TELLS ABOUT HOW CAMP MC CORD DIDN'T STRIKE ITS COLORS
There were a lot of us hanging around Administration Shack, and I heard
a couple of fellows say that Mr. Ellsworth was going down in the bus to
catch the eleven-ten train. They said he was going to stop at Camp
McCord for Skinny. "He's likely to get a home-made doughnut thrown at
his head," one of them said, and they all laughed. I just couldn't
listen to them.
After the mail was distributed and I saw there wasn't anything for me,
I just went in and said to Slaty, I said, "Are you _sure_ there isn't
anything? Would you mind looking again?" I knew it wasn't any use and I
guess he did too, but anyway, he looked and said no.
Then I started back to Silver Fox Cabin. I guess I never felt worse
than I did then. First I thought I'd just go and beg Mr. Ellsworth not
to take Skinny away from Camp McCord, anyway, even if he couldn't have
the cross. I was hanging my head and just kind of wandering along and
wondering what I'd say to Bert and the twins. I could just sort of see
that new flag with Camp McCord on it, and I could hear Bert saying,
"Camp McCord doesn't strike its colors as easily as all that." Anyway,
what more could I do. I knew Mr. Ellsworth would be nice to me, but
that he wouldn't do anything just because _I_ wanted him to. I said to
myself, "It's all up; nobody can do anything now. Skinny was born
unlucky--poor little kid--"
All of a sudden I stumbled plunk into Pee-wee as he came pell-mell
around the corner of the big pavilion.
"What in--" I began.
"_I've got it for you! I've got it for you!_" he shouted; "forty-nine
minutes, scout pace! _I beat my record!_ I thought maybe it wouldn't
come in the reg--in the reg--in the reg--" He was so out of breath he
couldn't talk.
"There's a sec--there's a sec--there's a second train; here--"
And then he handed me a letter.
"There--there are--two," he said; "this--one's--for you."
My hand trembled so I could hardly open the envelope. And, honest, I
could hardly speak to him. I just blurted out, "Pee-wee, you're the
bulliest little scout in this camp--you and your scout pacing! You're
just the best little scout that ever was. Give me your hand, you bully
little raving Raven. Talk about good turns! Oh, Pee-wee, you're just--"
Honest, I couldn't finish. And I stood there with my eyes all sort of
wet, and watched him start up again scout pace.
"See you later," he called back; "I want to make Administration Shack
in fifty minutes."
That was him all over.
This was the letter and, oh, boy, you bet I'll always keep it, because
that was my lucky day. Even since then, Wednesday has been my lucky
day. When I get a good stalking snapshot it's always on a Wednesday.
Skeezeks, old Pal:
Yours received. Have sent letter to your superior officer or whatever
you call him. Will be up after my two hundred buckarinos next week.
Could you put me up for a couple of nights? I'll show you how to roast
potatoes French style, and we'll have a hike.
Everything O.K., so don't worry. You're a little brick.
In a hurry,
H.D.
Believe me, I read that letter about seven times, But even then I
wouldn't go to see Mr. Ellsworth, because I wanted to wait till the
other letter was sent over to him from the shack. I guess I waited
about half an hour, because I wanted to give him a chance to read his
seven times too. Then I went to his tent where I knew he'd be getting
ready to start away.
I just said kind of sober like, "Can I take your grip over to the bus
for you, Mr. Ellsworth?"
Oh, boy, you ought to have seen him.
"Guess you'll have to root around and find another good turn for
to-day, Roy," he said; "something has happened."
I just said very sober like (because I'm not afraid of him), "Did
Skinny take any more money?" He said, "Here, read this, you little
Silver Fox, and then clear out and give me a chance to get my wits
together. You're right and I'm wrong as you usually are--I mean as I
usually am--I don't know what I mean. Here, read this and then let's
see your scout smile--you little rascal!"
This is how the letter read:
Mr. E. C Ellsworth, Temple Camp.
Dear Sir:--
May I ask you to go to the trouble of forcing open the second locker in
my father's house-boat and rescuing a sum of money which I carelessly
left there? I think you will find it in an old pair of trousers
belonging to me. The amount is a little over two hundred dollars. I
would greatly appreciate it if you will hold this in safe keeping till
I have a chance to visit your camp. I hope you will not consider that I
am presuming upon a very slight acquaintance, in asking you to do me
this service.
Sincerely yours,
Lieutenant Harry C. Donnelle. Stationed at Camp Dix, Wrightstown, N. J.
Oh, boy, I wish I could tell you about everything. I don't know what
Mr. Ellsworth told the Elks. I should worry about that. He knew how to
handle them, you can bet. Oh, bibbie, but he's one peachy scoutmaster!
