TAKING THE BAIT
When the great news concerning the boys of Cliffwood had circulated
around town during the next few days it created no end of talk.
Everywhere it caused the most intense excitement among the rising
generation. Parents in particular commended the plan of Mr. Holwell
as a means for gripping the restless activities of the town boys, and
turning them into some more useful channel than loitering about the
streets at night and playing all sorts of practical jokes.
At school it was the subject of talk wherever two or three fellows came
together on the campus, or while in the classrooms during intermission.
Nearly every boy was in favor of the scheme. They talked it over and
saw all manner of splendid possibilities looming up, for not only the
long evenings of the coming winter but even during the spring and
summer months.
“I’ve handed in my application,” announced Phil Harkness, as with
several other fellows he stood in the school basement keeping warm
near the furnace, while he munched some lunch purchased at the
counter. “I hope nothing blocks me in joining the Juniors, because I
expect they’re going to have great times.”
“Mighty few fellows try to throw cold water on the idea,” ventured Dan
Fenwick; “unless it’s Nat Silmore and Dit Hennesy, who’ve gone around
sneering, and saying it’s all a bunk game on the part of Mr. Holwell
and Harry Bartlett to keep boys from having good times playing tricks.”
“Yes, but even they’re talking of applying for admission,” spoke up
Clint Babbett; “and it wouldn’t surprise me if we had a heap of trouble
with that crowd. If they get in to the first meeting which has been
called for tomorrow night, look out for squalls, that’s all.”
“Mr. Holwell thinks they are not as black as they’re painted,”
suggested Peg Fosdick. “But that’s because he’s got such a big heart he
just can’t decide that any sort of boy is beyond redemption.”
“If they come in,” asserted Dan, vigorously, “there’ll be a rumpus, as
sure as you’re born. I wish there were going to be some of the Seniors
present, but I understand that it’s an off night for them, and that
only Mr. Holwell, with perhaps Harry Bartlett, can be present at the
first meeting.”
“Oh! well, where do we all come in?” demanded Peg, puffing out his
chest in a vainglorious fashion. “We’ll chase that crowd out in a hurry
if they get too gay. Besides, police headquarters is close by, and Mr.
Holwell could call them up on the ’phone if it got too smoky.”
“I understand that nearly two dozen applications are already in,”
remarked Phil, “so there ought to be something of a crowd out at the
meeting. I’m wild to know just what the plans are.”
“First of all,” said Peg, “there’s going to be a small initiation fee,
and monthly dues, just to help pay expenses, and make the boys feel it
isn’t a charity. That’s Mr. Holwell’s idea; he doesn’t believe boys
like to be given everything. And one of the rules is going to be that
they must earn the amount of their entering fee and dues.”
“Wow! I see my finish then,” groaned Andy Hale; “because this morning
my dad tempted me with an offer to saw and split a cord or two of wood
that’s piled up in our back yard. Now I’ll just _have_ to agree, if
he’ll advance the pay to me.”
“Some of the boys,” explained Phil, “are going to be given a chance to
do certain things about the Y. M. C. A. building, such as taking care
of the furnace, cleaning windows at odd hours, and the like.”
“A good idea, too,” admitted Peg, “because some of the fellows who work
in the mills would want to join us, you see, and they couldn’t afford
to stand for the admittance fee.”
“Uncle Henry Capes has let it be known that he stands ready to assist
any worthy boy he thinks is in dead earnest, and who can’t afford the
price,” announced Leslie.
“Bully for your uncle, Leslie; he’s all right!” cried Peg,
enthusiastically.
“Here’s another thing, fellows, I’m meaning to bring up the first
chance I get after the Boys’ Department is well started,” said Phil.
“You know all of us have been a whole lot annoyed by Mr. Loft, the
librarian, who believes all boys’ books should be thrown out of our
Public Library, and only volumes along educational lines kept there.”
“That’s right,” broke in Dan, eagerly. “I never call for a book that
I’ve wanted to read but that he tried to show me the folly of indulging
in such silly nonsense as he calls it. Guess the high-brow Mr. Loft
never was a boy himself. He must have been fed on Greek grammar and
ancient history when he was six years old. He makes me tired, that’s
what. But go on and tell us what you’ve been thinking up, Phil.”
“All right, I will, fellows,” replied the one spoken to. “In the
beginning I want to say I’ve already talked the matter over with Mr.
Holwell, Harry Bartlett, and Leslie’s Uncle Henry, and all of them took
to the idea first rate.”
“Go on, and let’s hear!” called out several of the more impatient lads
as they clustered around the speaker.
“Listen then,” said Phil, impressively. “After we get the Junior Club
well started the idea is to have a library of our own, containing only
such books as Mr. Holwell will have passed upon as being the right sort
for boys to read. These can be filled with pleasing adventure such as
all boys want, and at the same time be of a healthy, uplifting nature,
and all our own.”
“Fine!” exclaimed Dan Fenwick, who was a great reader of stories of all
sorts.
