THE CALL OF DUTY.
Billy immediately threw his arms around the nearest fellow who happened
to be Monkey Stallings.
“Hear that summons, boys!” he cried, as he hugged the other in his
overbounding enthusiasm. “It means Hugh has decided that the scouts
ought to go up there in a body, and fight the forest fires! Just what I
was wishing would happen! When there’s anything _big_ going on, _we’re_
the boys to get moving.”
“Let me loose, you bear!” gasped Monkey Stallings as he struggled in the
enveloping arms of the other. “Do you want to squeeze me to death? Say,
you can hug worse than any grizzly that ever came to town. Please don’t
try that game on me in a hurry again, Billy! I’m too ticklish!”
“Come on, everybody, let’s put for the meeting place, and find out
what’s in the wind!” called Don Miller.
“I’d say it was sure enough wood smoke, from the way it smarts your
eyes,” declared another of the group, though no one laughed at his
intended witticism, for they had more serious things to weigh upon their
minds.
Boys were seen coming on the run from various directions. All of them
converged toward the bell, still throbbing its startling message. The
cry of Paul Revere in those old Continental days could hardly have
thrilled the hearts of those who lived in Massachusetts villages and
hamlets any more than the brazen notes of that bell did the gathering
scouts.
Some were in uniform, others not, but that was a matter of very little
importance just then. They were wild to learn why this hasty call had
gone forth; and hoping it meant a chance to enter the fight against the
oncoming forest fire.
Not only boys were running, for girls, women, and some men could be seen
hastening toward the church. Like wildfire the news would spread that
the scouts were going to take a hand in the game, and somehow people had
come to place a wonderful amount of faith in Hugh Hardin and his
comrades.
True, thirty mere boys could not do much when they tried to pit their
puny powers against so savage a thing as a raging forest fire. Still,
somehow, those good people had come to feel a degree of confidence in
the ability of the troop to accomplish things. Their past history was a
splendid one, and on a number of occasions never to be forgotten, they
had attained triumphs that made Oakvale very proud to own them.
So from lip to lip went the cry: “The scouts are going out to fight the
fire!” Mothers, who had boys enrolled in the troop, surveyed that dark
pall of smoke and turned pale with new apprehension. It seemed as though
some frightful peril might be hovering off where those fires burned; and
while it was right sturdy men should go forth to assist those in
distress, each mother’s heart was a battleground of pride and fear as
she contemplated the possibility of some disaster overtaking the boy she
loved.
The crowd grew in volume as minutes passed. Each scout upon arriving
pushed in so as to reach the center of the gathering. When Hugh and
Walter Osborne, the Hawk leader, came out of the church, they having
been ringing the loud-pealing bell, it was a startling scene that met
their eyes.
Fully three hundred people had gathered there. The appearance of the
assistant scout master was greeted with loud cheers.
“What’s doing, Hugh?” cried one eager boy.
“Are we going up to the foot of Old Stormberg?” asked another.
When Hugh stepped forward and held up his hand all these voices stopped.
“There is a great need of help up there, they say,” he told them in a
ringing tone, “not only to fight the fires, but to save property,
perhaps helpless people who have been burned out and are in danger. If
we went in a body we might find a chance to make ourselves useful; and
so I have decided to ask the members of Oakvale Troop to join with me in
the work!”
“Hurrah!”
Scores of lusty voices took up the cheer until the volume of sound
rolled along through that entire part of the town. Those women who had
remained at home, though still at their gates, with aprons over their
heads it might be, seemed readily to guess what that vociferous cheer in
boyish voices meant.
The scouts were going! Strange how a little thing like that could give
them a thrill, but it seemed to all the same.
“Remember,” continued Hugh, when the clamor which his announcement had
caused died away, “it is optional with every one of you whether he goes
or not. You can be of great service to those who are in trouble. Still,
if any scout’s mother does not wish him to be of our party he should
stay at home.”
“No danger of that happening, Hugh!” called out one boy.
“We’ve got the right kind of mothers, and they’ve proved it in the past.
Count on a full attendance, Hugh!” another informed him, at which there
were further loud cheers.
After that it was hardly to be expected that any mother would dream of
objecting to her boy going to the front, no matter how her fond heart
might be gripped with natural fears. Pride would step in and make sure
that the finger of scorn should never be pointed at _her_ boy.
“Get away home now, fellers,” said Hugh, “and change your clothes. Put
on any old suit you’ve got, it doesn’t matter what it looks like. With
sparks flying around you’re apt to have some damage done before we come
back. Don’t waste any time, but get back here. We start in exactly half
an hour.”
He knew that every single boy would be on the run, and eager to get back
to the rendezvous long before those thirty minutes had expired.
“Another thing!” Hugh called out as they were starting away, “bring
canteens along with you if you have them; and don’t forget your big red
bandana handkerchief above all things, with an old campaign hat that
will protect your neck from any sparks!”
There never existed a more excited lot of boys than Oakvale boasted
about that time. All over town they could be seen running wildly this
way and that, with people trying to ask questions which the hustling
scouts were too busy to answer.
By the time fifteen minutes had expired a dozen of them had arrived at
the designated meeting place, all flushed and eager. One after another
the rest came on the run, showing signs of relief at finding they were
not too late.
Had any scout been actually left behind on that occasion he would have
been the most heart-broken fellow ever seen. The crowd was greater than
ever as new arrivals constantly augmented it. A buzz of tongues told
that the women were trying to explain how matters stood to those who
could not understand what all this excitement meant.
Hugh was keeping count of the boys as they came up. He had them ranged
alongside the wall of the church, so that he would know when the full
quota had arrived. It pleased him to see how anxious they all were to
join their fortunes with the expedition that was about to set forth,
bent on a new work of usefulness.
It still lacked five minutes of the appointed time, and yet Hugh
believed that every member of the troop who might be expected to gather
had done so. Two boys he knew were sick at home, and another was away
from town; but the rest were on hand.
“There’s no use waiting any longer, Hugh!” called out Billy Worth.
“We’re all on deck, you see.”
Everybody stopped talking when Hugh was seen to step forward again, and
raise his hand. This boy had won the respect of Oakvale through his
manly qualities. He had even managed to disarm the enmity of certain
boys who at one time had striven to throw every obstacle possible in his
path.
“We’re going to start off, fellows,” he announced, cheerily; “and it
isn’t too late yet for any one who isn’t in good shape to do a lot of
work to drop back. Fall in, double file, and we’ll be moving!”
Quickly they obeyed. Not a single boy dropped out of line; indeed, just
then it would have required a most powerful lever to have dragged any of
them aside. They did not know what awaited them up where that billowing
smoke came from; possibly it might mean danger, and surely suffering
from the pungent vapor that smarted the eyes, but they believed duty
called them, and they were wild to go.
The crowd parted to let them pass through. Other boys who did not belong
to the troop cheered them as they walked smartly along, keeping
excellent military step.
There were no inspiring notes of the bugle to cheer them this time, no
exhilarating throb of the drum to enliven their steps; but nevertheless
every boy’s face was an index to the feelings of his heart, and they
shone with delight.
On down the street they went, followed by the crowd that seemed bent on
seeing the last of them. Never had the scouts presented a more manly
bearing, though all of them were shabbily dressed, a few in cast-off
khaki suits, others wearing such garments as they could find around home
of the kind that it would not matter if they were utterly ruined in the
fire-fighting.
Now they had passed beyond the outskirts of the town. The crowd had left
them with a parting cheer. Ahead lay the road leading to the region
being devastated by the furious flames. Sturdily they set out to walk
all the way up to the burning woods in order that they might be of some
assistance to those in distress.