Pee-Wee Harris on the Trail Read online

  "Don't insult me," said Mr. Swiper.

  "I didn't mean it," Pee-wee said apologetically; "scouts are like that,they won't take anything for a service, but eats don't count, you cantake eats. But I mean money----"

  "Don't speak of money again," said Mr. Swiper.

  CHAPTER XIV

  SAVED!

  Thanks to Pee-wee, the door of the rustic lakeside garage stoodinvitingly open.

  "I won't--I won't say anything about money; gee whiz, you needn't haveany fear," Pee-wee said, making a play for his companion's good-will;"gee, I wouldn't do that--I wouldn't. But you could take a medal,couldn't you? A scout good-will medal?" he added anxiously.

  "Maybe," said Mr. Swiper.

  "Gee, you'll _have_ to take it," said Pee-wee; "our scoutmaster willmake you."

  Before entering the building, Mr. Swiper made an inspection of thelonely neighborhood, and looked out across the still, dark lake.

  "That's where they went?" he asked.

  "Sure, they won't see us," Pee-wee said reassuringly.

  But the manual training teacher was not going to take any chances witha crew of ruffians--not he.

  "Even if they should see us or hear us," Pee-wee encouraged, "theywouldn't dare come after it, because it isn't theirs. They thoughtnobody would ever find it in here. It's good I was on the inside, hey?"

  "That's the place to be," said Mr. Swiper.

  "You bet it is," said Pee-wee. "Were you ever locked in a place?"

  To this purely personal question, Mr. Swiper made no reply; Instead hewalked about the car thoughtfully, then climbed into the front seat andturned on the dash-light. He seemed to know what he was doing. Pee-weedid not wait but excitedly climbed in beside him.

  "Gee whiz, a feller's got to have nerve to steal a car, hasn't he?" heasked, unable in his elation to keep still.

  "That's what," said Mr. Swiper briefly.

  "It--it kind of--sort of--makes us feel like thieves, taking it,"Pee-wee commented, looking about him rather fearfully, "but anyway we'vegot a right to, that's one sure thing.... Haven't we?"

  "Sure."

  "And it's all right, that's one sure thing. Oh boy, I'm glad I met youand you'll get as much credit as I do, that's sure. Anyway, we've got aright to take it away from the thieves, I hope. Gee, nobody can denythat. Anyway, I guess _you_ don't feel scary."

  "Guess they won't follow us," said Mr. Swiper. "Not if they know what'swell for them. Thieves don't come after you, they run away from you."

  "You bet they do," said Pee-wee, delighted at his new friend's rathergenerous contribution to the talk.

  The engine now purred softly, the silent shifting into reverse gear toldthe young rescuer that a practiced hand was at the wheel. Slowly the bigcar backed out of the building and around till it headed into the darkover-grown road.

  "You didn't put the lights on," Pee-wee said.

  "Time enough for that," said his companion, who seemed quite accustomedto driving in the dark.

  Presently the big super six Hunkajunk touring model was rolling silentlyalong through the woods, rescued, saved! Soon to be restored to itsrightful owner by W. Harris, scout, B.S.A.

  By the dash-light, Pee-wee obtained a first glimpse of his companion'sface. There was nothing in particular about him, save a long, diagonalscar on his face which Pee-wee thought might have been caused by sometool in the ruined manual training room. The young man had also veryshort hair; it was so short, in fact, that it seemed almost like no hairat all. It was like a convict's hair.

  CHAPTER XV

  IN CAMP

  The light which Pee-wee had seen across the water was not on a boat ashe had supposed. It was on a small island the very name of which wouldhave delighted his heart, for it was called Frying-pan Island, becauseof its rough similarity of form to that delightful accessory of camplife. If Scout Harris could have eaten a waffle out of such a frying-panhe would have felt that he had not lived in vain.

