JUST NONSENSE
How should those scouts know that Tom Slade had been counting the days
and hours, waiting for that Friday night? They were not mind readers.
They knew that Tom Slade, big business man that he was, had much to
occupy him.
And they too, had much to occupy them. For with the coming of Spring
came preparations for the sojourn up to camp where they were wont to
spent the month of August. At Temple Camp troops were ever coming and
going and there were new faces each summer, but the Bridgeboro Troop was
an institution there. It was because of his interest in this troop, and
particularly in Tom's reformation, that Mr. John Temple of Bridgeboro,
had founded the big camp in the Catskills. There was no such thing as
favoritism there, of course, but it was natural enough that these boys,
hailing from Mr. Temple's own town, where the business office of the
camp was maintained, should enjoy a kind of prestige there. Their two
chief exhibits (A and B) that is, Roy Blakeley and Peewee Harris
strengthened this prestige somewhat, and their nonsense and banter were
among the chief features of camp entertainment.
Temple Camp without P. Harris, some one had once said, would be like
mince pie without any mince. And surely Peewee had no use for mince pie
without any mince.
"Oh, look who's here!" Roy Blakeley shouted, as Tom quietly took a seat
on the long bench, which always stood against the wall. "Tomasso, as I
live! I thought you'd be down at the Opera House to-night."
"I don't care thirty cents about the movies," Tom said, soberly.
"You should say thirty-three cents, Tomasso," Roy shot back at him:
"don't forget the three cents war tax."
"Are you going to play that geography game?" Tom asked hopefully.
"Posilutely," said Roy; "we'll start with me. Who discovered America?
Ohio. Correct."
"What?" yelled Peewee.
"Columbus is in Ohio; it's the same thing--only different," said Roy;
"you should worry. How about it, Tomasso?"
Tom was laughing already. It would have done Mr. Burton and Mr.
Ellsworth good to see him.
"We were having a hot argument about the army, before you came in,"
Connie Bennett said. "Peewee claims the infantry is composed of
infants...."
"Sure," Roy vociferated, "just the same as the quartermaster is the man
who has charge of all the twenty-five cent pieces. Am I right, Lucky
Luke? Hear what Lucky Luke says? I'm right. Correct."
"Who's going to boss the meeting to-night?" Doc Carson asked.
"How about you, Tom?" Grove Bronson inquired.
Tom smiled and shook his head. "I just like to watch you," said he.
"It's your job," Doc persisted, "as long as Mr. Ellsworth is away."
There was just the suggestion of an uncomfortable pause, while the
scouts, or most of them, waited. For just a second even Roy became
sober, looking inquiringly at Tom.
"I'd rather just watch you," Tom said, uneasily.
"He doesn't care anything about the scouts any more," Dorry Benton piped
up.
"Since he's a magnet," Peewee shouted.
"You mean a magnate," Doc said.
"What difference does it make what I mean?" the irrepressible Peewee
yelled.
"As long as you don't mean anything," Roy shouted. "Away dull care;
let's get down to business. To-morrow is Saturday, there's no school."
"There's a school, only we don't go to it," Peewee shouted.
"For that take a slap on the wrist and repeat the scout law nineteen
times backward," Roy said. "Who's going to boss this meeting?
"I won't let anybody boss me," Peewee yelled.
Roy vaulted upon the table, while the others crowded about, Tom all the
while laughing silently. This was just what he liked.
"Owing to the absence of our beloved scoutmaster," Roy shouted, "and the
sudden rise in the world of Tomasso Slade, alias Lucky Luke, alias
Sherlock Nobody Holmes, and his unwillingness to run this show, because
he saw General Pershing and is too chesty, I nominate for boss and
vice-boss of this meeting, Blakeley and Harris, with a platform...."
"We don't need any platform," Peewee shouted; "haven't we got the
table?"
"It's better to stand on the table than to stand on ceremonies," Dorry
Benton vociferated.
