THE ALARM.
“How are we going to do this patrol work, Hugh?” asked Billy Worth as he
and Jack Durham pushed their way to the front of the group surrounding
the assistant scout master.
“I’ll appoint squads, and they are to be divided into couples,” replied
the leader of the troop. “No scout is to go alone because he may be set
upon, and with two, it’s always possible to give the alarm. Then we’ll
have signs and passwords. If help is wanted, you must call out with the
sign of your patrol—the Hawks giving their ‘Kree-kree-eee,’ the Wolves a
loud ‘How-ooo-ooo,’ the Foxes ‘Skee-eee-eee,’ and the Otters
‘Yap-yap-yap’! You all understand that only in case help is needed are
you to utter these patrol calls.”
“And if we catch any fellow trying to litter up the town, what’s going
to happen to him?” asked Alec Sands grimly.
“I want to get the sentiment of the troop on that subject,” said Hugh.
“Don’t all talk at once, but tell me what you think we ought to do. You
know the mayor hasn’t exactly ordered us to do it, but probably he
expects that if we catch any of that crowd doing what the proclamation
forbids, we ought to hand the fellow over to one of the police force, to
be taken to the lock-up.”
The scouts did not seem to favor this idea very much. All sorts of
dissenting notes arose.
“Huh! and if we did that how many of you expect he’d reach the cooler?”
demanded Dick Bellamy, who was of a skeptical turn when it came to
believing any good of the police.
“Chances are they’d let the fellow slip through their fingers and then
say it was an accident that couldn’t be helped,” added Monkey Stallings,
the boy who was so agile that he could perform all manner of circus
tricks as though born to the spangles and the sawdust arena.
“Hugh, don’t make us take that bitter medicine,” urged Spike Welling.
“Make up some other scheme of your own. Seems to me we ought to take the
case into our hands if we manage to make a capture. Somebody might carry
a whip along, and we’d give him a taste of strap oil that’d cure him
from prowling around nights, spoiling the looks of things.”
Hugh shook his head at this ferocious suggestion.
“I don’t think that would do at all,” he said at once. “It might get us
into trouble. We’re not in the White Cap business, you see. But it might
do to give the prisoner his choice between being handed over to the
police or taking a ducking.”
“That’s the ticket!” cried Cooper Fennimore with enthusiasm. “Cool him
off by dipping him in the river a few times, clothes and all. My stars!
After he found the scouts meant business from the word go and wouldn’t
stand for any foolishness, I guess he’d quit his funny work and behave.
Talking won’t go with that crowd; you’ve just got to do things. That’s
the only kind of lesson they’ll learn.”
Others made suggestions along various lines. Some of these were comical,
and others seemed too barbarous to think of entertaining for a minute.
After all was said and done, it appeared to be the consensus of opinion
that in case they did make a capture the plan outlined by Hugh had
better be put into execution. If the fellow was stubborn and would not
make a choice between two evils, then the scouts could do it for him,
and every one knew what would happen then, for the police must find
their own prisoners.
All preliminaries were soon arranged. Each scout knew just what his
duties and privileges were to be. They went forth full of a desire to
acquit themselves with credit to the whole troop. And no doubt every
fellow was secretly hoping deep down in his heart that the offending
Corbley crowd would not change their minds and lie low on this
particular night. Although they belonged to a peace organization, the
scouts loved action. Nothing pleased them more than to have things
happening thick and fast, giving them delicious little thrills all the
while.
Once again the night favored them.
The moon was already “doing business at the old stand,” as Billy
described it, and this promised to be of considerable importance to the
boys who meant to roam the streets for hours in couples, keeping a
bright lookout for offenders desirous of defying the mayor’s
proclamation.
It being Saturday night, there were an unusually large number of people
abroad, as was always the case at week-ends. On this particular occasion
it seemed to be in the air that something out of the ordinary might be
expected. No one knew what, and consequently men, women, boys and girls
thronged the principal streets up to nine o’clock.
That time came and went with everything appearing as usual and no
outbreak occurring. Hugh had taken it for granted that the young vandals
would not venture to bother the park again, knowing that the police had
it under their eye; and besides, there were far too many persons abroad
in that section of the city for them to venture to show themselves
there.
If they did break loose at all, the attack would likely enough come in
another quarter entirely. Feeling confident of this, Hugh disposed of
his scouts in such a manner that they could guard the parts where the
police did not patrol: the residence sections.
He and Billy walked around and followed the beat which they had taken it
upon themselves to cover. Everything was being conducted with military
exactness. They had not forgotten the methods of the two rival armies in
the mock battle, when they had served as signal corps operators, nor the
example of the Naval Reserves, nor the work of the Life Savers.
When the two reached one end of their beat, they waited until another
pair of khaki-clad figures approached, and then the secret countersign
was passed between them in whispers. After that Hugh and Billy walked to
the other end of their beat, and there rubbed up against another couple
of scouts.
Ten o’clock came, and as yet all was well. Some of the boys began to
weary of this unusual exertion. They had had a warm day and a most
strenuous one as well. It did not seem surprising, then, that they
should find themselves yawning at a terrific rate, and beginning to wish
that something would happen, or else that Hugh would order them home.
