to "Pump Joe's Pipes Full of Ozone"
There are no doubt a lot of good people in the world, as Mrs. Clark
said, but there is no doubt that a great many of them are forgetful. Tom
Seymour found this out in the next few weeks. The scouts meant well, but
every two or three days the one whose turn it was to look after the
Clark wood and coal and do whatever heavy work there was to be
done,--work too heavy for Joe's little brother and sister--would forget
the duty. Tom, however, never forgot, for he went there every day, to
study his lessons with Joe so Joe could keep up in his school work, and
when the kindlings had not been split or the coal brought up, he did it.
"I don't know what I should do without you, Tom," said Mrs. Clark. "I
feel guilty, too, because I feel as if you ought to be at home doing it
for your own mother."
Tom laughed. "It's a funny thing," he said, "but having this on my mind
has stopped my forgetting at home. I used to forget all the time, but
now, when I go home, ma's wood-box is the first thing I think of. I kind
of got the habit, I guess!"
Meanwhile Tom was turning over and over in his mind plans for getting
Joe out into the high, dry air of the Rocky Mountains as soon as school
was over. The first thing to think about was how to raise the money to
get there. In his own case, it would be easy, because he had over a
hundred dollars in the savings bank, which he had earned in the past
five years, or which had been given to him at Christmas, and which he
had saved up. But Joe had never been able to save his earnings--he had
needed them all for his clothes and to help his mother out. It was Bob
Sawtelle who solved that problem.
"Let's us scouts give a dance and a strawberry festival for old Joey,"
he said. "We can all of us pick some strawberries, enough for the feed,
an' get our mothers to make cake, an' Bill Andrus's father'll give us
the cream from his dairy, an' the girls'll help us serve, an'
everybody'll come when they know it's for old Joey, an' there'll be two
hundred people there, an' we'll soak 'em fifty cents, and that'll clear
'most a hundred bones, an'----"
"And you'd better take in some breath," laughed Tom, "while I tell you
that's a fine idea. It's as good as settled now."
Tom was so sure of the success of the strawberry festival, in fact, that
he began at once to consider what they were going to do when they got
out West. Here he had to have Mr. Rogers' help. The scout master wrote
some letters, and a week later called Tom into the studio.
"I think I've got it," he said, "that is, if you are willing to work,
and don't care what you do."
"That's me, when it's for old Joey," Spider declared.
"Well, here's the proposition. Ever hear of Glacier National Park?"
"I've seen some pictures of it in a magazine," said Tom. "Looked good to
me, too!"
"I guess it's a pretty fine place, though I was never there. It is up in
the northwestern part of Montana, on the Great Northern Railroad, and
there are two big hotels in the Park, right under the mountains, and
some smaller hotels they call chalets, because they are built like Swiss
chalets. A friend of mine who is connected with the railroad tells me
these hotels, which open late in June, always need bell-boys. They are
so far from any cities, or even any towns of any sort, that it's hard to
get labor out there. Now, I guess you could get a job as bellhop all
right, though I don't know whether Joe's strong enough to work yet. We'd
have to ask the doctor first. If he isn't, my plan would be for you to
take your tent along, and two folding cot beds, and get permission to
pitch it out in the woods near the hotel. You wouldn't have any other
use for your money out there, so you could probably support Joe all
right, and he could do the cooking. He's a good cook, isn't he?"
"Sure--the best in the patrol. He's got a merit badge for cooking, you
know."
"Of course, they might object to having a tuberculous person in the
hotel, but if he kept out in the woods, there wouldn't be any trouble,
my friend says. Besides, Joe isn't a bad case. He's plainly getting
better all the time. I think we can fix it, if you are willing to take
the job, and look after him. Being a bellhop isn't just the job I'd pick
out for you, or any boy, if I had the choosing. You have to be a bit of
a bootlick, and people will give you tips, which is against all scout
rules."
"But the tips won't be for me, they'll be for old Joey," said Tom.
"Exactly. And they will be given to you for work you do. They will
really be your pay, for you won't get much other pay. It all depends on
how you take them. If you serve people who don't give you tips as well
and as cheerfully as you serve the others, it will be all right. We've
got to get Joe well, and we can't pick and choose. So I'll put it up to
you. I guess I can trust you not to become a tip hog. And if you find
any better way to earn Joe's keep out there, where you won't have to
take tips to get your living, you take it, won't you?"
"You bet I will!" cried Tom. "Maybe I can become a--a cowboy, or
something."
Mr. Rogers smiled. "You'll have to learn to ride a horse first."
