R-R-R-EVENGE
Tom Slade had not the moral courage to crown his splendid triumph by
going straightway and giving the pin to Mary Temple. He could not
overcome his fear of John Temple and the awe of the palatial residence.
You see, he had not the legacy of refined breeding to draw upon. The
Scout movement had taken a big contract in the making of Tom Slade, but
Mr. Ellsworth (good sport that he was) was never daunted. Tom did not
know how to go alone up to the luxurious veranda at Five Oaks, ring the
bell, face that stoical Japanese, ask to see the pretty, beautifullydressed
girl, and restore her pin to her. He could have done it without
revealing the identity of the fugitive, but he did not know how to do
it; he would not ask Roy to come to his assistance, and he missed the
best fruits of his triumph.
So he went back to camp (scout pace, for it was getting late), his
empty membership booklet flapping against his chest as he ran.
It was fortunate for his disturbed and rather sullen state of mind that
an unusual diversion was on the boards at camp. The Ravens' tent was
quite deserted; Mr. Ellsworth was in his own tent, busily writing, and
he called out cordially, "Hello, Tommy," as Tom passed on to the Silver
Foxes' tent.
Within Roy was standing on a box holding forth to the entire patrol,
and he was in that mood which never failed to fascinate Tom.
"Sit down; you get two slaps on the wrist for being late," said he.
This was the only reference he or any of them made to Tom's
disappearance at Five Oaks. A scout is tactful. "I don't see any
seat," Tom said.
"Get up and give Tom a seat," ordered Roy.
"_I_ wouldn't get up and give President Wilson a seat," announced
Eddie Ingram.
"Not me," laughed Dorry Benton, "I stalked for six miles to-day."
"Get up and give Mr. Thomas Slade a seat, somebody," shouted Roy.
"Keep still, you'll wake the baby," said Westy.
"You wouldn't catch me getting up to give George Washington a seat,"
said Bert Collins, "not after that hike."
"I'll make them get up," said Roy, fumbling in his pocket.
"Yes, you will--_not_," said Westy.
"Look at Eddie, he's half asleep," said Dorry.
"Wake up, Ed," shouted Roy. "It's time to take your sleeping powder.
"I wouldn't get up if you set a firecracker off under me, that's how
tired I am," mumbled Eddie.
"I'll make them get up," Roy whispered, winking at Tom.
He pulled out his trusty harmonica and began to play the national air.
Tom could not help laughing to see how they all rose.
"Now's your chance, sit down, Tom," said Roy. "The Pied Piper of
What's-his-name hasn't got anything on me! The object of the puzzle,
ladies and gentlemen," he continued.
"Hear! Hear!"
"Go to it. You're doing fine!"
"The object of the puzzle," said Roy, rolling up his sleeves as if he
intended to do the puzzle then and there, "the object of the puzzle is
to get inside the Ravens' tent without entering it. Will some gentleman
in the audience kindly loan me a high hat and a ten-dollar gold piece?
No? Evidently no gentleman in the audience."
"Cut it out," said Westy. "They'll be back in an hour. What are we
going to do?"
"We are not going to do anything until the silent hour of midnight,"
said Roy. "Then we are going to make reprisals."
"How do you make those?" called Westy.
"That's some word, all right," said Ed.
"I tracked that all the way through the Standard Dictionary," said Roy.
"How about Mr. Ellsworth?"
"He has announced his policy of strict neutrality," said Roy. "The
field is ours! The obnoxious post-card will be ours if you, brave
scouts, will do your part! For one month now has that obnoxious post-card
hung in the Ravens' tent. For one month has Pee-wee Harris smiled
his smile and gone unshaved--I mean unscathed. Shall this go on?"
"No! No!"
"Shall it be said that the Silver Foxes are not Sterling silver but
only German silver?"
"Never!"
"Shall the silver of the Silver Foxes be tarnished by that slanderous
card?"
"Never!"
"They have called us the 'Follow Afters'--they have said that we are
nothing but 'Silver _Polish_'"!
"We'll rub it into them," shouted Westy.
"They have taken cowardly refuge in the troop rule that no Silver Fox
shall enter their tent except on invitation, and this insertion--"
"You mean aspersion."
"Glares forth from the upright of their sordid lair--"
"'Sordid lair' is good!"
"No extra charge," said Roy; "until now the worm has turned. If we
cannot enter their tent then we must take down their tent, remove the
card, and put the tent up again."
"Oh, joy!" said Ed.
"And it must not be done sneakingly in their absence, but to the soft
music of their snoring. The enterprise is beset with many dangers.
Those who are not willing to venture (as What-do-you-call-him said when
he stormed Fort Something-or-other) may stay behind!"
Before camp-fire yarns, an elaborate card was prepared in the privacy
of the Silver Foxes' tent in Roy's characteristically glaring style, on
which appeared the single word, STUNG!
The night for this bold deed had been well chosen. The Ravens had been
stalking all day and at camp fire Tom listened wistfully to the account
of the day's most notable stunt which was Pee-wee's tracking of a
muskrat more than half a mile within the required twenty-five minutes
of the Second Class provision.
"Pee-wee'll be the first to jump out of the Tenderfoot Class this
summer," said Mr. Ellsworth, as he poked the crackling fire. "You
Silver Foxes will have to get busy." He looked pleasantly at Tom. "Hey,
Tommy?"
"I was wondering," said Roy, as he stretched himself on the ground
close to the cheerful blaze, "if we couldn't work in something special
for next Wednesday--it's troop birthday. We'll be two years old."
"That's right, so it is," said Artie Van Arlen, Raven. "I'm a charter
member; the Silver Foxes weren't even heard of or thought of at that
time."
