WELL WORTH WHILE.
“Get around to the door, everybody; they’re trying to escape!” shouted
Hugh, as he whirled away from the window that had been engaging his
attention.
Ralph was alongside as he turned the corner of the old smithy. The other
scouts had hardly known what to do, although several of the most active
seemed to be in motion, headed for the exit of the old house. These were
Alec and Bud and big Tom Sherwood, and the trio presented quite a
formidable phalanx. They turned the corner just in time to cut off the
flight of the last of the abductors, who had tripped and fallen inside
the room, thus delaying his departure for a few seconds.
The other pair could be heard pounding off in rapid order, thoroughly
frightened, for they had heard the cries that were coming from the boys,
and of course imagined that the sheriff’s posse had arrived on their
heels.
There was enough light escaping from the open door for the third rascal
to get a glimpse of khaki uniforms on the flitting figures that formed a
cordon across his path. No doubt he believed on the spur of the moment
that the militia must have been sent to the scene of the late riot to
keep the peace, and that one of their first efforts had been to run
himself and his fellow kidnappers down.
The boys assailed him without hesitation. As scouts they had long ago
learned the great value of assuming the offensive, if it ever became
necessary to do any fighting, which is not often supposed to be the
case.
When Hugh and Ralph and the rest of the troop came hurrying around the
corner they saw a struggling mass which no one could fully make out in
the darkness.
“Throw your light on them, Ralph!” ordered the scout master instantly.
As soon as this was done they could see that their three comrades were
hanging on desperately to the man, who seemed to be doing everything in
his power to hurl them aside, though without avail.
Alec had seized hold of one arm, while Bud hung to the other, and Tom
Sherwood managed to get his arms twined around the fellow’s thick neck,
so that he was beginning to exercise quite some pressure. At least the
man looked fiery red, as if his breathing had become difficult.
“Pile on, and throw him down, boys!” Hugh called out, and willingly as
many of the others obeyed as could manage to get a grip on the object of
their attention.
By sheer weight of numbers the fellow was borne to the earth and rolled
over on his face. Then his hands were drawn behind his back, and Billy
Worth, producing a stout cord, lashed them together. After that he was
unable to make any more trouble, or even try and effect his escape, for
no one can run with any degree of swiftness when his arms are drawn
tightly behind him.
“Let him get up, and keep him held tight,” said Hugh. “Come with me,
Ralph, and fetch your light along. Nurse Jones, you’re in this, too.”
They hurried into the house and quickly reached the second room. Before
Hugh or Ralph could reach the object on the floor, Nurse Jones had
darted forward and was bending over it. As she arose, they saw that she
was holding the limp figure of little Reuben in her arms.
“What ails him?” asked Ralph in trembling tones, as he saw that despite
all the noise and confusion the child did not appear to pay any
attention.
“They’ve given him some narcotic, for I can get the scent of it,”
replied Nurse Jones. “It was done to keep him quiet while they were
carrying him out of the office, for they must have been afraid of the
sheriff and his men. But the effect is wearing away fast now. He begins
to stir, and—there, you can see, his eyelids are quivering. He will wake
up immediately.”
Hardly had she spoken than the eyes of the child were seen to open. He
stared up into the face of Nurse Jones as though bewildered. She held
him tightly to her breast, and bending down pressed affectionate kisses
on his cheeks.
There must have been something responsive about her action that aroused
his childish confidence, for almost immediately his little arms were
around her neck.
“Hurrah!” shouted Ralph Kenyon, quite overcome by the sight, and feeling
that he must give voice to his excitement, or act like a baby and cry.
“Let’s go outside with him, for the rest of the boys will want to have a
share in the victory!” suggested Hugh, always thinking of others.
Loud were the cheers that arose when they joined the rest of the troop.
The dejected prisoner must have realized more than ever the bitterness
of the moment, as he saw those gallant boys swinging their hats wildly
above their heads, and giving vent to their feelings in rousing shouts.
