HELP WANTED.
Hugh Hardin was known to be a boy of action. When other fellows were
stupefied by some sudden peril, Hugh was doing things.
So in the present instance. He saw the peril of the child even before
Alec did, but without uttering a single word, Hugh darted forward as an
arrow from the bow, or a hawk pouncing upon some bird.
It was all over in a flash. Alec and the others had started to jump
forward, but they would have been too late to be of any real service.
Hugh, however, darted in among the congested wagons and moving cars,
and, snatching the frightened little child from under the very hoofs of
a team, carried her across to the other side of the street.
There was considerable confusion, for drivers were shouting at each
other and chauffeurs were trying to push their way past the congested
crossing. Apparently they were more concerned with the fact that there
had been a mix-up than because a precious human life had just been in
jeopardy.
Alec, backed by the other two scouts, pushed out on the street and held
up their hands to stop the traffic until the cluster of school children
could cross. Some of the drivers seemed to think it a joke, being held
up in this fashion by boys in khaki, and laughed good-naturedly at it;
but others swore, and made threatening gestures with their whips.
Then, the children having crossed in safety, thanks to their protectors,
Alec gave the signal for the wagons and cars to proceed with as much
show of authority as any member of the traffic squad in a great city
could assume.
The boys were “boiling over” with indignation, as Billy aptly expressed
it, as they walked down the street toward the heart of Oakvale. More
than ever, Hugh was now determined not to rest until something had been
done toward an eradication of the numerous nuisances that infested the
town.
“I’m going to attend that little, informal meeting to-night, boys,” he
told his chums, “and unless I miss my guess something will be done. If
only the women folks can stir up Mayor Strunk! I understand that several
of the pastors will drop in during the evening, and it begins to look as
though the last straw has been put on the camel’s back.”
“I only wish,” ventured Billy, wheezing still from his recent violent
exertions, “that some of them had seen what happened just now, and how
that poor little Anita Burns would most likely have been run over but
for Hugh here. It was an object lesson that might have moved even such
an old mossback as Mayor Strunk, or Chief Wallis, of the police force.”
“Wait!” was what Hugh told him, and a short time later the group
separated.
Hugh performed the errand that had taken him to the business section of
town, and then, inspired by a desire to do a little preliminary work
along the lines he had had in mind, he dropped over and greeted the head
of the local police.
Chief Waller liked Hugh, for he knew what a manly young fellow the other
had always proven himself to be. Besides, Hugh was something of a
favorite with the better element of Oakvale’s population. He had led a
number of movements that, by their success, had brought more or less
fame to Oakvale, particulars of which may be found in the earlier books
of this series.
So Hugh, using considerable diplomacy, began talking about other things,
and after he managed to get the chief in good humor, he introduced the
subject that was nearest his heart.
“The women are bound to have the town cleaned up, Chief,” he went on to
say, “and you know that when they once set their minds on anything it’s
got to happen. They expect to have all sorts of help from you and your
men; and the scouts mean to offer their services as they did once
before. It’s a great thing to be on the winning side, Chief, so I heard
Doctor Kane say to the minister the other day when they were talking
over this very matter.”
Now, the Chief was a shrewd man. He knew on which side his bread was
buttered. It was true that the politicians and their votes had put him
in his present comfortable berth, but the Chief was a married man, and
he realized from experience that the home “influence” could be counted
on to sway elections when once the people were thoroughly aroused.
“There’s just this about it, Hugh,” he said, impressively. “If the women
want a clean town, they’re going to have it, and nothing can stop them.
If they get this movement started they can count on the police backing
’em up. All we want is to know just where we stand.”
Thus encouraged, Hugh went on to tell what he had read about the boys of
the big metropolis being made Auxiliary Police, and wearing badges that
were meant to be respected by the populace.
Chief Wallis apparently had never read about the movement. He seemed to
be interested, however, for it was plain to be seen that if things had
to be done that offended the politicians, there would be a scapegoat
handy on whose shoulders the blame could be cast.
