STOPPED ON THE ROAD—CONCLUSION.
All the same that was not the last some of the boys saw of the exposed
fakir, as it turned out.
Doc Merritt must have easily guessed who was chiefly to blame for his
latest troubles. When the scouts were taking his wretched dupe in hand,
and leading him away from the controlling influence of the hypnotist,
the man understood just whom he had to thank.
He was of a morose, revengeful disposition, and after brooding over the
situation through that night determined that before he quitted the
lucrative stand he had at the Fair he would attempt to have some sort of
revenge.
Hugh, it will be remembered, had not fancied his looks from the start.
He sized the man up as not only a humbug but the possessor of a mean
disposition as well. Still he hardly imagined the bogus doctor would go
to the end he did in order to even the score, and leave town feeling
that he had paid the scouts back for having taken his valuable assistant
away from him.
A pleasant surprise awaited Hugh that same Thursday evening after
supper. He was called up on the ’phone by the head of the School Board,
who informed him that at a late meeting of the said committee it had
been resolved to give all the members of the Oakvale Troop of Boy Scouts
the entire day off on Friday.
This was done as a small measure of appreciation for the splendid work
the lads were accomplishing during Fair week.
He desired that Hugh Hardin should get in communication with all the
members of the troop that evening, and notify them that they would be at
liberty from school duties for the balance of the week.
Of course this gave the scout master considerable pleasure. It was not
only the fact that he and his mates were to have a holiday, but it
showed how their work was being appreciated by the community at large,
as represented by the efficient School Board.
So Hugh had kept the wire busy for some little time, with the result
that every fellow who wore the honored khaki in Oakvale went to bed that
night weary enough after a strenuous day, but with a generous glow
around the region of his boyish heart.
Appreciation is a big thing, and spurs even a boy on to do his level
best. That School Board knew what it was doing in commending the scouts
for their work. Praise judiciously bestowed seldom does any harm, but on
the contrary rekindles the fire of determination to excel.
The gates of the Fair would not open until ten o’clock, but before that
time many of the hard-working scouts were abroad, skirmishing for
strangers in town, or in sundry other ways trying to earn the right to
turn in their badges early in the day.
Hugh himself had something to do at home, and did not get started for
the grounds until near the time for the opening of the gates to the
general public.
In fact, Ralph Kenyon and Jack Durham looked in at the Hardin place on
their way, and were just in time to join the young scout master.
Chattering like magpies, at first they struck out along a side road that
would make a shortcut to the grounds, situated some little distance
outside the town limits.
This particular road was not much used by the general public. It ran
through a stretch of woods that at certain times in the year were apt to
be exceedingly damp. Still, as the scouts well knew, it would cut down
the tramp, and this meant considerable to fellows who expected to be on
their feet the balance of that summery day.
Somehow about the time they struck this patch of timber the conversation
seemed to flag, and no one said anything for several minutes, though
they kept pushing ahead all the same.
In the distance they could hear the Oakvale Brass Band practicing at
their stand in the Fair grounds. There was to be some sort of unusual
review on this day, and extra music would be required.
“There’s one thing sure,” remarked Jack Durham, with a twinkle in his
eye, “our band isn’t in the same class with one I read about the other
day.”
“How’s that, Jack?” questioned Ralph; “tell us about it, won’t you?”
“Why, it seems that the advance agent of a show had struck a certain
town, and when trying to make arrangements for a parade that would
attract attention he chanced to say to the leading citizen:
“‘I understand, sir, that your town boasts a fine brass band?’
“‘Well, stranger,’ said the citizen, shaking his head solemnly; ‘we got
a brass band all right, but we don’t boast none of the same—we just
_endures_ it!’”
Ralph was about to burst into a hearty laugh when the scout master
uttered a warning hiss.
“Listen, there’s some one talking ahead there around that bend, and I
thought I caught a familiar voice that sounded like our Billy Worth.”