“We could buy the books ourselves with money we earned or had given to
us,” declared Clint Babbett. “I know for one thing my mother will take
to the scheme right away, because she hates to have me fetch home some
of the greasy looking books from the public library. You see, she says
you never can tell where they’ve been the week before; mebbe in a house
where they have diphtheria or some sort of catching disease. Germs she
hates the worst kind. Yes, she’ll be only too glad to help out.”
From all sides the idea was commended. No one had ever thought of such
an original scheme before, though some of the boys had pretty extensive
libraries of their own covering shelves of space in their dens at home,
and consisting, for the most part, of modern books for growing lads,
such as the well-meaning but short-sighted librarian disliked to see
them taking from the public institution.
Dick, coming along just then, was told of the new scheme.
“I think it’s a good idea of yours, Phil,” he declared as soon as it
had been explained to him. “Like the rest of you I’ve grown tired of
having Mr. Loft forever looking so disgusted whenever I ask for a book
by my favorite writer who knows boys, and writes straight down into
their hearts.”
“Let them keep the library just for works of educational value if they
want,” asserted the proud originator of the idea; “although few people
think that’s the only function for a public institution.”
“Most boys get all the instruction they need in school,” asserted Peg;
“and to read a good boy’s book, something along the line of outdoor
sports, is one of their best recreations. Think of how every one of us,
yes and our daddies and grandfathers, as well, have poured over such
classics as Robinson Crusoe and Swiss Family Robinson.”
“Sure thing,” added Dick, convincingly, “and a good book keeps a boy
from getting into heaps of mischief; because he’s just _got_ to be
doing something. But there goes the bell, fellows. Hope to see all of
you on hand at the first meeting of the Junior Organization.”
“We’ll be there, you can bet, Dick!” cried Peg, as he limped after the
rest to resume his studies.
That afternoon Leslie Capes caught up with Dick as the latter was
hastening home from school.
“I’m in a hurry to get home, Leslie,” said the latter, “but I wish
you’d keep me company part of the way. Somehow or other I haven’t had
much chance to get a few words with you on the sly so as to tell you
how our little plan is moving along.”
“I’m just burning up with curiosity to know about that same, Dick. Has
Old Nocker run across little Billy yet?”
“He certainly has,” replied Dick, promptly. “It happened yesterday.
I showed Billy the very hole in the dividing fence through which we
crawled on the Hallowe’en night, and, knowing Mr. Nocker was home at
the time, I hid near so as to watch and see what happened.”
“Well, please go on, Dick; you’ve got me all worked up,” pleaded Leslie.
“Little Billy understood what he was to do, and wandered around the
place, by degrees getting nearer and nearer the house. Then all at once
I saw the old deacon hurrying out toward him. He looked cross, as if he
meant to order the child off his grounds, and complain, in the bargain,
to his parents if he ever trespassed again.”
“But he didn’t, Dick; I know you’re going to say he didn’t,” urged
Leslie.
“Well, I could see him talking to little Billy for a while,” Dick went
on. “Then he even bent down so as to get closer to him. Say, I warrant
you there was something queer happening inside his frosty old heart
just then. Perhaps he could see some familiar glimpse in little Billy’s
blue eyes that made him think of the boy he once had.”
“What do you think he could have said to Billy?” asked Leslie.
“Oh! I saw him pointing toward the Brandon house through the trees, for
with the leaves off he could get a glimpse of it from where he stood.
So I knew he must be asking if the little curly-head lived there.”
“Yes, go on, Dick.”
“Finally, I saw Billy start to come back, and would you believe it Old
Jed actually laid a hand on his mop of golden hair. Like as not that
was the first time he’d ever willingly touched a child since his Amos
was a kid.”
“Splendid, Dick! Things seem to be working along just as we planned
them, don’t they?”
“When the little boy walked away, Old Jed stood and stared after him.
Then I saw him shake his head and go back in the direction of the
house. But three times he turned and looked after Billy until the kid
was lost to sight.”
“And did you manage to find out what he said to the child, Dick?”
“Partly,” came the reply. “Billy told us the nice old gentleman
had asked him who he was, and about his folks. Then as Billy was
coming away Old Jed told him he must come again, and see him another
day--tomorrow if it was pleasant.”
At that Leslie almost doubled up.
“The sly old fox has swallowed the bait, Dick!” he exclaimed, between
laughs. “All you have to do now is to let him have rope enough, and
he’ll be caught as neat as you please. When he’s got to just _yearn_
for little Billy, it’ll be time to pull the string, and tell him he can
only have the child’s company on condition that the mother is equally
welcome in his home.”
“I think myself that things begin to look kind of promising,” admitted
Dick. “You must be sure to tell Uncle Henry all about it.”
“I certainly will,” continued Leslie, “and my mother as well, because
she’s in the secret too. But about that meeting called for tomorrow
night--have you heard that Nat and several of his cronies mean to
attend?”
“If they do, it’ll be to make trouble for the rest of us, for they’ll
try to break the meeting up,” said Dick, vehemently. “It would be
only right if Mr. Holwell had the police chief present to keep things
serene; but I suppose that wouldn’t look nice, seeing we would be in
the Y. M. C. A. rooms.”