THE BOY FROM ARIZONA
"Say, fellows, I have the idea we--"
"Jiminy!" interrupted Jiminy Gordon. "Romper's got an idea--first he ever
had in his life. Come, spit it out, and if it isn't any better than the
rest we've been listening to, we'll maul you--won't we, fellows?"
"Bet we will," said Bud Weir.
"We'll duck him in the creek," threatened Nipper Knapp.
"Come on there, young man, let us know what's in your cranium. None of
the rest of us has been able to get even the glimmer of an intelligent
suggestion," said Bruce Clifford.
"Well, here it is," said Romper, getting to his feet. "We'll furnish a
climax to our part of the Fourth of July celebration by presenting
Woodbridge with a city flag--we'll make the suggestion, get it approved by
the village council, have old Granny Mastin make it and pres--"
"Hi, hi, not so fast--you're rushing along like a train of cars--trying to
dodge that ducking, aren't you? Now, slower--what's this idea? What do
you mean by a city flag? Never heard of such a thing before," said Ray
Martin.
"Huh, you haven't? Well, you're a fine scout. Don't you ever read the
papers?" said Romper with disgust.
"I've heard of it," interrupted Bruce, "and it's a bully suggestion. A
number of American cities have flags--a distinctive ensign, just like
patrol flags that we scouts have. New York has just adopted one, and I
can't see why Woodbridge shouldn't have a flag of her own. Romper's idea
is a corker. We can suggest a flag and get the approval of the
Woodbridge council. Then on the Fourth we can present it to the city and
have grand old celebration. Romper deserves a vote of thanks instead of
a ducking."
In truth, Romper had piloted Quarry Troop out of a most trying dilemma.
Here is how matters stood before he suddenly became inspired: Woodbridge
had been planning a safe and sane Fourth of July celebration, with a
pageant, municipal night fireworks and various other forms of a good
time. All of which was to take place at the Firemen's Tournament Field
on the outskirts of the town. Quarry Troop had been invited to give an
exhibition.
So far as that was concerned, the boys were ready and willing to give
exhibitions in almost any of the many branches of scouting at a moment's
notice, for they were all well trained. But the fact that the occasion
was Independence Day and that there would be hundreds of strangers
watching them made the lads eager to give an extra good performance and
end with a grand flourish--something spectacular.
Now, just what this climax was to be required deep thought, and half a
dozen of the older scouts of the troop had gathered under the big maple
in front of their machine-shop headquarters on Otter Creek hill to ponder
the situation. They had been sprawled in various attitudes in the shade
of the old tree for more than half an hour, each one doing his utmost to
think of something original. All kinds of suggestions were advanced, but
none was worth considering until Romper finally stirred up his flag idea.
It did not take the wide-awake youngsters long to comprehend the
spectacular element in this proposition, however, and presently they were
talking away at a furious rate, planning the details.
"Look here, why not make the order of events like this," said Bruce.
"First we'll pitch a real scout camp and then put up our wireless outfit,
just as we had decided. Beforehand we'll erect a big pole and a little
pole to hold the aerial. 'Old Nanc' can carry the outfit we have on the
headquarters roof to Firemen's Field and we can borrow one of the
batteries from Dad's electric truck and take that along to furnish our
current.
"Then, after the wireless is up and working, we can wind up the
performance by presenting the town with a flag. That should make a real
hit, eh, fellows? We'll get Mr. Ford to make a speech from the reviewing
stand and then, after the Mayor has answered, we'll raise the flag on the
big aerial pole and salute it. How do you like that for a programme?"
"Great," exclaimed several of the scouts.
"Bully," said Bud.
"Best ever," asserted Nipper Knapp. "But say, here we've been talking
about giving the town a flag, now what's it to look like?"
"Jove, that's right," said Ray Martin. "What sort of a flag is it to be?
Let's make it green and purple, green to signify--ah--"
"Yes, let's add pink, canary and sky blue," interrupted sarcastic Babe
Wilson, "what do you think this is going to be, a rainbow?"
"Well, I think we should talk the plan over with Mr. Ford and let him
give our suggestion to the City Councilmen. They may have some ideas as
to what the Woodbridge flag should look like," said Bruce.
"Sure," said Ray.
"All right, I'll--"
"Say, fellows," interrupted Romper in a whisper, while he watched a
solitary figure coming up the road, "here comes that chap we had at
headquarters yesterday, Dick what's-his-name?"
"Sure enough," said Bud Weir. "Say, come on fellows, let's go inside; we
don't want a 'fraid raid cat like him hanging around with us."
"Aw, say, that isn't right," replied Bruce in an undertone. "Don't snub
a fellow like that. I think it was sort of childish for him to be
afraid, but he looks like a pretty good chap, at that."
But the lad in question evidently did not intend to "hang around."
Instead he made his way up Otter Creek hill, passed the group in front of
headquarters with a nod and a cheerful "howdy" and continued on his way.
He was a short, thickset youngster of about sixteen and he walked with a
peculiar stride, for his legs were slightly bowed.
Dick Austin was his name and he had come from his home in Arizona to
spend his Summer vacation with an aunt in Woodbridge.
Several of the scouts had met him at various places in the village since
he had been in town, and had tried to make his acquaintance, but he
seemed to keep to himself a great deal. The day before the Fourth of
July conference under the maple, however, two of the lads had encountered
him on the street, and out of pure kindness of heart had invited him to
accompany them to headquarters.
But much to their surprise Dick did not like the machine shop at all. He
objected to the hum of motors and he jumped every time he saw the flashes
from the wireless spark gap. He refused to try a ride on the tandem seat
of one of the troop's motorcycles, and when he received a slight shock
after several of the boys had persuaded him to take hold of the handles of
a static electric machine, he became thoroughly frightened.
