WAITING FOR THE GOOD NEWS.
“For home protection! That’s the slogan, fellows, Hugh has given us.
We’re going to take our coats off, figuratively speaking, you
understand, and purify the atmosphere around the place we live in.”
When Billy Worth gave utterance to these rather boastful remarks he was
standing, with a bunch of other fellows in khaki, near the building
where the town council, as called together by the mayor, was still in
session.
Undoubtedly the fathers of Oakvale were having a warm discussion, since
they had been at it for more than two hours. Indeed, the scouts had held
their meeting in the room under the church, and made all their
arrangements for carrying out their part of the programme, if everything
went smoothly as they expected. A goodly number of the energetic lads
had immediately, after the meeting was adjourned, decided to hurry
around to ascertain what had happened at the council chamber, to which
citizens were admitted to the capacity of the room, but the line was
drawn at fellows under the voting age.
“Yes,” Jack Durham immediately added, with his characteristic energy,
“Oakvale is going to take its periodical bath, so to speak. This time
we’ll scrub to the bone, and make an extra clean job of it.”
“The impudent drivers and chauffeurs must be made to respect the law, if
fines and imprisonment will do the trick!” asserted Dick Ballamy, who,
for a wonder, seemed able to turn his thoughts from fishing to a subject
that was of far more importance.
“Huh! Not only that,” Sam Winter burst out impetuously, “but those
sneaking dives known as ‘speak-easies’ have got to be squelched. Some
people don’t believe any liquor is being sold in Oakvale just because
we’re called a dry town. That fire the other day proved the foolishness
of that joke, let me tell you, boys.”
“Just what it did!” declared Mark Trowbridge, who often lisped when he
talked, an infirmity that was likely to follow him through life; “why, I
thaw with my own eyeth two barrelth of bottleth half covered with a
blanket, that had been carried from the cobbler’th thop.”
“Worse than that, even,” asserted Arthur Cameron in disgust. “I saw a
man deliberately lift the cover, take out a bottle, and drain it there,
with a dozen people standing around and laughing. Shows you how some of
our laws are being made a joke. The police are aware of what’s going on,
too; but they believe the sentiment of the town has heretofore been
against enforcing certain statutes.”
“Well, they’re going to get a rude shock pretty soon, believe me,” said
Billy. “Half an hour ago the mayor and Council sent for Chief Andy
Wallis. He’s in there with them now, listening to the law being laid
down. I reckon the Chief knows by this time that it’s going to be a
clean town or we get a new head of police. The women have taken things
in hand, and mean to purify the atmosphere, so that Oakvale boys and
girls can breathe without being contaminated.”
“How fast the news spread all over town this morning,” observed Walter
Osborne, the leader of the Hawk Patrol, a fine, manly looking fellow
well liked by all his associates of the troop. “Why, my mother says they
were talking of it in every store she visited, and father added that he
was buttonholed half a dozen times by men who seemed chock full of the
subject.”
“Old Doc Kane,” added Sam Winter, “carried the news wherever he went. He
said it was going to be next door to a millennium for Oakvale, and that
when the movement had exhausted its force he expected to have his
business reduced one-half, because of the improved sanitary conditions
that would prevail. That was one of the Doc’s little jokes.”
“He’s loaded to the muzzle with ammunition meant to boost the good cause
along,” asserted another scout. “It’s among the mill people the good
doctor does most of his missionary work. He knows how much a clean town
means to fellows who haven’t comfortable homes to spend evenings in.”
“Of course, there’s no danger that the members of the town Council will
try to dodge the question again, as they’ve done so many times?” Jack
Durham was saying.
Billy gave a scoffing laugh.
“Not much they will!” he ejaculated; “with that wide-awake Mrs. Marsh
present, backed by a lady who can strike out from the shoulder like Mrs.
Beverly.”
“Besides,” added Walter, “don’t forget what Hugh told us about the
sudden change of front on the part of Mayor Strunk. He saw a great light
when he learned how his favorite little granddaughter had come near
being run over by a team at that dangerous crossing of the three roads
in town.”
