ONE GOOD TURN
Mr. Ellsworth unfolded a typewritten paper and read. Westy listened with
the greatest attention, for he was the only one who did not already know
of his scout brother’s exploit.
“The First Bridgeboro New Jersey Troop, B. S. A. respectfully submits to
the Rotary Club of this town, the following report of an exploit
performed by one of its scouts, Warde Hollister, while at Temple Camp,
New York, on the ninth of August this year. This report is made under
supervision and guidance of William C. Ellsworth of Bridgeboro, who is
officially registered at National Headquarters as scoutmaster of said
troop. Conclusive corroborative evidence is readily available to
substantiate truthfulness of this report and will be procured and
transmitted if desired.
“Whatever may be the issue in this contest, this troop wishes to express
its appreciation of the interest and kindness which the Rotary Club has
shown to the whole scout membership of this county, and indirectly to
the whole great brotherhood of which this troop is a part.”
“Gee, but that’s dandy language,” shouted Pee-wee.
“Unfortunately the award is not for fine language,” said Mr. Ellsworth.
Mr. Ellsworth continued reading, “On the date mentioned, Warde
Hollister, a scout of the first class, was hiking in the neighborhood of
Temple Camp and stopped in a small and humble shack to ask directions——”
“Tell how they gave him a drink of milk,” shouted Pee-wee.
“The people were very poor,” Mr. Ellsworth read on, “and the mother, a
widow, was on the point of sending her little child, a boy of six, to an
orphanage, prior to seeking work for herself in the countryside. She
seemed broken-hearted at this prospect and was much overcome as she
talked with Scout Hollister. The woman’s name is Martha Corbett and her
home is, or was, on the road running past Temple Camp into Briarvale.”
“There’s an apple orchard near it,” shouted Pee-wee.
Mr. Ellsworth read on, “That night at Temple Camp, Scout Hollister heard
that a wealthy lady living at King’s Cove, about seven miles from Temple
Camp in a direct line, was leaving for New York by auto that night. This
information was imparted to him by the lady’s son who was a guest at
Temple Camp. The lady, Mrs. Horace E. Hartwell, whose husband is well
known in financial circles, intended, among other errands in the city,
to secure a female servant for her country home at King’s Cove.
“It was known that she would motor to New York late that evening and
Scout Hollister, hoping to secure employment for the Corbett woman,
tried to get her on the telephone. He had reason to believe from
conversation with her son that the Corbett woman might prove available
for service if communication could be had with Mrs. Hartwell before her
departure for New York.
“Unable to get the Hartwell place by telephone, Hollister decided to go
personally to King’s Cove by a short cut through the woods. To do this
it was necessary for him to cross a swamp causing much difficulty to the
traveler. Hollister covered the entire distance of six miles (including
this swamp) in less than two hours, a very remarkable exploit in the way
of speed and endurance, and did, in fact, reach King’s Cove in time to
intercept the Hartwell auto which had already started for New York. It
was only by taking the difficult short cut and traversing the dangerous
swamp that Hollister was able to do this.
“Hollister made himself known to Mrs. Hartwell as one of the scouts at
Temple Camp and was the means of suspending her efforts to obtain a
servant in New York until he should have an opportunity to bring Mrs.
Corbett to see her.
“The sequel of this exploit was that Mrs. Corbett and her young child
were taken into the Hartwell home which seems likely to be a permanent
refuge for both.
“It is respectfully submitted to the Rotary Club that this good turn
contains both of the elements required for the winning of the
Yellowstone award, viz., generosity of purpose and prowess in the
consequent exploit.”
“How about that, scouts, all right?” Mr. Ellsworth concluded. “Anybody
want to add anything?”
“Three cheers for Warde Hollister!” two or three scouts shouted
instinctively.
“Oh, boy, we’re going to have a trip to Yellowstone Park in our troop!”
vociferated Pee-wee. “Will you send me some post cards from there?”
“Three cheers for the Silver Foxes,” shouted Roy; “we thank you.”
“You make me tired, _you_ didn’t do it!” shouted Pee-wee. “Any one would
think you were the one that did it, to hear you shout.”
“I’m the one that had the responsibility,” Roy shot back; “he’s in my
patrol.”
“How about _you_, Warde?” Mr. Ellsworth laughed. “All O. K.?”
“Sure it’s O. K.,” shouted Pee-wee; “it’s dandy language.”
“It sounds kind of too——” Warde began.
“No, it doesn’t,” Pee-wee shouted.
“Well, anyway,” Warde laughed, “I’d like to say this if I can have a
word——”
“Help yourself,” said Roy, “Pee-wee has plenty of them.”
“I don’t care anything about seeing my name in the papers,” said Warde.
“I never thought much about Yellowstone Park but I guess I’d like to go
there all right. I don’t think so much of that stunt now that it’s
written down. But if it wins out I’ll be glad; I’ll be glad mostly on
account of the troop——”
“Won’t you be glad on account of the grizzly bears?” thundered Pee-wee.
“Sure,” Warde laughed, “but I’ll be glad mostly because we have—you
know—an honor in our troop. I like this troop better than Yellowstone
Park. Anyhow this is all I want to say; I hope you fellows won’t be
disappointed if I—if we don’t get it.”
“What do you mean _don’t get it_?” Pee-wee roared.
“I mean just that,” Warde laughed, as he tousled Pee-wee’s curly hair.
“I hope we get it, but I’m not going to worry about it. And if we do get
it I’ll be glad on account of the troop. I always stuck to the troop; I
could have gone to Europe last summer but I wanted to go away with the
troop. And if I do—if I _should_—go out to the Yellowstone this is the
way it will be with me; I’ll feel as if I’m going for the troop.”
“That’s the way to talk,” said Mr. Ellsworth briskly.
“I was just going to talk that way,” thundered Pee-wee.
“Mr. Ellsworth saved us just in time,” said Roy. “Young Faithful was
going to spurt again. He’s got Old Faithful Geyser tearing its hair with
jealousy. Old Faithful spurts every hour, he spurts twice a minute.”
“Well,” laughed Mr. Ellsworth, “if this report strikes you all right,
suppose you all put your names to it.”
“I’ll put mine first,” shouted Pee-wee.
It was not until after Westy Martin had signed his name that he had an
opportunity of seeking out Warde and talking with him alone. How the
hero escaped Pee-wee would be difficult to explain; probably that
hero-maker was detained by a prolonged encounter with the refreshments.
Warde, always modest, was glad enough to get away from the clamorous
throng and walk part way home with Westy, whom he had not seen all
summer.