Tom Slade : Boy Scout of the Moving Pictures

  It happened that same afternoon that Tom and Roy went up to SalmonRiver Village to purchase some provisions for camp. The two boys wereon their way back from the village and were discussing an interestingdiscovery which they had made while there. This was a wirelessapparatus which the storekeeper had shown them with great pride for hewas one of that numerous class of wireless amateurs whose a%rials maybe seen stretching from tree-tops to house-tops these days, and sinceit was his pleasure to sit into the wee hours of the morning with hishead receivers on, eavesdropping on the whole world, the two scouts hadagreed to exchange messages with him.

  "Every man you meet seems to take some interest in the scouts," saidTom, in allusion to the cordial storekeeper.

  "Sure, even Mr. Temple's got a light case of it."

  "_Not much_!" said Tom.

  "Oh, yes he has; he's got what Doc Carson calls a passive case. Doesn'tit beat all how Doc gets onto this medical talk? Did you hear that onehe sprang the other night about a 'superficial abrasion'? Cracky, itnearly knocked me over!"

  "And 'septic,' too," said Tom.

  "Yes, 'septic's' his star word now. Mr. Temple's case is likely tobecome acute any time," Roy added as he jogged along, jumping from onesubject to another according to his fashion. "You know you can have athing and not know it. Then something happens, you get a bad cold, forinstance, and that brings the whole thing out. That's the way it iswith Mr. Temple--he's just beginning to get the bug; he doesn't know ityet. You ought to have heard him buzz me about tracking.

  "Then he wanted to know how I knew one golf stick was hickory andanother one maple. 'Scout,' said I. Oh, I've got _him_ started-waittill he picks up a little momentum and you'll see things fly."

  "You'll never land _him_," said Tom.

  "I landed you, didn't I?"

  "Sure."

  "I bet I land him before the Chief lands Mrs. Bennett."

  They walked along a little while in silence. "What-what-did Mary say?"Tom asked. He had asked the question half a dozen times before, but itpleased him to imagine that he had forgotten the answer. Royunderstood.

  "She wanted to know why you didn't bring the pin yourself."

  "What'd you tell her?"

  "Oh, I told her you were too busy to bother."

  "No--honest--"

  "I told her you had no time for girls. She said it was just lovely. Idon't know whether she meant you or the pin. She said the tracking wasmiraculous."

  "She don't know who--"

  "No, her father's not going to tell her. I've got him cinched. Iwouldn't be surprised if I was cashier in his bank in another sixmonths-but don't mention it at camp fire, will you?"

  Tom laughed. "What did she say?" he repeated.

  "I told you's teen-eleven times."

  "Well, I forget."

  "You ought to have gone yourself, anyway," said Roy, "then you'd haveheard what she said."

  He pretended not to have any sympathy with Tom in this matter.

  "What was that other thing she said?"

  "What's that shouting?" said Roy.

  "What was that other thing she said?"

  "What other thing?"

  "You know."

  "I guess that picnic bunch is flopping around on the river from thesound."

  Silence for a few minutes.

  "What was that other thing she said?"

  "Oh, yes," said Roy, "let's see--I forget."

  "Go on--stop your fooling! What was it?"

  "Do you _have_ to know?"

  "What was it?"

  "She said she was going to recip--Oh, listen!"

  "Re-what?"

  "Reciprocate."

  "What's that?"

  "Pay you back."

  "I wouldn't take a cent. I wouldn't take anything from her," said Tom."I'm a sco--"

  "Now don't spring that! You better wait and see what she offers youfirst."

  "Would you take anything for a service?"

  "Depends on what it was," said Roy cautiously.

  "_I_ wouldn't take anything for a service."

  "No?"

  "I wouldn't take anything from her."

  But he did just the same.

  They had left the road and were jogging scout-pace along the beatenpath through the woods which led down to the river. As they neared it,a confusion of sounds and voices greeted their ears and when theypresently emerged upon the shore they found a scene of pandemonium.

  In mid-stream was their own boat, two-thirds full of water, andclinging to it were Tom's erstwhile Bridgeboro friends and a frantic,shrieking creature whose streaming hair was plastered over his face andwho was in a perfect panic of fright as every moment the gunwale of theloggy boat gave with his weight and lowered his head into the water.

  On the farther shore one little group called futilely to the haplesscrew, bidding them cling to the gunwale and hold still; sensible enoughadvice, except that no advice is of any use to a person in peril ofdrowning. The bedraggled creature in particular would have preventedany such orderly and rational conduct by his terror-stricken clutchingsand cries of "Save me!" as if he were the only one in trouble. Anotherlittle group on the opposite shore was gathered about a figure whichTom and Roy could not see.

  "Have you got a rope over there?" called Roy, kicking off his sneakers.

  "No, we haven't--"

  "Got a shawl or a blanket?"

  "Yes--what good--"

  "Get it quick!"

  "They always have camels'-hair shawls," he said hastily to Tom. Thenraising his voice, "Someone drowned over there?"

  "No, shot."

  "Killed?"

  "No."

  "Shin up that tree and see if you can get camp with your whistle," heordered to Tom, throwing off his shirt the while. "Whistle 'Help' byMorse--if they don't answer, try semaphore with your shirt; if thatdon't get them you'll have to hoof it. Get Doc, whatever you do. Shutup, will you?"' he shouted to the frantic boy who was making all thenoise. "Keep your mouth shut and you'll be all right!"

