QUARRY TROOP'S CHRISTMAS
"Whew-w-w! Hi, shut that door--good night! want to freeze us out?" shouted
Romper Ryan, as he glared across the workshop at Bruce Clifford and Bud
Weir.
"Aw, don't get fidgety. You won't ever freeze the way you're hanging
over that forge. What's the matter, Romper?" asked Bruce.
"Busted the frame of my snowshoe. Trying to make a little brace for it
and get it fixed up before you fellows arrived."
"When'll you be ready? Where are the rest of the fellows?"
"They're upstairs. I'll be ready in a jiffy now."
The two scouts crossed the shop and made their way noisily up the wooden
stairs to the meeting room, where they found half a dozen lads in an
animated discussion as to where the biggest and best Christmas trees were
to be found.
"I tell you the forest fire cleaned everything out of the Long Lake
district," asserted Ray Martin.
"Well, I suppose you want us to go all the way over into Bland County
this cold day," said fat Babe Wilson sarcastically.
"Speaking of forest fires," said Bruce, who had come into the room just
in time to hear Ray Martin's remark; "speaking of forest fires, did any
of you fellows see the Northern Lights last night up back of Haystack
Mountain? Father and I thought first it _was_ a forest fire. The sky was
all pink and white. But we concluded it must have been the reflection of
the Aurora Borealis. You can see 'em this time of year, you know. Snow
helps their reflection, Pop says."
"Is that what it was? I saw it too, and when I saw the red glow in the
sky I just naturally thought of that Long Lake fire last month. Say, by
the way I got a postal card from that fellow in Boston, we rescued.
Remember? Dave Connors is his name--Gollies, every time I think of
forest fires I shudder. He sure had a close squeak and so did we.
That's why that glow in the sky last night sort of made an impression on
me. I wondered if any one was caught in it, same as we were nearly
caught?" said Nipper Knapp.
"Aw, I tell you it wasn't a fire. It was the Northern Lights back of
Haystack Mountain. Dad said so, and he knows, and, say, speaking of
Haystack Mountain," added Bruce, "why not go up there for our tree? If
this is going to be the town's Christmas tree it must be a whopper. Most
all of that land up there belongs to the people Mr. Ford works for and he
has permission from them to cut as many trees as we need. How about it?"
"By Jiminy! that's just what I said, Bruce," cried Jiminy Gordon, "and
Romper agrees with me."
"Sure I do," said Romper, suddenly making his appearance from the
workshop, his mended snowshoe in hand.
"Then it's Haystack Mountain. Come on, fellows, get ready; half the
morning will be gone before we start," said Bruce, and in a twinkle a
half-score of scouts were donning mackinaws and sweaters and making
themselves generally secure against a temperature that hovered very close
to the zero mark. And five minutes later the entire crew, armed with
axes and snowshoe-shod were to be seen leaving headquarters in single
file and heading up Otter Creek Valley over three feet of December snow.
Woodbridge had once more honored the Quarry Troop. But the lads had
earned the honor by suggesting that the town hold a public celebration in
the square in front of the Town Hall on Christmas Eve. Moreover, they
had worked their hardest to gain the interest of village officials,
ministers, and men and women of the community in such a celebration and
it could well be said that through the efforts of the khaki-clad
youngsters, Woodbridge, as a community, would for the first time welcome
the coming of Christmas. Neighbors and friends, rich and poor, young and
old, would stand shoulder to shoulder this Christmas Eve and sing the joy
and happiness of the Yuletide.
And for their share in the organization work the scouts had been granted
the privilege of providing the town with a big community Christmas tree,
which was to stand in the center of the square and be decorated from
bottom to tip with colored electric lights. This decorating was an
affair of the Quarry Scouts also. They had been given the commission by
Mayor Worthington and the councilmen to do all the electric wiring and
the stringing of the bulbs.
