CHAPTER XX—A PROMISE

The rest of the scouts in the troop were working away, getting the

street cleaned, and I guess they didn’t notice us. We went back across

the field to our old railroad car, and I said, “Come ahead in; nobody’ll

bother us in here.”

It smelled kind of smoky inside, I suppose on account of the fire. One

of the doors was open so the smoke that blew in hadn’t gone out. It was

kind of dusty and dingy, too. The old plush seats were all full of dust.

But, anyway, we didn’t care, because it was our car and we liked it

better than a Pullman car. It seemed awful quiet and nice in there; you

know how it seems on Sunday afternoons.

Charlie said, “You’ve got it mighty nice in here.”

“This car has caused us a lot of worry and trouble,” Westy said. “But

things will be all right when we get it down by the river.”

“You can move it across Willow Place all right now,” Charlie said. “All

you need is power.”

“You leave that to us,” I told him. “The engineer on the milk train is a

good friend of ours. But, anyway, we’re not thinking about the car now.”

He said, “You boys are aces up.”

“We’ve done the best we could so far,” I told him. “Gee whiz, we don’t

want to get anybody in trouble.”

He just said, “You see how it is with me; I’m up against it. Your

fathers trust you, but mine doesn’t trust me. I know I’ve done some

blamed fool things, but I wouldn’t burn a building down—why, that’s

arson. I could be sent up for ten years for that. But the people of this

old burg are just waiting to get something on me. If my father knew I

was here last night, that would be enough for him. See?”

Westy said, “Well, he knows _we_ were here last night and that seems to

be enough for him, too.”

“Yes, but how about to-morrow?” Charlie asked us. “All you kids have to

do to clear yourselves is to spill all you know. The flashlight business

is bad enough, then on top of that if you say you saw me here and that I

was here when you left, that will look bad, won’t it? You remember when

I damaged my flivver last year? The old man was sore because he thought

I was just trying to stick the insurance company for fifty or so. That’s

him all over—suspicious. He’s always looking for trouble. He isn’t like

your fathers.”

Gee, I knew that well enough, but I didn’t say so. Because a fellow

isn’t to blame on account of the kind of a father he has wished onto

him.

“So you see how it is,” he said; “and it’s got me good and worried. I

didn’t eat any breakfast and I didn’t eat any dinner. I was going up to

see you fellows, but then I thought I wouldn’t, because your folks don’t

like me and it might make them suspicious. Everybody’s against me.”

He looked out of the window as if he were afraid some of the fellows

would come over. Honest, I felt sorry for him; I just couldn’t help it.

I said, “Don’t worry. I know that bunch. They won’t stop till they get

the whole street looking like Spotless Town.”

He said, “So there it is. My father knows I need money. A tall chance

I’d have of getting any from him; you’d have to chloroform him before

he’d give up a postage stamp. That’s him. You know what an old grouch he

is. Once I shouted some crazy nonsense about burning the place down; I

was just mad, that’s all. But you see how it is.”

It seemed funny to me, because at my house we never had any fights or

anything, and I saw how my mother and sister were right because those

Slausens were different kind of people from us.

He said, “All you kids have to do to cook my goose for me is to shout

out that you left me here last night. If they don’t send me to jail I’ll

have to beat it out west. You kept your mouths shut so far, and I’ve got

to hand it to you, because you’re a couple of A-1 little scouts. But the

question is, can you stand the strain? We’re the only three that know

anything. Are you game? Will you stick? Or do I have to beat it

to-night? It all hangs on you. If you say I was here when you left—you

won’t tell them that, will you? You won’t let anybody force it out of

you? Judge, lawyers, scoutleaders——”

“You mean scoutmaster,” Westy said.

“You won’t tell _anybody_—in the court or anywhere?”

Gee, I felt sorry for him, because I could see he was terribly worried.

I knew nobody had any use for him, and I thought that maybe already Mr.

Ellsworth had some suspicions about him.

“Give me your promise,” he said, “both of you. Nobody can force you to

talk if you don’t want to—can they? All you fellows came here to-day to

help clear up. That shows you’ve got the right stuff in you. Won’t you

help a friend out? I’m not asking you to do anything but just keep your

mouths shut. You’re not afraid of O’Day and that bunch, are you? Now’s

the time to show if you’re really _scouts_.”

I said, “A scout is supposed to help people in trouble, I don’t deny

that. But we don’t know anything about the law. If the judge says we

have to tell, I suppose we’ll have to tell. But, anyway, there’s one

thing I want to ask you. I know you got caught doing some things—you

know what I mean. And I know a lot of people think—but, anyway, I want

to ask you this, and I’ll promise not to tell your answer. Did you set

fire to the shop or didn’t you?”

He just looked straight at me and he said, “As sure as I’m sitting here

in this old car _I didn’t_. Do you want me to swear? I took your

flashlight——”

“I’m not thinking about that,” I told him. “That won’t keep me from

believing you. I’m just asking you to tell me honest and true if you did

or not.”

“As sure as I’m sitting here, I didn’t,” he said, good and loud.

“Then how do you think it started?” Westy asked him. “Do you think

_somebody_ did it?”

“Sure somebody did it,” he said. “Didn’t they find some match ends near

the cotton waste that burned up?” he said.

“I didn’t know that,” I told him.

“But what good does that do me?” he wanted to know.

I said, “Well, we’ll help you out.”

“_On the level?_” he shouted. “You won’t say a word? You’ll be good

scouts and keep your mouths shut?”

“That shows how much you know about scouts,” I told him. “They never

keep their mouths shut. But, anyway, we’ll do something better than

that. _We’ll find out who set fire to the shop._ That’s the kind of

things we’re supposed to do. If you say honest and true that you

_didn’t_, we’ll say honest and true that we’ll _find out who did_. What

do you suppose _we_ care about courts, and judges, and keeping our

mouths shut? Gee whiz, there’s not much fun in that. You said last night

we were good at tracking. All right, then, you leave it to us.”

Roy Blakeley: Lost, Strayed or Stolen · 第 20 / 36 章