"Sure, or to stand on our dignity like Tomasso Slade," Westy Martin
shouted.
"Put away your hammer, stop knocking," Doc said. "Are we going to hike
to-morrow or are we going to the city?"
"Answered in the affirmative," Roy said.
"Which are we going to do?" Peewee yelled.
"We are!" shouted Roy.
"Do we go to the city?" Doc asked seriously.
"Posilutely," said Roy; "that's why I'm asking who's boss of this
meeting; so we can take up a collection."
"All right, go ahead and be boss as long as you're up there," Connie
Bennett said, "only don't stand on the cake."
"Don't slip on the icing," Westy shouted.
"I'll slip on your neck if you don't shut up," Roy called. "If I'm boss,
I'd like to have some silence."
"Don't look at me, _I_ haven't got any," Peewee piped up.
"Thou never spak'st a truer word," Westy observed.
"I would like to have a large chunk of silence," said Roy; "enough to
last for at least thirty seconds."
"You'd better ask General Slade," said Doc; "he's the only one that
carries that article around with him."
"How about that, Tommy?" Wig Weigand asked pleasantly.
Tom smiled appreciatively, and seemed on the point of saying something,
but he didn't.
There was one other scout, too, who made a specialty of silence in that
hilarious Bedlam, and that was a gaunt, thin, little fellow with streaky
hair and a pale face, who sat huddled up, apparently enjoying the
banter, laughing with a bashful, silent laugh. He made no noise
whatever, except when occasionally he coughed, and the others seemed
content to let him enjoy himself in his own way. His eyes had a singular
brightness, and when he laughed his white teeth and rather drawn mouth
gave him almost a ghastly appearance. He seemed as much of an odd number
as Tom himself, but not in the same way, for Tom was matter-of-fact and
stolid, and this little gnome of a scout seemed all nerves and repressed
excitement.
"Let's have a chunk of silence, Alf," Roy called to him.
"Go ahead," Doc shouted.
"If there's going to be a collection, let's get it over with," Westy put
in.
Roy, standing on the table, continued:
"SCOUTS AND SCOUTLETS:
"Owing to the high cost of silence, which is as scarce as sugar at these
meetings, I will only detain you a couple of minutes...."
"Don't step on the cake," Doc yelled.
"The object of this meeting is, to vote on whether we'll go into the
city to-morrow and get some stuff we'll need up at camp.
"Artie has got a list of the things we need, and they add up to four
dollars and twenty-two cents. If each fellow chips in a quarter, we'll
have enough. Each fellow that wants to go has to pay his own railroad
fare--Alf is going with me, so he should worry.
"I don't suppose that Marshall Slade will condescend and we should
worry. If we're going up to camp on the first of August, we'll have to
begin getting our stuff together--the sooner the quicker--keep still,
I'm not through. We were all saying how numbers look funny on scout
cabins--five, six, seven. It reminds you too much of school. Uncle Jeb
said it would be a good idea for us to paint the pictures of our patrol
animals on the doors and scratch off the numbers, because the way it is
now, the cabins all look as if they had automobile licenses, and he said
Daniel Boone would drop dead if he saw anything like that--Cabin B 26.
_Good night!_"
"Daniel Boone is already dead!" shouted Peewee.
"Take a demerit and stay after school," Roy continued. "So I vote that
we buy some paint and see if we can't paint the heads of our three
patrol animals on the three cabins. Then we'll feel more like scouts and
not so much like convicts. If we do that, it will be thirty cents each
instead of twenty-five."
Before Roy was through speaking, a scout hat was going around and the
goodly jingle of coins within it, testified to the troops' enthusiasm
for what he had been saying. Tom dropped in three quarters, but no one
noticed that. He seemed abstracted and unusually nervous. The hat was
not passed to little Alfred McCord. Perhaps that was because he was
mascot....
[Illustration: TOM'S HAND CLUNG TO THE BACK OF THE BENCH. Tom Slade at
Black Lake--Page 44]