SIGNS OF TROUBLE AHEAD
"Was it about Dock?" asked Carl, eagerly, while Tom could see that the
color had left his face all of a sudden.
"Yes," continued Mrs. Joslyn, "Dock seems to have fallen into the habit
of staying out until midnight, with some of those young fellows who
loaf on the corners and get into every kind of mischief they can think
up."
"That's what we've been told was going on, ma'am," said Tom.
"I could hear his father scolding him furiously, while his mother was
crying, and trying to make peace. Dock was ugly, too, and for a time I
thought his father was going to throw him out of the house. But in the
end it quieted down."
"That's a new streak in Dock's father, I should say," remarked Tom.
"Time was when he used to come home himself at all hours of the night,
and in a condition that must have made his wife's heart sick."
"Yes, but you know he's turned over a new leaf, and acts as if he meant
to stick to the water wagon," Mrs. Joslyn explained. "Somehow it's made
him just the other way, very severe with Dock. I guess he's afraid now
the boy will copy his bad example, and that's peeving Mr. Phillips."
"But he let Dock stay in the house, you say?" Carl continued. "Then I
wonder why he didn't show up for orders this morning. The other boy
told my mother Dock was sick and couldn't come."
Mrs. Joslyn smiled.
"Yes, he says that," she observed. "I went over to take back a dish I
had borrowed, and he was lying on the lounge, smoking a cigarette. He
said he was real sick, but between you and me, Carl, I'm of the opinion
he's just tired of his job, and means to throw it up. He'd rather loaf
than work any day."
Carl breathed more freely. It was of course none of his business what
Dock did with himself, though he might think the other was a mean shirk
to hang around idle when his people needed every dollar they could
scrape up.
"Thank you for telling me this, Mrs. Joslyn," he said as with his chum
he prepared to take his departure; "it relieves my mind in several
ways. And please don't whisper my secret to any one. I still hope to
be able to get that paper from Dock sooner or later, if he doesn't come
to terms with Amasa Culpepper."
"I promise you faithfully Carl," the little woman told him. "I guess
I'm able to hold my tongue, even if they do say my sex never can. And
Carl, you must let me know if anything happens to alter conditions,
because I'm dreadfully interested. This is the first time in all my
life I've been connected with a secret."
"I certainly will let you know, Mrs. Joslyn," Carl promised.
"And furthermore," she continued, "if I happen to see Dock doing
anything that looks queer or suspicious I'll get word to you. He might
happen to have his hiding-place somewhere around the back yard or the
hen house, you know. He may have buried the paper in the garden. I'll
keep an eye on the neighbors while he's home."
Tom was chuckling at a great rate as he and Carl went down the street.
"It looks as if you've got Mrs. Joslyn a whole lot interested, Carl,"
he told the other. "She's just burning with curiosity to find out
something. Every time Dock steps out to feed the chickens she's going
to drop whatever she may be doing, and focus her eyes on him, even if
her pork chops burn to black leather."
"I wonder what he's meaning to do?" remarked Carl, in a speculative
way.
"Oh! just as Mrs. Joslyn told us, Dock's a lazy fellow," Tom suggested;
"and now that his father is working steadily he thinks it's time for
him to have a rest. Then we believe he's expecting sooner or later to
get a big lot of money from Mr. Culpepper, when they come to terms."
"Yes," added Carl. "And in the meantime perhaps he's got Amasa to hand
him over a few dollars a week, just to keep him quiet. That would
supply his cigarettes, you know, and give him spending money."
"Well, it's a question how long his father will put up with it," Tom
mused. "One of these fine days we'll likely hear that Dock has been
kicked out, and taken to the road."
"He's going with that Tony Pollock crowd you know," Carl hinted; "and
some of them would put him up for a time. But I'm hoping we'll find a
chance to make him own up, and hand back the thing he stole. I'd like
to see my mother look happy again."
"Does Amasa still drop in to call now and then?" asked the other.
"Yes, but my mother insists that I sit up until he goes whenever he
does. You'd have a fit laughing, Tom, to see the black looks he gives
me. I pretend to be studying to beat the band, and in the end he has
to take his hat and go. I'm allowed to sleep an hour later after those
nights, you see, to make up. It's getting to be a regular nuisance, and
mother says she means to send him about his business; but somehow his
hide is so thick he can't take an ordinary hint. I think his middle
name should have been Rhinoceros instead of Reuben."
"What will she do when you're away with the rest of us on that ten day
hike over Big Bear Mountain?" asked Tom.
"Oh! she says she'll have told Mr. Culpepper before then she doesn't
want him to call again," explained Carl; "either that or else she'll
have to keep all the rest of the children up, and get them to romping
like wild Indians. You know Amasa is nervous, and can't stand noise."
Tom laughed at the picture thus drawn of three boisterous youngsters
employed in causing an ardent wooer to take his departure.
"It's only a few days now before we can get started, you know, Carl.
Nearly all the preparations have been made. Each scout will have his
new uniform on, with a few extra clothes in his pack."
"We won't try to carry any tent, will we, Tom?"