"Oh, I can ride a horse."
"You may think you can, but after you've seen a real cowboy ride, you'll
know you're only in the kindergarten class," the scout master laughed.
Now that it seemed reasonably sure that he could get Joe to the Rockies,
and find a way to live after they got there, Tom went at the task of
arranging the strawberry festival. Of course, he made Bob Sawtelle
chairman of the "festival committee," because it was Bob's idea to start
with. All the scouts whose fathers or mothers had strawberry beds were
"rounded up," and a list made of how many baskets could be expected.
Little Tim Sawyer, who was clever with a pencil or brush, made several
posters to hang in the post-office and the stores. Spider himself wrote
some notices for the weekly paper. Mr. Martin, who owned Martin's block,
where the festival was to be held, promised them the hall rent free, and
as the cream was promised to them, also, and the cakes were made by the
mothers, about all they had to buy was the sugar.
"Oh, we're forgetting the drinks!" Bob suddenly cried, "and the music!
We can't have a dance without music."
Some of the high school girls, Joe's classmates, promised to furnish the
fruit punch, and serve it, too, so that was easily settled. The music--a
pianist and two violins--the boys hired from a near-by town, at a cost
of fifteen dollars. With the sugar and a few other little expenses,
their total outlay was about twenty dollars. The affair was so well
advertised, however, and all the scouts went around selling tickets for
so many days in advance, that when the evening came (it was a fine
night, too, in June), there were two hundred and fifty people in the
hall, and the scouts who took tickets at the door were kept busy till
their fingers ached. The strawberries were all used up, and Bob and Tom
had to rush out to the drug store to buy ice-cream for some of the late
comers. That cut into part of their profits, but of course they could
not refuse to give something to eat to the people who had paid for it.
When the hard work of serving all these people was over, and the dancing
had begun, Bob and Tom took all the money into a back room, and counted
it up. With the musicians and the sugar paid for, and the ice-cream from
the druggist's, there was left a little over ninety dollars clear
profit.
"Hooray!" cried Tom, "that'll get old Joey to Glacier Park easy! Now, if
I could only hear from my application for a job, we'd start next Monday.
School is over. Gosh, there's no sense hanging 'round here."
"Bet you hear to-morrow," said Bob. "I wish I was going, too, Spider."
"Come along," cried Tom. "It's going to be great. I'm going to get a job
as a guide, or something, when I get out there and learn the ropes, and
climb all over the mountains and maybe see a goat or a grizzly bear!"
"Well, you bring me a bearskin for a rug, and we'll call it quits," Bob
answered. "I guess next year I'll get up a strawberry festival for
myself. Maybe I can get sick, or something, this winter."
"A lot you can, you old fatty," Tom laughed. "You look about as sick
as--as a pig before killing."
Bob nearly upset the pile of money, trying to reach for Tom's head, to
punch it.
Sure enough, the very next day Tom did hear from his application. He
rushed over to Mr. Rogers' studio.
"Look," he cried. "I get a job all right, but I don't know just what it
means. It says I'm to be in charge of the Many Glacier tepee camp, if I
turn out to be big enough, and suit the boss. Otherwise, I'll be a
bellhop in the Many Glacier Hotel. I'll get forty dollars a month and
board at the camp. What's a tepee camp?"
"You know as much about it as I do," the scout master said. "I suppose
it's a camp composed of Indian tepees, which the hotel rents to people
who'd rather camp out than stay inside. Anyhow, I hope you get that job,
for I don't like to think of one of my scouts taking tips all the time,
the way a bellhop gets to do. It's un-American. Probably Joe could help
you 'round the tepee camp, anyway with the cooking. And speaking of Joe,
the first thing we must do is to take him 'round to Dr. Meyer's again,
and find out just what he can and can't do, and what you've got to feed
him, and so forth. Suppose we go right now."
The doctor gave Joe another thorough examination, from head to foot, and
then put him on the scales. He smiled as the weight had to be pushed
twelve pounds beyond where it hung in May.
"You see what rest, food and minding the doctor does," said he. "Well,
my boy, you're on the mend. As a matter of fact, there isn't very much
the matter with you now except a weakened condition and, of course, a
tendency to relapse without proper care. A year in the Rocky Mountains
ought to make a well man of you."
"A year!" Joe exclaimed. "We're only going for the summer."