At that the other two strained their ears to listen, not that the first
thought of anything out of the way had up to that moment given them the
first sensation of a thrill.
But no sooner did they hear what Billy was saying than they turned to
exchange surprised glances. Plainly Billy was giving some one a
straight-out defiance. The first suspicion the trio of scouts had was
that some of their old enemies of the town, the good-for-nothing type of
boys, had crossed Billy’s path, and considered the meeting in the lonely
stretch of woods a splendid chance to pay back old scores.
They quickly realized their mistake, however, when they heard what Billy
was saying so boldly.
“I didn’t mean to go around boasting about having a share in that little
game, but since you ask me if I had a hand in getting Cale away from
your clutches I’m free to say _I did_! So put that in your pipe and
smoke it, Mister Doc Merritt.”
“Whew! that’s the racket, is it?” muttered Jack Durham, beginning to
roll back his coat cuffs as though he scented trouble, and might not be
averse to taking a hand in the same, for in times past Jack had been
something of a fighter.
“Come on, let’s hurry around there before he tries to hurt our Billy,”
suggested Ralph; and as this suited Hugh to a fraction, they immediately
quickened their pace to a run, and hurried to the bend in the road.
Loud and angry voices could now be heard and that of the baffled fakir
rang out above the tantalizing words Billy was hurling at him.
“I’ve got a good notion to take it out of your hide, no matter what the
consequences are. You boys were the cause of all my trouble. Before you
got your finger in the pie things were going as smoothly as I could
wish, but you had to get up a pack of lies, and coax my assistant away
from me.”
“Well, you were exerting an evil influence over Cale,” snapped Billy.
“He just happened to be a good subject for your silly old hypnotism. I’d
like to see you try to make _me_ do your will. You’d have a sweet time
of it, Mister Fakir, and that’s right. Now, I’m going ahead to the Fair,
and I’d trouble you to get out of my way.”
“Just hold on till I’m through with you, boy,” the man was heard to say.
“You need taking down off your high horse. For three cents I’d give you
the licking you need.”
“Oh! you would, eh? Well, begin and try it if you think it’d be so easy
a job!” cried Billy, tauntingly, and as the other fellows came bustling
around the bend just then they saw he was swinging a stick
belligerently, as though meaning to make the best possible use of the
same should the man actually assault him.
Of course when Hugh and his two companions put in an appearance the
quack doctor instantly changed his mind. He might have whipped one
scout, though Billy looked as though he intended to put up a game
battle; but four meant a larger bite than he felt he could masticate.
So Doc Merritt shrugged his shoulders and with a sneer on his dark face
slipped in among the trees, his act implying that he had changed his
mind. Nor did any of them think it a duty to chase after him in order to
let the tricky fellow know what they thought of his cowardly tactics.
Only Jack Durham did look so disappointed as he unwillingly unrolled the
cuffs of his coat.
“Why didn’t we hold up just a little, till he got busy, and had actually
hit Billy?” was the burden of his complaint; but the others only laughed
at him, and said things were all right as they stood.
So the four of them continued on their way to the Fair grounds. Hugh was
glad to have noticed that the fakir looked as though he might be heading
out of Oakvale, perhaps meaning to intercept the stage running over the
mountain road to another town, where there was some sort of Harvest Home
about to start among the farmers of the community. His harvest would
come from raking in the shekels when he had hypnotized the farmers, and
made them believe his cure-all must be the greatest thing under the sun.
So the third day of the great Fair began, with the scouts on deck, and
just as bent on earning the right to the title of “guides” as ever. Hugh
was proud of all they had accomplished; and his ready words of
commendation always brought a flush of pleasure to the cheeks of his
chums.
The scouts continued to carry out their useful plan of campaign while
the great Fair lasted. They won golden opinions from visitors and
townspeople for the unfailing courtesy with which they performed their
various labors.
