SCOUT LAW NUMBER TWO
He had taken the white pennant. He had won the Hiawatha Prize. He
had brought glory to his patrol. But all he had to give Danny was
two sandwiches and four cookies. Hero though he was, he could not
face his colleagues, for he had no scout suit to put on. So long as
there was hope of selling the canoe, he had not considered what his
patrol would think of this. He had thought only of Danny. But now,
as he trudged on up through the woods, a forlorn little fellow, he
wondered what Connie and the others would say when they heard that he
had tried to sell the prize canoe. They would certainly hear that,
and he could not tell them why he had attempted such an unscoutlike
business. There was never any buying and selling of prizes at Temple
Camp.
He trudged up through the woods, cautiously looking back now and
then. It seemed to him a very long time since he had seen Danny, so
much had happened in the meantime. He found him sitting on the shelf
in the shanty, his knees drawn up to form a reading desk on which the
Scout Handbook lay open.
"Hey, Tiny, this is some book," said he. "Honest, do they do all
these things, or is it just bunk? Here's a good one on
page--page--here it is, sixty-six. This is the one for me. Here's a
gold medal you get for saving a guy's life, only you've got to risk
your own. If you lose your life you're out of luck. If you get away
with it they hand you this----"
"I know all about it," said Skinny.
"That ain't so worse," said Danny, idly running over the pages.
"Wait till I find--oh here it is, here's a pippin! Here's where a
guy makes out he's a smuggler--page four hundred and thirty--and the
bunch has to track him. If he gets to the nearest town he's K.O. I
ought to be able to get away with that, Tiny." It was certainly in
his line. "They got some good dope here, all right," he added. "You
can even be one if you're not in with a bunch."
"That's a pioneer scout," said Skinny.
"Here's a nifty--listen to this one. They got a lot of badges you
can win. Here's one on riding a horse----"
"I know all about them," Skinny repeated.
It was evident that scouts had merits which Danny could admire, but
had no desire to imitate. His rather nonchalant attitude toward
scouting troubled poor Skinny. He had spent the whole night in
nervous tension, planning and striving to save Danny from his own
folly. And here was Danny leisurely inspecting the Scout Handbook,
commenting upon its features with eminent fairness, and apparently
without a care in the world. It must be admitted that so far as
looks were concerned there was not a boy at Temple Camp more
scoutlike than he. Poor Skinny's suit fitted him to perfection; it
was in line with this blithesome young scapegrace's luck that his
ungainly little half-brother had in his innocence bought the suit too
large. Though, indeed, poor Skinny would never in any suit look as
natty as this self-sufficient brother of his. The only false note in
Danny's ensemble was a rakish tilt of the scout hat, which gave him a
rather too easy-going and sophisticated air.
"I brought you something to eat," said poor Skinny. "I was afraid
they'd find you, those reform school people, but I'm glad they
didn't. There's two sandwiches here, and four cookies. I bet you
didn't sleep much--I bet."
"You lose your bet," said Danny. "I was dead to the cruel world.
Some blamed bird or other, that was screaming like Hail Columbia,
woke me up."
"Those are blue jays," said Skinny.
"They'd be black and blue jays if I caught them," said Danny. "I
went over there to a spring and washed up. Then I came back and
started giving this book the once-over. What time is it anyway? Can
I go and do my act yet?" He ate the sandwiches while Skinny talked.
"I tried to get fifteen dollars for you so you wouldn't have to stay
here and I swam across the lake so as to win the prize canoe; I did
it early this morning, Danny, and I won it. But the feller I tried
to sell it to because he's rich and has grapefruit sent him and
everything--that feller wouldn't buy it, because he's mad at his
patrol and he's going home, because they're sore at him on account of
his not staying awake so nobody could take the pennant. I'm the one
that took it. So I'm the one to blame, because I can't give you
fifteen dollars."
Danny was a boy who was always ready to do anything. Consequently
nothing that any other boy did astonished him. He was interested in
propositions to do things. He was not so interested in things that
had been done. So all he said was, "You should worry."
"I got to worry," said poor Skinny.
"And I've got to stay here and I might as well have some fun," said
Danny.
Poor Skinny was aghast at Danny's utter inability to perceive the
peril in which he stood. This impersonation of another boy at Temple
Camp was to be merely another casual adventure in the blithesome
career of Danny. He had lost no sleep over it, he apprehended no
complications. He would cross bridges when he came to them. He was
not annoyed by Skinny's near success in the matter of the canoe.
What Skinny had done did not seem to impress him as an exploit.
Since he was not able to supply fifteen dollars, Danny accepted
scouting as a means of escape. And he was not going to worry about
it.
"Will you promise--cross your heart--that you won't say I told you to
do it?" Skinny asked, with panic fear in every feature. "Will you
promise--honest and true, cross your heart--that you won't ever even
look at me?"
"Go on down and get your breakfast, kid," said Danny.
"I tried to get you the money so you could go away."
"Sure, you should worry; go down and eat, Tiny."
"And you won't go to the office till about half past ten, because on
account of the train?"
"Leave it to me, kid."
"You're going to get in a lot of trouble," Skinny warned,
pathetically apprehensive.
Poor little fellow, he had done the best he could to avert this
bizarre and perilous undertaking of Danny's. He had risked his life.
He was doomed to trouble with his comrades because of the missing
scout suit, and because of his attempt to sell the reward of his
heroism. They would not even laugh at him and make fun of him any
more. He wondered if he had better go ask the Alligators of
Alleghany not to mention the offer he had made at their cabin. But
that would only discredit him with them; it would look sneaky.
Such troubles to arise from good intentions and deeds of skill and
prowess! Poor Skinny, his excursion into the field of heroism had
not been propitious. And pressing down upon him more heavily than
all these perplexities was the terrifying thought of Danny. What
might happen there made Skinny shudder. Such an act of effrontery as
his half-brother was launched upon quite unnerved this poor little
scout who had been so humble and obscure. Yet he was staunch in
loyalty to Danny. He would bear the scornful taunts (as he had
always borne the humorous taunts) of Temple Camp if that were
necessary. And when the worst came to the worst he would be loyal to
Danny. It was odd that through all this disheartening mess, he did
not once recall with pride and elation that he was the winner of the
Hiawatha Prize. He had forgotten all about the canoe.