BRENT'S STORY
The Church Mice didn't even make up a full patrol, because there were only
five of them counting Brent Gaylong. Maybe the rest of them stayed home.
Only three of them had the uniform, and Brent didn't have any. They didn't
even have duffel bags or a camp kit and when I saw how it was with them, I
just had to admire that fellow who was keeping them together.
Especially I felt sorry for them, because our troop has about everything
and that's mostly the way it is with all the troops that go to Temple Camp.
Anyway, we made up some pretty good late eats and after that we got a good
big fire started and all sat around it. Brent lay on his back near the
blaze and had his knees drawn up and was looking up at the sky. That's just
the way he lay all the while he was telling us about his patrol and why
they came up that way. It seemed as if he thought it was all just a big
joke, but I could see he thought a good deal about scouting and about those
fellows. I had to laugh at him, but I liked him a lot just the same. He was
kind of happy-go-lucky, I could see that. Harry Donnelle liked him, that
was sure. I guess it was because he was kind of happy-go-lucky, too.
"Buried treasure is all right," that's what he said, "and so are missing
people, and people lost in the woods and all that; and liberal rewards are
very nifty. But if you're after fifty or so buckarinos, the best thing is
driving a grocery wagon or selling the Saturday Evening Post on street
corners. You don't get much adventure mowing people's lawns, but it's sure
money. The trouble with us is we've been speculating in adventure and now
we're going to walk back home. Take a lesson from our terrible example-and
don't read the newspapers."
Harry Donnelle said, "There's seventy-five per cent profit in adventures.
I'd go to South Africa if I thought there was a ten cent piece buried
there." That was just exactly like him.
"Anyway," I said, "I'd like to know why I shouldn't read the newspapers."
"Because they will lead you astray. They sent us off on a get-rich-quick
enterprise," Brent said.
Of course, I knew he was half joking, but that was always the funny way he
talked. He reached over and held a stick in the fire till the end of it was
all flaming, then he stuck it in the ground near his head and pulled a
clipping out of his pocket. He kept lying on his back all the time and he
looked so funny, I just had to laugh.
Then he said, "Well, now, this is what brought us up into these woolly
wilds", and he began to read the clipping. This is it, because he gave it
to me afterwards:
BOY SCOUTS ASKED TO SEARCH
FOR MISSING DOUGHBOY.
Boy scouts in all sections of the country have been asked to
watch for Horace E. Chandler, late of the American
Expeditionary Forces in France, who has been missing since
his discharge from Camp Upton several weeks ago.
Private Chandler was mustered out on August third, having
served with great courage and distinction in the Argonne
Forest, where he received honorable mention for unusual
heroism in raiding-single handed an enemy machine gun nest.
Private Chandler's home is in Greendale near Plattsburg in
New York. He is reported to have been seen in Albany several
days after the date of his discharge, by several young men
who had known him formerly, but on being questioned they
were not certain of the identity of their former friend.
His whereabouts are now a mystery and no reason can be
ascribed to his disappearance. It is thought that he may
have been the victim of foul play while on his journey home.
A wealthy and public spirited citizen of Greendale, Mr.
Horace E. Wade, whose namesake, Private Chandler was, has
offered the sum of one hundred dollars for any information
leading to the discovery of young Chandler's whereabouts.
Boy scouts have often succeeded in discovering missing
persons. Their large organization, covering as it does,
the entire country and their predilection for long tramps
and journeys afford them some of the best facilities for
such quests.
Mr. Wade has offered his reward after the futile efforts
of the police in many large cities to locate the returned
soldier.
"And here's his picture to go by." Gaylong said; "good looking chap, huh?
Here's what it says underneath it, _'Private Horace E. Chandler from a
photo taken the week before he sailed for France.'_"
Nobody said anything for a minute and Dorry, who was nearest to Brent
Gaylong, leaned over and looked at the picture. "I'd like to read it over
in a better light," he said.
Brent said, "Take it; it's no use to us. It gave us a good hike, that's
all. We thought we might come back with the hundred. We had scout uniforms
and everything all bought-in our minds. We had a sumptuous gold headed cane
for Mr. Jennis. We had a meeting shack all furnished up. Oh, we were
regular prosperous scouts for a couple of days--in our imaginations. I
think I ought to have the badge for day dreaming, if there is one. I think
I could get a job in a dime hovel. Up to Elm Center and back again chasing
a rainbow!"
He was so funny about it that I didn't know how disappointed he really
was. He was kind of funny and serious at the same time. But I could see
they were all disappointed.
All of a sudden Harry Donnelle said, "What started you up to Elm Center
near Kingston, when our wandering warrior lived away up near Plattsburg?"
"Oh, yes," Brent said; "I forgot the best part of it. Quite some time after
we read that accursed article, little Willie here and I happened to drop in
at a movie show in Newburgh-ten cents counting the war tax. Cheap but
filling. There was a picture in the Pathe jigamerig of an aviator landing
in the village of Elm Center near Kingston, New York. I had never heard of
Elm Center before. But anyway, an aviator had to come down there and so Elm
Center got on the screen. There were a lot of people standing around
looking at the machine and little Willie wide-awake here, said to me,
'Do you see that soldier in the film? The one leaning against the fence
and kind of glancing this way? He's the fellow whose picture was in the
paper.' I took a good squint at him and, by jingoes, it was! It was
Horace E. Chandler. 'Caught at last,' I said."
"So here we are on our way home from Elm Center. It's a pretty little
village-post office, two stables, a hardware store where you can buy cake,
and a watering trough. One of the nicest watering troughs I ever saw.
"And Horace E. Chandler? Oh, they never saw him or heard of him. Maybe he
went up in the airplane, huh? If I only had a Curtis biplane, I'd search
the skies."