THE PEACE PICNIC
This is the story of Molly Sefton's great peace picnic, which was held
on the following Saturday afternoon. It didn't seem funny at the time;
in fact, nobody could have been more serious or in earnest than Molly
when she planned the picnic. But afterward--!
At any rate, here is what happened:
In the first place, the game with Grant City had done one very good
thing, among many others. After seeing Buck stop Grant's trick play,
Master Specs changed his mind about not muddying a football suit that
season. He would not admit, of course, that Buck could compare with
Bunny; but he began to feel that Buck had some good points, after all.
So he was back in the squad, trying hard for an end position and with a
fair chance of winning the place. That was one difficulty ironed out.
"But here's the reason for the picnic," Molly chattered to Bunny the
day before. "First, I want the Black Eagle Patrol to like Rodman Cree;
and, second, I want the rest of the school to like you Scouts. Now
if we have a nice, jolly picnic, everybody will get acquainted and
understand everybody else. You see, they all have wrong ideas about
each other. For instance, Specs thinks Rodman isn't good for anything."
"Well--I," admitted Bunny cautiously, "he isn't much of a track athlete
or football player."
"But he can play baseball. I know he can. I saw him bat the first day
of school, even if he does say he hit the ball accidentally."
Bunny agreed. "All right. We'll take along a bat and ball and a couple
of gloves, and maybe Specs and the others will like him better after
they see him play."
"Of course." Molly was growing more and more enthusiastic. "As for the
others: Peter Barrett thinks you are a lot of snobs and won't associate
with fellows who happen to have patches on their clothes and that kind
of thing; Buck Claxton says that you try to run things, and that if
anybody outside the patrol has a plan, you oppose it, just because you
didn't happen to think of it first; Royal Sheffield thinks you are a
bunch of sissies, who don't dare walk across the road without asking
permission from your Scout Master; Genevieve Chester says you hate her
because she was elected president of the student association, and are
always hoping something awful will happen to her; Clarence Prissler
honestly believes you never think of a thing but athletics, and aren't
interested in books or education--and you know he is planning to be a
teacher." Molly paused to take breath. "Now, I say that if we have
a nice, lively, get-acquainted picnic, everybody will find out his
mistakes. Don't you think so?"
Whatever Bunny really thought made no difference, because the picnic
was already under way; and at precisely two o'clock Saturday afternoon
some thirty-five boys and girls, accompanied by Mrs. Sefton, boarded
three borrowed launches and crossed the lake to Turkey Point.
And this is how everybody succeeded in misunderstanding everybody else.
_How Specs Found He had been Mistaken in Rodman Cree_
"How about playing a little scrub ball?" proposed Bunny at
three-fifteen that afternoon. "You come in on this, Rodman."
Rodman Cree wrinkled his nose in perplexity. "But I can't play
baseball. You know I can't. I've told you so."
"Oh, rats! You knocked a home run that first day of school, and you can
do it again. Come on, Buck; let's choose up."
The game lasted only three innings, for by that time the girls had
started a marshmallow roast; but it was quite long enough. In the first
inning, Rodman played third until he had muffed two perfect throws,
when Bunny shifted him to the outfield. Here he misjudged an easy fly
and strained to correct his error by throwing the ball twenty feet
over the head of Bi, who was wildly trying to nip a runner at second.
At bat, in the third inning, with two out, bases full, and Bob Kiproy
pitching a straight ball, poor Rodman had his last shred of reputation
removed.
Three times Kiproy pitched wide, high balls. Rodman scraped the dust
trying to hit, and lunged two feet across the plate trying to hit, and
jumped high in the air trying to hit.
And he never touched the ball.
"I see I was mistaken," observed Specs, as he walked in from third,
where he had been stranded high and dry as a runner. "I thought he was
some good at baseball, anyhow, but he's no good at anything."
_How Peter Barrett Observed the Way Scouts Regarded Patched Clothes_
At four o'clock Peter Barrett was walking in a little grove back of
an open field, attempting to memorize a poem for Monday's class.
Also, between times, he was endeavoring to be fair to the Black Eagle
Patrol; for a talk with Molly had convinced him that perhaps he had
made a mistake in supposing the Scouts to be snobs. At this juncture,
he caught sight of Bunny, legs apart, talking defiantly to a ragged
youngster from the nearest farm.
"No, you can't come in here," Bunny was saying shortly. "We have this
place for the afternoon. You will have to go somewhere else."
"But I won't hurt anything."
Bunny became even sharper. "I've told you already to go home. Run along
now. We don't want you here, and you know why. Hurry up!"
Reluctantly and sorrowfully, the boy in the ragged clothes turned and
slouched back to the farmhouse.