  All this took but a few seconds and presently the shrieking boy in thewater grasped frantically at Roy.

  That was all he knew. Something struck him, and when he recovered fromhis daze he was lying on shore with several persons about him.

  The new _Dan Dreadnought_ was a pitiable figure. The boy whom hehad shot sat near him, ashen white, his arm bleeding despite allefforts to stay the flow of blood, and he himself, his voice husky fromhis futile shrieking, the red mark of Roy's prompt but necessary blowstanding out in bold relief on his white face, lay, half dead withfright and shock, and watched those about him as though in a trance. Itwas a sad and inglorious end to his adventurous career!

  It took Roy but a few minutes to tear a couple of shawls and a blanketinto strips and tying these together he took an end in his mouth andswam out for the boat. Tying it to the painter-ring, he called to thepeople on shore to pull easily and, himself guiding and holding up theloggy, half-submerged boat, as best he could, it was finally hauled outof deep water and its hapless crew helped ashore.

  Just as Roy helped that redoubtable leader, Sweet Caporal, to scrambleup the abrupt shore, a welcome shout came from a tree top across theriver.

  "They're coming!"

  Roy did not know whether it had been done by Morse whistling or bysemaphore. Tom had done it, that was enough, and while he scrambleddown from the tree and swam across the river Roy rearranged theclumsily made tourniquet which the picnickers had placed about the armof the wounded boy, and tightened it with the leverage of a stick whichsuccessfully stayed the flow of blood.

  "Some wrinkle, hey?" he said, smiling down into the white face of theboy. "You could lift the earth by leverage if you only had some floorfor your lever; ever hear that?"

  No, the O'Connor boy had never heard that, but he looked up into thecheery, brown eyes of Roy, whom he knew slightly, and smiled himself.

  The real scout and the burlesque scout who lay near by presented astriking contrast. All the mock heroics of the _Eure
ka Patrol_ ofCaptain Dauntless seemed cheap enough now, even to the frightenedConnover as he languidly watched this quiet exhibition of efficiency.Never had he admired _Dan Dreadnought_ as he now admired RoyBlakeley, this cheerful, clean-cut fellow who knew what to do and justhow to do it; and the gang, with all their bravado gone, watched himtoo, feeling strange after the first bath they had had in many a day.

  "Do you know what I'm going to do with you?" said Roy, as he leanedover the O'Connor boy and bathed his face. "I'm going to give you toMr. Ellsworth for a birthday present; our troop's two years old nextweek."

  It was not many minutes before the welcome sound of voices was heard inthe wood and presently a half-dozen scouts appeared with a canvasstretcher. Mr. Ellsworth was with them and by his side was Doc Carson,or "Highbrow Doc," with his neat little first-aid case. Doc was one ofthe ancient and honorable Ravens who were not unconscious of theirdignity, and he had had the first-aid bee from the start.

  It took him but a moment to determine that no fatalities were going toresult from the affair, and that all Connover needed was a littlereassuring that he would not be sent to jail.

  While he was putting an antiseptic dressing on the O'Connor boy's arm(the bullet had gone in and out again through the fleshy part), Roy andTom heard for the first time the circumstances of the whole affair, asthey were related to Mr. Ellsworth.

  It seemed that upon the appearance of Connover with his gun he had beenforbidden to go away and had obeyed, probably because he was toofrightened and helpless to have any will of his own. His pitiable lackof command throughout the whole affair was not the least significantthing in his day's work, and showed how far he was from the real scouttrail.

  The occupants of the boat, spurred by the emergency, had managed to getthe frightened Connover aboard and it was in their clumsy progressacross the river that one of the gunwales of the already loggy boat hadgone under, shipping more water than the craft could carry besides itsliving occupants.

  The O'Connor boy needed only prompt and efficient treatment and theonly peril he was in was that of blood-poisoning. Doc dressed his woundantiseptically and though he was not unable to walk, they bore him tocamp on the stretcher, for his loss of blood had weakened him and theshock had unnerved him.

  Just as they started Connover broke down completely, clinging pitifullyto Mr. Ellsworth and refusing to go home. His fear of arrest on the onehand and his fear of his parents on the other, made him go to piecesentirely now that the first excitement was over. His behaviour formed aludicrous anti-climax for all the _Dan Dreadnought_ bombast andbravado, and if it was not borne in upon him then how harmful the bookswere, he at least began to see how ridiculous they were. Indeed, theredoubtable _Dan_ had begun to lose prestige with Connover themoment he had shot that robin.

  At the sight of this childish display, Mr. Ellsworth shook his headruefully and said to Roy, "We got away with it in Tom's case, but I'mafraid Connie's a pretty big contract. What do you think?"

  "He'll come across," said Roy. "He didn't hurt Charlie O'Connor so verymuch, but I'll bet he's killed _Dan Dreadnought_ all right."

  "Well, Connie," said the scoutmaster, in a half-indulgent tone that wasnot altogether complimentary, "you'd better come along with us tocamp."

  "Will you--will you--see my mother?"

  "Ye-es--guess so."

  "He--he won't die--will he?"

  "After forty or fifty years he might," said the scoutmaster. "Here,walk along with me, and tell me how you came to shoot that rifle."

  CHAPTER XVIII

  MRS. BENNETT COMES ACROSS