"Well, the summer will help," said the doctor. "Keep on eating your milk
and eggs, if you can get 'em, but probably after you've been in the
woods a while you won't worry much about your food--you'll gobble what
you can get, and so long as you feel right, go ahead. I'll give your
friend a clinical thermometer to take your temperature, and you must get
weighed once in so often. It wouldn't be a bad idea to have a doctor
look you over now and then, too, if one comes into the Park. The things
you must look out for are over-exertion and exposure. I wouldn't do
anything but light work for a month yet, at least, and no climbing or
long walks. If you must go somewhere, go on horseback, at a slow pace.
And keep warm and dry."
"Well, Joe, that's a fine, encouraging report!" the scout master
declared as they left. "You keep on minding the doc, and you'll be a
well man."
"He'll keep on minding him, all right, all right," said Tom, putting his
arm around Joe's shoulder, and then tightening it around his neck till
Joe's head was forced over where he could give it a friendly punch.
Joe started to duck and punch back, but Spider cried, "Here--cut that
out! No over-exertion!"--and then the three laughed and hurried on, to
make arrangements for the departure of the boys.
Clothing, of course, was the most important thing, and the boys got out
their trunks and selected what they would need, with the aid of a folder
describing conditions in the Park. They took their scout suits, of
course, with leggins, and their heaviest high boots. Tom also added a
box of steel spikes and a key to screw them in with. They also took
their sweaters, and mackinaws, though it seemed foolish to be taking
mackinaws for a summer trip. Then they packed two suits of winter
underwear, several pairs of heavy wool socks for tramping, two flannel
outing shirts, and rubber ponchos, which both boys had bought the year
before when the scouts took a five day hike. Then, of course, they took
their knapsacks, and both boys sent for dunnage bags of stout canvas.
They took their scout axes and cooking kits, knives, Tom's camera,
compasses, and notebooks to keep diaries in. Tom had a folding camp
lantern for which they got a box of candles. For bedding, each packed
two pairs of heavy double blankets, and Joe's mother insisted on making
a separate bundle of a winter bed puff, which, as it turned out later,
he was glad enough to have. They also put in their winter pajamas, their
scout hats, and some old leather gloves. Finally, they got some packages
of dehydrated vegetables, soup sticks, powdered egg, army rations, and
tabloid tea, to use on walking trips if Joe got strong enough to tramp.
Such condensed and light weight rations, Mr. Rogers thought, probably
could not be purchased in the Park.
It was a lovely day, almost at the end of June, when the two boys
finally started. There had been a scout meeting the night before, at
which Bob Sawtelle, who was to act as patrol leader in Spider's absence,
had made a speech for the rest and presented Joe with a pocket camera,
the gift of the entire troop. It was a short speech, but to the point.
"Old Joey's pipes have gone on the blink," he said, "and he's got to
beat it out West to pump 'em full of ozone. We other fellers thought
we'd like to see what he's seen, when he gets back, so we all chipped in
and got a camera. Here it is, Joe, and don't try to snap Spider with it,
or you'll bust the lens."
Joe tried to make a speech in reply, but he couldn't do it. He just took
the camera, and said, "Gee, fellows, you're--you're all to the good."
"And don't you worry about your mother's coal, either," Bob added.
"We're going to keep right on fillin' the hods, and if anybody forgets
when it's his turn, I'm goin' to beat him on the bean."
"That's a good one," cried little Sam Cowan. "You forgot yourself
yesterday!"
"Well, I ain't goin' to forget any more, or let you, either," Bob
answered.
Bob and several more scouts, as well as Mr. Rogers, Joe's mother and
little brother and sister, and Tom's family, were all down at the depot
to see the boys off in the morning. There were kisses and some tears
from the women, and a scout cheer from the boys, and cries of "Have you
got your axe, Spider?" and "Joe, dear, are you sure you put in your comb
and brush?" and "Tom, dear, now don't forget to send mother a postcard
just as soon as you get there," and "Say, Joey, bring home a Rocky
Mountain sheep's head for the clubroom," and "Hi, Spider, don't forget a
grizzly bear rug for me, so my little tootsies won't be cold when I hop
out of bed."
The train came, the boys got aboard, it pulled out, and looking back
they saw their friends and parents on the platform, waving good-bye, and
the church spires and housetops of their village vanishing into the June
green of the tree tops.
"Well," said Tom, "we're off for the Rocky Mountains!"
Joe rubbed his eyes. "Sure we are!" he answered. "I kind of hate to
leave ma, though, and the kids."
Tom slapped him on the shoulder.
"Sure you do," he said. "But it's so you can come back a husky, well
man, to look out for 'em better than ever. Don't you forget that, old
scout!"