  This frying-pan, instead of being filled with fat, was filled withwoods, and a little to the west of the center, where an omelet mighthave nestled in its smaller prototype, three tents were concealed in theenshrouding foliage. Down at the end of the handle of this frying-panwas good fishing, but it was marshy there, and sometimes after a heavyrain the handle was completely sub-merged. From an airplane the threewhite tents in the western side of the pan might have seemed like threeenormous poached eggs; that is, provided the aviator had an imagination.

  It was upon the shore of this little island that the two young men whohad driven the automobile from Bridgeboro pulled their boat ashore aboutten minutes after they had all unknowingly locked Scout Harris in theirmakeshift lakeside garage. Considering that they were cut-throats andruffians and all that sort of thing, their consciences seemed singularlyclear, for they laughed and chatted as they made their way along the fewyards of trail which led to their lair, or den, or haunt, or cave, orwhatever you care to call it.

  They were greeted by a chorus of boys who jumped up from around thecamp-fire where they had been seated making demands upon them for newsand booty.

  "How about it? Can we stay here?"

  "What kept you so long?"

  "Did you get the silver cup?"

  "I bet you didn't find out?"

  "I bet you ate supper in a restaurant."

  "We made rice cakes."

  "Did you get the cup?"

  "Let's see it."

  "They didn't get it"

  "Yes they did."

  "I bet they didn't."

  "I bet they did."

  "Look at the smiles on their faces."

  "I bet we have the town hall wished on us."

  "I bet it's the fire-house."

  "I feel it in my bones we have to go to school."

  "Let's see the cup."

  "Did you eat?"

  "What is this, a questionnaire?" asked one of the arrivals, the one whohad driven the car.

  "Let's hear the worst."

  "Break it gently."

  "We thought your new junk wagon broke down."

  "Don't say anything against his new junk Wagon or he'll never tell usanything."

  "Did you put the baby to bed?"

  "Yes and locked him in."

  "What kept you so late?"

  "We got mixed up with a Bandit of Harrowing Highway."

  "Who's he?"

  "He's a villyan."

  "A which?"

  "A movie play."

  "That's a nice thing for two scoutmasters to go and see. Your two troopsare ashamed of you."

  "If our two troops don't shut up--"

  "We'll shut up--come on, _altogether_!"

  Followed a welcome silence.

  "We've gone to a lot of trouble today for you kids," said one of thescoutmasters. "We've got the cup but we had to wait a couple of hoursfor it. The merchants in the great metropolis of Bridgeboro are so slowthat a turtle would be arrested for speeding there. Poke up the fire,Nick, we're cold, and I'll tell you all about our adventures. We've madea day of it, huh?"

  The scout whom he called Nick jogged up the waning blaze while othersbrought a fresh log, and soon the camp-fire was roaring a warming,hearty welcome home to the weary scoutmasters. One of these (who wasevidently young enough to be addressed by his Christian name, for theycalled him Ned) sat on an old grocery box and related the happenings ofthe day, while the others sprawled about, listening. Occasionally hisfellow scoutmaster (Safety First they called him) contributed a fewwords.

  "Well, the first thing we did when we got ashore was to--"

  "Get out of the boat?" a scout asked. There was surely not muchconstraint between scouts and scoutmasters in this outfit.

  "We went up to town and saw the school board; at least we saw Mr. Cram.He says everything's upside down and they don't know what they'lldo--says there won't be any school for a month anyway. (Cries ofdespair.) They can't use the town hall and they can't use the fire-houseand they're talking of using the old Wilder mansion. We told him
ifthere wasn't going to be any school till the middle of October or so,we'd like to bunk right here on the island and study nature. He said,'Go to it.' So there's no school for a month (murmurs of disappointment)and we've got to chip in and get some more groceries.

  "We squared things with your parents and most of them are glad to getrid of you. How about that, Safety First? Corby's sister is giving aparty and hopes he'll stay away. Let's see now; oh yes, we bought somefishing tackle.

  "Then we got some gas and started for Bridgeboro after the cup. We wentafter that cup like Sir Thomas Lipton. The jewelry man didn't have theengraving finished so we dropped in at a movie show and saw a fellowwith a lot of pistols. How many pistols were there, First Aid? Wecounted them off coming back in the machine, there were seventy. Crazystuff. That's the kind of stuff you kids fall for. Well, after thepistol shooting was over we got the cup and started back and here weare. Any questions?"