Of course the lads welcomed such an important task, for they were eager
to demonstrate how useful they could be. Also they were pleased to
display their knowledge of mechanics. So it can be easily understood why
Bruce and his chums were eager to get an early start the Saturday morning
a week before Christmas. They intended to search the woods for the
tallest and straightest fir tree in the township.
In spite of the fact that their ears tingled with the bitter cold and the
wind whistled through the valley, whirling the powdery crystals of snow
into their faces, the scouts were a happy lot of youngsters as they swung
their way northward. Who could be other than happy with Christmas but a
week off? Snowballs flew thick and fast among them, and now and then
snowshoe races were run, too.
The lads chose the valley bottom for their journey and avoided the
highway which swung to the left and made a wide detour before the byroad
that approached Haystack Mountain joined it. With this route the lads
could cut down the journey at least three miles and then, too, they had
fine snow for shoeing.
Soon they had left the open and entered the hardwood belt from which all
the firs and other evergreens had long since been trimmed. Snowshoeing
through the woods was not so much of a lark, for the lads had no trail to
follow and must needs work their way between half-covered underbrush.
The snow was softer here, too, and their shoes dragged. But most of
their surplus energy had been worked off by this time and they were
willing to settle down to single file. Each took his turn breaking a
trail.
On they traveled for more than an hour, always keeping the shoulder of
Haystack Mountain, which loomed up above the tree line, their objective.
About half a mile from the mountain they suddenly came clear of the woods
and into the highway. Here a brief conference was held as to the
advisability of trying to climb the shoulder of the mountain or taking
the road which led around. The last route was decided upon, because up
here the thoroughfare was little traveled and was practically unbroken.
Indeed, they saw signs of very few sleighs having passed there since the
snowstorm four days previous.
Away they swung, keeping an eye out on either side of the road for a
Christmas tree, but they did not find a fir tall enough to be used for
the town's tree.
Soon they were around the shoulder of the mountain and traveling west.
The woods were thicker here and trees more numerous. But there was a
peculiar odor of burnt wood in the air, too, which all the scouts
detected.
"Cracky! I believe your Northern Light was a forest fire, or--or--say,
isn't that smoke rising above those trees there?" demanded Nipper Knapp.
"Right, by go lies!" shouted Bruce, "but--oh, I know, now. There's a
little farm in there. It's been vacant for--no, it hasn't, by jingoes!
an old lady has been living there all Fall. I've seen her in town.
Nanny Haskells, they call her. Cracky! come on, fellows, maybe the poor
old soul has been burned to death!"
The scouts were off at a gallop, stirring up the snow like a whirlwind as
they loped along the road. Soon they came to an unbroken lane through
the woods. Into this they turned and a hundred yards further on they
emerged into the little farm clearing. What a sight met their eyes.
In a smoldering, smoking heap of charred ruins lay what remained of an
old-fashioned farmhouse and barn that had stood there for years. The
fire had burned itself out, except here and there where glowing coals
showed themselves. Only two blackened timbers remained standing. And in
this picture of devastation, looking the most lonesome and pathetic
figure in the world, wandered the tiniest, most old-fashioned and
motherly looking woman the lads had ever seen.
She seemed all but distracted with her misery, for she went about
wringing her hands and sobbing as if her heart were broken. Here and
there she picked her way, peering into the smoking ashes and now and then
poking among them for a trinket or a keepsake that the fire had only
blackened. It was a pathetic sight indeed, and the sturdy scouts all
felt heavy hearted as they watched her.
Finally Bruce left the group and went toward her. Then for the first
time the little woman looked up, startled at first. But when she saw the
uniforms the lads wore she was no longer frightened. In truth, she
seemed to welcome them as the only sympathetic human beings she had seen
to whom she could tell her woes.
"Oh, boys, boys, it's gone, all, all gone. Look--my old home all in
ruins. Oh, dear! oh, dear! I'm so miserable. What shall I ever do?
Why should this be taken from me, too? They took--they took
her--her--and, oh, dear! oh, dear! what shall I do?" she cried.
