CHESTY, AMBASSADOR
There was time enough that afternoon for Hervey to stage the climax of
the latest dare. He wished to do this before the evening paper appeared.
It was not by way of showing off, but according to the ethics of dares
and stunts the performer must always report and confound his challenger.
It is amusing how punctilious Hervey was in such matters.
He was probably the only boy in the upper world of Farrelton who knew
where to find Chesty McCullen. But Farrelton had an underworld too, a
sprawling group of hovels down by the river, and here Chesty lived. The
neighborhood was one of Hervey’s familiar haunts. Chesty, now thoroughly
aroused to the perils of Farrelton, could not have been dragged there by
wild horses, but for Hervey he would do anything.
“I set you free,” said Hervey, “so you have to pay me back. You have to
go up to New Street and see Warner Lewis and Craig Hobson and tell them
I sent you. You must only just say to them that they dared me I could
get you out of jail so now they got their answer. Seeing is believing,
you tell them that. You’ll see a tent on the lawn of one of those houses
near the fire-alarm box; that’s where they are. And you can tell them
they’re a couple of sap-headed fools and they can take their scout troop
and go to blazes with it. You just tell them that. You say I sent you
because seeing is believing and they get their faces washed with their
own dare.”
Chesty did not know about this errand, undertaken so soon upon his
release from jail. But he could not refuse Hervey and he had not the wit
to inquire why his hero did not deliver this high-handed address in
person. It may be assumed that Hervey had his reasons; perhaps he
thought that the effect would be better with himself withdrawn from the
scene.
He was on time for supper that evening and did not venture to absent
himself afterward. Instead he waited for the talk which all through the
meal he suspected his father was reserving for a quiet session in the
living room.
“Now, Hervey,” said Mr. Walton, “this matter is closed. You did right to
go and give yourself up--I don’t want to hear your reasons. What you did
was right. And I think that you did it because you couldn’t get
comfortable till you did. So we won’t give too much credit to your dare
or your stunt or whatever it was. I----”
“Just the same I’ll never do anything for the scouts,” Hervey flared up.
“I’m through with that bunch for good and all. They got Chesty McCullen
in jail; one of those fellers is a monitor in school, so that shows you
what kind of a feller he is. Nix on that outfit. I’m going perch fishing
with Chesty to-morrow and I’m going to blow him to a soda too. He’s a
poor kid and look what he got--_some deal_, I’ll say. That kid can beat
any of that bunch swimming.”
Mr. Walton listened soberly, his lips pursed. “But you see if you hadn’t
sent in the false alarm, Chesty wouldn’t have got in trouble. You got
him out, but you also got him in. Isn’t that so, Herve?”
“I never squealed; no siree, I never did that.”
“Well, the matter is closed now anyway, Herve,” Mr. Walton said,
despairingly. “I’m sorry you’re dropping out of the Scouts. But of
course, I’d rather you’d drop out altogether than be a scout slacker. So
you’ll just have to suit yourself. Now what I want to say to you is
this. You mustn’t get into trouble again. Last year you caused us a
great deal of worry and I sent you up to Temple Camp thinking you’d find
a suitable field of enjoyment there. So far I haven’t heard you say one
word about your summer at Temple Camp. In the spring you encouraged Mr.
Allerton’s dog to follow you for miles and he got run over and I had to
settle with Mr. Allerton. You got in trouble for some absurdities last
Hallowe’en, taking furniture from porches.
“Now you heard the judge say that if you ever came before him again, it
would go hard with you. I just want to tell you, Herve, that in such a
case you can’t count on me; you’ll have to take the consequences. I
don’t mean that I’d let you go to jail; I know you wouldn’t commit a
crime--be dishonest. But if it should ever seem advisable to send you
away to some sort of military or training school, perhaps, where you
will be under rigid discipline I would not discourage such a course.
There are places where they send boys who are hard to manage. I think
school opens a week from Monday, doesn’t it?”
“Yop, but Hairpin Wilkens isn’t going to teach mathematics this year,
that’s one good thing.”
“And you’ve left the Scouts?”
“I threw them down flat,” said Hervey. “But, one thing, I’m going to
show Chesty McCullen a good time; look what he was up against--_oh
bimbo_!”
“I think that’s a good idea, Herve,” said Mr. Walton. “Why don’t you
take him to the movies? Isn’t there a cowboy play at the Lyric?”
“Nix on looking at that stuff; it only makes me want to get out on a
mustang. That’s what I want to do most of all--ride a horse, a good wild
one. Montana, that’s where I’d like to go. Don’t you think the train
robbers are all dead--they’re not.”
“No, I don’t suppose so.”
“I want to go on a ranch, that’s what I want to do.”
“Yes, but even on a ranch you’d have to obey orders. Ranches are run by
rules. The whole world is run by rules, Herve.”
“Some punk rules, I’ll say.”
“Either you’ve got to do the world’s way, or else you’ve got to make the
world do your way--and I’m afraid you can’t do that. Isn’t that so,
Herve?”
“Bet your life,” said Hervey.
“Well, you take Chesty out and give him a good time; I think that’s a
fine idea.”
“Sure, after being in jail like that,” said Hervey. The very idea of
imprisonment was terrible to Hervey. To be confined, kept in; it was
horrible, unbearable. He was the grand champion of freedom.