Mr. Thornton's presence, a special program had been arranged. There were scout games and stunts in abundance, songs galore, and a number of other features which had proved effective last summer. But it wasn't quite all gaiety and careless amus.e.m.e.nt. Mingling with the joking and laughter and occasional bit of skylarking was a touch of sober seriousness. It was their last night in camp together. Moreover, from that momentous Tuesday things had never been really quite the same. Their daily drills and practice were rousing in them a sense of responsibility. They knew that all over the country preparations for war were being pushed energetically.

There had been time also, to hear from home--of how this brother talked of enlisting in the marines, or that cousin, a member of Captain Chalmers's own regiment, who had been ordered to hold himself in readiness to join the colors. And so at the end, standing shoulder to shoulder around the blaze, their young voices ringing out in the stirring strains of "America," more than one throat tightened, and there were few who did not feel a tingling thrill beyond the thrill those verses usually evoked.

There came a pause. Then slowly John Thornton rose and stood for a moment facing them in silence.

"I want to thank you, boys," he said at length, in tones which emotion had rendered brusk and almost harsh. "It--it has been a privilege and more than pleasure to see your surprising work this afternoon and to be with you in this way to-night. I am proud of you--prouder than you can ever know. I can say nothing more than this," and his voice rang out suddenly with a note that stirred them inexplicably: "If only the youth of our country will measure up to your standards in the crisis that is before us, we need fear nothing for the future."

CHAPTER XXIX

"EVERY SCOUT TO FEED A SOLDIER"

The returning scouts found Hillsgrove buzzing with preparation. In fact, so changed was the atmosphere of the town that it was hard to believe they had been away for little more than a week. Several of the young men had already enlisted in army or navy. The post-office, courthouse, and many of the stores displayed inspiring posters urging others to do the same. A home guard was being organized for the purpose of dealing effectually with any sort of disturbance from resident foreigners, while a number of men, both young and middle-aged, talked of forming a regular military troop to be drilled twice weekly on the green by army officers or men who had been at Plattsburg.

It was all stirring and inspiring, and there is no telling to what extent the members of Troop Five might have become involved had not Mr. Curtis given them a serious talk at the first meeting after their return from camp. Captain Chalmers had departed with his regiment to take up guard duty along the line in one of the important railroads of the State, leaving Mr. Curtis in general charge of the scout situation at Hillsgrove; so that this talk was later repeated in substance at meetings of the other troops.

"I know you're all very keen to get into things and do your bit," he said, when the boys gathered around him in the parish-house. "The only question, of course, is how you can be most useful without frittering away your time. I've taken the matter up with headquarters, and talked it over with the mayor and several other men, and have come to this conclusion: first of all, we'll go ahead with our preparations for the rally, but instead of having it a free exhibition, as we planned, we'll charge admission and turn over the proceeds to the Red Cross. Next, I'm going to organize a signaling corps and a first-aid division formed of the real experts in each troop. There may be no immediate use for either of these, but you'll be ready when the time comes. Then there is the detail of helping to keep public order, in which the Boy Scouts have always been especially useful. There is no telling when or where you may be called upon, but your training and discipline helps you to quick thinking and action."

He paused an instant, and then his voice took on a deeper, more earnest note. "But more important than anything else just now is the need for each one of you to do everything in his power to help conserve and increase the food supply. All over the world this supply is low. The whole of Europe looks to us for a goodly proportion of its daily bread, and we've got to meet that expectation. We've got to make this a year of b.u.mper crops, even at a time when labor will naturally be scarcer than ever. And to help out in this crisis the men at the head of the Boy Scout movement have adopted a motto--a slogan--which should be first and foremost in every scout's mind until the war is over. 'Every Scout to Feed a Soldier!' Isn't that fine? A scout with a hoe may equal a man with a gun. The President himself has stated more than once that a man may serve his country as effectually in the corn-field as at the front. And how much more is this the duty of a boy whose age makes it impossible for him to reach the firing-line. I've known you fellows too long and too intimately to have any doubts as to your responses to this appeal. Those of you who have home gardens that will take all your time must look after them, releasing, if possible, some man for other work. The others, I hope, will volunteer their services to any one needing them, and I expect very soon to have an organized clearing-house for farmers in the neighborhood needing help and boys willing to furnish it. I may say that any one going into this will be allowed to absent himself from the afternoon school session and all day on Wednesdays. Later, the schools may be closed entirely for workers.

