PEE-WEE SETTLES IT
For half a minute there was no response, and the people, somewhat
bewildered, stared here and there, applauding fitfully.
"Come ahead, I know where you are," Tom pronounced grimly; "I'll give
you ten seconds."
The victim knew that voice; perhaps it was the only voice at camp which
he would have obeyed. There was the sound of a cracking branch, followed
by a frightened cry of "Look out!" Some one called, "He'll kill
himself!" Then a rustling of leaves was heard, and down out of the tree
he came and scrambled to his feet, amid cries of astonishment, Hervey
Willetts was running true to form and the moment of his triumph was
celebrated by a new stunt.
"Never mind brushing off your clothes," said Tom grimly; "come up just
the way you are."
But he did not go up the steps, not he. He vaulted up onto the platform
and stood there brushing the dirt from his torn khaki suit. The crowd,
knowing but yet only half the story of his triumph, was attracted by his
vagabond appearance, and his sprightly air. The rent in his sleeve, his
disheveled hair, and even the gaping hole in his stocking seemed to be a
part of him, and to bespeak his happy-go-lucky nature. As he stood there
amid a shower of impulsive applause, he stooped and hoisted up one
stocking which seemed in danger of making complete descent, and that was
too much for the crowd.
Even Mr. Temple smiled as he said, "Come over here, my young friend, and
let me congratulate the only Eagle Scout at Temple Camp."
And so it befell that Hervey Willetts found himself clasping in cordial
grip the friendly hand of Mr. John Temple with one hand while he still
hauled up his rebellious stocking with the other. It was a sight to
delight the heart of a movie camera man. His stocking was apparently the
only thing that Hervey could not triumph over.
"My boy," said Mr. Temple, "it appears that we know more about you than
you know about yourself. It appears that your memory and your handbook
study have not kept pace with your sprightly legs and arms----"
"How about his dirty face?" some one called.
"And his stocking?" another shouted.
"These are the honorable scars of war," Mr. Temple said, "and I think I
prefer his face as it is. I think we shall have to take Hervey Willetts
as we find him, and be satisfied.
"Hervey Willetts," he continued, "you stand here to-day the easy winner
of the greatest honor it has ever been my pleasure to confer. Stand up,
my boy, and never mind your stocking. (Laughter.) You have won the Eagle
award, and you have made your triumph beautiful and unique by working
into it one of the best good turns in all the history of scouting. I
doubt whether a youngster of your temperament can ever really appreciate
what you have done. But of course you could not escape Tom Slade--no one
could. He has your number, as boys say----"
"Bully for Tom Slade!" a voice called.
"What's the matter with Tomasso?"
"Hurrah for old Sherlock Nobody Holmes!"
"Oh, you, Tommy!"
"Tag, you're it, Hervey!"
"I have here a paper procured by Tom Slade," Mr. Temple continued, "and
bearing the signatures of three scouts--John Weston, Harry Bonner and
George Wentworth. These scouts testify that they were in Catskill
village drinking soda water----"
"That's all they ever go there for," a voice shouted.
"They saw Hervey Willetts stop a runaway horse, saw him unfasten the
harness of the animal when it fell, frightened and exhausted, and saw
him procure and pour cool water on the animal's head. This was never
reported in camp till Tom Slade made inquiries. Hervey Willetts had
neglected to report it."
"He's a punk scout," some one called.
"I have here also," Mr. Temple continued, "the testimony of Tom Slade
himself that Hervey Willetts climbed a tree and in a daring manner saved
a bird and its nest from the ruthless assault of an eagle. That bird's
nest, with its little occupant, hangs now in the elm tree at the corner
of the pavilion." (Great applause.)
"Thus Hervey Willetts won the animal first aid badge without so much as
knowing it. (Applause.) He had won twenty-one merit badges and he did
not know it. (Great applause.) He was then and there an Eagle Scout and
he did not know it. (Deafening cheers.) But Tom Slade knew it and said
nothing----"
"Thomas the Silent," some irreverent voice called.