"That's been settled," came the ready answer. "At the meeting when I
was elected patrol leader we discussed this trip, and it took like
wildfire. In the first place we haven't a tent worth carrying; and then
again it would make too heavy a load. All of us have been studying up
on how to make brush shelters when in the woods, and even if it rains I
think we'll get on fairly well."
"Each scout has a rubber poncho, which can be made mighty useful in a
pinch, I should think," said Carl. "Then besides our clothes and a
blanket, we'll have to carry a cooking outfit, as light as it can be
made, and what grub we expect to eat up."
"Oh! most of that we'll rustle for on the way," the patrol leader told
him. "We'll find farms scattered along our route, and it'll be easy
enough to buy eggs, milk, perhaps a home-cured ham, some chickens, and
other things like bread and butter."
"That's a great scheme, Tom, and it makes my mouth fairly water just to
talk about it. Sounds like an army foraging, only instead of taking
things we'll expect to pay cash for them. How many are going along on
the hike?"
"I have yet to hear of any member of the Black Bear Patrol who dreams
of backing out; and there are several others who've told me they hope
to join us. The way it looks now only a bad case of sickness would be
able to keep any scout from being in line on that wonderful morning
when Lenox Troop marches out of town headed for Big Bear Mountain."
"One good thing, we don't have to pack any heavy guns along with us,"
declared Carl.
"No, that's absolutely forbidden," the patrol leader declared; "we can
take a fishing rod if we feel like it, because there's a chance to pick
up some trout or bass before we come back on the down-river boat ten
days later."
"I like that idea of making the return trip by water," Carl continued.
"It will be great after so much tramping and camping. Besides, some of
the boys have never been fifteen miles up the river before, and so the
trip is going to be a picnic for them."
"Come over to-night and do your cramming for the exam with me,"
suggested Tom.
"I'd like to the worst kind," the other boy said with a grimace; "but
this is the night Mr. Culpepper generally pops in, and you see I'm on
guard. But I'm hoping mother will give him his walking papers pretty
soon now."
"You would have to put a bomb under his chair to convince Amasa that
his space was more desired than his company," laughed Tom, as he strode
off toward his own comfortable home.
The days passed, and since school would be over for the year at the end
of the week, in the bustle of examinations and all that they meant for
each boy scout, the intended outing was over-shadowed for the time
being.
When, however, several of the scouts got together of course the talk
soon drifted toward the subject of the hike, and many were the
wonderful projects advanced, each of which seemed to give promise of a
glorious prospect ahead.
So Friday night finally came.
School had been dismissed with all the accustomed ceremonies that
afternoon, and there were few of the boys who had not gone up to a
higher grade, so that when the last meeting before their expected
vacation trip was called to order by the president of the organization
it was a care-free and happy assemblage that answered the roll-call.
Mr. Witherspoon, the scout master, was on hand, but he seldom
interfered with the routine of the meeting. It was his opinion that
boys got on much better if allowed to manage things as much as possible
after their own ideas. If his advice was needed at any time he stood
ready to give it; and meanwhile he meant to act more as a big brother
to the troop than its leading officer.
Of course Mr. Witherspoon expected to start out on the hike with the
boys. His only fear was that he might not be allowed to finish the
outing in their company, since he was liable to be called away at any
time on urgent business.
The usual routine of the meeting was gone through with, and then a
general discussion took place in connection with the anticipated hike.
They had laid out the plan of campaign as well as they could,
considering that none of the boys had actually been over the entire
route before.
"That makes it all the more interesting," Tom had told them; "because
we'll be apt to meet with a few surprises on the way. None of us would
like to have anything all cut and dried ahead of time, I'm sure."
"It's generally the unexpected that gives the most pleasure," declared
Josh Kingsley, who was known to have leanings toward being a great
inventor some fine day, and always hoped to make an important discovery
while he experimented in his workshop in the old red barn back of his
home.
"Well," remarked George Cooper, getting slowly to his feet, "there may
be some things that drop in on you unexpected like that don't seem to
give you a whit of pleasure, and I can name one right now."
"Oh come, George, you old growler, you're just trying to throw cold
water on our big scheme," complained Felix Robbins, trying to pull the
other down.
"I've seen him shaking his head lots of times all evening," asserted
Billy Button, "and I just guessed George was aching to make us feel
bad. He's never so happy as when he's making other folks miserable."
George refused to take his seat. He even shrugged his shoulders as
though he thought his comrades were hardly treating him fairly.
"Listen, fellows," he said, solemnly and ponderously; "I don't like to
be the bird of ill omen that carries the bad news; but honest to
goodness I'm afraid there's a heap of trouble looming up on the horizon
for us unless we change our plans for a hike over Big Bear Mountain."
"What sort of trouble do you mean, George?" asked the patrol leader.
"Only this, Mr. President," said George, "on the way here I learned
that Tony Pollock, Wedge McGuffey, Asa Green and Dock Phillips had
started off this very afternoon, meaning to spend a week or more
tramping over Big Bear Mountain; and I guess they've got it in for our
crowd."