Tom Slade : Boy Scout of the Moving Pictures

  Tom's visit to the Library reminded him that it was here "themregiment fellers" met, and since it was near the Bennett place hedecided to loiter thereabout, partly for the ineffable pleasure ofbeholding the side-tracking of Connover's party, and partly in the hopeof seeing Mr. Ellsworth again.

  So he shuffled around a little before dark and did sentinel dutybetween the two places. He wanted something to eat very much indeed,and he surmised that such a sympathetic fellow as young Mr. Ellsworthwould "give him the lend of a nickel" especially if he were tipped offin regard to the coming ball game.

  Standing outside, Tom heard the uproarious laughter through thebasement windows and wondered what it was all about. Strange thatfellows could be enjoying themselves so thoroughly who were not up tosome kind of mischief.

  Presently, the basement door opened and the scouts began to come out.Tom loitered in the shadow across the way.

  The first group paused on the sidewalk bent on finishing theirdiscussion as to whether "whipping" was as good as splicing for twostrands of rope. One boy insisted that splicing was the only way if youknew how to do it, but that you had to whittle a splicing needle.

  "I wouldn't trust _my_ weight on any double whipping," saidanother fellow. "The binding wouldn't stand salt water--not unless youtarred it."

  "If _my_ little snow-white hand is going to grab that loop, it'llbe spliced," said the first speaker.

  Another boy came out and said _he_ could jump the gap without anyrope at all; it was only seven feet, and what was the use of a ropeanyway? Then someone said that Pee-wee would do it scout pace, andthere was a great laugh. The group went on up the street.

  Then out came the renowned Pee-wee himself in hot pursuit of them,running a little, walking a little, according to his habit.

  Two more boys came out and one of them said it was going to rain to-morrow.Tom wondered how he knew. Then three or four of the Ravensappeared and one said it would be a great stunt if they could work thaton the Silver Foxes at midnight.

  Tom didn't know what the Silver Foxes were (he knew there were no foxesin Bridgeboro), and he had no notion what "that" meant, but he likedthe idea of doing it at midnight. He would like to be mixed up insomething which was done at midnight himself.

  But his trusty pal, Mr. Ellsworth, did not appear. Whether he wasabsent that evening, Tom never knew. The last ones to emerge from theLibrary basement, were a couple of boys who were talking about dots anddashes.

  "You want to make your dot flares shorter," one said.

  "Shall I tell you what I'm going to say?" the other asked.

  "No, sure not, let me dope it out."

  "Well, then, get on the job as soon as you reach home."

  "All right, then I won't say good-night till later. So long."

  "See you to-morrow."

  How these two expected to say good night without seeing each other Tomcould not imagine, but he thought it had something to do with "dotflares"; in any event, it was something very mysterious and was to bedone that night. He rather liked the idea of it.

  The two boys separated, one going up toward Blakeley's Hill and pausingto glance at the quarantine sign on the Bennett house as he passed. Tomwas rather surprised that he noticed it since he seemed to be in ahurry, but he followed, resolved to "slam" the fellow if he took itdown.

  Then there came into his head the bright idea that if he followed thisboy up the hill to an unfrequented spot he could hold him up for anickel.

  A little way up the hill the boy suddenly turned and stood waiting forhim. Tom was hardly less than amazed at this for he had thought thathis pursuit was not known. When they came face to face Tom saw that itwas none other than the "half-baked galook" Roy Blakeley.

  He wore the full Scout regalia which fitted him to perfection, and uponhis left breast Tom could see a ribbon with something bright dependingfrom it, which seemed to be in the shape of a bird. He had a trimfigure and stood very straight, and about his neck was a looselyknottedscarf of a silvery gray color, showing quite an expanse of barethroat. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and on one wrist hewore a leather band.

  "What are you following me for?" he asked.

  "Who's follerin' yer?"

  "You are."

  "I ain't follerin' yer neither."

  "Yes, you are."

  "Yer mean ter tell me I'm lyin'?" shouted Tom, advancing with athreatening air.

  "Sure."

  Tom's hulking form was within a few inches' of Blakeley and he thrustforward his lowered head and held his clenched fist conveniently readyat his side, but Roy did not budge. On the contrary, he seemed ratheramused. He did not scare worth a cent.

  "Yer want me ter hand ye one?"

  "No, sure not."

  "Well then, was I lyin'?"

  "Surest thing you know."

  There was a pause.

  "Gimme a nickel 'n' I'll leave ye off," said Tom magnanimously.

  The boy laughed and asked, "What do you want the nickel for?"

  "Fer a cup o' coffee."

  Roy paused a minute, biting his lip ruminatively, frankly contemplatinghim.

  "I can make you a better cup of coffee," said he, "than any lunch wagonjuggler in this town. You're halfway up the hill now; come on up therest of the way--just for a stunt. Ever up on the hill?"

  Tom hesitated.

  "Come on, you're not in a hurry to get home, are you? I'll give yousome plum-duff I made and you can have a belt axe to chop it with ifyou want to. Come on, just for a stunt."

  "Who's up dere?"

  "Just 'Yours sincerely.'"

  "Yer live in de big house, don'cher?"

  "Not fer me; guess again. Nay, nay, my boy, _I_ live in CampSolitaire, with a ring round it. Anybody steps inside that ring getshis wrist slapped and two demerits. I let the house stay there onaccount of my mother and father and the cat. Don't you worry, you won'tget within two hundred feet of the house. The house and I don't speak."