Now, I know this doesn't sound nearly so stirring and patriotic as joining a military company and drilling and all that; but this isn't a moment in which to pick and choose. The duty of each one of us is to give himself where he is most needed. And, believe me, fellows, by helping to plant and harvest you will be performing the highest sort of service to your country and humanity. I want you to think this over to-night, and from to-morrow on I'll be ready to take the names of volunteers."

It was a rather silent crowd that filed out of the meeting-room a little later. To the great majority Mr. Curtis's proposition certainly didn't sound in the least interesting or alluring. On the contrary it had a decidedly depressing effect, and several openly declared that they'd be hanged if they'd spend the entire summer in that kind of drudgery. But second thought, aided, perhaps, by a little solid advice at home, wrought a change. The next afternoon the fellows held a private meeting of their own at which the few persistent objectors were crushed by bodily force, when necessary, and which ended in the whole troop volunteering as a body.

It wasn't at all an easy thing for some of them to do. In boys like Ranny Phelps, who loathed "grubbing with a hoe" and had never had the slightest experience in farming, it was something almost akin to heroism. But not one of them shirked or backed down. Within a week they were all placed, and, from that time on, blistered hands, weary backs, and aching muscles were the order of the day. As Ranny once expressed it,--airily, but with an underlying touch of seriousness,--the only bright spots in the week were Sunday, when they could sleep late, and the two afternoons they were let off at four o'clock to practise for the rally.

They made the most of those brief hours. In good weather the drill took place in a pasture belonging to old Mr. Grimstone, after which they enjoyed a refreshing plunge in the lake, and generally ended up with supper in the cabin. When he had time, which wasn't often, Mr. Curtis joined them. Usually Ranny Phelps was in charge, and whenever they could they carried off Mr. Grimstone for supper.

It was on one of these latter occasions, as they sat out on the bank of the lake after supper, that Frank Sanson suddenly voiced a feeling which was present, more or less often, in the breast of every scout in the troop.

"Mr. Grimstone," he said abruptly, "I don't suppose you realize what a dandy thing you did when you gave us this place. I don't know what we'd do without it now; do you, fellows?"

There was an emphatic chorus of agreement which brought a touch of color into the old man's leathery, tanned face and made him shuffle his feet uneasily. Then suddenly he raised his eyes and there was a twinkle in them.

"It ain't me you ought to thank," he said abruptly. "It's that Dale boy there; he's to blame."

"Dale Tompkins!" exclaimed several surprised voices at once. "Why, what's he got to do with it?"

"Most everything," returned Grimstone, briefly. "It was him that brought out my dinner last Thanksgivin', an cooked it, an' et it with me. That's what give me a new idea of you boys, an' nothin' else."

An astonished silence followed, broken presently by a low whistle from Mr. Curtis. "Well, what do you know about that," he murmured. "A good turn come home to roost!"

But no one heard him, for the whole crowd, as one boy, had pounced on Tompkins and was pummeling him and rolling him about over the ground to the accompaniment of shouts and laughter and jocular, approving comment.

Glancing sidewise at Caleb Grimstone, the scoutmaster's eyes widened with surprise and sudden comprehension. The old man's gaze was fixed on the flushed, laughing face of the kicking, protesting victim. His own brown face glowed; his stern, tight lips were relaxed in a smile which was almost tender.