This sort of thing was going on all over the section where Hugh had
figured it was most likely the prank-loving vandals would start their
work, if they ventured to do anything at all. The score and a half of
scouts had been placed in such manner as to cover quite a large space.
If Lige and his followers managed to slip inside the lines and cut up
any tricks, they would have to be mighty crafty about it, for every
scout was supposed to be constantly on the alert, watching right and
left for suspicious conditions.
“Looks as if it might have been a case of bluff, doesn’t it, Hugh?”
Billy said, when another half hour had crept past. Sounds from downtown
were dying out as people went home, believing that there would not be
any excitement, after all.
“It’s a little too early to settle that question, I’m afraid, Billy,”
replied the assistant scout master. “If they meant to do anything, you
wouldn’t expect them to start in until as late as this, anyway. We’ll
try to hold out till midnight, and then if nothing starts, why I suppose
we’ll have to go home and take chances.”
“Whee, an hour and a half yet, that means!” said Billy with a big sigh,
as the church clock rang the half hour. He was hardly able to drag one
fat leg after the other such was his utter weariness, but being the
possessor of a stubborn spirit, Billy would not confess that he felt
anything but “chipper.”
“Something may happen before then to change our plans,” Hugh told him.
“If we managed to make a capture, I think you’d brighten up.”
“Just try me,” replied Billy, endeavoring to look as though he were not
half dead for sleep; for Billy’s two great weaknesses were a love for
lying in bed mornings, and a dislike to leaving the dinner table so long
as anything to eat remained in sight.
“When the Chief came around just a little while back to see how we were
getting on, he said he did not expect to have any trouble to-night,”
Hugh continued. “That fierce proclamation from the mayor seems to have
convinced him that the evildoers will all take to hiding. But we know
different. Fellows like Lige Corbley and their crowd think very little
of the mayor’s backbone. You see, about every one of them has a father
or uncle who can exercise his ‘pull’ with the authorities, and they rely
on that to get them off in case of trouble.”
“That sounds true to me, Hugh,” Billy observed; “but then, the city was
never so much worked up as now, and the people won’t stand for any of
that funny business. If the mayor is back of us, then the Chief had
better look out or he’ll lose the number of his mess. Seems to me he’s
on to that fact, too, which accounts for the way he acts toward us
scouts. We represent thirty-eight families, and some of the most
influential in town. Guess he begins to think he’s fooling with a
buzz-saw when he tries to go against the sentiment of the best
citizens.”
“Watch that fellow over there, Billy,” said Hugh, putting out his hand
and holding his companion still under the shadow of a willow tree.
“It’s a boy, isn’t it? He seems to be looking around as if he wanted to
find out whether this section was being patrolled and where the guards
hold out, eh, Hugh?”
“Do you notice that he’s got his cap drawn away down over his face? But
it seems to me that his walk is familiar,” Hugh responded. “If you asked
me who he is, I’d give a guess and say Andy Wallis!”
“The Chief’s own nephew!” ejaculated Billy.
“Yes, and as he doesn’t live in this part of town at all, the question
is: what brings him here?” remarked Hugh in a whisper, all the while
watching the actions of the shadowy figure across the street.
The boy may have suspected that he was seen, for suddenly starting to
whistle, as though he did not have a care in the wide world, he walked
off at a more rapid pace and vanished around the near-by corner, where
he would enter upon the next patrol’s post.
“Do you think he was spying out the land, Hugh?” Billy inquired eagerly.
“That’s hard to say,” came the answer; “but one thing is sure, he
wouldn’t be in this neighborhood unless he had some scheme in his head.
I’m inclined to think he is acting as a sort of decoy to draw some of us
away while others get in their work.”
“Gee! that sounds interesting,” remarked “Billy the Wolf,” as his chums
often called him, no doubt because he was so often heard practicing the
long-drawn howl of the Wolf Patrol.
The two scouts continued to pace their beat industriously. Billy had
managed to overcome that dreadful feeling of drowsiness, for a time at
least. Of course it was bound to come back again later on with increased
energy; but the growing possibility of something stirring happening was
keeping him on edge now.
Perhaps ten minutes later, or it may have been no more than eight,
around the corner came a flying figure that quickly resolved itself into
a boy wearing the well-known khaki suit of a scout.
It was no other than Arthur Cameron, whose beat adjoined that of Hugh
and Billy and with whom they had exchanged passwords many times since
going on duty.
Arthur was plainly wild with fresh excitement, and Billy’s heart began
to beat fast with anticipations of coming news.
“What ails you, Arthur?” demanded the assistant scout master, as the
other came close up, panting for breath.
“They’re there, and doing it for keeps!” gasped Arthur.
“Where do you mean, and what are they doing?” asked Hugh quickly; while
doubtless Billy was saying to himself something like, “Oh, joy! joy! now
we’ll get it!”
“Over in the mayor’s front yard, playing hob with everything!” Arthur
burst out.