So they once more turned their faces back over the old trail. Hugh
remembered that Mr. Campertown was suffering dreadfully, and he wanted
to have Nurse Jones put the rescued child in his grandfather’s arms,
because, somehow, that seemed a fitting end to the program according to
Hugh’s mind.
While there was little reason to anticipate any sort of attack from the
other pair of alarmed plotters, still the scouts were not meaning to be
taken off their guard.
They formed a solid phalanx around Hugh, who was taking his turn at
carrying the child, and kept those handy clubs ready for instant use. It
turned out that there was no necessity for this arrangement, since in
the end they arrived at the works without having met with the slightest
hindrance.
There were lights within the big office, and, having placed little
Reuben in the arms of Nurse Jones, Hugh led the laughing and chattering
lot of scouts within. The sheriff and Mr. Campertown had evidently been
unable to sleep, and must have been trying to lay some new plan of
campaign at the time the bustle at the door announced the arrival of the
boys.
Straight up to the millionaire walked Nurse Jones, holding little
Reuben, while into the room after her thronged the entire pack of
scouts, every fellow wild to witness what was scheduled to take place.
Of course the first thing Mr. Campertown did was to clutch the boy and
squeeze him in his arms. But almost immediately afterward he was seen to
be staring in the pretty and flushed face of Nurse Jones. In that
wonderful moment something like the amazing truth must have rushed into
his mind, which would account for what he started to say in a trembling
voice:
“They told me your name was Nurse Jones, child, but surely you have the
eyes and features of my first born, Allan. You are, you must be, a
Campertown!”
Nurse Jones nodded her head in the affirmative.
“My name is Norma, the same as my father’s mother,” she told him.
Mr. Campertown was as white as a sheet, as some of the boys expressed it
afterward, but his eyes were fastened eagerly upon the flushed face of
this granddaughter whom he had never known.
“And it is from your hands I have received my little darling Reuben,” he
almost groaned, as though he felt terribly humbled and contrite. “It
must be intended for a punishment on my head for my cruelty to your
father and mother in the long ago. Tell me, are you alone in the world,
or do either or both of them yet live?”
“My father is still living, sir, though in very poor health, and in
need. He has always said that it was through no fault of his the
estrangement came about, and in all these years he would not hear of my
ever trying to see you or communicate with you. He is firmly convinced
that if ever this unhappy trouble was to be bridged over, the initial
step must come from his father. He has the Campertown stubbornness, sir,
which will stay with him to the end.”
“And it _will_ come from me!” declared the millionaire firmly. “I have
repented of my folly long, long ago, but never knew what had become of
poor Allan. To-morrow, my dear granddaughter, you shall take me to him,
and we must be reconciled. I am an old man now, and with but few years
more to live. I hope to make up in part for what you and my son have
suffered.”
Then he turned to Hugh and shook him by the hand. Indeed he insisted on
doing the same with each and every one of the scouts.
“I will see you in the morning, my gallant boys,” he said, as they
prepared to withdraw. “Depend on it, I have not forgotten that I made
you a promise if you succeeded in restoring my darling to my arms. I can
give a pretty good guess what it is you mean to ask of me, and I am more
than ready to grant it in full.”
It was a happy group of scouts who wended their way back to the camp,
where the whole story of their latest achievement had to be retold to
Harold and Monkey Stallings, whom they found sitting up and waiting for
them.
Indeed, they had reason to feel satisfied with what they had
accomplished while on this their first outing of the summer. Not only
had they been instrumental in instituting a scout field hospital, and
taking care of the victims of the conflict between the strikers and the
armed guards of the cement plant; but now they were apparently destined
to be chiefly instrumental in bringing an era of industrial peace to
that disturbed section.
They could certainly go back to the home town when their camping trip
was over with the pleasing knowledge that a good fortune had allowed
them to be of tremendous service to their fellow men; and that is the
cardinal principle actuating the ambition of every true scout.
There promised to be very little sleep that night in the scouts’ camp.