Bruce put his hands out to comfort her as best he could and the little
lady came toward him and laid her head upon his chest, sobbing as if her
heart was broken. But the all-night strain on one so old had been too
great and presently she became very quiet, so quiet indeed that Bruce
became frightened and looked down into her face. And instantly he
realized that she was completely worn out.
"Here, fellows," he called in a business-like tone, "the poor old lady is
all in. We must take her to town and get her into the hospital. Come,
fellows, quickly now. You, Jiminy, and Nipper, make a coat
stretcher--cut some staffs--strong ones. The three of us will take her
back to town. The rest of you fellows go after the Christmas tree. But
first lend us a jacket or a sweater or two to bundle the old lady in."
In a twinkle the scouts were busy. Staffs were cut, the stretcher
constructed and old Nanny made comfortable with extra coats and sweaters
that the more warmly clad scouts could spare. Then, as the three lads
started townward, Bruce shouted:
"Hi, Bud, see that you get a whopping big tree. A thirty footer, if you
can. We'll be back in an hour or so to help you. So long."
Crisp weather and an additional snowstorm during the week that preceded
the holidays gave the youngsters of the Vermont town full assurance of a
white Christmas. And they would have been mightily disappointed lads if
such had not been the case, for what would a Community Christmas
celebration and a town Christmas tree be like without snow everywhere?
It was good packing snow, too, as numerous snow fights at noon time, on
the academy campus, attested.
But, aside from these noon-day diversions, the Quarry Scouts had little
time to indulge in Winter sports that week. The hills about town were
just right for coasting and the broad Champlain Valley stretched north
and south to be explored on snowshoes, skis, and with sleigh-riding
parties, but the scouts could not find time to enjoy these opportunities.
Rather, they found their fun in anticipating a good time after
Christmas, providing the snow lasted, for they had work to do. There was
the big Christmas tree to be erected and trimmed.
It was a monster tree. Thirty-two feet from base to tip, and as it lay
there in front of the town hall waiting to be elevated into position, it
commanded the admiration of the whole town. Thursday afternoon, after
the carpenters had finished a big platform and grandstand, the lads
erected timber shears and block and tackle and set the tree into place in
the very center of the pavilion, which was to accommodate the mayor, town
officials, visitors, the orchestra and a host of school children who were
to sing carols.
"Wow, it looks great," said Nipper Knapp, surveying the tall fir proudly,
"and won't it look corking after we get it all trimmed to-morrow
afternoon?"
"Yes, but mind you, fellows, we'll have to work like everything
to-morrow. All the wiring has to be strung and all the lights put on
between one o'clock in the afternoon and half past four. It'll be some
job," said Bud Weir.
"You're right it will," said Bruce, "thank goodness we have everything
shipshape up at headquarters to get a good start. There's more than
enough wire in the lot Mr. Ford sent over. And I guess we must have put
on about three thousand lamp sockets during the last few days, haven't
we?"
"Two thousand and eighty-seven," corrected Romper, "and it's a good thing
school lets out at noon to-morrow."
"It'll be a sight for sore eyes. Say, fellows, I'll tell you what.
Let's bring old Nanny Haskell down and give her a seat on the visitors'
stand. I guess Mr. Ford could arrange that for us. It might cheer the
poor old soul up a little. How is she to-day? Any one been up to the
hospital?"
"Sure, Romper and I were up there. She's all well and ready to leave,
but the poor thing hasn't any place to go to, it seems. She's bluer than
all git out, too. Jiminy, but I feel sorry for her," said Jiminy Gordon.
"Well, then, by gollies! we'll see if we can't make her happy on
Christmas Eve at least. We'll have her all bundled up and bring her down
here. Listening to the kids sing and all the fun and things might help
her spirit a little."
"Fine idea, if she'll come," said Bruce.
"Oh, we'll arrange that, all right, I think," replied Romper. "I'll go
up to the hospital to-morrow. Perhaps Mr. Ford will go along, and we can
talk it over with Doctor Bassett."
