CHAPTER XXVI
THE TWENTY-FIFTH BOY
Bunny was sure the young man who shared his seat on the train must bemistaken.
"You see," he told him, "there are only eight Boy Scouts in a patrol,and there is only one patrol in Lakeville. Besides, I am one of thoseeight. That leaves only seven you could have seen, because I have beenvisiting my uncle in Elkana for a week."
The young man was stubborn. "I know what I saw with my own eyes," heinsisted. "Last Thursday afternoon, when I was in Lakeville, there wereat least twenty kids around town in Boy Scout uniforms."
Bunny nodded politely. "Maybe some patrols from other places werethere," he suggested, beginning to wish he had postponed his visit toUncle George, instead of stopping over on the trip back from the Beldenbaseball game. Perhaps the Black Eagles had been entertaining, and hehad missed some fun.
"That may be," agreed the young man, ready to dismiss the subject.He glanced impatiently at his watch, and clutched the sleeve of thepassing conductor. "How late is this train, anyhow?"
The conductor looked out the car window. "We are just coming intoLakeville," he said. "We are due there at 6:03, and it is now 7:08;call it an hour behind time. Those two hot-boxes--" He passed on,leaving the balance of the sentence dangling apologetically in the air.
As familiar objects swept into view, several passengers rose from theirseats. The train passed the Fair Play Factory at full speed, began tobrake opposite Horace Hibbs' modest home in the outskirts, and groundto a stop at the station. The very first person to alight was BunnyPayton.
Peter Hinkle, the station master, waved him a welcome. Since the BlackEagles had parked the former barren spot on the other side of thetracks with green sod and a border of gay flowers, spelling out thename of the town with whitewashed stones, Peter had been their sturdychampion.
"Well! Well!" he said. "Here's another Boy Scout. The town's full ofthem now."
There it was again. Bunny stepped forward eagerly to ask questions; butthe station master was too busy with the incoming baggage to stop fora talk. Moreover, the sight of a familiar blue hat and blue-and-whitedress down the platform drew Bunny like a magnet. It was spring, and hewas growing up.
"Hello, Mary Chester," he said, extending his hand.
The girl shook hands shyly. It was the first time the two had met sincethe memorable rescue on the lake.
"Father and I came down to mail a letter on the train," she explained.A smile lighted her face so glowingly that Bunny wondered why he hadnever before realized what a pretty girl Mary Jennie Chester reallywas. "Oh, Bunny, I'm so glad!"
"About our winning that baseball game?"
"No-o. Oh, yes, I am glad about that, too. But I meant about what'shappened to you Boy Scouts. I think--"
"Mary!" called Mr. Chester from the light runabout drawn up by theplatform.
With an embarrassed, "Good-by, Bunny," the girl hurried away to joinher father, leaving him standing there with open mouth, looking, if thetruth must be confessed, very confused and very foolish. What on earthhad Mary Chester meant? What was the mystery about the Boy Scouts?
Across the road from the station, on the sidewalk, Bunny met MollySefton.
"Look here," he demanded shortly, "what's all this talk about somethinghappening to the Boy Scouts?"
Molly eyed him a little coldly. She must have witnessed his meetingwith Mary Chester. He wondered uncertainly if that could accountfor her lack of cordial greeting; and all at once, without exactlyunderstanding why, he blushed like a silly schoolgirl. He was sixteenyears old now; almost a man.
"Oh, how are you, Bunny?" said Molly, in a listless, aloof tone thatsounded like the snobbish Marion Genevieve Chester in her snobbishestdays. "The Boy Scouts? Oh, they're doing wonderfully well, I hear."
The tiniest wedge of a misunderstanding drove home. Bewildered,offended, unwilling to allow the doubt to remain unchallenged, yethelpless before its baffling vagueness, Bunny made some perfunctoryremark. They discussed the weather; they wondered if the trains werealways going to be late; they hoped the fire in Grady's barn hadtaught Royal Sheffield not to throw lighted matches on the floor,after he had examined cuts in the tires of his car; they spoke of thespring election that had transferred the county seat from Dunkirk toLakeville. And then, both of them very miserable, they parted.
Opposite the Magoon residence, Felix came galloping out, tail wagging,and intimated that he was ready to run after a thrown stick. ButBunny was in no mood for the game. Twisting faithful Felix's ear inapologetic recognition, the boy plodded on toward home, where his AuntEmma was probably keeping supper hot for him. He wondered how he wasgoing to eat anything--now.
"All I know about the Boy Scouts," said Aunt Emma, bringing himsteaming dishes from the oven, "is that there have been some newpatrols formed here in Lakeville. They were organized early this week,and presidents elected--"
"Patrol leaders?"
"Yes, that's it. Let me see if I can recall who the presidents--patrolleaders, I mean--are." She checked them off on her fingers. "RoyalSheffield; that's one. And Arthur Claxton; that's two. And--and RodmanCree; that's three."
Halfway to his mouth, Bunny halted the fork that had speared a juicybite of roast beef. Striving hard to keep his hand from trembling,he put it back on his plate. When he spoke, it was with forcedcarelessness.
"How many new patrols are there?" he asked.
"Two, I think. Gracious me, Bunny Payton, how can you expect me tokeep posted on the Boy Scouts, with you away? But I understand therewere two new patrols, in addition to the Black Eagles. That's threealtogether. I counted three pres--leaders, didn't I?"
"Yes."
