A SCOUT MASCOT
As we already know, Ed did not return that night. Alarmed that some
danger had befallen him, the campers took council as to what had best be
done. To search that vast range at night on the mere chance that Ed was
lost was worse than the proverbial needle-in-the-hay-stack hunt.
Besides, Mr. Wilde said he was satisfied now that these scouts could
ably take care of themselves in emergencies. This admission from him
filled Westy and Warde with deep pride. They had indeed made good in his
eyes. It was agreed that they wait until daylight and then hit the trail
to Hermitage Rest to inquire if Ed had reached there safely, and if not
to organize a search party. Mr. Wilde confessed to a twinge of
conscience that the scouts had undergone such dangers. Until daylight
could clear matters up it was thought best to get what rest they could
in all that remained of the night in order to be fit for whatever
emergency might tax them the next day. Westy, for one, was fatigued
beyond any further endurance, and indeed the cliff climbing exertion had
so worn out even Billy and Mr. Wilde that they were more than grateful
for Warde’s thoughtfulness in having the bunks all ready to fall into.
So fatigued were all three of the vulture hunters that they lay as if
drugged and no wonder overslept themselves in the morning. They woke to
find that the practical Warde had breakfast all prepared so that no time
might be lost in starting out to find Ed.
Their late breakfast, however, had scarcely been finished when voices
were heard coming up the trail and Ed himself appeared, leading a party
of men. Although exhausted from his night’s hike, Ed insisted on guiding
the relief party back as soon as he had been refreshed with black coffee
and an ample breakfast. The party consisted of Buck himself, together
with several men from Hermitage Rest, one of whom fortunately happened
to be a doctor so that no time was needed to phone to Yellowstone for a
surgeon after all. The doctor, kit in hand, hastened forward with Ed,
expecting a nasty job with a mangled boy. Imagine his astonishment and
Ed’s embarrassment when the unexpected outcome was explained.
“Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,” jeered Warde, who ever since the bear
episode had his mind pestered with nursery rimes. “Sat on a wall, Humpty
Dumpty had a big fall, all the Hermitage doctors and all Ed’s men
couldn’t put Humpty together again.”
It was a long time before Warde, who had _not_ been dashed to pieces
ever the cliff, would quit calling Westy and Ed “Humpty” and “Dumpty.”
The doctor expressed himself as only too glad to find that in spite of
his trip, his services were not needed in camp. To Mr. Wilde’s apologies
he said, “I have all I can do with a patient farther down the trail and
since I am not needed here, I propose that we return to him and try to
move him to Hermitage Rest where good care may possibly save his life.
He is so far gone from loss of blood from his gunshot wounds that I may
have to do a blood transfusion to save him, if I can get any one to
volunteer to give him some of theirs.”
“I will!” Ed offered promptly, for he felt that this was his own
particular patient and he felt glad that his efforts to get a doctor in
a hurry were really useful after all.
All hands started down the trail at once to see Ed’s stranger, who had
been left where he lay in charge of a man who volunteered as nurse. By
daylight and with Buck, who knew the mountains as you know your own
backyard, it took far less time to reach the stranger than it had taken
Ed by night.
The wounded man lay on the ground, looking weaker than when Ed found
him. At sight of his face, cap and sweater, Westy could not repress an
exclamation, “Why, I’ve seen him before!” he gasped. “So have I,” added
Mr. Wilde grimly—“he’s Bloodhound Pete’s partner.” At this
identification, the man groaned.
“Where’s Pete?” demanded Mr. Wilde.
“He’s gone, but before he left he got me good,” muttered the man.
“Somebody crooked a wallet from Pete one night and he claimed I done
it,” said the man, and then went on to tell this story. “So he beat me
up next day and at de point of his gat he drove me miles out here where
he said he could leave me dead and nobody would ever find it out but de
buzzards. Den he shot at me and I run and he come after and I hid behind
trees and shot at him, but he had two guns and he’s dead-eye with both.
Pete’ll kill any pal he has if he thinks he turns on him. I ain’t the
first he’s tried to do for. He wouldn’t believe me when I said I hadn’t
crooked the swag off him. He said I was de only one in miles of him dat
night. Well, he must of lost it hisself. I know I didn’t take it.
Anyways, it was gone, and he shot me and left me for dead where de
buzzards would of picked me bones in a couple more hours if it hadn’t a
been for dis young kid.”
“This kid here,” said Mr. Wilde, pushing Westy forward, “is the one who
outwitted Pete.”
“Well, he done for me, I guess,” snarled the man. “I ain’t never
squealed on a pal before, but Pete done me dirt, and I’ll give him away
now so de police can square wid him.”
It was this information which made it possible later for the mounted
state police to pursue the notorious Bloodhound through the forests and
eventually see that he was safely behind bars. Ed felt that in spite of
Humpty Dumpty, his night’s work had not been in vain.
In the meanwhile, however, it was necessary to move Pete’s partner to
Hermitage Rest for surgical care if the man was to stand any chance of
life at all.
“Your young friend, Ed, here, has offered to supply you with some of his
blood if necessary,” said the doctor. The sick man’s eyes, small and
evil though they were, filled with tears.
“Listen,” he said, “I know I ain’t gointer live and I don’t care. I
ain’t got one thing in dis world to live for nohow, but I want to say
before I go dat only two people in dis world ever treated me white. One
was my old mother, dead and gone now, peace to her soul, and de other is
dis kid. Kid, I hear you got de same name as mine and I’d like to give
you something to remember me by, and every time you look at it you
remember to steer clear of de line I got into. Here’s me watch me mother
give me when I was twenty-one. You keep it and remember me. Look inside
de lid and see wat it says there and then think wat a mess I made of all
she wished for me.”
Ed reverently opened the lid. Carved on the inside of the old-fashioned
silver case were these words:
“TO EDDIE
FROM MOTHER
Hoping He Will Always Be a Good Man!”
There was considerable clearing of manly throats as Ed Carlyle, reading
this, touched the hearts of all those grouped about the sad figure on
the ground.
“Come, come,” broke in the doctor cheerfully. “You aren’t ready for your
funeral yet by any means, my man. I can patch you up as well as ever and
unless I miss my guess you have many years ahead in which you can make
up for lost time in leading a useful life with this young scout as your
mascot, eh, Eddie?”
“Sure you will,” said Buck. “You can stay at my place until you’re well
and then I’ll give you a job. You ain’t the first tough character I’ve
seen come to his senses and make good. Let’s get a move on now, and
mosey on down to a good bed and good grub.”
It was agreed that Ed should accompany them back, as he too was in great
need of a good bed and long sleep. Westy, however, had to remain with
Billy to act out again for the camera man a scene depicting the rescue
and first aid, which he had failed to complete the day before. The
practical Warde was to return and help break up camp, and the scouts
would join one another at Hermitage Rest the next day.
As they parted, Mr. Wilde shook hands with Ed and said, “I have to take
back all that jollying I gave you scouts and I want to say now that next
summer I am planning a trip to take motion pictures of wild animals and
I would like very much indeed if the three of you could come along and
help make that trip a success.”
“Wow! You _bet_ we will!” shouted all three joyfully, hilarious at the
prospect that their adventures should continue together through another
vacation.