DARK PLANS
There came a time when they said of Skinny that he had been
frightened into participation in his half-brother's bizarre and
daring plan. But that was not true of him. He tried, as we have
seen, to dissuade Danny. When the worst came to the worst and he
knew that he could not dissuade him, he was loyal. He was loyal in a
dastardly business.
This wonderful big brother of his could not teach him anything in the
matter of stealth; he was a little demon at that. He had accustomed
himself to stepping carefully and making no noise in the days when he
went barefoot in the slummy east end of Bridgeboro whence he had
emanated one day to stare wide eyed at the scouts practicing archery.
There happened to be a vacancy in Connie Bennett's patrol (Elks), so
they took him in. He was their mascot. They didn't even mind his
not having a scout suit. He had a winsome smile when they jollied
him and they liked him immensely. He was not only glad, but proud to
run on errands.
When the McCords moved to Bridgeboro and hired three rooms in
Corkscrew Alley down near the marsh that bordered the river, Danny
was not with them. He had already taken his departure, under escort,
to Blythedale Boys' Home, which he was right in saying was not a home
at all. He had been sent thither because of his escapade with Mr.
Burt's Ford, though this had by no means been his first escapade.
But it was the crucial one. So the scouts of the First Bridgeboro
Troop, of which Skinny was an obscure and lowly member, had never
seen the enterprising Danny. His colorful career came to a halt in
Irontown and soon afterward the hapless family moved to Bridgeboro,
where Mr. McCord had secured a job in the paper mill. Danny's mother
was dead and Skinny was the child of Mr. McCord's second wife.
Whatever else may be said of Danny, he had always afforded Skinny all
the sturdy advantages of a big brother.
Skinny missed him when he moved to Bridgeboro. The hoodlums down in
Corkscrew Alley called him _Owleyes_ and _Jumbo_ and other piquant
appellations. Once or twice he was moved to tell them that things
would be different when Danny returned. When he got in with the
scouts he never mentioned Danny. He had too much pride and these
strange, wonderful boys of the upper world would not understand.
They would not appreciate the knock-out blow administered to the
unhappy Kinney. And now, at last, when Skinny had attained to the
glory of a real scout suit, here was this brother come to Temple
Camp, a fugitive, and with all his wonted assurance proposing a
scheme for hiding which struck poor Skinny dumb with terror.
Silently he sped through the woods back to camp and stealthily, ever
so stealthily, up to the Martha Norris Memorial Cabins, where his
troop was quartered that season. A splendid organization was the
First Bridgeboro Troop, with four full patrols, and they held sway in
these four cabins which represented one of the camp endowments. In
the Elks' cabin all was still.
With every nerve on edge, Skinny crept to the rustic lockers at the
end of the building. He was so fearful that he jerked his foot up in
nervous excitement as he turned the key of his own locker. He paused
after the slight click, listening. His heart beat like a
trip-hammer. No sound, no stir. Only the audible breathing of Vic
Norris. One of the other boys turned over and settled down in deeper
slumber. Somewhere outside an owl hooted. Skinny stood stark still.
The plaguey hinges! He eased the swing of the locker door as he
opened it inch by inch. There was his old pasteboard suit-case; he
was the only boy in the patrol who had not a duffel bag. On top of
it lay the bundle containing his scout suit and hat just as he had
brought the treasured purchase back from Kingston. He had not dared
to wear this flaunting regalia nor even to tell his patrol about it.
He did not know whether or not they knew about it. Would the paper
rustle as he lifted the bundle? No; he lifted it out carefully.
Then he opened his suit-case and got his Handbook. So far, so good.
Softly he closed the door and locked it. Then with his precious
Handbook and the bundle he crept stealthily over to the trail which
led up through the woods.
Now his heart beat more easily. Action is always stimulating, and
being launched on this perilous business it was not so hard to go
ahead. He had not done much so far, but what he had done had been
successful. He had done what Danny had told him to do and it had
been easy. It seemed to Skinny that this was a dreadful thing his
brother was about to attempt, but Danny must know what he was about.
"Why it's going to be a cinch," his brother assured him when he had
donned the suit; it fitted him much better than it fitted poor
Skinny. When he tossed the hat on, he looked like a scout indeed and
poor Skinny was even moved to feel a certain pride in him. He was a
fine looking boy, there was no denying that, with an easy nonchalance
about him that was captivating.
"You--you won't be a really truly scout," Skinny warned him. The
warning seemed to include a confession that Danny did look like one.
"And what are you going to do when he comes--that other feller?"
"I'll be on my way," said Danny lightly.
"You'll be using up the money that's going to pay his board, too,"
Skinny said.
The answer did not comfort him. "Sure, he'll be out of luck," said
Danny.
Skinny gazed at this daring brother of his in mingled admiration and
terror. "Will you--Danny, will you--if I get fifteen dollars, will
you _not_ do it?"
"Where would you get fifteen bucks, kid? You should worry," he
added. "Let's take a look at that book. Does it tell all about it
and everything? How you drill and everything?"
"_Now you see_, you don't know anything about it," Skinny said
excitedly, in a pitiable way of triumph. "They don't drill at all;
they track and stalk and all like that, and win merit badges, and all
like that. Now you're going to get in trouble." He clenched his
little hands nervously and almost cried as he spoke. "You're going
to get in trouble Danny. They're smart, scouts are, and they'll find
out. Just because _I'm_ not so smart and they make fun of me like;
and just because _I_ can't do all the things they do, you needn't
think they're not smart. That's where you're all the time wrong, you
think boy scouts----"
"Who makes fun of you?" Danny asked with a queer scrutiny in his eyes.
"Now you're going to get into scraps, too," poor Skinny said.
"You're going to call them kids and everything. Even if they make
fun of me they're not mad at me."
There was a grim look in Danny's eyes and a menacing sneer in his
voice as he said, "_Is--that--so!_" In the lowering comment was real
feeling for Skinny and a high contempt for Temple Camp and all its
scouts.
"You should worry, kid," he said. "Go on back and go to bed. All
you've got to do is not notice me. Don't be coming around. Act just
like if you didn't know me. All I want to do is just lay low for
three or four days; I'll get away with it that long, don't worry. If
you had the money I'd beat it, but I can't bang out of here without a
red, and that bunch after me. What am I going to do? I know what's
troubling you, kid. You think it's kind of like stealing, using up
that what's-his-name's board money. You're a little brick, kiddo.
But I'll only be here two or three days. And when he gets here next
month--why these guys won't know till then there was anything phony
about me! And _you_ won't be hooked up with it at all. Now trot
along and turn in, Tiny, old pal."
"Won't I see you any more after you go away from here? Maybe you'll
go all the way around the world on a ship, hey?"
"_Suuuuure_, you'll see me again. And you'll get paid back for your
suit too. Don't I line up pretty nice as a boy scout. How do you do
that--what is it, a salute they've got?" He wriggled his thumb
against his ear in a funny way and laughed at Skinny and gave him an
affectionate shove. "Go on back now or you'll be walking in your
sleep," said he. "And whatever you do, don't let on when you see me
again."
"I can look at you, can't I?" said poor Skinny.