"Well, that's right. Oh, I nearly forgot to tell you. There is tobe a big meeting in the clubhouse to-night at seven o'clock. It'safter seven now, but--Why, Bunny! You aren't going to run off withoutfinishing your supper, are you? You haven't eaten enough to keep asparrow alive. I do hope you aren't coming down with anything. DidUncle George look after--"
But Bunny was gone. Snatching his cap from the hall rack, he dashed outthe door while she was still speaking. Aunt Emma sighed. She wonderedif she would ever understand boys.
The clubhouse of the Black Eagles was ablaze with light. At the door,Bunny hesitated, uncertain of his welcome. While he was summoningcourage to enter, he placed an affectionate hand on one of the roughlogs that formed the wall, and stared with winking eyes at the juttingroof overhead. It was not a showy house, but it was staunch and honestfrom peak to foundation. He remembered the sacrifices he had made tohelp build it for the old patrol.
The doorway was in the shadow of one of the middle pillars. Under coverof this half-light, Bunny edged cautiously into the big room. All theboys in town seemed to be there, from Buck Claxton, sitting on thefront bench, to Prissy Prissler, conspicuous in a new Scout uniform.Bunny counted them with nervous haste. Twenty-four. He counted again,hoping against hope that he had miscalculated. But the result was thesame. Twenty-four boys; twenty-four Scouts. A patrol was eight; threetimes eight was twenty-four. The twenty-fifth--well, there was no usedodging the plain facts. There were three full patrols, with one boyover. He sucked in his breath with a curious whistling sound.
On the platform at the far end of the room, Horace Hibbs rose to hisfeet. He had a paper in his hand.
"First of all, boys," he began, beaming upon them with his fatherlysmile, "I shall read you the roster of the Scouts of the LakevilleTroop. It is composed, as you all know, of three patrols--theKangaroos, the Buffaloes, and the Black Eagles. The membership of theKangaroo Patrol is as follows: Leader, Sheffield; Assistant Leader,Kiproy; No. 3, Collins--"
Bunny did not hear the other names. He was waiting with fast-beatingheart for the roll call of the Black Eagles. But when Scout MasterHibbs finished with the Kangaroos, he began reading the names of thosewho had formed the Buffalo Patrol:
"Leader, Claxton; Assistant Leader, Barrett; No. 3, Turner--"
It seemed to Bunny he would never come to the
end of the list. When hedid finally, the boy at the door shrank deeper into the enshroudinggloom.
"The present organization of the Black Eagles," droned Horace Hibbs,"is as follows: Leader, Cree; Assistant Leader, Jones; No. 3, Meeker;No. 4, McGrew; No. 5, Zane; No. 6, Magoon; No. 7, Henderson; No. 8,Prissler."
Well, it was over at last. Bunny knew now who that twenty-fifth boywas--himself. What had happened? Why had he been dropped? He groped hisway toward the door of the clubhouse,--the house that he had plannedand helped to build. It was wrong! It couldn't be true! Surely, hisears had played him some hideous trick.
"It has been voted," Horace Hibbs went on, "that I act as ScoutMaster for the Lakeville Troop. In accepting the office--" The voicehalted weakly. Before Bunny looked up, he knew what he would see: thegray-haired man wiping his glasses and smiling, half proudly, becauseto him the position was a very real honor, and half wistfully, becausethe snow on his head marked the years since he had been a boy himselfin more than heart. In spite of his own hurt, Bunny understood andsympathized.
"I shall try," Horace Hibbs promised, after a pause, "to live up toyour trust in me, boys. If you will just try to like me as well as Ilike all of you now, I think we shall get along together."
There came another moment of silence. Bunny stiffened apprehensively.Almost any time now, the meeting might be adjourned. If they found himthere--
"And finally," continued Horace Hibbs, striving to cover his emotion byresuming his businesslike tone, "I wish to thank you, in behalf of ourabsent member, for the trust and confidence you have placed in him byelecting him troop leader. If Bunny Payton were here, I might properlyhesitate to praise him to his face; but now I feel that I may speakfreely of his--"
The old adage has it that eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves.On this particular occasion, it bade fair to be shattered and laid onthe shelf. It would have been, too, but for one saving incident.
Before Horace Hibbs could launch into his eulogy, Bunny slipped quietlyout the door into the gathering darkness. For a long moment, he stoodjust beyond the threshold, breathing hard and trying to still the madthumping of his heart. Then, without rhyme or reason, he threw up hisheels and began to run at the top of his speed. The rising moon winkedat him. Felix joined noisily in the wild chase. The swaying tree topsbent and laughed in the breeze. After all, it was June, and he was onlysixteen, and the world was young.
Aunt Emma looked up with startled eyes as he burst into the house.
"Please!" he panted incoherently. "Will you--If it isn't too late--I'mtroop leader--A little something to eat--hungry."
The puckered lines on Aunt Emma's forehead smoothed magically. Theboy could not be sick or troubled if he wanted food. A hungry boy wasaltogether normal. She bustled happily into the kitchen.
Bunny went straight to the telephone. When the connection had beenmade, he said:
"Hello! Is Molly there?--Oh, is this you, Molly? There's something Iwanted to tell you. I couldn't wait. I've been elected troop leader ofall the Lakeville Scouts--three whole patrols of them."
He waited a breathless second for her reply. But when it came, helaughed aloud from sheer joy of living. The Molly he had always knownwas talking to him now. In one ecstatic sentence, she said she wasglad, and proud of him, and sure he would be the most wonderful troopleader in the whole United States, or anywhere else, for that matter;and wouldn't he go riding in the car in the morning?
His last trouble vanished into thin air, Bunny hung up the receiver andfaced Aunt Emma, who was heaping the table with the most appetizingfood he had ever seen.
"I guess," he grinned, "I'm about the luckiest boy in all the world."
"Why shouldn't you be?" asked practical Aunt Emma.
THE END