“Then there’s another thing that’s bound to cut some figure in the
decision of the town Council to-night,” said Billy. “Public sentiment
has been aroused, and is at white heat. It seems as if everything
combined to happen all at once, for this very afternoon old Mr. Merkle
was knocked down by a speeding car that got away without anybody
learning its number. He was badly hurt, and they took him to the
hospital; but we’ve been told that the brave old chap, nearly
eighty-five years of age, has sent a message of cheer to the ladies from
his bed, telling them that he glories in being a martyr to the good
cause.”
“Every fellow take off his hat to old Mr. Merkle, for he’s made of the
stuff our Revolutionary fathers had in them when this country dared defy
Great Britain,” and as Walter Osborne said this, each scout raised his
campaign hat with a touch of respect for the grand old hero lying on his
bed of pain, yet able to think of the reform movement that was sweeping
through the town.
“Here comes Hugh now!” called out a fellow on the outskirts of the
group.
“And he looks as if he felt satisfied with the way things were going,”
another hastened to say.
The young assistant scout master quickly joined them. He was besieged by
numerous questions. Indeed, so thick and fast did these come that Hugh
laughed and threw up his hands, as though to shield himself from a fall
of hailstones.
“Hold up, fellows,” he told them; “what do you take me for? When you
send them at me like that it makes me feel as the street urchin did who
crawled into an empty sugar hogshead, and, seeing the riches around him,
wished for a thousand tongues. Give me a fair chance and I’ll tell what
little I’ve been able to pick up.”
Accordingly they quieted down, though still pressing around Hugh, and
hanging on his every word. Confidence in their leader is one of the
highest attributes of praise scouts can show; and the members of Oakvale
Troop felt this to the limit in the boy who had been elected to serve
them in that capacity. So often had Hugh Hardin proved his ability to
fill his exalted position that no one ever dreamed nowadays of
contesting the leadership with him.
“I managed to interview Zack Huffman,” explained Hugh, “who had been
inside, but had to go home to his family because his wife is sick. He
could stop only a minute or so to talk, but he told me the sentiment was
overwhelmingly in favor of carrying out the whole sweeping programme.
The ladies have got in the saddle, so he said, and mean to ride at the
head of the procession. You remember Zack is something of a scholar, and
you ought to have heard him tell how they expect to beat the record of
Hercules in cleaning the Augean stables.”
“Hurrah for Zack!” cried one enthusiastic scout, for the boys were by
this time so roused up over matters that they felt in the mood to cheer
anybody and anything that favored their cause.
“Every now and then,” continued Hugh, “I could hear applause from above
there. I’ve got an idea Mrs. Beverly was talking. If she was, you can
wager not a single member of the Council will dare vote against the
mayor’s programme after it’s been announced. It’s going to be carried
with a whirl.”
“If it is, we ought to burn a few barrels to celebrate to-night!”
suggested Sam Winter, for such a programme always pleased him immensely.
“Hold on,” Hugh instantly told him. “We want none of that sort of thing
to-night. For once let’s show that boys can be dignified. This is no
Fourth of July affair. Some of the church people have even contemplated
holding prayer meetings after the Council adjourns, if everything seems
favorable, for their hearts are right in this uplift movement. It
wouldn’t seem just the right thing for scouts to be seen running like
wild Indians all over town, and shouting their lungs out. We’ll just go
home in a quiet way, and get ready to commence business on Monday. Time
enough for a jubilee when the ladies appoint a day for celebrating the
victory. Just now we’ve got work, and plenty of it, ahead of us.”
“Hugh, you’re right!” asserted Arthur Cameron.
“Forget that I said it, Hugh!” begged the impulsive Sam, abashed by the
argument advanced by the scout master, because his better sense told him
that was the proper way of looking at it.
“Hey, there comes Chief Wallis out of the Council chamber!” called a
voice, and immediately every fellow turned his eyes in that direction,
anxious to decide for himself what the appearance of the head of the
police force would indicate.
Chief Wallis walked straight toward them. His face was inscrutable, but
as he reached the group of scouts, with Hugh at their head, he thrilled
the boys by raising a hand in salute.
“Come in and see me on Monday, Hugh,” the Chief said, dramatically, “and
we’ll fix it up about what sort of badge you and your fellow Assistant
Police can wear. The women have carried the day, and Oakvale is going to
be purged,” and as he strode on the boys broke into a series of stirring
cheers.