CHAPTER x.x.x

THE SILVER CROSS

In spite of their long and careful preparation, the members of Troop Five were not a little keyed up and excited when the night of the big scout rally finally arrived. Each boy dressed with unusual care, and the majority reached the parish-house some time before the hour named for a.s.sembling. From here they marched in good order to the old-fashioned frame building, whose entire third floor const.i.tuted the masonic hall, where the performance was to come off. Another troop was close on their heels, and, in their hurry to get there first, the boys pushed and jostled one another on the narrow, twisting stairs. But in the hallway above they paused to fall in, and at the word of command from Mr. Curtis they marched through the double doors into the brightly lighted a.s.sembly-room, wheeled smartly to the right, and took up their position at one side of the doorway.

The hall was already well filled and resounded with the buzz of conversation. Pretty girls in Red Cross costumes flitted among the audience seeking contributions and memberships. By eight o'clock the rows of chairs that packed over half the big room were occupied, and there were people standing. When the doors were finally closed and the entertainment began, the place was almost uncomfortably jammed by a throng of proud mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters of the performers, to say nothing of a great many other members of the community who were interested in the movement or curious to see the result of the past year's work.

The first thing on the program was a review and inspection of the entire scout body by Captain Chalmers, who had unexpectedly obtained leave of absence for the occasion. When this was over, there followed a brief pause, during which the captain, standing before the long, double row of boyish figures, in their trim, immaculate uniforms, conferred in whispers with Scoutmaster Curtis, whom he had summoned from the line.

Instantly a faint, scarcely perceptible stir swept down the lines of waiting scouts. What was coming? they asked themselves eagerly. Dale Tompkins caught the captain's glance fixed on him for a moment, and wondered uneasily whether anything was the matter with his equipment. He had no time to grow seriously disturbed, however, before Mr. Curtis returned to the head of the troop and the captain faced the audience.

"I dare say you have all heard more or less about our scout law and the high principles it inculcates in every boy who promises to obey it," he said in his pleasant, easy manner. "I'd like to tell you briefly about the way two scouts right here in our own town applied some of the most vital of these principles. The first incident happened late last fall, when a powerfully charged electric wire was blown down in a storm and dangled in the street. A small boy saw it, and, without realizing the danger, grasped it in both hands. Instantly the current, pa.s.sing into his body, made him helpless. He screamed with pain and struggled to tear himself loose, but in the throng that quickly gathered no one dared to touch him. No one, that is, until one of the scouts I speak of appeared.

He had been a tenderfoot only a few days, but he was a true scout at heart. Without hesitation he gripped the child by one shoulder and was instantly flung the width of the street. Recovering, he remembered something he had read about electricity and insulation, remembered that paper was a good non-conductor and rubber even better. In a flash he had wrapped about his hands some of the newspapers he carried, flung down his waterproof delivery-bag to stand on, and went again to the aid of the child, this time successfully. It was not only a brave deed, but he kept his head; and when the danger was over he slipped quietly away without waiting for either praise or thanks."

A burst of applause and hand-clapping came from the audience, and while waiting for it to subside the captain glanced again toward Dale Tompkins.

This time he did not meet the boy's questioning glance, but saw only drooping lids and a face flushed crimson. His smile deepened a little as he raised one hand for silence.

"A few months later the other scout was skating with a companion on Crystal Lake. He could swim only a few strokes, but when the second boy broke through the ice he did not hesitate an instant in going to his rescue. He was dragged into the water and nearly drowned, but he, too, kept his head and held up his friend until help came.

"I like to think that the actions of those two boys was typical rather than exceptional. I don't believe there is a scout here," his glance swept the line of khaki-clad figures for an instant, "who, given the chance to risk his life for another, would not respond exactly as these boys did. When I heard of what they had done I applied to our national council for honor medals such as are awarded to scouts for the saving of life. They arrived some time ago, but I awaited this occasion to present them. Scouts Dale Tompkins and Frank Sanson will please step forward."

Amid the thunder of applause that followed, Captain Chalmers turned and faced the line of scouts again, two small square boxes in his hand.

Dazed, bewildered, and blushing furiously, Dale stood as if rooted to the spot until Harry Vedder gave him a sharp dig in the ribs. Then he stumbled forward a few steps, realized that another halting figure was beside him, and, recovering a little, but with face still flushing, he crossed the interminable s.p.a.ce to where the captain stood.