THE ENEMY'S MOVE.
Rob Blake was sitting on the porch of his home in Hampton. In his hand
was a book on Woodcraft. But he was not just now devoting his attention
to the volume. Instead he let it hang idly from one hand while he gazed
up through the maple tops and dreamed of many things. As Rob himself
would have put it, the "spring was in his blood." More strongly than
usual that morning he felt the "red gods calling."
Suddenly two hands were thrown over his eyes from behind and a voice
cried:
"Surrender, you leader of the Eagles! That's one time you're caught
napping."
"Tubby!" exclaimed Rob, springing up and facing round.
"How in the world did you get in?" he asked the next minute. "I never
heard you coming, and----"
He broke off with a laugh as his eyes fell on a big section of apple pie
with one crescent-shaped bite missing, that the fat boy was regarding
affectionately.
"Oh, I see. The back door, eh?" he inquired.
"Ye-es," drawled Tubby, "and I must say your cook makes good pie and is
inclined to look favorably on a starving Scout."
"Starving! Why, it's not two hours since breakfast!"
"Well, two hours is a long time--sometimes," mumbled Tubby, who had taken
another bite while Rob was speaking.
"What news from the Academy, Tubby?"
"Haven't you heard? They haven't been able to find another building big
enough to house the scholars, so I guess it's a holiday till the
beginning of September for all of us," cried Tubby with shining eyes.
"Hullo, what's that? A Latin grammar?"
He picked up a volume that lay on an adjoining chair. He regarded it
attentively for a few seconds and then flung it forth into the garden
where it landed in a rose bush.
"Let it lie there till September," he chuckled. "Well, how are you
anyhow, old fellow?" he rattled on. "It's a week since the fire and you
ought to be feeling fit again."
"Never felt better in my life, although I was knocked out quite a bit;
but you see I've had very good care, and----"
"Oh yes, Lucy Mainwaring has been to see you--once or twice, hasn't she?"
and Tubby, with an air of apparent abstraction, fell to studying a white
cloud that happened to be drifting by far above them. Suddenly he faced
about with a mischievous laugh.
"You looked sort of pale when I came in, Rob," he chuckled, "but you've
got plenty of color now."
Rob, boy-like, looked embarrassed and changed the subject rather
abruptly.
"Everything fixed for that meeting at headquarters to-night?" he asked.
A rather odd look passed over the fat boy's face.
"Oh yes, it's all ready," he said with rather a marked emphasis on the
words.
"Good; you and Merritt must have worked hard."
"We've all taken our part. The hall looks bully. It'll be dandy to have
you around again."
The meeting the boys referred to was the regular weekly meeting of the
patrol. But when Rob reached the hall above the bank that night he felt
rather astonished to find that chairs and stools had been arranged all
over the spacious hall, and that decorations consisting of the Stars and
Stripes and the Eagle Patrol flags were strung everywhere. Off the main
hall opened the Scouts' gymnasium and general store room. In this room
Rob found his Scouts assembled. They greeted him with a cheer as he
appeared. Rob began to feel uneasy. He hated anything like that, but he
took the congratulations that were showered upon him in the spirit in
which they were offered.
When he found an opportunity he drew Merritt aside.
"What are all the chairs arranged outside for?" he asked suspiciously.
"Oh, just so that the folks can see what we've been doing with our time
during the winter," was the reply. "We've arranged some single stick
bouts and an exhibition drill and so on--you don't mind, do you?"
"No, it's a fine idea," declared Rob warmly. "How soon will the
company--audience I mean--arrive?"
"Guess they're beginning to come now," said Merritt as the sound of feet
tramping into the hall became audible.
"Better send out Walter and Martin to act as ushers, hadn't you?"
"Yes, I guess so," and Merritt hastened off to dispatch the two second
class Scouts referred to.
The hall filled rapidly. In the front rows Rob could see his parents and
beside them Commodore Wingate, the scout master of the district, and the
parents of most of the boys. The other chairs were filled with villagers
and all at once--Rob's heart beat rather quicker--down the aisle came the
Mainwaring party. They took the three seats which had been apparently
reserved for them close to Rob's parents.
Little Andy Bowles, who arrived late, came into the gym in a state of
high excitement.
Like most of the other scouts he had come in by the back stairway which
led directly into the gym. He came straight up to Rob.