“Well, now, to tell you the truth, Hugh, that isn’t such a bad idea,” he
went on to say. “Boys can find out heaps of things that are beyond my
men; and once we learned about these nuisances we’d soon abate ’em. All
we want is to be shown.”
Hugh understood well enough that the police knew about most of those
infractions of the law, but that for various reasons they had pretended
not to see them. If only the moral elements of the town were aroused,
and firmly demanded a cessation of the law breaking, no doubt the scales
would fall from the eyes of the police like magic. It always happens
that way, Hugh understood.
Still, Hugh felt that he had gained a point in arousing the interest of
the head of the police. It was better to have a combined force working
against the evils than a divided one. If the officer realized that his
retention in office depended on his active co-operation with the ladies’
league, and the various associations connected with the town churches,
he would work like a beaver to do his duty.
After leaving Police Headquarters, Hugh started for his home. His mind,
very naturally, was filled with the matters that just then took
precedence above all others. Since the preceding fall, Hugh had been
trying to figure out how things could be brought to a focus, for they
seemed to gradually get worse.
He was in sight of the white picket fence enclosing the Hardin grounds
when he heard his name called in a boy’s voice. Turning around, he
discovered that it was Tom Sherwood, one of the members of the Otter
Patrol, who came hurrying along in his wake.
Tom had long been known as an exponent of water athletics and surveying.
He meant to become a civil engineer when he left school, and anything
connected with this work always interested the boy greatly.
More than a few times, when others of the scouts would go off on a
junketing trip such as a school picnic, Tom might have been seen
tramping across lots, with a theodolite over his shoulder, accompanied
by some boy he had influenced to assist him as chain bearer—bound to
some field where he could practice his pet hobby to his heart’s content.
Hugh noticed that Tom had a long face when he drew near. This surprised
him because as a rule the other was a cheery fellow, and wont to give
back smile for smile. It also told Hugh that Tom must have followed him
with some purpose in view, for somehow a number of the members of the
troop seemed to consider Hugh in the light of a mentor, and often came
to him for advice, strange as it might seem, considering the fact that
they were all boys.
“Why, hello, Tom! What’s the hurry?” he called out, as the other scout
drew near.
“Let me get my breath a bit, Hugh, and I’ll tell you,” panted Tom, which
fact seemed to prove that he must have run quite some distance in order
to overtake the scout master.
Possibly his mind being so filled with the idea of town improvement and
the contemplated uplift movement, Hugh immediately began to wonder if
the agitation of his boy friend could spring from anything he had
learned bearing on this subject.
At any rate, he would soon know, for Tom was getting his breath back
again. He looked confused, almost ashamed, Hugh thought. There was an
expression amounting to positive pain on his face, and it also showed in
the way he eyed Hugh, as if he hardly knew where to begin.
They leaned against the nearby fence, as boys are wont to do when
talking. Presently Tom broke the silence.
“Of course, you’re wondering what under the sun I’m going to say, Hugh.
I can see it in your eyes. Well, I had made up my mind to ask your
advice the very next time I saw you, because I happen to know you’ve
managed to get a number of other fellows out of bad holes before this.”
“Well, you’ve certainly got me guessing good and hard, Tom,” said Hugh,
with a smile of encouragement. “But if there’s anything I can do to help
out, tell me what’s gone wrong now.”
Tom drew an extra long breath.
“The fact of the matter is, Hugh, I’m worried about Benjy, and as I
haven’t any father to go to, and women don’t understand boys as well as
men do, I hardly knew who to talk it over with till I happened to think
of you.”
Hugh was immediately interested, though at the same time relieved to
know that Tom was not in any trouble on his own account. Benjy Sherwood
was the younger brother of Tom, a bright, aggressive sort of boy, whose
faults possibly lay along the line of wanting to have his own way most
of the time.
“What’s he been doing to bother you so, Tom?” Hugh asked, quietly and
soothingly.
