The Boy Scouts of the Eagle Patrol Part 6

"Phew!" whistled Jack Curtiss. "Pretty steep. But I suppose your old man will fork over, eh?"

"That's just it," grumbled Sam; "he won't come across with a cent. I suppose, if I don't pay for the hydroplane's recovery pretty soon, she will be sold at auction."

"That's the usual process," observed Bill.

"Isn't there any way you can raise the wind?"

"No, I've tried every one I can think of. I don't suppose either of you fellows could--"

"Nothing doing here," hastily cried Jack, not giving the other time to finish.

"I'm cleaned out, too," Bill also hurriedly a.s.sured the unfortunate Sam.

"It looks like everybody but us has coin," complained that worthy bitterly. "While I was in the bank trying to get old man Blake to take up a note of mine for the sum I need, who should I see in there but that old fossil of a captain from Topsail Island."

"Who grows such fine, juicy melons and keeps such a nice, amiable pet dog," laughed Jack, roaring at the recollection of the piratical expedition of which the island dweller had told the boys.

"Ha, ha, ha!" shouted Bill in chorus. "We'll have to give him another visit soon."

"But what about the old land crab, Sam?" demanded Jack the next minute.

"What was he doing in the bank?"

"Why, drawing one hundred and twenty-five dollars. Just think of it, and we always figured it out that he was poor."

"A hundred and twenty-five dollars! I wonder what he's going to do with it?" wondered Jack, with whom money and its spending was always an absorbing topic.

"Why, I overheard that, too, as I pa.s.sed by," rejoined Sam. "He's going to spend some of it for the repairing of his motor, which broke down yesterday, and the rest he's going to keep by him."

"Keep it on the island, you mean?" demanded Jack, becoming suddenly much interested.

"That's what he said--keep it in his safe," replied Sam. "But what good does that do us?"

"A whole lot, maybe," was the enigmatic reply. "See here, Sam, you can win that race if you get your hydroplane?"

"I'm sure of it."

"You are going to bet on yourself, of course."

"Sure. I've got to raise some money somehow."

"Well, I've thought of a way you can borrow the money to get your boat back, and when you win the race you can return it. Come on, lees go to Bill's den, and we'll have a smoke and talk it over."

CHAPTER V

THE BULLY SPRINGS A SURPRISE

That afternoon, in reply to a notice sent round by a runner, the lads of the Eagle Patrol a.s.sembled at their armory, and on Leader Rob's orders "fell in" to hear the official announcement of the coming camping trip. As a matter of fact, they had discussed little else for several days, but the first "regimental" notification, as it were, was to be made now.

The first duty to be performed was the calling of the roll after "a.s.sembly" had been sounded--somewhat quaveringly--by little Andy Bowles, the company bugler.

Beside Rob Merritt, Tubby and Andy, there were Hiram Nelson, a tall, lanky youth, whose hands were stained with much fussing with chemicals, for he was a wireless experimenter; Ernest Thompson, a big-eyed, serious-looking lad, whose specialty in the little regiment was that of bicycle scout, as the spoked wheel on his arm denoted; Simon Jeffords, a second-cla.s.s scout, but who, under Rob's tutelage, was becoming the expert "wig-wagger" of the organization; Paul Perkins, another second-cla.s.s boy, but a hard worker and a devotee of aeronautics; Martin Green, one of the smallest of the Eagle Patrol, a tenderfoot; Walter Lonsdale, also a recruit, and Joe Digby, who, as the last to join the Patrol, was the tenderest of the tenderfeet.

Rob's announcement of the program for the eight days they were to spend on the island was greeted with cheers. The news that turns were to be taken by two scouts daily at was.h.i.+ng dishes and cooking did not awaken quite so much enthusiasm. Everybody cheered up again, however, when Rob announced that the Flying Fish would be at the disposal of the boys of the patrol.

Corporal Merritt took Rob's place as orator then, and announced that each boy would be a.s.sessed one dollar for the expenses of the camp, the remainder of the money necessary for the providing of tents and the provisioning of the camp having been donated by Rob's father, Mr.

Wingate, of the yacht club, and the other representative citizens of Hampton who composed the local scout council.

Further excitement was caused by the announcement that following the camp the local committee would pa.s.s upon the applications for promotions and honors for the lads of the Patrol, and that it was likely that another patrol would be formed in the village, as several boys had expressed themselves as anxious to form one. The gentlemen having charge of the local scout movement, however, had decided that it would be wiser to wait and see the result of one patrol's training before forming a second one.

"I'm going to try for an aviator's badge," announced Paul Perkins, as Rob declared the official business at an end.

"Say, Rob, what's the matter with our fixing up a wireless in the camp?

I'm pretty sure I can make one that will catch anything in a hundred-mile radius."

"That's a good idea," a.s.sented Rob; "if you can do it we can get a lot of good out of it, I don't doubt."

"What's the good of wireless when we've got wig-wagging and the semaph.o.r.e code," spoke up Simon Jeffords, who was inclined to doubt the use of any other form of telegraphy but that in which he had perfected himself.

As for Martin Green, Walter Lonsdale and Joe Digby, they contented themselves with hoping that they might receive their badges as second-cla.s.s scouts when the camp was over.

"I can take the whole tests except cooking the meat and potatoes in the 'Billy,'" bemoaned young Green, a small chap of about thirteen.

"Somehow, they always seem to burn, or else they don't cook at all."

"Well, cheer up, Martin," laughed Rob. "You'll learn to do it in camp.

We'll make you cook for the whole time we're out there, if you like--that will give you plenty of practice."

"No, thank you," chimed in Andy Bowles. "I've seen some of Mart's cooking, and I think the farther you keep him from the cook fire, the better for the general health of the Eagle Patrol."

At this moment there came a rap on the door.

"Come in!" shouted Rob.

In reply to this invitation, the door opened and a lad of about fifteen entered. His face was flushed and he bore in his hand a long sheet of green paper.

"h.e.l.lo, Frank Farnham," exclaimed Rob glancing at the boy's flushed, excited face. "What's troubling you?"

"Oh, h.e.l.lo, Rob. Excuse me for b.u.t.ting in on your ceremonies, but I was told Paul Perkins was here."

"Sure he is, Frank," exclaimed Paul, coming forward. "What's the matter? It's much too warm to be flying around the way you seem to have been. Come in under this fan."

He indicated an electrically driven ventilator that was whirring in a corner of the room.

"Quit your fooling, Paul," remonstrated Frank, "and read this circular.

Here."