"So you see, my friends, it really made no difference whether our young
hero tracked an animal or not. He was an Eagle Scout. He could go no
higher. He had reached the pinnacle--no, not quite that. To his triumph
he must add the glory of a noble, unselfish deed. Never knowing that the
coveted honor was already his, he set out to win it by a tracking stunt
which would fulfill the third requirement to bring him the stalking
badge, and with it the Eagle award. He had said that nothing would stand
in his way, not even mountains. He had made this boast to Tom Slade.
"And that boast he failed to make good. Something _did_ stand in his
way. Not a mountain. Just a little tenderfoot scout. You have seen him
up here. Alfred McCord is his name. (Applause.)
"And when Hervey Willetts found this little scout hot upon the trail, he
forgot about the Eagle award, forgot about his near triumph, braved the
anger and disappointment of his friends and comrades----"
The troop of which Hervey was a member arose in a sudden, impetuous
burst of cheering, but Mr. Temple cut them short.
"Just a moment and then you may have your way. Hervey Willetts cared no
more about the opinion of you scouts than this big oak tree over my head
cares about the summer breeze. There were two trails there, one visible,
the other invisible. One on the ground, the other in his heart. And
Hervey Willetts was a scout and he hit the right trail. If it were not
for our young assistant camp manager here, Hervey Willetts would this
minute be witnessing these festivities from yonder tree, and little
would he have cared, I think.
"But he reckoned without his host, as they say, when he sought the aid
of Tom Slade. (Deafening applause.) Tom Slade knew him even if he did
not know himself.
"My friends, many scouts have sought the Eagle award and a few have won
it. But the Eagle award now seeks Hervey Willetts. He threw it aside but
still it comes to him and asks for acceptance. He deserves something
better, but there is nothing better which we have to give. For there is
no badge for a noble good turn. Tom Slade was right."
"You said something!" some one shouted.
"To be enough of a scout to win the Eagle award is much. To be scout
enough to ignore it is more. But twenty-one badges is twenty-one badges,
and the animal first aid badge is as good as any other. The technical
question of whether a bird is an animal----"
"Sure a bird's an animal!" called a voice from a far corner which
sounded suspiciously like the voice of Pee-wee Harris. "Everybody's an
animal--even I'm an animal--even you're an animal--sure a bird's an
animal! That's not a teckinality! Sure a bird's an animal!"
"Well, then, that settles it," laughed Mr. Temple amid a very tempest
of laughter, "if that is Mr. Harris of my own home town speaking, we
have the opinion of the highest legal expert on scouting----"
"And eating!" came a voice.
Thus, amid an uproarious medley of laughter and applause, and of
cheering which echoed from the darkening hills across the quiet lake,
Hervey Willetts stood erect while Mr. John Temple, founder of the camp
and famous in scouting circles the world over, placed upon his jacket
the badge which made him an Eagle Scout and incidentally brought him the
canoe on which so many eyes had gazed longingly.
And then one after another, pell-mell, scouts clambered onto the
platform and surrounded him, while the scouts of his own troop edged
them aside and elbowed their way to where he stood and mobbed him. And
amid all this a small form, with clothing disarranged from close
contact, but intent upon his purpose, squirmed and wriggled in and threw
his little skinny arms around the hero's waist.
"Will you--will you take me out in it?" he asked. "Just once--will
you?"
"The canoe?" Hervey said. "You'll have to ask my troop, Alf, old top; it
belongs to them. What would a happy-go-lucky nut like I am be doing,
paddling around in a swell canoe like that?"
"Let me--let me see the badge," little Skinny insisted.
But already Hervey had handed the badge over to his troop. Probably he
thought that it would interfere with his climbing trees or perhaps fall
off when he was hanging upside down from some treacherous limb or
scrambling head foremost down some dizzy cliff. No doubt it would be
more or less in the way during his stuntful career....