Everybody was more or less excited after the strange happenings that had
so lately taken place.
Questions without number were showered on those fortunate enough to have
taken part in the adventures connected with the riot at the cement
works, and the coming of the Red Cross ambulance.
To Harold the whole thing was a revelation indeed, and he felt that it
had been a privilege to be connected with the scouts whose assistance
had turned out to be so appreciated.
Monkey Stallings was almost inconsolable because he had not been able to
join the group that went out to lend a helping hand.
“Now all of you are slated for the bronze medal that I’ve always hoped
to wear some of these fine days,” he complained, “and it leaves me out
in the cold.”
Of course the only consolation they could offer him was that his time
was apt to come later on. Monkey Stallings was perhaps the only unhappy
chap sitting alongside that cheery campfire, for the rest felt elated
over their recent good luck, and it was only with considerable effort
that Hugh managed to chase them off to their blankets.
All were up early in the morning, for the day promised to be a lively
one with them.
Hugh and several of his chums meant to go over to the works, and have a
plain talk with Mr. Campertown. While his heart was feeling soft over
the wonderful revelations of the preceding night, Hugh believed was the
time to secure favors for the strikers.
Besides, the manufacturer had as good as half promised that he was ready
to hear all Hugh had to say; and the hearty squeeze which he had given
the boy’s hand told the latter that the land was fallow, and ready for
the plow.
Of course they had the usual rollicking time in preparing breakfast for
the crowd. There had come over a bountiful amount of stores with the
compliments of Mr. Campertown. This was pretty good evidence that he did
not mean to keep those guards on duty any longer, feeding them inside
the works. At least Hugh looked at it that way, and Arthur seemed of the
same opinion.
“It’s all going to come out the finest anybody could ever dream of,” the
latter declared, as a party of them talked it over shortly after
breakfast was done.
“Just to think of Nurse Jones turning out to be his grandchild after
all; and she the finest young woman we’ve met this long time,” remarked
Billy Worth.
“I expect I know a party who agrees with you there, Billy,” chuckled
Alec; “and that’s the young Red Cross surgeon. I could see how Dr.
Richter’s eyes were fastened on Nurse Jones as if he could nearly eat
her.”
“Well, that’s none of our affair,” replied Billy; “and she looks sweet
enough to eat, if you’ll take it from me.”
When Hugh got ready to go over to the works under the belief that Mr.
Campertown could be seen, he selected just Billy, Alec and Arthur to
accompany him.
Seeing some of the rest look deeply disappointed, the patrol leader felt
that he ought to explain.
“Of course I’d like to ask you all to go with me, boys,” he said, “but
the office is small; and besides, Mr. Campertown mightn’t like to see a
crowd. You know this is a delicate subject we’re meaning to talk over
with him, and his private business in the bargain. But we’ll promise to
tell you everything. And then again, Nurse Jones has promised to take
dinner with us to-day, so you want to tidy up the camp, and lay out a
menu that’ll do us credit.”
So Hugh and the other three went off. They saw that everything seemed to
be very quiet over in the foreign settlement.
“I guess the padrone has brought them to their senses,” said Billy; “and
it’s a lucky thing, too, because they’re going to win the strike. The
very thing that seemed to be a calamity for the poor fellows has proved
the stepping-stone for a big advance.”
“Better still,” added Hugh, “there’s a new Mr. Campertown now at the
head of the cement works. By that I mean he’s seen a light, and guided
by the love of his granddaughter never again will he be the stern
employer he’s been in the past.”
“It’s a grand good thing all around,” said Alec, “and for one I’m glad
to have had even a small part in helping things get where they are right
now.”
At the works things seemed to be going on, but to the delight of the
scouts they saw men working on the stockade.
“Why, what do you think, they’re knocking the whole thing flat!”
exclaimed Billy, as if the sight astonished him.
As for Hugh, he felt that this was a sure sign peace was going to reign
in those works from that hour on. Contented workmen would have no cause
for grievance against a just and generous employer; and guards armed
with deadly Winchesters would never again be known in the Campertown
establishment.