  "Let's see the cup."

  We left it in the machine. We'll get it in the morning. Now look here,you scouts. I want every last one of you to try for that cup. There arehalf a dozen of you that need to wake up. There are a few dead oneshere; Harry, the crack shot--yes you--I'm looking right at you--I wantyou to can all this stuff about killing animals and get busy and do thebest scout stunt of the season and win that cup. Understand? I wassaying to Safety First on the way home that a fellow gets more funstealing up on an animal and piking him with a camera than he doespoking around with an old air gun that he saw advertised in _Boy'sLife_. That's what! I'm talking to you straight.

  "Now here's a silver cup and it looks pretty swell all engraved with ourpatrol names and we drove way to Bridgeboro to get it. That cup's goingto stand on the stump of that tree there--where the chipmunk hangs out.And the day we leave this island it's going to the scout that has donethe best scout stunt. Tracking, signalling, good turn, cooking, it makesno difference what. The scout that does the _biggest thing_, he gets thecup. We two scoutmasters and Mr. Wade are going to be the committee. Nowyou'd better all turn in and hurry up about it, and Ralph Gordon is notto snore; they're complaining about it over in town."

  "Can we do any kind of stunts we want to?" asked the tall scout whomthey call Nick.

  "Any kind at all that's good scouting; that's the only rule."

  "All right, then I'm going to start to-night," said Nick; "I'm going torow across and get that cup out of the car so we all can see it. Let'shave the key, will you?"

  At this there was a general laugh mingled with shouts from a dozen or sovolunteers:

  "I'll go with you!"

  "Take me?"

  "I'm in on that!"

  "I was just going to suggest it!"

  "Yes you were--not!"

  "Wait till morning," said Scoutmaster Ned.

  "It can't be done," said Nick in a funny, sober way; "a scout issupposed to have his sleep, that's the most important rule of all, yousaid so yourself. I can't sleep till I've had a squint at that cup. Comeon Fido, let's row over."

  The scout called Fido had won his name because of his doglikepersistence in following trails. "That's me," he said, "I was just goingto propose it when you took the words out of my mouth."

  "I'd like to see a photograph of anybody taking anything out of _your_mouth," said Scoutmaster Ned. "Go ahead, the two of you; I wish yourpeople would send you both to a private school that opens up to-morrow.Go on, get out of here. And don't wake us up when you come back."

  "Thank you kindly," said Fido.

  "The pleasure is mine," said Scoutmaster Ned.

  CHAPTER XVI

  FOOTPRINTS

  So this, then, was the explanation of the bloodthirsty talk which themighty hero of the Bridgeboro troop had heard under the buffalo robe ashe emerged from the sweet realm of slumber in the automobile.

  Pistols, killing, stealing and dead ones! To steal up to a bird and_not_ kill it! To wake up if you are a dead one! To laugh with wholesomescout humor at the silly gun play of the screen! To count the pistols inWilliam I. Smart's five reel thriller!

  Alas, Scout Harris!

  But we are not to accompany that redoubtable rescuer in his thrillingflight. We are going to row across the lake in which the dying camp-fireon the little island cast a golden flicker, into which the oars held byour new acquaintance, Nick Vernon, dipped silently and rose dripping ashis practiced arms drew the boat through the water, causing a musicallittle ripple at its bow.

  "Got the key?" Fido asked.

  "Do you suppose I'd come away without it?"

  "Pull a little on your left. I can just make out the shed. Thereisn't,--yes there is, there's just one light in the town."

  "That's Algernon Kirkendall studying his algebra," said Nick.

  "It's just in line with the shed. Row straight for the light and we'llhit the shore just right. I'll lift this seat and steer with it.Crinkums, it's dark on the water, isn't it?"

  So the algebra was of some use in the world after all; AlgernonKirkendall was a scout without knowing it.

  "S.N.[1] thinks more of that new car than he does of the troop," saidFido.

