The Boy Scouts of Bob's Hill Part 11

Pa says that I can't remember twenty-five cents' worth of groceries from our house to the store; but that is something else.

I was scared, all right, and wanted to run, because fighting always is scary until after you get started. Then, all of a sudden, I thought of something that Pa had once read to me about General Grant. Grant was marching up a hill once, expecting to find the enemy on the other side and wanting to run all the time, only he was too proud. Then when he reached the top, where he could see down into the enemy's camp, he found that they had been more scared than he was and not so proud, for they had run away.

"So," said he, or something like it, "no matter how frightened you are, or how much you want to run, remember that the other fellow probably is just as badly scared as you are."

When I thought of that I braced up and walked along fast, pretending that I was in a hurry and didn't see him, but keeping one eye on him, just the same, and the other on a stone which lay in the road, near where the dog stood whining. The boy was patting his head and trying to coax him along.

He pretended that he didn't see me, too, until I was pa.s.sing. Then he spoke.

"h.e.l.lo, you village guy," said he.

"h.e.l.lo, yourself," I said, stopping and edging toward the stone.

"Where do you think you are going?"

"North Adams."

"What for?"

"Oh, just for fun."

"Huh!" said he. "Ain't the trains runnin'?"

"I've got something that's better than trains. It's legs."

"What's the uniform for?"

"Anything the matter?" I asked, after I had told him that I was a Boy Scout, for I could see that he was feeling badly about something.

"It's my dog," he told me, rubbing his sleeve across his eyes. "Somebody broke his leg with a stone and I've got to kill him. He's all I have."

"A Scout should be kind to animals," I said to myself. "A Scout is a friend to all." "A Scout should be useful."

Then I answered myself back.

"What's the use? This ain't any damsel-in-distress business, like Skinny is going to do. Besides, if I hurry maybe I'll get a chance to signal to Benny from the turn in the road on ahead."

"Come on and help me kill him," said he.

Just then the dog gave such a pitiful whine that I couldn't stand it, Benny or no Benny. So I took out my bandage.

"I think I can fix his leg, if you'll help me," I told him. "Get me a couple of sticks."

I told him what I wanted, and when he had brought them and I had whittled them into shape to use as splints, I fitted the broken bones in place and bandaged the leg, just as Mr. Norton had taught us, while the boy held the dog. The dog yelped a little, but seemed to know that I was doing it to help him.

"It will soon grow together," I said, when I had finished, "and then it will be almost as good as new."

It made me feel kind of queer and happy to see how glad he was. The dog licked my hand, too, and seemed to be trying to say something. I wish dogs could talk.

"How did you come to know so much?" he asked. "Is your father a doctor?"

Then I told him all about the Scouts and our hike and what Mr. Norton had said about wanting the Gang to join.

"Bully!" said he. "We'll do it. The others went up on the mountain this morning after berries. I'd have gone, too, only for the dog. But I'll tell them when they get home to-night."

"Say," I called out, after I had started on. "You know Benny Wade, don't you?"

"The kid what always goes around with youse?"

I nodded.

"Yes, I know him when I see him. Why?"

"He'll come through here this evening some time, on his way back from North Adams. Let him look at the dog and see if he is all right. He knows as much about those things as I do. Bill Wilson ought to be along some time during the day on his way back. He started yesterday. Say, you ought to see Bill do up a leg."

Nothing happened after that, although I kept close watch of the river, hoping that I might find somebody drowning. Some boys were in swimming at one place, but they were not drowning nor anywhere near it.

I could have reached North Adams easily long before noon, if I had wanted to, but I had all day to do it in, so loafed along, expecting to meet Bill every minute. I rested in the shade whenever I felt like it.

But although I did a lot of cawing every few minutes and kept a sharp look-out, I didn't see Bill, and I didn't hear him, which I couldn't understand, unless he had taken the east road home to keep away from the Gingham Grounds.

At noon I went down by the river, cut a pole, and fished a little, although I didn't catch anything. I didn't build a fire and cook because I had a good lunch in my pack. It seemed sort of lonesome, being there so far away and knowing I couldn't go home when night came.

After a long rest I walked on until I came to a bridge, and then, feeling sure Benny must be in North Adams by that time, I crossed over to the east road, where I knew some folks, and went up into the hills to where Hoosac Tunnel begins. It was fun to see the trains dart in and out of that great hole which reaches four miles through the mountain, and I sat there a long time watching.

Four o'clock came before I found my man in North Adams and delivered the message. By that time I was tired enough to go into camp for the night.

He smiled when he saw me coming in my Scout uniform.

"This letter," said he, when he had read it, "says for me to buy you a life size ice cream soda? Do you want it?"

There isn't anything in Scout law, is there, which says a Scout mustn't eat ice cream soda? And the tireder and hotter you are the better it tastes, doesn't it? I guess yes. Only I wished that Benny was there, eating one with me.

That night I camped on the bank of a brook, part way up the mountain and a mile or more beyond the city. The water was clear as crystal and seemed kind of company, for it gurgled as it poured over the stones, making music that was great.

I hardly could wait to build a fire and fry my bacon, I was so hungry.

But what is the use of carrying bacon and a pan seven miles, unless you fry the stuff after you get there? I tell you it tasted good and so did the wild strawberries that I picked afterward for dessert.

But when it began to grow dark and lights shone out down in the city and in the sky above, and queer sounds came from the mountain and woods back of me, I'd have given fifteen cents to have been at home, or at any rate, to have had somebody with me.

After a while I heard a voice say:

"A Scout should smile and look pleasant."

"Who--who--is that talking?" I asked.

"It's your friend, the brook," came back the answer, in a sweet, gurgly voice. "I'm a Scout, too. Hear me sing."

"So am I," came the deep voice of the mountain back of me. "A Scout should be brave. Sleep, my brother. I'll watch over you."

"So are we Scouts," came in whisperings from every side, through the darkness, and I knew that the trees were talking to me. "We'll take care of you."