They found the gentleman seated in his little office. He was looking a
hundred per cent. better than when they last saw him, and even smiled
genially as he shook each one of the four boys by the hand.
“I know of course just what you want to see me for this morning, boys,”
he told them, “and in the start I mean to tell you that I’ve seen a
great light. This bloody business would never have occurred if I had
been present; but all the same I’m partly responsible for the trouble,
because I refused to arbitrate with my old hands, or investigate their
plea that they were nearly starving on the new wage plan. And I’ve sent
for the padrone to make an agreement with him restoring wages to the
point they were before the strike.”
Enthusiastic Billy jumped up and gave a hurrah before he remembered
where he was. Then he dropped back in his seat looking confused. But Mr.
Campertown only laughed and patted him on the shoulder.
“I want to say right here,” he remarked seriously, “that I consider the
coming of you scouts the finest thing that could have happened. Not only
did you prove yourselves made of the right stuff by taking care of those
poor sufferers, and winning golden opinions from the surgeon, Dr.
Richter, for whom I already have a high regard; but you also did me two
of the greatest favors possible. You saved my little grandson, who is
the apple of my eye, and also brought about a reunion between Norma,
Allan and myself. I shall probably never be able to thank you enough for
doing all these fine things.”
There were actually tears in his eyes, too, when he was going around and
again squeezing the hand of each and every scout.
Just then the old padrone came in, and there was a piteous look of
entreaty on his face that made the boys feel more satisfied than ever
with what they had done.
No sooner had Mr. Campertown informed the padrone what he meant to do
than the old man fell on his knees, and seizing the gentleman’s hand
covered it with kisses, as he called down the blessings of Heaven on his
head.
None of them could doubt after that his sincerity, or that he had the
interests of his people deeply bedded in his heart when he tried to
pilot them along paths of peace.
Of course after that the sheriff and his posse had nothing further to
do. Before he left the scene, however, the peace officer made it a point
to visit the camp of the scouts and tell them what a high opinion he had
come to have of the movement with which they were affiliated. Up to that
time he had rather opposed it, but from that day when he had had his
eyes opened, it had appealed to him more and more strongly.
“I have some boys who will be only too glad to start a troop in their
neighborhood,” he said at parting, “and so you see how far-reaching your
influence for good can go. Keep up the work, lads, and the next
generation of Americans will be the finest this glorious country of ours
has ever produced.”
Nurse Jones came over, too, and had dinner with the scouts. She thanked
them with tears in her pretty eyes for all they had done.
“We are just starting for the city, Grandfather Campertown, Reuben and
I,” were her parting words, “and the future looks very bright for us
all. My poor father, too, can now be able to enjoy something of life,
since it is money he needs most of all in order to restore his health.
And we will never, never forget you, Reuben and I.”
She even pinned her Red Cross badge on Hugh’s sleeve, for him to keep as
a reminder of these strenuous times when he and his comrades assisted
the hospital corps in their duties in caring for the wounded strikers.
During the rest of their stay in camp the boys saw more or less of Dr.
Richter, and grew to like him very much. When, in time, they set their
faces toward the far-distant home-town, they carried a new fund of
experiences and memories along with them that would doubtless add to the
general esteem in which Oakvale Troop was now held by the people among
whom they dwelt.
That their activities in the way of usefulness had not yet reached a
limit may be understood from the title of the volume that follows this;
and if you care to continue the many pleasant friendships formed in
these pages, you can do so by procuring “The Boy Scouts as County Fair
Guides.”
THE END.
Footnotes
[1]See “The Boy Scouts of the Field Hospital.”
Transcriber’s Notes
--Copyright notice provided as in the original—this e-text is public
domain in the country of publication.
--Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and
dialect unchanged.
--In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the
HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.)
End of Project Gutenberg's The Boy Scouts with the Red Cross, by Robert Shaler