THE LIGHT IN THE WOODS
Gaylong just rested his leg on his other knee and clasped his hands in back
of his head and kept looking up at the sky. He said, "So that's the story
of the adventurous Church Mice. The next time we go in for a hundred
dollars, we're going to get jobs in grocery stores. Hey, kids?" I could see
he thought an awful lot of those fellows.
All the while Harry Donnelle was whistling to himself, as if he didn't care
much. Pretty soon he said, "You had your turn; what more do you want?
What's a hundred dollars?"
"It's a good deal to _us_," Gaylong laughed.
"You said something about treasure hunting," Harry said; "you don't suppose
anybody ever goes treasure hunting on account of the treasure, do you?
They go on account of the adventure. So treasure hunting is _always_ a
success; even if you only find a tin spoon. You had your hike; you had your
fun; you made a hundred per cent profit. That's the difference between a
scout and a detective. It's _going after_ something that makes the fun;
not _getting_ it."
Brent Gaylong said, "I get you."
"I've flopped around all over the world and I haven't got a cent to show
for it," Harry said, "and if anybody told me there was a lead pencil buried
up near the North Pole, I'd go after it. What fun is there buying a lead
pencil in a store? Poor old John D. Rockerfeller could do that much."
"I get you," Gaylong said.
"Besides, didn't you meet _us?_" Harry said.
"We're better than a hundred dollars, I hope. Fun hasn't cost a cent; it's
the only thing that hasn't gone up in price. Maybe the wandering warrior
is having the time of his life, too. And you'd go and spoil it all for
him. Maybe he doesn't want to be found. Never thought of that, did you?
What you fellows need is not a hundred dollars. You need the scout idea.
Adventure!"
"Righto," Gaylong said.
"But we'd like to have that hundred dollars," the little fellow named
Willie piped up.
"True again," Gaylong said-awful funny.
Of course, I knew that was the way Harry would think about it, because's
he's one of that reckless, happy-go-lucky sort. I guess Brent Gaylong was
kind of the same way. Anyway, before we lay down to go to sleep, I said to
Gaylong:
"Would you mind letting me have that article to read by our lantern while
you fellows are spreading the balsam?"1
1 Balsam is used for making beds.
He said, "Sure," and began feeling in his pockets. "Guess that other fellow
has it," he said, sort of careless; "it's no use anyway."
Pretty soon we were all fixed for the night. We made those Newburgh scouts
sleep under our balloon silk shelter. They didn't want to, but we told
them we'd like to sleep in the open for a change.
I guess I must have been asleep for an hour or so, when all of a sudden I
was awake again. Anyway, it couldn't have been more than an hour, because
the wood from our fire was still warm. It was awful nice and dark and
quiet. There wasn't any sound at all, except a cricket. Pretty soon I
could hear the whistle of a train very far away; I guess it was way over at
the Hudson. I just lay there kind of thinking and wondering what made me
wake up. Because, oh boy, I'm usually dead to the world when I sleep
outdoors.
All of a sudden I saw a little light not very far away, in among the trees.
As soon as I saw it it went out, and then it came again. First I thought it
was a fire fly. Then I knew it couldn't be--it was too big. Then I saw it
steady for about a minute and then it went out.
I sat up and just stared at the spot where I had seen it and I didn't make
a sound. I wasn't exactly scared, but I wondered what it could be.
Then I crept away and started over that way in the dark. I wasn't scared,
but I was kind of nervous, sort of.