A NOISE LIKE A SCOUT
If Hervey felt a twinge of meanness that he had unwittingly assisted in
the robbery (albeit indirect) of blind orphans, he felt a fresh twinge
now in the thought that he was safely out of the whole affair, thanks to
poor little Chesty McCullen. He had only to keep still now and he was
all right. The glory of his stunt, or the shame of it, had fallen on
other shoulders. Poor little Chesty had not much on his shoulders except
this shame. But, anyway, Hervey was out of it. Thinking of the switch
and of these developments during his absence he told himself that he was
lucky.
One would think that such a lucky boy would be happy and would sleep
peacefully. But notwithstanding that he was dog tired, somehow he could
not fall asleep. After he had lain in bed about an hour and was sure
that the household was asleep, he crept downstairs and looked about in
the living room and dining room for the newspaper. He had never before
descended like this at such a late hour, and the rooms looked strange to
him. They were so empty and quiet with the dead stillness of night. He
had an odd feeling that he had no right to be prowling around like this;
he thought it seemed like a burglar.
Once upstairs again he closed his door softly, turned on the light and
read:
BOY SCOUTS FIND ALARM SENDER
“A new development occurred in the fire-house robbery matter
to-day when two boy scouts of the local scout organization
appeared at police headquarters and communicated to Sergeant
Wade that they had seen a boy of town loitering about the
fire-alarm box on New Street at about the time the
false-alarm was sent in. They were certain from the sounds
which they could hear on the porch where they sat, that this
boy, Chesty McCullen by name, was tampering with the box. He
ran away as they approached him and they walked as far as
the corner to see which way he went. It was while they were
there watching him that they heard the fire whistle, and
soon the engines were on the scene. These scouts were Warner
Lewis and Craig Hobson.
“The McCullen boy was brought to police headquarters later
to-day and questioned. He denied that he sent in any alarm,
but admitted being near the box. He could give no reason for
loitering there. He protested that he had not gone there at
the instigation of any one. The boy is of the rough element
in East Farrelton, his father a ne’er-do-well who has
several times run foul of the law. The boy has an elder
brother who is absent from home and the family have no
explanation to offer for his absence, and protest no
knowledge of his whereabouts.
“The McCullen boy is being held by the police in the hope
that he will break down and identify any suspect who may be
apprehended in connection with the robbery. The police are
following up several clews at that end of the case.”
Yes, Hervey was out of it. But just the same he did not sleep very well.
After breakfast he did the thing which naturally was his first
inspiration. He strolled past the little jail, casting a weather eye on
it to determine whether an adventurous attempt might be made to free
Chesty McCullen. The enterprise did not seem promising and his vision of
himself perilously ascending a rope melted away.
He sought out Warner Lewis and Craig Hobson. They were pals and always
together, and easy to find. Warner lived on New Street and it was from
the vantage point of his porch that the two had seen and identified the
McCullen boy. These two scouts, who were not as fortunate as Hervey in
their opportunities for summer scouting, had a tent on the Lewis lawn.
They had envied their errant comrade his summer at Temple Camp. They
wondered why he did not talk more about it.
Hervey sought out these two because, by a queer sort of reasoning, he
thought that he could drug his own conscience and somehow help the
McCullen boy by roundly denouncing the pair for what they had done. It
was not as good as a jail delivery, but it was something. He did not
greet these troop colleagues as scout greets scout.
“I suppose you think you’re big, getting your name in the papers,” he
said.
“Look who’s here! We thought you were dead,” said Craig Hobson.
“I’d rather be dead than be a squealer,” said Hervey. “Anyway, you
didn’t see Chesty McCullen ring that fire-alarm--I bet you fifty dollars
you didn’t.”
“Listen who’s talking, you haven’t got fifty dollars,” said Warner
Lewis. “I dare you to dare me to dare Craig Hobson to dare you to show
it to us.” This was intended as a burlesque on Hervey’s well known
propensity and it struck home.
“I dare you to swear that he was the one that did it,” Hervey fired up.
“I dare you to cross your hearts that he did.
Every feller knows the rule
Take a dare and you’re a fool.”
“I dare you to double dare yourself to come to scout meeting sometime or
other in the next year,” said Warner Lewis. “I dare you to knock a chip
off my shoulder--that’s him, the way he talks.”
Craig Hobson was not so addicted to ridicule. “What’s the matter about
seeing Chesty McCullen like we did?” he asked.
“Because you didn’t see him do it,” said Hervey.
“Sure, he did it,” said Craig in a way of friendly argument. “He was
right there and ran away and five minutes after that the whistle blew;
maybe ten minutes.”
“That shows what kind of a scout you are,” said Hervey.