  "Sure, the car don't give him as much trouble," said Nick. "We're aHunkajunk troop and Safety First's troop is a Ford troop; it's small butit makes a lot of noise. If I ever start a troop it will be air-cooled.How about it, am I headed right?"

  [Footnote 1: Scoutmaster Ned he meant.]

  "Row straight ahead, I'll steer."

  "Golly, the water's black. Look! Did you see that fish jump? Lookaround, the camp-fire looks good from here. Believe me, the autumn isthe time to camp. We're in luck. I love, I love, I love my lessons, butoh you little island!"

  "Ditto."

  "We're set till Columbus Day."

  "You mean Election Day. Gee, your oar touched bottom, here we are. I'llrow back."

  They pulled the boat up and started for the shack. Fido reached it firstand called excitedly, "It's open! The car's gone!"

  "Stop your fooling," called Nick.

  "I'm not fooling, come and look for yourself, hurry up, the car's gone."

  They stood in the big open doorway in gaping amazement. They walked in,too dumfounded to speak, and when they did speak their voices soundedstrange to each other within the dark, empty confines of those old driedboard walls.

  "Somebody must have broken in through the small door," said Fido.

  "It's closed and locked," said his companion. "How about the fasteningon the big one?"

  "It's all O.K.; nobody's been breaking in, that's sure."

  "You don't mean to tell me S.N. would lock the small door and then comeaway leaving the big one open, do you?" Nick asked incredulously.

  "Well, what then?" his comrade retorted with greater incredulity. "Ifboth doors were closed and fastenings are all right now, could anybodyget the car out? They left the big door open--that's what they did."

  "They never did that," said Nick; "look here, here's a fresh fingerprint on the door--you can smell the oil on it. Here, wait till I lightanother match. S.N. did what he always does, he opened the hood andturned on the oil pet-cock and fussed around and then pulled the doorshut. Someone must have been inside this place before they got back."

  Fido Norton was by this time on his knees outside the larger door. "Hereare footprints," said he; "two, three,--here's another one. Give meanother match."

  "Those were made by our own fellows," said Nick, inspecting the ground,half interested. "Can't you see they were made by scout shoes? Do youthink a boy scout stole the car? Here are some others, too, S.N.'s, andSafety First's, I suppose."

  "Why should they step outside the big door?" Norton asked. "These arefresh footprints, all of them. After they got through, they'd go outthrough the small door wouldn't they? This print, and this one, and thisone," he said, holding a match, "were made by scout shoes--_to-night_,not an hour ago."

  "All the fellows except us two are in camp," said Nick.

  "All right," Fido Norton shot back, "they might all be at the NorthPole, but these pri
nts were made by scout shoes _to-night_. That's whatI'm telling you."

  "All right," said Nick with a tolerant sneer in his voice, "the car wasstolen by a boy scout, probably a tenderfoot. Maybe it was stolen by agirl scout--"

  "No, they're scout shoe prints," said Norton, ignoring his friend'ssarcasm, "and they're not an hour old, not a half hour, that's what Ithink."

  "Well, actions speak louder than footprints," said Nick; "what are wegoing to do, that's the question?"

  "Whatever you say," said Norton cheerfully.

  CHAPTER XVII

  ACTION

  "Well then I say let's send up a signal," said Nick hurriedly, "thefellows at camp will see it and everybody else for miles around will seeit. Every telegraph operator along the railroad can read it. Forgetabout scouts stealing cars and do what I tell you. Hustle up to thepolice station and tell them about it so they can't say we didn't reportit, then meet me at the town hall."

  "What are you going to do?"

  "I'm going to use the old search-light if it will work. It hasn't beenused since the night of the armistice when they lighted up the flag withit. Climb in through the broken window on the side and come up into thecupola. Don't tell Chief Bungelheimer or he'll say it was his idea. Myfather's on the town committee, it's all right, hustle now, get thepolice department off your hands and maybe we can do something--notelling. Remember, the side window, the one that's broken. And look outfor the ladder, it's rotten. Hurry up, beat it!"