"Exactly!" said Peter Barrett grimly to himself. "Just what I thought
right along. They're snobs. They haven't any use at all for poor folks."
_How Buck Claxton Tested the Scouts' Willingness to Co-operate with
Outsiders_
Five o'clock had come, with the time for serving the lunch brought
by the girls still two hours away, when a bright idea dawned on Buck
Claxton.
"What do you say to this?" he began enthusiastically to Roundy. "About
a quarter of a mile down the road, there is a little store where they
sell ice cream. Suppose we all chip in and buy enough for the crowd? It
would be a nice thing to do."
Roundy's face assumed a wistful expression, and he nodded his head.
"But I--I'm afraid I can't," he declined.
Buck turned to Nap. "How about you?"
"Waterloo!" said Nap firmly. "Can't think of it!"
"Busted!" added S. S. lamely.
Four other Scouts gave the same answer.
"Oh, all right!" remarked Buck, with a superior smile on his face.
"I'll see some of the others."
A little later, he came back with ice cream for everybody. But no Scout
had paid for even one little frozen chunk.
_How Royal Sheffield Discovered Whether the Scouts Dared Cross the Road
Without Asking Permission_
At five-thirty, to the west of the picnic grounds, Royal Sheffield and
S. S. observed a husky young farmer blazing away at a tin can with a
rifle.
"That's my cousin," observed S. S.
"Fine!" exclaimed Sheffield. "We'll borrow the rifle, pay for some
cartridges, and have a big shooting match."
S. S. seemed troubled. "I don't think we ought to do that," he
objected. "Horace Hibbs isn't here, and somebody might get hurt."
Sheffield stared in amazement. "We would shoot at a target, of course,"
he explained.
S. S. continued stubborn. "There are too many of us. Somebody might get
shot."
"Tell you what we will do, then: you and I will slip over there and get
him to give us a couple of shots."
S. S. was more embarrassed than ever. "No, I don't think we ought to do
that, either, Roy. No, we certainly ought not to do that." He turned
toward the picnic crowd. "Let's get back to the bunch. Maybe they are
starting something. Yes, let's go back."
"All right!" snorted Sheffield contemptuously. "But it's too bad
Horace Hibbs won't be here when we eat."
"Why?" S. S. asked innocently.
"If he isn't here, how will you know whether you may eat two kinds of
sandwiches and cake, and how hot you may drink your coffee?"
And Royal Sheffield walked away, leaving S. S. without an answer.
_How Marion Genevieve Chester Proved (to Her Own Satisfaction) How Much
the Scouts Cared for Her_
It was ten minutes past six when Bi and Marion Genevieve Chester, very
gay in her new red dress, started over to a little spring to get water
for the coffee. Bi suggested skirting the rail fence to the lane,
instead of cutting across fields.
Marion Genevieve tossed her head. "What's the use of being in the
country if you can't walk on the grass. You go any way you want to. I'm
going straight across."
Bi's shoe had become untied, and he was stooping to lace it when wild
screams, mingled with angry bellowing, came from the field into which
Marion Genevieve had ventured. Looking up, he saw the girl dashing
toward the fence, her mouth open and her eyes wide with fright.
Meanwhile, the bellowings grew loud and furious.
"Oh, you're all right," he called, as she reached the fence. "You have
plenty of time."
For a bit, due to her frightened exhaustion, it looked as if Marion
Genevieve might not be able to climb over the fence. Bi sauntered
toward her.
"Come on," he said. "You're all right."
"If I am all right," snapped Marion Genevieve, once more out of the
field, "it's not your fault. For all you cared, that bull could have
tossed me over, and you wouldn't have made a move to help me."
"But--"
"Yes, and I believe you knew the bull was in there all the time, and
you never said a word about it." She pointed her finger at him. "Didn't
you know the bull was in there?"
"Why, yes," said the hapless Bi. "I did, of course, but--"
"Then don't you ever dare to speak to me again, you hateful boy."
And with this farewell, Marion Genevieve Chester flounced angrily back
to the picnickers, leaving Bi and the pail by the side of the fence.
_How Clarence Prissler Interviewed the Scouts to Learn Their Views on
Educational Matters_
It was the shouts of laughter that drew Molly to the bit of sandy beach
near the boat landing. Lunch was ready, and she crossed over to let the
jolly ones know about the coming meal.
There were three principal actors and two spectators in the group.
Specs, Jump and little Prissler stood in line on the sand, while Bob
Kiproy and Jim Collins, stretched at full length, were doing most of
the laughing. Around Prissler's waist circled a sort of rope harness,
with a dangling line on each side. These ends, at the moment when the
boy began his somersault in the air, were grasped by Jump and Specs.