"Look year," he said with a decided southern accent, "I don't like this
hear 'lectric business no how. Hit's dangerous stuff an' I'm afeard o'
hit. Yo' see I ham 't been used t' hit down whar I lived an' I cain 't
feel comfortable with a lot of machinery so close to me. No, sirree, I'd
rather leg it out o' here and git into t' open."
Whereupon he left headquarters without waiting to listen to the scouts,
who tried to explain that it was only high-tension electricity that was
not at all dangerous and that there was no current of that nature at
headquarters.
Dick's attitude had quite surprised the Quarry Scouts. How a normal boy
could fail to be interested in machinery, know nothing about electricity,
and actually refuse to ride on a motorcycle because the throbbing engine
scared him, was more than they could understand. They quickly decided
that he was a coward and had already lost respect for him, as was evident
from the caustic comments made by the group under the maple after he had
passed.
"Huh," said Ray Martin, "just imagine a fellow getting fidgety over a
motor; regular girl."
"It does seem queer," said Bruce. Then getting to his feet and brushing
the dust from his trousers he continued:
"Say, fellows, if we are going to try this flag stunt I think it's up to
us to get a wiggle on. We've only two weeks to do the work in, you know.
I'm going to see Mr. Ford now and talk it over with him. Who wants to
go along?"
"I'll go," said Bud Weir.
"So'll I," added Romper.
"All right, come along," replied Bruce. And five minutes later three
motorcycles were scooting out toward the hydro-electric plant where Mr.
Ford, the Quarry Troop's Assistant Scoutmaster, was superintendent.
Two days later three lads in scout uniforms were to be seen in the
ante-room of the Council Chamber in the Woodbridge Town Hall. They
composed the Flag Committee of the Quarry Troop and as they sat there in
the straight-backed chairs they looked to be the most uncomfortable trio
in all the State of Vermont.
And they were uncomfortable. You see, Bruce, Bud and Romper were waiting
patiently the decision of the Councilmen, who were convening behind the
closed doors of the room to their left. It was the occasion of the
regular weekly meeting of the body, but the fact that the town fathers
were debating the adoption of a town flag made the session the most
important in the history of Woodbridge, so far as the three scouts were
concerned.
"Huh, we've been sitting here just fifteen minutes; seems like fifteen
hours," said Bruce in a husky whisper. His eyes were on the big
regulator clock that ticked away solemnly on the wall across the room.
As for Bud and Romper, they remained silent, gazing nervously out the
window. A little later Romper said: "Maybe they're going to turn us
down and--" He was interrupted by the opening of the swinging doors that
led to the Council Chamber. Mr. Bennet, Mayor Worthington's secretary,
appeared.
"Scouts," he said, saluting, "the Mayor would like the pleasure of your
presence in the Council Room."
It required every ounce of self-control the scouts could summon to walk
into that sanctum. How they managed to travel the space from one room to
the other without stumbling over rugs or doorsills will ever be a mystery
to them.
Presently, however, they found themselves at the lower end of the long
mahogany table at which the nine officials were seated. At the head was
the dignified Mayor, while to the right and left were ranged the
councilmen, all of whom the boys recognized when finally they became more
accustomed to the surroundings.
"Scouts," said the Mayor, and at the sound of his voice each lad saluted,
"we have considered your plan to present the town of Woodbridge with a
flag, and we have unanimously voted it an excellent idea. Moreover, lads,
we have adopted the design and colors of the proposed emblem."
This good news helped to dispel the scouts' nervousness. They were too
attentive now to think of being timid.
"We have decided," continued Mr. Worthington, "that the design shall be a
blood red flag with a city seal in the center of it. It shall be red
because that is the color that signifies strength, fire, virility, and
all that is healthy and normal. And we shall follow the lead of other
cities and have an official seal of the community; for the seal, we have
decided on the pine tree of Vermont in the upper portion and a quarry
derrick, signifying the marble industry of Woodbridge, below. How do you
like that, boys?"
"Wonderful," exclaimed the three lads in unison.
"Glad to hear it. Now good luck to you and I hope our Fourth of July
celebration is a big success," said the town's chief, dismissing them
with a bow.
The scouts were all smiles as they descended the broad steps of the town
hall and started down the gravel path to the street, where they had left
their motorcycles.
"Jove, we'll have some celebration, eh, fellows?" said Romper.
"You bet we will," assured Bud.
"Yes, but we have a lot of work to do yet before everything will be
ready," stated Bruce. "We'll go over to Granny Mastin's right away and
find out if she'll make the flag for us. We'll get Nipper to drawn a
design for her. Then we'll have to come back and get the silk and
whatever else she wants to do the work with. And say, fellows, we'll
have to erect our poles at Firemen's Field, do you realize that? We'll
be mighty busy for a while--hello, look who's inspecting our
motorcycles."
Bud and Romper looked up in time to see Dick Austin, the boy from
Arizona, scrutinizing the three machines that were lined up at the curb.
"Howdy," he said as they came up. "I was just eyeing these here
critters. Look blamed ferocious, they do."
"Would you like to ride on the tandem behind me?" asked Bruce.
"Who, me?" exclaimed Dick. "No, sirree, yo' cain't git me to straddle
that there animal. Ef 'twas a hoss I'd be tickled to death, but you
cain't git a snorting machine under me."
"Huh," said Bud, contemptuously, when Dick was out of earshot, "that
sounds like a bluff to me. Bet he's afraid of a horse, too."
"Oh, I don't know," said Bruce, as he started his engine, "he has the
legs of a horseman and he comes from Arizona, you know."
"Yes, but he's a scared cat," asserted Romper as the trip got under way.