Arthur Cameron had a rather difficult surgical undertaking which he
managed with such astonishing skill as to win a mention of his work in
the next issue of a certain well-known medical journal. This came about
through the local Red Cross doctor having sent in a highly complimentary
mention of the emergency hospital on the Fair grounds, and the clever
manner in which the scouts carried out their work of “first aid to the
injured.”
There was not a dissenting opinion in all Oakvale when a vote of thanks
was sent in at the next meeting of the scouts and which covered their
activities during Fair week. Indeed, many persons were ready to declare
that the splendid way in which Hugh and his uniformed followers had
carried out their difficult duties made them proud to say they lived in
Oakvale.
All of this was very pleasant for the boys. They had had to fight down
strong opposition when the troop was first started, and there had been
numerous skeptics from time to time who would not see things in their
true light; but as Billy Worth was fond of saying, “if you searched
Oakvale with a fine-tooth comb nowadays, you’d find it hard to discover
a single kicker, or one who didn’t believe the scout movement had been
the greatest uplifting influence that had ever struck the town.”
[_See Transcriber’s Notes_]
[...] chanced to have had a part in the happening he invariably spoke
of it as “we did this.” Then in the midst of his story came the
appearance of Peter, the bound boy, with his thrilling tale concerning
the little charges whom he had had to temporarily abandon while he
went in search of assistance. After that there followed the finding of
the youngsters, the triumphant return to the farm-house, the coming of
Mr. Barger, and finally, most astonishing of all, the discovery that
the black-faced man they had supposed was the hired help should prove
to be Addison Prentice’s father.
As all the scouts knew about the decided opposition shown by the
quarry-owner toward their organization, when they learned of his
wonderful conversion a series of hearty cheers made the slumbering
echoes in the woods awaken.
“That ought to make it unanimous for the scouts in and around
Oakvale,” asserted Alec, boisterously. “I can’t seem to remember
another person of consequence willing to say a single word against the
troop. We’ll have every patrol filled to the limit before a month
[rolls by.”]
[... Cale had feared] that it would be his fate to always follow Doc
Merritt about from fair to fair, playing the ignoble part of assistant
to a fakir.
Now, as though the magic wand of a magician had touched his case, all
this was changed. Walter Osborne had a long letter from him a week or so
later, in which he told how happy and contented he felt, and that he had
already made application for enlistment in a local troop of Boy Scouts.
“It was through the manly principles of the scouts that my salvation
came about, you know, Walter,” he wrote, “and I’m bent on practicing
them, in hopes that I may be able to repay the heavy debt I owe Hugh
Hardin and all the rest of your splendid chums by passing the favor
along. Perhaps, who knows, I may run across a boy who needs a friend and
adviser, just like I did; and when I do, it’ll make me happier than I
can tell you to help him over the rocks.”
Hugh felt a mist come over his eyes when he read all that the boy put in
that letter. He realized that, during the week of the County Fair, there
had come, to a favored few of the scouts, an opportunity to perform a
most charitable act.
When all the facts were made known at the next meeting of the troop, the
story appealed strongly to those who had up to then been in complete
ignorance of what had been going on in their midst. Hugh was also under
the impression that it would do much good.
With the passing of the Fair week, the boys felt that they could hardly
look forward to much more of consequence that fall. None of them
suspected how circumstances would combine to bring several members of
Oakvale Troop into the limelight once more ere the Thanksgiving holidays
came around; but that is just what happened.
If you have enjoyed being in the company of Hugh and his comrades in
these pages, and would like to learn what next engaged the attention of
these wide-awake lads of Oakvale Troop, it will pay you to secure the
volume that follows this, and which is published under the title of “The
Boy Scouts as Forest Fire Fighters.”
THE END.
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.
--Twice changed one name (Andy Wallace) to “Wallis” to be consistent
with other places in this book (and other books in the series).
--In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the
HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.)
--Included the printed page 158 as a blockquote: it actually comprises
page 158 of another book in the series, “The Boy Scouts as Forest Fire
Fighters”.
--Added (in brackets) a tentative reconstruction of the beginning of the
sentence at the top of page 159.