"No, they're a lot of upstarts," said Doc. Carson, the first-aid boy.
"You'd think to hear them talk that they started before National
Headquarters did. I remember when this troop was a one-ring circus:
just us Ravens, and we had some good times too. I had my first-aid
badge before those triple-plated Silver Foxes were born!"
"They have no traditions," said the Ravens' patrol leader.
"They're an up-to-date patrol, though," said Roy. "The Ravens are
passe--like the old Handbook. That kind of patrol was all right when
the thing first started; the Silver Foxes are a last year's model."
"Well," laughed Mr. Ellsworth, raking up the fire and drawing his
grocery-box seat closer, "maybe the Silver Foxes will be ancient
history soon. I'm thinking of a new pack of upstarts for you foxes to
make fun of."
"You haven't made another flank move on Connie Bennett, have you?"
laughed Roy. They were all familiar with Mr. Ellsworth's dream of
another patrol.
"Connie rests his head on a pine cushion and imagines he's a Boy
Scout," said Artie.
"He blows the dust off a _Dan Dreadnought_ book and imagines it's
the wind howling through the forest," said Westy.
"He runs the tennis-marker over the lawn and thinks he's tracking,"
said Pee-wee.
"No, not as bad as that, boys," laughed the scoutmaster. "Between you
and me and the camp fire, I suspect Connie's got the bug."
"Haven't given up hope yet?" said Roy.
"Never say die," answered Mr. Ellsworth, good-naturedly.
Once, twice, thrice had he made a daring assault on the Bennett
stronghold and once, twice, thrice had he been gallantly repulsed by
the Bennett right wing, which was Mrs. Bennett. He had planted the
Bennett veranda with mines in the form of _Boys' Life_ and
_Scouting,_ but all to no avail. Yet his hopeful spirit in regard
to the visionary Elk Patrol was almost pathetic.
The tent of the venerable Raven patrol was pitched under a spreading
tree and they retired with their proud and ancient traditions,
blissfully unaware of the startling liberty which was to be taken with
their historic dignity by those upstart Silver Foxes. Mr. Ellsworth,
with a commendable application of his policy of strict neutrality,
retired to his own tent to dream of the new patrol.
Never in the history of the troop had a Silver Fox trespassed unknown
into the ancient privacy of the Ravens, and never had a Raven
condescended to enter the Silver Fox stronghold save honorably and by
invitation. They knew the Silver Foxes for a sportive crew pervaded by
the inventive spirit of Roy Blakeley, but they had no fear of any
violation of scout honor and the obnoxious card hung ostentatiously on
the central upright of their tent.
In the still hour of midnight the enterprising Silver Foxes emerged in
spectral silence from their lair and the battle-cry (or rather,
whisper) was "Revenge," pronounced by Roy as if it had a dozen rattling
R's at the beginning of it. Every boy was keyed to the highest pitch of
excitement.
The Ravens' tent was a makeshift affair of their own manufacture and
when its sides were not up it was more of a pavilion than a tent: the
Ravens believed in fresh air. There were two forked uprights and across
these was laid the ridgepole. The canvas was spread over this and drawn
diagonally toward the ground on either side. There were front and back
and sides for stormy weather but they were seldom in requisition.
The program, discussed and settled beforehand, was carried out in scout
silence, which is about thirty-three and one-third per cent greater
than the regular market silence. Tom and Eddie Ingram, being the
tallest of the foxes, stationed themselves at either upright, the other
members of the patrol lining up along the sides where they loosened the
ropes from the pegs. Then Tom and Ed lifted the ridgepole, the scouts
along the sides held the canvas high, and the entire patrol moved
uniformly and in absolute silence. The tent, intact, was moved from
over the sleeping Ravens as the magic carpet of the _Arabian
Nights_ was moved. It was a very neat little piece of work and
showed with what precision the patrol could act in concert. Thanks
partly to their strenuous day of stalking, never a Raven stirred except
Doc. Carson, who startled them by turning over.
In the centre of the Ravens' tent a sapling had been planted, its
branches cut away to within several inches of its trunk, so that it
made a very passable clothes-tree. This still stood, like a ghostly
sentinel, among the slumbering Ravens, laden with their clothes and
paraphernalia. The sudden and radical transformation of the scene was
quite grotesque and the unsheltered household gods of the Ravens looked
ludicrous enough as they lay about in homelike disposition with nothing
above them but the stars.
"Great!" whispered Roy, gleefully.
Eddie Ingram laid his end of the ridgepole on the ground and stealing
cautiously over among the sleeping Ravens, removed the post card from
the sapling and put the other card in its place. Then, stealing back to
where the others were waiting, he resumed his end of the pole. This was
restored to its place in the forked uprights, the ropes were fastened
to the pegs along either side and the Silver Foxes bore Esther
Blakeley's memento of their own disgrace triumphantly to their
stronghold.
"Can you beat it?" said Roy, releasing himself with a sense of
refreshment from the imposition of silence.
"A scout is stealthy," remarked Westy.
In the morning Pee-wee sauntered over and paused outside the Silver
Foxes' tent, not saying a word, though.
"Well," said Roy, "what can we do for you?"
"I see you've got the card," said Pee-wee.
"Yes," said Westy, pulling on his blouse. "We're going to frame it and
send it to National Headquarters, too, for an exhibition of scout
stealth and silence."
"I suppose you think we walked in and took it," said Roy, adjusting his
belt. "We didn't. We never entered your tent. A scout is honorable."
"No," said Pee-wee, "you took the tent down and put it up wrong end to.
A scout is observant. Are we going fishing to-day?"