IF
Skinny knew that Danny was wise, that he would not appear in camp
before half past nine, because there was no boat or train which would
permit his arrival before that time. Danny's attention to detail in
his free and lawless progress commanded admiration if not respect.
He never committed a silly blunder. Also Skinny knew that this
runaway brother of his could not commit the perilous act of false
registration until the office opened at ten o'clock. So there was
time enough for what he had planned to do.
Hurriedly opening his old suit-case, he pulled out the only extra
shirt and trousers that he had and put them on. Then he locked the
suitcase again so that no prying comrade might discover that the new
suit was not there. Just as he started from the cabin the breakfast
horn sounded. He hurried along with that funny shuffling sideways
gait of his and paused at the cooking shack to get an apple and a
sandwich from Chocolate Drop, the colored chef. Any scout
contemplating a short hike was welcome to this customary refreshment.
He wanted it for Danny. He wondered how Danny had spent the night
and hoped he had not been aroused by all the fuss caused by his early
swim. At cooking shack he took occasion to ask Chocolate Drop if he
knew where Helmer Clarkson stayed.
"He dat boy wots folks done send 'im big grapefruit 'n' boxes wi' dem
figs. Sho he done sleep up dere yonder in one dem woods cabins. You
know dat cabin wi' de skunk skin tacked on de do'? Lor' Massa
Skincord, dat boy am rich! Him folk send him _great big_ crate full
of fruit. Dat ain't good fer no young boy, dat ain't. Bein'
diffrent, _dat am bad_. I say ter Massa Slade, I say, dat ain't no
camp scout business. Share one, share all, in dis yer camp, dat's
wot I say. You gwine straight up dat path, you'll find it."
It was little enough that poor Skinny knew about the unwise procedure
of rich parents with their sons at camp. I dare say Chocolate Drop
was right; there was too much pampering. Certainly no one had ever
sent Skinny a grapefruit or a box of figs. Something in the little
fellow's wistful look touched the kindly heart of Chocolate Drop, who
reigned unquestioned monarch in the fragrant cook shack, and he made
up an extra sandwich and handed it to him together with four cookies.
"You watch out you don' get bit by dem rattlesnakes," he warned.
Rattlesnakes were the terror of Chocolate Drop's life. "You jes'
good as dat Clarkson son. Now you scamper off ter breakfast."
But Skinny did not go to breakfast. He started up the hill,
encouraged, elated. He was going to do business with a boy who had
expressed a desire for a canoe, and whose people were so rich that
they sent him figs and grapefruit. He did not know just exactly how
he would approach such a boy; he dreaded this more than he had
dreaded his swim across the lake. But, of course, rich boys could be
talked to.
He was not exactly afraid; he felt that luck had favored him thus
far. He had lifted the white pennant and had been able thereby to
conceal the real purpose of his absence at night. He had won the
Hiawatha canoe. And now he was going to sell it to a boy who was so
rich that he received delicacies by parcel post. That would be easy.
Then he would hurry on up to the old shanty in the cut and give Danny
the food and the money. After that he would, of course, worry about
Danny's escape from the reform school. But at least the dangers at
Temple Camp would be averted.
On arriving at the cabin with the skunk skin tacked on the door,
Skinny was astonished to find that it was the very cabin from which
he had taken the white pennant. The place looked different in the
daylight. He had not seen the skunk skin on his nocturnal raid, nor
the quaintly worded sign above the door which read:
THE ALLIGATORS OF ALLEGHANY
But he saw clearly the hole from which he had so stealthily lifted
the pennant staff. The Alligators had not gone down to breakfast;
there were voices inside. He wondered whether his little
masterstroke would leave them prejudiced against him. Hardly that,
he realized, for scouts are good sports and cheerful losers. Perhaps
they would even give him credit, as the saying is. He was not
doubtful about scouts, but he was a little afraid of a rich boy.
The voices inside were loud and angry; the occupants of the cabin
seemed all talking at once and excitedly.
"Awh, forget it, and come ahead down to eats, will you?"
"I'm through," said another boy.
"If you're talking of breakfast I haven't even started yet," said
still another. "For the love of Mike, will you cut it out and come
on down."
"I'm through," said the boy who had made this pronouncement before.
"All right, we're satisfied," another said.