  Tom, half suspicious but wanting a cup of coffee, shuffled along atRoy's side. The scout's offhand manner and rather whimsical way oftalking took the wind out of his belligerence, and he allowed himselfso far to soften toward this "rich guy" as to say,

  "Me an' our house don't speak neither; we wuz chucked."

  "Chucked?"

  "Ye-re, put out. Old John Temple done it, but I'm hunk all right."

  "When was that?"

  "Couple o' days ago."

  He told the story of the eviction and his companion listened as theyplodded up the hill.

  "Well," said Roy, "I haven't slept indoors for two weeks, and I'm notgoing to for the next six weeks. And the best way to get hunk on afellow that puts you out of a house is just to sleep outdoors. Theycan't put you out of there very well. Camp, and you've got the laugh onthem!"

  "Gee, I thought nobuddy but poor guys slep' outdoors."

  "It's the poor guys that sleep _indoors,_" said Roy.

  "Don' de wind git on ye?"

  "Sure--gets all over you; it's fine."

  "My father give _me_ a raw hand-out, all right, and then somemore."

  "Well, there's no use fighting your pack."

  "Yer what?"

  "Your pack--as Dan Beard says."

  "Who's he--one o' your crowd?"

  "You bet he is. 'Fighting your pack' is scrapping with your job--withwhat can't be helped--kind of. See?"

  They walked along in silence, Tom's half-limping sideways gait instrange contrast with his companion's carriage, and soon entered thespacious grounds of the big old-fashioned house which crowned thesummit of Blakeley's Hill, one of the show places of the town.

  "Can you jump that hedge?" said Roy, as he leaped over it. "This'll beyour first sleep outdoors, won't it? If you wake up all of a sudden andhear a kind of growling don't get scared--it's only the trees."

  Under a spacious elm, a couple of hundred feet from the house, was alittle tent with a flag-pole near it.

  "That's where Old Glory hangs out, but she goes to bed at sunse
t.That's what gives her such rosy cheeks. We'll hoist her up and give herthe salute in the morning."

  Near the tent was a small fire place of stones, with a rough bench byit and a chair fashioned from a grocery box. Before the entrance stoodtwo poles and on a rough board across these were painted the words,CAMP SOLITAIRE, as Tom saw by the light of the lantern which Roy heldup for a moment.

  The tent was furnished with a cot, blankets, mosquito-netting, severalbooks on a little shelf, and magazines strewn about with BOYS' LIFE ontheir covers. On the central upright was a little shelf with areflector for the lantern, and close to the pole a rickety steamerchair with a cushion or two. The place looked very inviting.

  "Now this out here," said Roy, "is my signal pedestal. You know WestyMartin, don't you? He's patrol leader, and he and I are trying out theMorse code; you'll see me hand him one to-night. We're trying it bysearchlight first, then, later we'll get down to the real fire works.He lives out on the Hillside Road a little way."

  The signal pedestal was a little tower with a platform on top reachedby a ladder.

  "Doesn't need to be very high, you see, because you can throw asearchlight way up, but we use it daytimes for flag work. Here's thesearchlight," Roy added, unwrapping it from a piece of canvas. "Belongson the touring car, but I use it. I let my father use it on the carsometimes--if he's good.

  "Now for the coffee. Sit right down on that parlor chair, but don'tlean too far back. Like it strong? No? Right you are. Wait a minute,the lantern's smoking. Never thought what you were up against to-night,did you? You're kidnapped and don't know it. By the time we're throughthe eats Westy'll be home and we'll say good-night to him.

  "Can you beat that valley for signalling? Westy's nearly as high up aswe are. Now for the fire and then the plum-duff. Don't be afraid of it-youcan only die once. Wish I had some raisin pudding, but my motherturned me down on raisins to-day."

  He sat down on the ground near Tom, scaled his hat into the tent, drewhis knees up, and breathed a long, exaggerated sigh of fatigue afterhis few minutes' exertion.

  "Let's see, what was I going to ask you? Oh, yes; how'd you get hunk onJohn Temple?"

  "Put a quarantine sign on Sissy Bennett's house."

  "What?"

  "Sure; didn't yer see it?"

  "What for?"

  "He's a rich guy, ain't he?"

  Roy looked at him, puzzled.

  "Dere's a gang comin' over from Hillside ter s'prise him to-night."

  "In a car?"

  "Ye-re. An' I put de sign up fer ter sidetrack 'em."

  "You did?"

  In the glare of the glowing fire Roy looked straight at Tom. "How willthat--what good--" he began; then paused and continued to lookcuriously at him with the same concentrated gaze with which he wouldhave studied a trail by night. But that was not for long. A light cameinto his eyes. Hurriedly he took out his watch and looked at it.

  "Nine o'clock," he said, thoughtfully; "they must have started back."

  He rose, all the disgust gone from his face, and slapped Tom on theshoulder.

  "Ain't he a rich guy?" explained Tom.

  "Never mind that," said Roy. "I'm glad you told me--I'm going to showyou something as sure as you're a foot high! You and I are going tohave the time of our lives to-night, and _don't you forget it!_"

  CHAPTER V

  CONNOVER'S PARTY