Pretty soon everybody in camp was talking, but I didn't pay any
attention. A fellow from Virginia came up and told me they were going
to have the spring-board fixed. What do you know about that? I said,
"Get out from under and don't bother me; I have something else to think
about."
I didn't eat much dinner; maybe you won't believe it, but I didn't.
Right afterward I started down to the Hudson. I saw a woodchuck's
tracks, but I didn't bother with them. I should worry about woodchucks.
I didn't even stop in the village to have a soda. I got some ice cream
in a paper, so I could eat it going along. And, oh, boy, when I saw
that new flag in among the trees, didn't I just shout! _Camp McCord_,
it said, in big red letters. Oh, they were dandy fellows, those Gold
Dust Twins. Then I thought of what Bert said about Camp McCord not
striking its colors. I noticed they didn't have their door to the
south, but anyway, that didn't matter. The north is all right--
sometimes.
I just went running in there pell mell.
"Hurrah for Camp McCord," I shouted. "You were right about not striking
your colors, but I'll strike you, all right, you old Bengal Tiger!" And
I gave Bert Winton a thump that nearly knocked him over. Good night!
"Don't you know enough to have your door open to the south or east or
west--what's the difference?" I just yelled. "Hurrah! Lieutenant
Donnelle is coming to get his two hundred and I'm going to make him
stay till Skin--I mean Alfred--gets the cross. Three cheers for the
Gold Dust Twins! And anybody who says--"
"Just a minute," Bert said; "calm down. You're talking in chunks."
"Why shouldn't I talk in chunks, I'd like to know?" I said.
Then I told them all about it.
"It's going to be just as you said," I told them; "we're going to make
the Elks come down here and give him the cross--when it comes. Mr.
Ellsworth says all right. Oh, but he was fine about it He said it's
only fair. Isn't he some scoutmaster? But you don't have to be in the
scouts--"
The fellow they called Reggie just came over and put his hand over my
shoulder, awful nice. "Yes, you do," he said; "you have to be in the
scouts. We won't hear any talk against the scouts here."
Oh, but he was one fine fellow; I don't care if he didn't know anything
about digging a drain ditch and all that. But anyway, I just can't tell
you all we said.
And one thing, you should have seen Skinny. That's all I've got to
say--you ought to have seen him.
After a little while, when the rumpus was over, Bert and I walked over
to the shore of the river and sat down and just looked across at
Catskill and the big hills in back. I kind of felt as if I'd like to be
alone with him a little while.
I said, "You did it all, Bert. The whole camp is crazy about you."
"Those campers are bully scouts," he said.
I said, "Yes, but _you_--if it wasn't for _you_--"
"If it wasn't for Pee-wee, Skinny would be on that train," he said.
We listened and could hear the West Shore train coming along and could
see the smoke blowing away into the mountains. It seemed as if that
train didn't care for anything or anybody. Pretty soon it would be in
the hot city and the people on it would go through big gates and across
in ferries and up the streets all filled with people. And everything
would be hot and stuffy.
But Skinny wouldn't be on it.
We saw it stop at the station in Catskill and we heard the bell ring
and saw it start again and go scooting along the shore and far away,
till we couldn't see it any more. Only the smoke.
But anyway, Skinny wasn't on it.
"Kind of, as you might say, Pee-wee can even beat a train--going scout
pace," I said.
"It'll go winding and turning in and out along the shore," Bert said;
"but Pee-wee can beat it on good turns."
"Yop," I said.
After that we didn't say anything for about five minutes.
Then I said, "One thing sure; _you_ ought to get the gold cross."
He didn't say anything, only broke a stick off a bush and began marking
on the grass with it.
"What do I want with the cross?" he said.
"It's a big honor," I told him.
"Sure," he said.
"You deserve it for what you did," I told him; "you ought to _want_
it--you ought to want to have it--on account of your patrol."
"Nice fellows, eh?" he said.
"Well then, why don't you take more interest in it for _their_ sake?"
"Ever notice how blue the Hudson is above Poughkeepsie?" he said.
I didn't say anything, just looked at the river. Then all of a sudden a
thought came to me.
I said, "Bert, you've got the cross already--haven't you? Why didn't
you tell me?"
"Dunno--didn't think of it, I guess," he said.
"Tell me how you won it, Bert," I said; "_please_ tell me."
But he just kept poking around with the stick and wouldn't tell me.
"Look at that worm," he said; and he held one up on his stick. "Good
fishing bait around here, hey? What d'ye say we go back?"
That was just like him--_just exactly like him_.
[Illustration: "LET GO, I'VE GOT HIM!"]