"Say," he exclaimed, after he had given the scout salute and
congratulated his leader, "say, who do you think are hanging about
outside?"
"No idea," rejoined Rob.
"Why, Hodge Berry and Max Ramsay and some of that bunch. They pretended
not to notice me, but I'm sure they're up to some mischief. I could tell
that by the way they sneaked off when they saw me."
"I don't see what harm they can do us," rejoined Rob, "although I don't
doubt they'd like to work off some mean trick. Run along and put on your
best uniform, Andy, you're late."
Everyone of note in Hampton was in the hall by this time, and when
Commodore Wingate arose to make a preliminary address he was warmly
applauded. He dwelt at some length on the new spirit that the Boy Scouts
had brought into Hampton, and explained that while some misinformed
persons appeared to think that the scout movement was a warlike one, it
was in reality a great influence for peace. He reviewed the work of the
Eagles for the past year and enumerated at some length the various
services they had done in the village. These included the clearing up and
beautifying of vacant lots, the aiding of indigent or poor people, many
little acts of kindness and help, and the setting generally of a good
example to the youth of the town and neighborhood.
"But," he went on to say, after an impressive pause, "it remained for the
well-remembered night of the Academy fire to bring into notice the two
most conspicuous acts of heroism the scouts have yet performed.
"I doubt if the annals of the Boy Scouts of any country show two more
noble, self-sacrificing acts than those performed on that night by Leader
Rob Blake of the Eagles,"--here such loud applause broke out that the
speaker was compelled to pause for some minutes. When quiet was restored
he went on, "and Merritt Crawford, his able lieutenant." More applause.
While this was going on Rob was shaking his fist at Merritt indignantly.
Modest as most true heroes, he had, of course, already quietly received
the thanks of the janitor's wife and the man himself for his daring
rescue and hoped that the matter would end there. But this public
acknowledgment was too much for him. As for Merritt, he was chuckling for
a minute, but as his own name was announced he turned a fiery red and
cried out in a voice that was audible to the front rows:
"Commodore, I thought you were going to leave me out!"
This caused a great laugh among those who heard it, and Rob felt
revenged. But the worst ordeal for the two boys still was ahead of them.
Above the din of applause that greeted the close of Mr. Wingate's speech,
they heard that gentleman cry for silence. When quiet was restored he
turned around toward the gymnasium door and cried:
"I now ask Rob Blake and Merritt Crawford to come forward and receive a
slight token of esteem from their fellow townsmen."
"Go on!" cried the Scouts behind Rob and Merritt, under cover of a
vigorous salvo of hand-clapping.
There was no use hanging back, and Rob and Merritt, looking very ill at
ease, stepped out before the crowd. If the applause had been loud before
it was terrific then. The hall fairly shook under it. Timid folks glanced
upward at the roof to make sure it was not going to be blown off by
enthusiasm. But at last, from sheer weariness, even the most vigorous
applauders ceased. Then came a cry in a stentorian voice, traced to the
foreman of the Fire Vigilants.
"Three cheers for Rob Blake and Merritt Crawford!"
"Second the motion!" came a tempest of cries from all parts of the hall.
Commodore Wingate drew from his coat tail pockets two velvet boxes. He
opened them and in each there lay, glittering on a bed of purple plush,
two miniature firemen's helmets of solid gold set with diamonds. On the
back of each was inscribed: "From a grateful community to a Boy Scout
hero." Then followed the date, the name of the boy receiving the gift and
the village seal. Stepping forward the Scout Master pinned to the breast
of each lad the gleaming trophies which would ever be among their
proudest possessions.
In the fresh applause that followed there were a few who did not join.
These were Max Ramsay, Hodge Berry and their cronies, all of whom
cordially disliked the Boy Scouts and hated to see them the idols of the
village. While the applause was still sounding in lusty salvoes they
slipped out with mischievous looks on their faces. Perhaps Andy Bowles'
guess that they were up to some prank designed to work harm to the Boy
Scouts was not so far from the mark.
To relate in detail all that took place that evening would occupy too
much space. Suffice it to say that the drills and exercises went off with
a snap, and that some of the games played proved full of laughter and
merriment. As the audience filed out, more than one former lukewarm
citizen was heard to remark that the Boy Scout organization was a "mighty
fine thing for lads, and that the Eagles in particular not only shone
themselves, but reflected credit on their home town."