"Good enough; I'll go with you. And now let's go home and get some
supper, fellows. It's getting dark," said Bruce. And presently the
scouts were tramping off through the snowy Winter twilight to their
respective homes.
Fortunately, Mr. Clifford allowed Bruce the use of Blossom, his big black
trotting horse, and a light box sleigh, or otherwise the lads would have
had to make a dozen trips up the steep, snow-covered Otter Hill to
headquarters to get their coils of wire and boxes of lamps to town next
day.
As it was, the spirited animal had to haul three sleigh-loads of
equipment to the Town Hall before the scouts could even start the task of
decorating. As soon as the coils of wire arrived a dozen scouts began to
swarm the big Christmas tree, looping the wires from branch to branch and
fastening them securely. Other scouts followed in their wake and screwed
red, white and blue, green and yellow lamps into the vacant sockets. And
while all this was going on, a crew of linemen and meter-setters from the
local electric light company were running an extension, or service line,
from the nearest street wires, for the electric company had promised to
furnish current free for the evening's celebration.
The square was a very busy place for several hours that afternoon, and
every one was working with a will for he realized that he must be
finished before dusk came. By half past three, however, the scouts found
that they could ease up a little for, with the arrival of one more load
of colored lamps from headquarters, the tree would be thoroughly
decorated even to the shining electrically illuminated star on top which
Jiminy Gordon placed there with the help of an extra long ladder.
"Whoope-e-e! almost through. Don't it look fine, eh? And here comes
Bruce with the last load of lamps. Come on, fellows, and help unload the
sleigh," shouted Bud Weir as Jiminy finally reached the ground after he
had finished wiring the big star in place.
"Right-o-o! and last man to the curb is no good," shouted Nipper Knapp,
starting to run. Next moment there was a scurry of scouts through the
snow that covered the square and a pell-mell race to the curb where Bruce
drew up the panting Blossom with a jingle of bells and a shower of
powdery snow.
"Whoa there, Blossom," he shouted. Then to the scouts, "Come on, you
duffers, and get these things unloaded. I want to get the horse into the
stable so I can do some work, too."
The "duffers" arrived with a rush and in a twinkle the boxes were being
removed from the sleigh in a manner quite violent, and this to the
imminent peril of the contents.
"Hi, not so bloomin' reckless," shouted Bruce, "don't smash 'em, whatever
you do. They are the last colored lamps in town and we need 'em. And,
say--listen--what's the fuss up the street? Hear 'em shoutin'? Gee,
it's a runaway an' here it comes--no--no--it's going to turn down High
Street toward the railroad--an'--cracky! fellows, there's a freight
pulling out of the siding! See the smoke! And there's a woman and a
girl in the cutter! Wow! Look at those chumps up the street shoutin'
and wavin' their arms. That's no way to stop a horse! Those women will
be killed. Hi, Bud, hop in here. Come on, we've got to stop 'em. I'm
goin' after 'em with Blossom. Geet_yap_ there, Blossom. Git, now, that's
t' girl. Go!"
There could be no mistaking the fact that the horse and cutter coming
down the street was a runaway. The big animal was almost mad with
fright. His eyes bulged out until the whites showed and its nostrils
were distended with fear. And, to make matters worse, there were a dozen
men and boys shouting and waving their hands in a foolish effort to stop
the horse. But all that they accomplished was to make the animal still
more frightened.
Fortunately, Bud's mind acted as quickly as Bruce's. He came into the
sleigh with a bound, but almost before he landed Bruce had Blossom under
way. Just a touch of the whip was all that was needed and the nervous
trotter shot forward like a flash of lightning. A moment later she was a
jet black streak flying toward the corner of High Street around which the
runaway cutter had just disappeared.