"I'm not going to try it again," whined Clarence Prissier. "I'm not
going to; that's all there is to it."
"Oh, you're coming along in fine style," said Jump comfortably. "Never
mind those fellows. Just try it once more."
"Go on," Specs commanded. "We're waiting."
"Yes, try it again, Prissy," said Kiproy feebly, between shrieks of
laughter.
"I'm not--"
"We're waiting," snapped Specs, giving the rope a tug.
Prissier bent his knees, swung back his arms, and then, with a
desperate leap, essayed a back flip through the air. It was not
forceful enough, however, and he came down on his hands and knees.
Though Specs and Jump kept him from crashing, he landed hard enough to
lurch forward into the sand.
Kiproy and Collins rolled over in violent laughter.
"You're getting it," said Jump encouragingly. "You're getting it."
"Sure, you're getting it," agreed Specs.
"But I tell you, I don't want to get it," protested Prissier, rubbing
the sand out of his clothes. "And what's more, I'm not going to do it
again."
Molly interrupted. "Lunch is ready," she said, in a voice so different
from her ordinary tones that Specs looked at her in astonishment.
"What's the matter?" he ventured, after Clarence Prissier, still weakly
complaining, had managed to slip the rope from his waist and was
walking with the others toward the spread tablecloths.
"You know well enough what the matter is," said Molly severely; "and if
you're not ashamed. I'm ashamed for you." Deliberately, she turned her
back on him.
* * * * *
The balance of the evening was not a success. Though the picnic lunch
would have satisfied anybody, the picnickers felt ill at ease. The
Scouts were uncomfortable, and Buck, Barrett, Sheffield, Prissier and
Company were more so, to say nothing of Marion Genevieve Chester. Even
the launch ride around the lake, which ended the picnic, was a dismal
failure, because nobody seemed to want to sing. When the party broke
up, it made about as much noise as so many homeward-bound rabbits.
Almost in tears, Molly Sefton walked home with her mother, accompanied
by Bunny as basket bearer.
"It--it all went wrong." Molly was very near sobbing as she said good
night. "Oh, why did you do it? I tried so hard, and Specs and Bi
and--and everybody just went and spoiled everything. I heard all about
it."
Bunny looked genuinely astonished. "What did we do that was wrong? You
can't blame me because Rodman can't play ball. I didn't know he was
going to pieces like that."
"It wasn't just Rodman. Why did you keep that poor little boy with the
ragged clothes from coming over to the picnic? We had enough to eat for
a dozen more. Peter Barrett said you chased him away. Why did you do
it?"
Bunny heaved a sigh of relief. "There was a scarlet fever sign on the
house. When I found he lived there, I told him to go away and stay
away. I couldn't do anything else, could I?"
"No," admitted Molly. "But why wouldn't any of you help buy the ice
cream?"
"We spent our last cent paying for gasoline for the three launches. We
borrowed the boats, but we had to pay for the gas. None of us had a
penny left."
"S. S. wouldn't borrow his cousin's rifle, even for a single shot."
"S. S. told me about that. He was right to argue against bringing the
gun over for any target shooting. There were too many of us; it would
have been dangerous. But it would have been more dangerous for Roy
Sheffield if S. S. had taken him over where his cousin was, though
Roy doesn't know it. You see, about two years ago, this cousin was
driving in town, and Roy threw a newspaper in front of the rig, which
frightened the horse so much it nearly ran away. The fellow has had it
in for him ever since."
Molly thought for a moment. "Bi let Marion Genevieve Chester get almost
killed by a wild bull. He knew it was in that field, and he saw that
she had on a red dress."
"There wasn't a bit of danger," Bunny laughed. "The bull was tied up
and fenced off from that field. Anyhow, Marion Genevieve was never as
close as fifty yards to the bull. She never even saw it."
"You'll admit that was an awful thing they did to poor little Clarence
Prissler."
Bunny grinned. "I was to blame for that. You see, Molly, I thought it
best not to tell the boys about those people who don't like us, because
I figured that if we just acted natural they would find out that we
don't mean to be snobbish or stingy or anything else low-down. But I
did tell the Scouts about Prissy's thinking we weren't interested in
learning things. So when Clarence went up to Jump and began to ask
questions about the circus, and how the acrobats got to be acrobats,
and all that, why, Specs insisted that Jump teach Prissy the back flip.
Honestly, Molly, I believe Specs thought he was doing the right thing."
Molly and Bunny looked at each other. Then the girl, brushing her hand
across her eyes, broke into a laugh, in which the boy joined.
"It is funny," she said. "I didn't see it that way before, but it is
funny. Only everything's in a worse tangle now than it ever was before."
"But we'll fix it," Bunny said. "We'll fix it somehow."