"Do you take back what you said?"
"No, I don't take back what I said."
There was a pause and Skinny tremblingly knocked on the door. It was
opened by a tall scout whom he had seen before.
"Does Helmer Clarkson live here!" he asked, his voice shaking a
little. He had quickly decided that he would not mention the affair
of the white pennant.
"Sure, you're welcome to him," said a boy from within. "We give six
coupons free to anybody who'll take him."
"Cut that out," said another boy.
"Here, put him in your pocket and take him home," said still another
as he pushed a rather small boy through the open door. It was
evident that the victim of this hearty eviction was the Rockefeller
of Temple Camp, Helmer Clarkson. He was an effeminate looking boy;
rather sissified, Skinny thought. It was easy to believe that he was
of a sort to be the recipient of dainties from home.
Skinny, in his simplicity, went straight to the point. "Do you want
to buy a canoe!" he asked.
"What canoe?" asked a boy from inside.
"The Hiawatha Prize canoe," said Skinny, addressing Clarkson, as they
all gathered about the doorway staring and listening. "I heard you
wanted to buy a canoe and I'll sell you that one for as much--I
mean--only fifteen dollars." He was too simple to place the price at
a little more than Danny needed. The canoe was actually worth
seventy dollars.
"What's the big idea?" somebody asked.
"_You!_" laughed another. "What are _you_ doing with the prize
canoe? You mean that one in the headquarters building?"
"I won it by swimming across the lake," said Skinny, blushing to the
roots of his hair, "and I don't want it because--because it's my own
business why I don't want it. So do you want to buy it for fifteen
dollars? I heard you wanted one."
"I'm leaving this camp and I don't want it," said Helmer Clarkson.
"He hasn't got the price," a boy taunted.
For answer Helmer Clarkson displayed the contents of a neat wallet
which almost staggered poor Skinny. "I've had enough of this camp,"
he said, "and I'm going home on the noon train from Catskill."
"It's only fifteen dollars," poor Skinny said. "Maybe I'd take ten."
"If you gave me the canoe for nothing I wouldn't stay here," said
Helmer Clarkson in a very mincing manner. "If you'd come around two
or three days ago--even yesterday--I might have given you twenty-five
dollars for it. I can spend fifty dollars for one if I want to. But
I've had enough of this crowd, thank you. I'm going home."
Poor Skinny's hopes were dashed. He cast a forlorn look at the
scouts, who were laughing heartily. They were not laughing at him;
for once he was not the victim. They were laughing (and that with a
kind of tolerant contempt) at Helmer Clarkson.
"Yes, we got no canoes to-day," one boy sang.
"I don't want to play in your yard," sang another.
"Tell him why you're going home, Ellie," a third shouted.
"I'll tell him," another volunteered. "You know we had the white
pennant up here--we took it away from that Virginia troop over near
Turtle Cove. Each one of us is supposed to stay awake forty minutes
every night and listen. Last night our little sleeping
beauty--_that's him_--falls asleep at the switch. Somebody walked
away with the pennant. We even knew somebody was hanging around,
because just a little while before that I sneaked out and caught a
fellow nosing about. On top of that Sweet-dream Ellie has to go to
sleep when his turn was on. And--listen, get this--when we jump very
gently on his neck he gets sore and says he won't play any more."
During the recital of this indictment, Helmer Clarkson held himself
aloof in silent dignity. "I'm through with the scouts for good,"
said he. "It was only an experiment anyway. But I certainly do love
canoing----"
"Sure, in the bathtub," interrupted one of the boys.
"_Chief Dead-to-the-world_ sailing down the Alleghany River," mocked
another.
"If it wasn't for my leaving," said Helmer, ignoring them, "I'd be
only too glad to buy your canoe. I'd have given you more than
fifteen dollars for it."
Skinny looked from one to the other of this cheery group; they seemed
an interesting patrol, notwithstanding their family disturbance.
Then his eyes fell on Helmer Clarkson in a woebegone, incredulous
gaze. He realized that by his own act of "lifting" the pennant he
had effectually prevented the sale of the canoe. If he had not
stolen up in the dead of night, so softly that the dozing Helmer
never heard him, he might now have fifteen dollars--thirty
perhaps--with which to speed his erring brother forth to safety.
What a tragic word is IF!