Almost in the wink of an eye Blossom reached the corner and swept around
it at a gallop while the sleigh careened first on one runner and then
upon the other, each time on the brink of turning over and pitching its
occupants into the snowbanks that lined the road. But the scouts gave no
heed to this. All their attention was on the flying cutter a hundred
yards ahead and upon the railroad crossing half a mile down the road.
The freight train had left the siding, and at the moment the scouts
rounded the corner she was chugging her way slowly toward the crossing.
Of course, the gates were down but this only added to the peril. The
runaway horse was blind with fright. He would plunge into the gates,
tear through them and probably kill himself and the women in the sleigh
by dashing headlong into the freight train.
"Go it, Bruce, go it. We _must_ save them. They'll be killed if we
don't," cried the half frantic Bud.
And Bruce, pale of face but determined, cut Blossom with the whip to urge
her forward. Rarely was the trotter treated that way and when the cut
came she leapt forward like a deer. Then her racing instinct seemed to
come back to her. She knew what was wanted. The horse ahead must be
passed. She stretched her long legs to their utmost and the pace she set
made the light sleigh pitch and rock like a ship in a gale. Bruce never
used the whip again. Indeed, he tossed it into the road, for he must
needs use two hands to govern the flying horse.
The animal ahead was flying, too, and it was a question for a few moments
whether the scouts could make up the distance. But Blossom was at her
best. Faster and faster she went while town folk stood on the sidewalk
and gaped in amazement at the pace she held. The hundred yard lead was
cut down to fifty, now to forty, thirty-five, thirty. Bruce and Bud
could see the look of terror on the faces of the girl and the woman in
the cutter. Also they could see the reason for the accident. The reins
had parted and one short length dangled over the horse's side and slapped
him continually on the ribs while the longer section dragged under the
cutter.
"We'll make it, Bud, we'll make it. We've _got_ to make it. I'll drive
like mad. We'll start to pass them and I'll run Blossom as close as I
dare and then when we get abreast of the horse you hang out upon the
running-board, and jump for the shafts of the cutter. Get astride the
horse's back and grab those reins. Get ready, Bud! Out on the
running-board, now! Hurry!" cried Bruce.
Blossom was drawing abreast of the cutter. Bud clung to the
running-board and crouched for a spring.
"Go it, Blossom," cried Bruce. "Good old girl, go it. Go on, go on.
Get ready, Bud--steady--ready now--_jump_!"
Bud reached far out and leaped. One foot struck the shafts. He threw
himself forward and grasped the runaway's mane and in an instant he had
swung himself astride the horse's back. For a moment all that he could
do was cling to the swaying animal And when the horse felt the extra
weight drop upon him he bounded forward like a stag uttering a shrill
whinny of fear.
For a fleeting moment the lad thought of the peril of his position. But
when he recalled that the lives of two women depended upon him, he became
active. Reaching forward he grasped the broken line and the long one and
forced the bit home into the horse's mouth. The animal snorted and
plunged. Bud pulled back again. The runaway reared and pawed the air,
snorting and shaking its massive bead. "Whoa," cried the scout, "whoa,
boy, steady now," and it seemed as if the animal recognized the authority
in his command for the next time the lad reined in the panic-stricken
horse slowed up and presently came to a complete standstill and stood
trembling like a leaf.
Then, when the scout looked up for the first time, there, not twenty
yards away, was the railroad crossing, with the freight train rumbling
slowly by.
"Fine work, Bud, fine," cried Bruce, who had pulled in on Blossom the
moment the scout had jumped from the sleigh. "Fine work,
and--and--gee! but it was a narrow escape."
Indeed it had been a narrow escape. Bud realized it as well as Bruce.
And so did the woman and the little girl in the cutter, for their faces
were white and they hardly had strength enough left to step from the
cutter when Bruce tried to assist them.
"Goodness me, what a day--what a day," said the woman, trembling with
nervousness. And when the little girl heard this she began to cry.
