THE PATROL BECOMES A FACT
When Ike returned from his customary daily trip to Silver City the
following Wednesday morning, he brought with him two large boxes
addressed to Herb Phipps, and a letter for Fred bearing the return
address of a large Boy Scout furnishings firm.
"I'll bet it's the uniforms," exclaimed Jerry, referring to the boxes.
"See what the letter says, Windy."
"Guess it's answerin' the letter I wrote 'em about the patrol," remarked
Fred, tearing open the envelope.
"Yep," he announced, "it's from the scout commissioner at Albuquerque.
Listen to this:
"'Dear Sir:'" (Fred swelled his chest, and looked very
dignified.) "'I am glad to know that you have formed a scout
patrol at Fort Bayard and I certainly wish you every success. I
am sending under separate cover a Boy Scout Handbook for each
member of your patrol, badges bearing the insignia of an Eagle,
the nearest thing that we can get to the name of your patrol.
Learn the call of the eagle, if you do not know that of the
thunder bird, as it is the signal of your patrol. You will also
receive a flag with a picture of your patrol animal stamped on
each side.
"'I happen to be acquainted with Mr. Hawke, who is sojourning
in Fort Bayard. He would make a capital scout master and I am
asking him by this mail to accept that appointment. I am sure
he will be of great assistance to you in training the members
of your band, and in helping them to earn merit badges and
medals, for I know you are all ambitious to gain as many as you
can.
"'Yours very truly,
"'GEORGE STANTON,
"'_Scout Comm'r._'"
"Whoopee, what do you think of that?" yelled Fred, throwing up his hat.
"With Hawke to help us we'll make a crackerjack out of this patrol and
run them out of merit badges and medals. Maybe I can get the eagle
medal."
"What's that?"
"It's the medal they award to the scout gettin' twenty-one merit badges.
You know I only have four now," answered Fred.
"Let's call up Herb before Ike starts over to his place, and tell him
the things have come."
"All right," assented Fred eagerly, as he followed Jerry into the house
and to the telephone.
"Hello, Herb," called Jerry, when he had obtained the connection.
"Things doing over here at the Fort."
"That so? What now?"
"Think the uniforms are here--at least there are two big boxes--one from
Kansas City and another from New York."
"Gee whiz," shouted the southerner. "That's what they are, all right.
Dad got a letter yesterday sayin' they'd be here soon. Say, yuh just
hold 'em till Tender and I get over there; we're just gettin' ready to
ride over to the fort."
"All right. Hurry up. Got somethin' else to tell you," said Jerry,
remembering Hawke's appointment.
"What is it?" asked Herb eagerly.
"Just wait till you get over here," teased Jerry.
"All right, stingy."
"And say, Herb, father's got some business on hand this morning with a
fellow from San Jose. Guess we can't have the mix-up here; makes too
much noise. Let's have Ike take the boxes to Carl's room."
"That's fine. And don't open 'em till we get there. Tender an' I will be
over in a jiffy."
"Fine work!" declared Carl heartily, when Jerry and Fred called on him
and informed him that the uniforms had arrived. "Sure, bring them all
over here."
"I'll go and get Dunk and Fly," volunteered Jerry; "Fred can look around
at your things," for he noticed that his companion had already begun an
inspection of Carl's small library.
The Indian had built a workmanlike row of shelves around his room, and
these were crowded with books of all sorts, some of which he had bought
out of his scant earnings, and some of which had been given him.
Everybody at the Fort knew that Carl was what they termed a "bookworm"
and at Christmas he was well remembered with the article he craved.
There was very little fiction, but Fred found ten grammars, six
arithmetics, four histories--two of the United States--spellers,
algebras, two biographies of Lincoln and Franklin, and the life stories
of nearly all the great men of America. There were even text books on
chemistry, astronomy and architecture, for, in his thirst for knowledge
the young Indian found all subjects attractive. The Clevelander was also
surprised to find a Bible, which his interest prompted him to open and
examine. There were marginal notes in a youthful hand, presumably Carl's
writing, and passages underscored.
The Indian boy then, thought Fred, was as straight and true as his
stature, and the high degree of honor which the boys and all at the Fort
ascribed to him was well deserved.
There was a cot and several chairs in the room, all of which had been
made by Carl himself. A worn blanket was stretched across the spotless
floor. In one corner stood an old bow over six feet long, the one Carl
had spoken of as belonging to his father.
There was but one picture, and it puzzled Fred somewhat. It was a large
engraving of an imposing structure, much like a university building.
There was no inscription, and the style of engraving stamped it as old.
"What's this?" he asked Carl, who was stringing his bow and seeming to
take no notice of Fred's examination.
"One of the soldiers here gave it to me and said it was the college he
graduated from. I like to look at it." Then in answer to Fred's look of
inquiry, the Indian added: "It helps me to save my pennies when I want
to spend them for a traveling show at Silver City."
"Helps you save your pennies?" puzzled Fred, not comprehending the
Indian's meaning.
"Yes. I'm trying to earn enough to go to a real school when I'm twenty.
Never too late, you know. I've been through the grammar grades."
"You have!" exclaimed Fred. "I thought the boys told me you hadn't been
to school."
"Correspondence school," explained Carlito. "Here's my certificate."
