The Boy Scouts of Lenox Part 7

All was quiet around them as the minutes pa.s.sed away.

"There, that's his whistle, Tom!" whispered Carl, suddenly.

Thereupon the other scout crept swiftly out upon the road, and placed the folded paper where it could hardly help being seen by any one with ordinary eyesight. He had just returned to the bushes when a figure came hurrying around the bend, whistling vigorously as some boys are in the habit of doing. Carl's heart seemed almost to stop beating when he saw Dock suddenly halt and bend over.

CHAPTER VII

DOCK GOES FROM BAD TO WORSE

Just at that instant, as luck would have it, a vagrant gust of wind, perhaps an advance courier of the prospective storm, swooped down across the road. Before the boy who was stooping over could touch the paper that had attracted his attention it was whisked suddenly away.

He made an ineffectual effort to seize upon it in the air, but missed it and had to stand there, while the paper floated far out over the river, to fall finally on the moving current.

Carl quivered with another feeling besides anxiety and suspense; keen disappointment was wringing his heart cruelly. Just when their clever little plot seemed on the point of working, a freak of fate had dashed his hopes to the ground.

He had the greatest difficulty in suppressing the cry that tried to bubble from between his lips. Even Tom must have felt bitterly chagrinned when he saw the paper go swirling off, without having had a chance to test its ability to deceive Dock Phillips, and perhaps lead him into confessing his guilt.

The grocer's boy was now walking on again. Of course he knew nothing about the character of the elusive paper, save that it had played him a little trick. They could hear him whistling again in his loud way as though he had already forgotten the circ.u.mstance.

"Hang the luck!" complained Carl, when he felt that it was safe to let a little of the compressed steam escape through the safety valve of his voice.

"That was a rough deal, all right," admitted Tom. "Who would have dreamed such a blast could sweep down and take that paper off? Too bad you had all your work for nothing, Carl."

"Oh! the work didn't amount to much," said the other boy, despondently; "but after hoping for such great things through our plan it's hard to feel that you're up in the air as bad as ever."

"We might try it all over again some time, after Dock's kind of forgotten about this happening," suggested Tom. "But if he kept on seeing loose papers every little while he might get suspicious about it. Perhaps we can think up another plan that will have the earmarks of success about it."

"I never thought the river would play me such a trick," said Carl, looking out on the moving water; "up to now I've had a sort of friendly feeling for the old stream, but after this I'll be apt to look on it as an unprincipled foe."

"Oh! I wouldn't say that," urged Tom, always practical; "the river wasn't to blame at all. And that gust of wind would have come whether we thought to place our bait on the road or not. I'd call it a piece of hard luck, and let it go at that."

"We couldn't do anything, Tom, now our paper's gone off on the current?"

"Oh well," replied the other purposely allowing himself to grow humorous so as to cause Carl to forget the keen bitterness of his disappointment; "perhaps if we went fis.h.i.+ng to-morrow below here we might take the trout that would have your paper tucked away in his little tummy."

"That's right, Tom," the other added; "we've read some thrilling yarns about jewels being recovered that way; and I remember that even a gold watch was said to have been found, still running inside a fish after many moons."

"Yes, they tried to explain that phenomenon in a lot of ways, but I guess it must have been meant for a joke, just as my idea was."

"It's all over for to-night then?"

"Yes, let's go home," replied Tom. "We have lots to talk over and do, too. Before long the exams will be coming on, and we want to pa.s.s with honors if we expect to enjoy our vacation this summer."

"And it's pretty nearly decided I hear, that the Black Bear Patrol takes a long hike the first thing after school closes," Carl was saying, as they started down the river road into Lenox.

"Ten days in camp or knocking about will do more to make us seasoned scouts than as many months at home," ventured Tom, knowingly.

"All the difference between theory and practice you mean," added Carl.

"On my own part I don't care how soon we get started. I've a whole lot of things written down to be attended to, once we get away from civilization. That long list Mr. Witherspoon gave me I've made up a name for."

"What is it, then?" asked Tom.

"Things for a Tenderfoot Scout to Look for on His First Visit to the Storehouse of Nature. What do you think of the t.i.tle, Tom?"

"A pretty long one, it strikes me," answered the other; "but it covers the ground. Every one of us must have a copy, and it'll be a lot of fun to find out who'll be the first to answer all those questions."

"One thing I hope will happen before we start out on that hike," said Carl.

"Of course you're referring to that paper again, and I don't blame you a bit. We'll do our level best to get hold of it before then," and trying as well as he knew how to buoy up the drooping spirits of the disappointed chum Tom locked arms with him, and in this fas.h.i.+on they walked home.

The days again drifted along into weeks.

Scout matters were looking up decidedly in Lenox. There was even some talk of a second rival organization among another set of boys, though Mr. Witherspoon gave it as his opinion that nothing could ever be done with such a wild crowd.

"There isn't a single one among them, from what I hear and know, who could comply with the requirements every scout is expected to have as an a.s.set when he makes application," was the way he put it. "Those boys couldn't subscribe to any of the rules which govern scouts in their daily life. They'd have to turn over a new leaf for a fact before they could don the khaki."

"And," said Josh Kingsley, "when such tough fellows as Tony Pollock, Asa Green, Wedge McGuffey and Dock Phillips start to turning leaves you can begin to see angel wings sprouting back of their shoulder blades."

There were already five boys who had given in their names to make up a second patrol. When it was filled they meant to join the troop, and qualify for a better standing than greenhorns or tenderfeet.

Larry Henderson had long since gone back to his wilderness home beyond Bear Mountain. Twice had Tom received a letter from the old naturalist, in which he asked a great many questions, all concerning the boys of Lenox, in whom he had not lost interest, and what progress the new troop was making.

He also expressed a hearty wish that should they ever take a trip through the section of country where he lived they would not neglect to look him up in his cabin.

One thing Tom and Carl had noticed of late, and this was that Dock Phillips had taken to going with that tough crowd again. For a while his work in the grocery store had tired him so much each day that when evening came he had been content to go to his home, eat his supper, and then crawl in between the sheets.

Once more Dock was to be seen hanging around the street corners late at night with that group of rowdies that gave the uniformed force so much trouble. Some of them only escaped arrest on numerous occasions because their fathers happened to be local politicians whom the police did not wish to offend.

Tom and Carl talked this fact over and arrived at a conclusion, which may, and again may not, have been the true explanation.

"Dock's getting tired of holding down his job," Tom had said, "He's been out of school so long now that he can't be sent back; and he doesn't like hard work either. Since his father signed the pledge he's been working steadily enough, and perhaps Dock gets into trouble at home because of his temper."

"I happen to know he does for a fact," a.s.sented Carl. "He's been acting hateful, staying out up to midnight every night, and his father has threatened to pitch him out. I rather think he's lazy, and wants to loaf."

"Perhaps he thinks that he ought to be drawing a regular salary because of that paper he's got hidden away, and which is worth so much to Amasa Culpepper, as well as to you. To keep him quiet it may be, the old man is paying him a few dollars every week on the sly, even though he refuses to come down with a big lump sum."

"Tom, would it be right for me to have another talk with Dock, and make him an offer?" ventured Carl, hesitatingly.

"Do you mean try to find out what the sum is he asked Amasa to pay him?" questioned Tom; "and agree to hand it over to him just as soon as the stock of the oil well company can be sold, after your mother gets it again?"

"Yes, like that. Would it be wrong in me? anything like compounding a felony?" Carl continued.

"I don't see how that could be wrong," the other boy answered, after stopping to think it all over. "You have a right to offer a reward and no questions asked for the return of your own lost or stolen property."