"Oh, mother, I'm unhappy, too," she wept. "Poor Nanny, poor Nanny, just
think she's been burned to death, and all because you and father sent me
to school last September. Oh, mother, mother, it's terrible. And then
the horse acting up like that. I--I--oh, Mr.--er--Mr. Boy Scout, do you
know anything about old Nanny--Nanny Haskell? She was my dear nurse.
Last Fall she left our house in St. Cloud because my father and mother
sent me to school down in Boston. She--she--oh, dear!--she said she
wouldn't live in St. Cloud without me, because she would be too
lonesome, so she came back to her old farm in the woods here, where she
hadn't been for ten years, and--now--oh, dear! oh, dear;--it burned
down--and--Nanny must have been burned to death."
"Why--why--no--no, she wasn't burned to death," said Bruce, when he fully
understood, "she--she--why she's over in the Woodbridge hospital. That
big building over there on Willow Street. We found her and took her
there, and she wasn't a bit hurt, only sick, that's all."
"What! is she alive--really--honest--Nanny Haskell--boy, you're sure?"
cried the woman excitedly. "We--we--came over to-day to get her and
bring her back to St. Cloud. We wanted to tell her that Genevieve had
come home from Boston to stay, and that we wanted her to come back with
us on Christmas Eve and live with us for good. Are you sure--?"
"Yes, yes, I'm sure. I helped bring her into town," said Bruce.
"Then come, mother, come. I must see old Nanny and cheer her up. The
boys will take care of the horse and put him in a stable. Won't you,
boys?" said Genevieve, excitedly.
"Sure--Bud will fix the reins and drive him to the hotel stable. Come
into my sleigh and I'll take you to the hospital," said Bruce.
A cold wind was driving powdery flakes out of the darkness overhead when
the Woodbridge town folk began to gather in the square to celebrate their
first community Christmas. The scouts were there early, for, besides the
fact that several of them had the task of taking care of the electric
switches that controlled the lights on the big tree, the rest of the
troop had been delegated to police the square.
The ceremonies were supposed to begin at eight o'clock, but by half-past
seven the big platform was filled with visitors, officials and prominent
townsmen. The orchestra had arrived, too, and taken its place, and the
chorus of four hundred school children stood waiting, song books in hand.
The big square was literally jammed by joyous men and women and
shivering, though none the less enthusiastic, youngsters. And over these
thousand or more silence reigned and every eye was fastened on the tall
somber looking tree.
Then came the signal from the Mayor. The next moment the orchestra
leader swung his baton and the orchestra rang forth. Simultaneously the
voices of the children took up the opening bars of a good old English
Christmas carol. This was the cue the four scouts at the switches were
waiting for. One by one they jammed the tiny rubber covered connections
home and in circuits of eight and twelve, the colored lamps on the great
tree began to twinkle until it was a blaze of glory from the lowermost
branches to the great glittering star on the top.
What a wave of applause greeted this illumination. Then some one in the
throng took up the carol the children were singing and in a moment
thousands of throats were pouring forth the happiness of Yuletide. The
people's enthusiasm seemed boundless.
But though the lights of the great tree revealed joyous countenances
everywhere, the scouts could single out three in the group on the
platform that seemed far happier than the rest. In truth, tears of joy
were coursing down old Nanny Haskell's cheeks as she sat there hugging
the form of Genevieve to her and listening to the rejoicing of the vast
throng. And close beside them, her arm about the old nurse's shoulder,
sat a very happy mother.
All through the ceremonies they stayed, lingering even till the lights on
the big tree began to go out in groups. And when the star on the top,
after a preliminary wink, went dark too, they turned and made their way
slowly across the square to where their cutter, a hired driver in the
seat, stood waiting.
"Well, fellows," said Bruce, as with a jingle of bells the sleigh started
in the direction of St. Cloud City, "I guess old Nanny's Christmas won't
be such a sad one after all, thanks to Bud, here."
And then with boisterous shouts of "Merry Christmas, everybody," the
scouts all started for home.
The End
End of Project Gutenberg's The Boy Scout Fire Fighters, by Irving Crump