“Why, you know that Benjy is a pretty high-spirited boy,” began Tom.
“I’ve tried to check him several times, but he just won’t listen to me,
and in so many words gives me to understand he knows his own business,
and that I’d better attend to mine.”
“Oh, but that’s generally the way with younger brothers,” said Hugh.
“Lots of the fellows will tell you that. So far as I’ve seen, Benjy is
no different from the rest. It’s too bad he hasn’t a father, though,
because as you said, I believe a man can control such high-spirited boys
a lot better than most mothers, who don’t exactly understand how a boy
feels.”
“Well, here’s the way it stands,” continued Tom confidentially. “Benjy
has been giving mother and me more or less anxiety by going with several
fellows that I don’t approve of at all. I happen to know he’s been
smoking cigarettes. I didn’t dare tell mother. She has such a silly
dislike for tobacco in every shape, you know. Worse than that, I’m
afraid Benjy has been led into playing cards for money.”
Hugh shook his head as though worried at hearing this.
“What reasons have you for saying that, Tom?”
“Several,” the other immediately replied. “For one thing, I found part
of a burned card in our kitchen stove one day not long ago. I supposed
Benjy discovered he had it in his pocket, and wanted to destroy it
before some one found it on him.”
“That might be so,” Hugh mused, “and then again he might have had some
better reason for wanting to get rid of the cards. Perhaps he’s
realized, that he was doing something that would grieve his mother, and
so made a clean sweep of things.”
Tom sighed.
“I only wish I could believe that, Hugh. I’m a whole lot afraid Benjy
doesn’t give up things he likes so easily. Then there was another
suspicious circumstance. I’ll tell you about it, Hugh. Just three days
ago I found that Benjy had gone and opened his little savings bank at
home, in which I knew he had something like three dollars, which he had
been laying up towards his summer vacation down at the seashore. When I
asked him what he had done with the money he got red in the face, and
told me hurriedly that the money was his, and he guessed he could do
what he pleased with it.”
“And you fear he has used it to pay some debt he owed over the cards—is
that it, Tom?” asked the scout master, secretly afraid lest there might
be some truth back of Tom’s declaration.
“That’s what flashed through my mind, Hugh,” the other confessed; “and,
oh, you can’t understand how it’s worried me! Why, I’ve laid awake
nights since then wondering what I could do to save poor Benjy. In spite
of his high temper, he’s a fine boy, if I do say it myself, and I love
him with my whole heart and soul. Mother almost worships him. You know
he looks so like father! And, Hugh, the idea struck me that perhaps you
could think of some way we might make him change his habits.”
Hugh would not have been human if he did not feel highly complimented by
this blind faith that Tom Sherwood seemed to feel toward him. At the
same time, it added to the burdens he was bearing; for as assistant
scout master, with Lieutenant Denmead, the regular official head of the
troop, away from town so often, it seemed as though Hugh had more than
his share of trouble.
“I’ll do all I can to help you out, Tom,” he said. “Perhaps I may find a
good chance to talk with Benjy, and get him interested in the scout
movement, for he’s really old enough now to think of joining the troop.”
“If you could only do that, Hugh, I’m sure it would make a great
difference,” Tom hastened to exclaim. “Joining the scouts has been a
good thing for thousands of boys all over the country. They are put on
their honor. No fellow can subscribe to the twelve cardinal rules of the
organization with his whole heart and still do things that he would be
ashamed to have his folks at home know. I hope you can coax Benjy into
joining. I tried it once or twice, but somehow he didn’t seem to enthuse
worth a cent. But there’s Benjy coming down the street right now. Guess
I’ll be going.”
“Leave it to me,” said Hugh, as he shook hands with Tom, who was turning
away. “I’ve had some experience in approaching fellows who pretend to
scoff at scout doings, and perhaps I can manage Benjy. I’m glad you
spoke to me, Tom. Be sure it’ll go no further. So-long! Meeting
to-morrow night, remember!”