ROY BLAKELEY KEEPS STILL--FOR A WONDER
"Yes, that was the one trouble with Tom Slade--he couldn't obey orders."
"I think you're rather severe," said Mrs. Ellsworth.
"He had his work all cut out for him here," persisted her husband
relentlessly. "He knew the part the scouts were supposed to play in the
war, but he thought he knew more than I did about it. He gave me his
promise, and then he broke his word. He flunked on his first duty."
Mr. Ellsworth pushed his coffee cup from him and pushed his chair back
from the dining table in a very conclusive manner.
For a moment no one spoke. The young man in the soldier's uniform gazed
into his empty cup and said nothing. Then he looked up at Mrs. Ellsworth
as if he hoped she would answer her husband. Of the four who sat there
in the Ellsworths' pleasant little dining room, Roy Blakeley was the
first to speak.
"He'll make a good soldier, anyway," he said.
"A good soldier is one who obeys orders," said Mr. Ellsworth, tightening
his lips uncompromisingly. "Tom Slade's war duties were very clearly
mapped out for him. And, besides, he gave me his promise; you heard him,
didn't you?"
"Yes, I did," said Roy reluctantly.
"All I asked of him," continued the scoutmaster, "was to do his bit as a
scout with the Colors, till he was of military age. He gave me his
promise--you heard him--and then he desert----"
"Oh, don't say that," said Mrs. Ellsworth; "that's a dreadful word!"
The young man in uniform bit his lip and started to move his chair back;
then, as if uncertain what to do, remained where he was.
"A promise is a promise," said the scoutmaster. "You can't build up
anything good on the foundation of a broken promise."
"Don't you think a person _might_ be justified in breaking a promise?"
said the soldier diffidently.
"No, sir; not if it is humanly possible to keep it.--Besides, Tom must
have had to lie to get into the army."
There was a moment's pause.
"It was dreadful to think of his pawning his Gold Cross," said Mrs.
Ellsworth; "if he had only kept his word and waited a little while----"
"He would never have had that Cross to pawn if he hadn't been brave,"
said Roy, flushing slightly.
"Good for you, Roy!" said the young soldier.
Mr. Ellsworth laughed pleasantly at Roy's unshakable faith in his absent
friend.
"That's right, Roy," said Mrs. Ellsworth, with a very sweet smile. "You
stand up for him."
"If I can't stand up for him, I'll keep still," said Roy.
"Well, then, I guess you'll have to keep still," laughed Mr. Ellsworth,
"for there isn't much defense. I did all I could for Tom," he added,
more soberly. "If his three years of scouting didn't teach him to keep
his word with me as I always kept mine with him, it must have been to no
purpose. He might have waited a little, kept his solemn promise, and
gone into the army under the same honorable conditions as you did," he
said, turning to the soldier; "and we should all have----"
"What's the matter?" exclaimed Roy.
[Illustration: THE LAST THEY SAW OF TOM, HE WAS CLINGING TO ONE OF THE
FLAPPING DOORS, HIS FOOT BRACED AGAINST A CABLE CLEAT. Page 174]
Roscoe Bent had thrown his chair back and without so much as excusing
himself had stridden over to the bay window, where he stood holding the
curtain aside and looking out.
"What is it--reveille?" the scoutmaster laughed.
"May I smoke a cigarette?" Roscoe asked nervously.
"Uncle Sam hasn't cured you of that, has he?" Mr. Ellsworth laughed.
"Sure; go ahead."
The soldier's abrupt movement seemed to terminate the little
after-dinner chat, and Mrs. Ellsworth, bent on other duties perhaps, or
possibly foreseeing that her husband wished to "talk business," arose
also and left the three to themselves.
"I--er--don't smoke as much as I did," said Roscoe; "but
sometimes--er--a cigarette sort of pulls you together. What--what were
you going to say?"
He returned and sat down again at the table.
"Why, nothing in particular," said Mr. Ellsworth, "except this: I want
you to drive home to these boys of mine this lesson of obedience, this
necessity for respecting a promise above all things, and of obeying an
order from one whom they've promised to obey. You get me?"
"I--I think I do."
"This meeting which we're holding in conjunction with the Y. M. C. A.
to-morrow night is the last one before I go away myself. When I heard
you were going to be home from camp over the week-end, it just popped
into my head that I'd ask you to come around and give the boys a spiel.
They've all got a great admiration for you, Roscoe. I suppose it's
because your uniform becomes you so well. You make a pretty fine-looking
soldier. Anybody tell you that?"