But with the departure of the crowd, all was not over. For some time, the
boys' gym buzzed with chat and laughter. Naturally, Rob and Merritt were
the centers of attraction, and the two gold, diamond-studded helmets were
handed about till it seemed that they must actually wear out from
constant handling! At last it was too late to delay their departure for
home any longer. When the impromptu meeting did finally break up,
however, every fellow belonging to the Eagles felt deep down in his heart
that their organization, despite criticism and even open enmity, had
proved its right to exist, and, what was more, had even proved its
necessity in raising ideals and standards among the lads of the
community.
"We'll march out, fellows," declared Rob, "and as each chap's home or
corner is reached he can fall out of the ranks."
"Good idea," was the cry, and then:
"Fall in! Fall in!" shouted Merritt.
"Lights out," was the next order and the pushing of the electric light
switch plunged the place into darkness.
"March!" and off they went, two by two, each Scout marching as smartly as
a trained veteran.
Outside, on the landing, it was very dark. The blackness was made, so to
speak, doubly black by the fact that they had just been in a brilliantly
lighted room.
"Look out for the steps, boys! They're steep!" warned Rob, as his
detachment of young Scouts marched downward.
Hardly had he spoken when the two lads marching in front, Hiram and Paul,
gave a stumble and a yell. The next instant they rolled down the steep
stairway to the street. Before they could take advantage of the warning,
three more pairs, including Merritt, had likewise executed a bob forward
and gone toppling down the staircase to the sidewalk. They all landed in
a heap.
"Look out there! The steps have been soaped!" Rob had just time to call
out and save the rest from disaster.
The light from a street lamp gave a feeble gleam on the struggling group
below. The rest of the boys, huddled for a moment above, by exercising
great care, managed to get over the well-soaped and slippery steps
without coming to grief. One of them was Andy Bowles.
"I just thought that Max Ramsay and Hodge Berry and their bunch were up
to some tricks when I saw them round here, and I guess I was right, too.
How about it, Rob?"
"I'm inclined to think you were," responded Bob. "How are you, fellows?
All right?" he asked as the downfallen Scouts picked themselves up.
"All present and accounted for," declared Merritt, as they all stood up,
vigorously brushing dust and dirt from their trig uniforms, "except for a
few bruises I guess we're all right."
"Hark!" cried Hiram suddenly, "what's that?"
From somewhere near by, possibly from some bushes that grew further down
the street came the sound of suppressed giggling and cat-calls. There was
no doubt as to what excited the merriment of the unseen scoffers, nor was
there, in fact, any difficulty in guessing their identity.
Rob hardly knew whether to laugh or be angry. Others of the Patrol had no
such hesitancy.
"It's that Max Ramsay crowd," shouted Tubby angrily. "Come out here if
you're not cowards."
A sound of scuffling and retreating footsteps followed this challenge.
"There they go," shouted Hiram, "the sneaks!"
"Let's capture some of them and make them pay dearly for those soapy
stairs!" shouted Paul.
"What about it, Rob?" asked Merritt anxiously.
But Rob shook his head.
"Let them go," he said. "None of us are hurt, and if they are mean enough
to find satisfaction in such tricks, let them."
"Well, I'll take it out of them for this skinned ankle sooner or later,"
declared Tubby, hopping about and nursing the injured member.
"Same here," came from one or two of the Scouts angrily. "They won't get
away with anything like that."
"Humph! I've just recollected," said Tubby suddenly. "There's some rule
or other that says Scouts mustn't fight."
Rob was instantly appealed to by half a dozen anxious voices owned by the
victims of the soapy stairs.
"Well," he said, "of course no Scout is supposed to engage in fisticuffs
except in actual self-defense; but--well I guess there's a limit."
"And it's been reached," muttered Tubby vindictively.
"Fall in!" cried Rob.
"Humph! I just fell down," grunted Tubby.
And then, without more discussion of the mean trick that had been played
them, the Scouts marched off. After that glorious evening they all felt
that they could well afford to ignore such contemptible pranks as those
of Max Ramsay and his crowd.
As for Rob and Merritt, proud as they felt of the honor that had been
paid them that night, they somehow could not help valuing even more
highly the quiet thanks that had come to them from full hearts before the
public demonstration had been thought of. It is a Scout's duty to do his
work without hope of reward, save that which comes from a sense of work
well done, which, after all, is the best reward and the most enduring
that any boy, or man, either, for that matter, can have.