“Listen who’s talking about scouting,” laughed Warner Lewis.
“If he turned in the alarm the whistle would blow in _one_ minute,”
Hervey shouted in Craig’s face. “You ask any of the firemen, because I
know them all; I even know the fire-house dog, he followed me all the
way to Hermit’s Mountain one day. I even slept in the fire-house. I bet
you that alarm was sent in about, anyway five minutes after he was
there--I bet you. I bet it was sent in while you were standing up at the
corner watching where he went--I bet you.”
“Gee, some bets!” said Craig. “_I_ bet that in a couple of days or so,
or in a week maybe, they’ll arrest somebody for that robbery and I bet
Chesty McCullen will admit it was the one that told him to send in the
alarm.”
“I bet you he won’t,” Hervey shouted.
“I bet you he will,” Craig shouted.
Hervey was aroused to high excitement. Ordinarily he was too amiable, or
perhaps too little interested in such matters, to get into disputes with
other boys. He was for action rather than argument. He was too free and
easy to quibble. And as for scouting, he was the last one to be
discussing its nice points with scouts in good standing. He was not
aroused about any such matter now. He was thinking of poor little Chesty
McCullen and trying to square himself with Chesty by vigorously
defending him.
“You’re a couple of tin-horn scouts,” he shouted. “Such swell
detectives, you get your names in the papers catching criminals and
everything, you make me laugh! If anybody rings the fire-alarm the
whistle will blow inside of _one minute_. You even admit it didn’t blow
for maybe ten minutes. How do you know what happened in those ten
minutes. Could you watch where Chesty was going and watch that fire-box
too? You’d have to have eyes in the back of your head and you haven’t
even got eyes in the front of your head!”
“Listen, Herve,” said Craig, becoming serious and very friendly; “cut it
out; what’s the use scrapping? The cops said what we did was all right.
Why don’t you be a scout yourself? You never come to meetings, you never
go round with us, you never chip in, you don’t bother about merit badges
or anything--gee! Now when Warner and I do something like scouts are
supposed to do, you come around and jump all over us. What are you sore
about, anyway? We saw Chesty there, and we saw him run when he heard us,
and we went to the police station and told about it. Jiminy crinkums,
what are you so sore about, Hervey?”
Ah, that was it! _What was he so sore about?_ This young free lance who
did not take any interest in the concerns and doings of other boys. Why
all this pother? And what was the matter with these two good-natured
scouts who had been content to camp on the Lewis lawn while Hervey
Willetts was driving the management to distraction up at Temple Camp?
They were pretty good scouts. Suddenly, Hervey must descend upon them
with technicalities and storming denunciation. _What was he so sore
about?_
“I never knew you took so much interest,” said Warner Lewis. “Will you
stay and help us cook lunch? We’ve got some spaghetti.”
“Do you say it wasn’t mean to get that kid arrested?” Hervey demanded.
“We didn’t get him arrested, we only went and told what we saw,” said
Craig. “Any one would think he was your brother.”
“He let me use his father’s boat,” Hervey said. “If I stay and eat with
you will you go with me to-night and the three of us will set him free?
I know how we can do, I’ll show you! all we need is a rope.”
Craig and Warner laughed heartily. “Come out of it, Herve,” Warner said.
“All right!” thundered Hervey. “_I’ll_ show you who’s a real scout!
_I’ll_ show you how to track a feller! _I’ll_ show you how to get your
name in the papers!”
“I don’t see what you’re so sore about?” repeated Craig.
“I’ll show you how to make a noise like a scout!” Hervey fairly yelled.
“Go ahead, now you’re talking,” said Warner.
“I’ll do more than talk,” Hervey screamed at him. “I can--I told my
father whatever a scout can do, I can beat him at it! I can do anything
that any scout in any troop can do, and then I can take him out and lose
him!”
“Goodness me,” said Warner.
“I’ll smash your little stunt for you--you see,” said Hervey with
gleaming eyes. “Do you dare me to? _Do you dare me to?_ Do you say I
can’t set Chesty McCullen free--do you dare me?”
“There you go with your dares,” said Craig.
“Do you dare me to; do you say I can’t?” Hervey demanded with a steely
look.
“Yes, we dare you to, and we say you can’t, and we say you’re a fool,”
said Warner.
“I’ll make a noise like a scout for you!” shouted Hervey.
That was pretty good. It would be hard to analyze Hervey’s impulses in
all his boastful excitement, and to say whether he was sore at those two
boys or sore at himself. He himself hardly knew what was the matter with
him. But he was going to trample those two boys in the dust and make a
noise like a scout. Not for a moment did he admit that he was going to
hit the scout trail with a vengeance and cleanse his own soul of a
yellow stain that was upon it.