"Miss--Margaret Ellison, in the Temple Camp office, was kind enough to
hint as much," admitted Roscoe humorously.
He did look pretty handsome in his new khaki. He had a figure as
straight as an arrow and a way of holding his head and carrying himself
with the true soldier air. Besides, his blond, wavy hair, always
attractive, seemed to harmonize with his brown uniform, and his blue
eyes had a kind of dancing recklessness in them.
"All the boys have promised to be there--the Methodist Troop, the East
Bridgeboro Troop, and mine----"
"Which is the best of all," put in Roy.
Roscoe laughed merrily.
"We'll have the Y. M. C. A. boys and three full troops as well."
"Except for Tom," said Roy.
"We won't talk of Tom any more," said Mr. Ellsworth. "That's a tale that
is told. It's a closed book."
"It isn't with me," said Roy bravely.
"I want you to tell the boys--there'll be some girls there, too, if they
want to come----"
"Oh, joy!" Roy commented.
"I'm glad to see you bucking up," said the scoutmaster. "I want you to
tell the boys," he went on to Roscoe, "a little about life down in Camp
Dix. Tell them how you enlisted."
"I didn't enlist--I was drafted."
"Well, it's much the same--you were glad to be drafted. There were a
whole lot of you fellows who didn't get around to enlisting who were
glad enough when the call came. You didn't need any urging, I'll bet."
"N-no," said Roscoe.
"And so I want you to tell these scouts, just in your own way, what it
means to be a soldier. Dwell on the sense of honor which this fine
military discipline gives. Tell them what is meant by a parole, and what
it means to break a parole--which is just breaking your promise. I don't
care so much about the guns and swords just now--I mean as far as
to-morrow night is concerned. But I'd like these scouts to know that
there's something besides fighting to being a soldier--a real one. I'd
like them to know that a soldier's word can be trusted, his promise
depended on. If anything that has happened in my troop," he added
significantly, "has given them a wrong impression--you correct that
impression. See?"
"I'll try to."
"That's it. You know, Roscoe, most boys, and some scouts even, think
that a soldier is just a fellow who shoots and makes raids and storms
fortifications and all that. There's many a boy thinks he can be a
soldier by just running off to the war. But that's where he's got a
couple of more thinks coming, as Roy here would say. Uncle Sam wants
soldiers, but he doesn't want to be lied to and cheated----"
Roy winced.
"I want you to give them just a little off-hand, heart-to-heart talk
about the other end of it--how a 'soldier's wealth is honor,' as old
What's-his-name, the poet, says."
"I'll try to," said Roscoe.
"Then there's another thing. I'm off with the engineering corps myself
pretty soon. And my three patrols are going to feel pretty bad to see
me go, too. That so, Roy?"
"You bet it is," said Roy.
"Tell them they ought to be proud to see me go. They'll listen to you,
because you're a regular A-One, all-around soldier, you're nearer to
their own age, and you're an outsider. Tell them how tickled you were to
get your name down on that little old roll of honor----"
Roscoe rose suddenly.
"Don't--please don't," said he.
"What's the matter?" Mr. Ellsworth asked.
"Nothing--only--I have to go home now. I--I understand, and I'll do
it--I'll--I'm not much on speechmaking, but I know what you mean,
and----"
"That's right, you get the idea," Mr. Ellsworth exclaimed, rising and
slapping him on the shoulder. "I won't keep you any later, for I know
they're waiting for you around in Rockwood Place."
"I'll only have this one night at home," said Roscoe.
"And I'll bet they're proud of you round there, too," Mr. Ellsworth
added, as he followed them into the front hall. "I've got three full
patrols--that is, two, I mean; and Connie Bennett expects to dig up
another boy for us. Roy refused the job. Never had a kid of my own, but
I'd like to have a soldier boy like you."
He helped Roscoe on with his big army ulster, and stood with a hand on
either of Roscoe's shoulders.
"You tell your father when you get home that I congratulate him.
Providence did him a good turn, as we scouts say."
"I dare say somebody or other did him a good turn," said Roscoe, almost
in a tone of disgust.
"Tell him I said he ought to be proud to furnish Uncle Sam with such a
soldier."
"Humph," said Roscoe, in the same mood; "it's a question who furnished
Uncle Sam with the soldier."
"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Ellsworth, slightly puzzled.
"Oh, nothing in particular--I guess. I'm kind of tired--I'll be--glad
when I get in bed...."