He had arisen and taken a long envelope from the top drawer of the
chest.
The certificate testified that Carlito had satisfactorily passed all
examinations, and was a full-fledged graduate of the correspondence
school.
"How did you do it?" exclaimed Fred, his frank eyes shining with
admiration. Just then Jerry, Fly and Dunk came into the room.
"Do what?" inquired Jerry.
"I was looking at Carlito's certificate," replied Fred, assuming that
the other boys had seen it.
"Oh, I studied nights a little, and whenever I got a chance," answered
Carl, modestly.
"A little!" echoed Fly. "He just studied his old head off."
"Why didn't you go to college when Phipps wanted you to, Carl?" asked
Dunk. "He was willin' to pay your way."
"I was afraid I could never pay him back," said Carl. "An Indian has no
business owing anything to a white man, anyway."
"Here's Herb and Tender," shouted Fly, who had gone to the window.
The southerner and his cousin were soon in the room, hot and perspiring
from their rapid ride over.
"Good mornin', gentlemen," greeted the rancher's son cheerfully,
throwing aside his hat, and pouring out a glass of water from a pitcher
which stood on the table. "Have a drink, anybody? No? Then I'll drink it
myself," and he drained the glass. Carl quickly brought another one for
Tender Gray.
"Make room for Ike," ordered Herb, as the darky came laboring up the
stairs, a huge box on his back. The boys met him at the landing, and
helped him to deposit his heavy load on the floor.
"Dere's some more," announced Ike. "Greaser just brought one over for
Mr. Fred Windham."
"What's that," exclaimed the latter in surprise. "Oh, I guess it's that
stuff Mr. Stanton spoke about in the letter," he recollected.
"Yuh fellahs must be gwine to start a store foh sure," exclaimed Ike, as
he dropped the second box with a thud.
"Look out--that one was full of ripe watermelon," responded Gray.
"Oh, golly," groaned the negro, "An' I 'most drapt it."
"Be very careful of the next one," warned Jerry, with mock seriousness.
"It's loaded with spring chickens."
"Oh, das easy--I'll jes' open de box and let 'em fly up," answered the
darky, dodging the hat which Gray pitched after him.
"Eeny, meeny, miny, mo--which one shall we open first?" queried Herb,
when the three boxes had been set down in the room.
"Let me do it," volunteered Ike, with some curiosity, but a hasty chorus
of protest stopped him.
"We want to do it ourselves," explained Fly. "It's more fun."
"You'er gwine to litter up this here room scan'lous," was the negro's
comment, as he departed regretfully.
"I'll clean that up," hastily assured Carl.
"The big one first," urged Dunk.
"All hands on deck," ordered Herb.
"Say, Windy," interrupted Jerry, halting the proceedings. "Show the kids
your letter."
"I clean forgot that," ejaculated the eastener, pulling a soiled
envelope out of his pocket.
"I been readin' it," he explained guiltily, referring to its murky
condition.
Work on the boxes was suspended for a few minutes, while Fred read the
letter aloud.
"Things sure are comin' our way," said Herb, when the general shout of
approval had died down. "Where's Hawke this morning?"
"I saw him right after breakfast, and he said he was coming over. He got
the letter about being scout master, and--"
"There he is now," broke in Carlito, hearing a firm step on the stairs.
"Howdy, fellows," hailed the aviator, as he came into the already
crowded room.
"Good morning, Scout Master," greeted Dunk, bowing low, while the other
boys followed suit.
"I see I have another job on my hands now," said Hawke, good-naturedly,
"But then I don't think you'll be hard to train."
"We're sure glad you're going to be one of the bunch," answered Herb
cordially.
"These are our scout outfits," explained Fred, noticing that Hawke was
regarding the packing boxes with wrinkled brows.
"Just going to open them," added Fly, anxious to get at the work.
"Let me help," exclaimed Hawke, peeling off his light coat, and rolling
up his shirt sleeves before any protest could be made.
For the next few minutes they busied themselves with the lid of the
largest box.
"Uniforms," they shouted, when Herb had opened one of the smaller
pasteboard boxes of which there were a number contained in the larger
enclosure.
"This is yours, Fly," he added, noting the name and measurements which
were pinned on the trousers.
As the packages were properly labeled, each boy was soon in possession
of his own suit.
After a quick but admiring inspection of the outfits, the second box was
eagerly torn open. It contained a hospital corps pouch for each boy,
penknives, haversacks, mess kits, signal flags, whistles, sanitary
drinking cups, canteens, Red Cross first aid outfits, camp supplies, and
last, but not least, seven brand new shining Remingtons.
Each new article was met with shouts of delight and surprise.
"I don't remember ordering these," gasped Fred, when at last they had
reached the bottom of the box.
"Oh, dad thought yuh might as well have a good supply," explained Herb,
"so he wrote to a friend of ours in New York and got these to surprise
yuh."
"Ain't your father never going to quit doing things for us kids?" asked
Dunk, stroking the slender, glittering barrel of his new gun.
"I wish we could do somethin' real fine for him," chipped in Jerry.
"Dad don't want thanks. He just likes to be doin' somethin' for somebody
all the time," Herb assured them. "He always was that way."
"Well, we're certainly going to get after that sheep stealer," declared
Carl.
"You bet," echoed Fly, with a will.