CHAPTER XIII
THE LIFE THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN SAVED
"Hey! what d'ye mean by trespassin' on my ground? I'll have the law onye for darin' to build a big bonfire like that! No tramp convention c'nthreaten to set fire to my woods, let me tell ye!"
The man in the lead was shouting this in an angry voice as he bustledforward, with his dog growling and straining to get free. Of courseevery one of the boys scrambled to his feet in a hurry. The sight oftheir khaki uniforms seemed to give the big farmer a decided shock, forthey saw him come to a stop.
"What's this here?" he exclaimed, as he stared at the dozen lads. "Tellme, am I seein' things Bill Scruggs? Is it the State Militia droppeddown on us? Is there a war on?"
Mr. Witherspoon, who was of course in uniform, stepped to the front andmade the old fellow a military salute that must have gone far towardsoothing his ruffled feelings.
"We're sorry if we've intruded on your ground, sir," he said in thatconvincing voice of his. "The fact is these are some of the Boy Scoutsof Lenox, a troop that has lately been organized. I am RobertWitherspoon, the surveyor, and if I'm not mistaken I did some work foryou a few months ago, Mr. Brush."
"That's a fact ye did, Mr. Witherspoon," declared the farmer, with lessvenom in his tone. "Seems like I didn't know ye with them togs on."
"I'm acting as scout master to these lads just now," continued theother, in his conciliatory way. "One of the rules of the organizationis that each troop must have a grown person to serve with them, so thatany undue boyish spirits may be kept within reasonable bounds."
"So I read in the paper, Mr. Witherspoon," continued the countryman.
"Won't you tie up your dogs, Mr. Brush, and come and join us herebefore the fire?" asked the scout master, who doubtless had more orless faith in the ability of a cheery blaze to curb animosity.
They saw the farmer rub his chin with his hand. He seemed to bedebating within himself as to whether or not it would be advisable tocomply with such a friendly invitation.
"Well, p'raps I mightn't git such a good chance to look scouts overagain as this here one," he presently said, half to himself. "I'vebeen reading a hull lot lately 'bout the doin's of the boys. Got threelads o' my own yet," and there he was seen to swallow something thatseemed almost to choke him.
"Then for their sake you ought to be interested in this great movement,Mr. Brush," said the scout master; "I remember a bright boy of yourswho was very much interested in the little surveying work I did for youthat day. He helped me some, and said he thought he'd like to be acivil engineer when he grew up. If he joined the scouts that desiremight be encouraged, sir, I assure you."
"Oh, they been pesterin' the life outen me to let 'em jine, but I ain'thad no faith in the thing," Mr. Brush went on to say, with a stubbornshake of the head.
He had by this time tied up his dog, and was accepting a seat on thelog close to the obliging scout master. The boys were satisfied to letMr. Witherspoon do the most of the talking. They could see that hemeant to open the eyes of this unbeliever, and show him a few thingsthat he ought to know.
"Just why did you frown on the scout movement, may I ask, sir?" Mr.Witherspoon continued, quietly.
"Well, in the fust place I don't calc'late that my boys be brought upto be food for gunpowder," replied the farmer.
"Then like a good many people you think Boy Scouts in this country areintended to become a part of the military defences; is that it, Mr.Brush?"
"Do you mean to tell me it ain't so, Mr. Witherspoon?" asked thefarmer.
"Nothing is further from the truth than that, as I'll prove to you in adozen ways, if you care to listen," the scout master told him.
"Fire away, then," said the farmer. "I'm not hide-bound ye know, andallers open to conviction; so tell me why I orter let my three boysjine the scouts."
Mr. Witherspoon started in and explained the fundamental principlesupon which the new movement was organized. He soon convinced the farmerthat there was not the slightest intention on the part of those havingthe matter in hand to incorporate the scouts into a National DefenceMovement.
"Was that the only objection you had, Mr. Brush?" he asked when thefarmer frankly admitted that he had been wrong in his opinion.
"I reckoned that these boys only got together and wore uniforms for abig lark," was the reply to his question. "I ought to know what boys islike, havin' had four of my own."
"Then you have lost one, have you sir?" questioned the scout master,not from idle curiosity, either, Tom Chesney felt positive.
The old man heaved a great sigh.
"Yes, my youngest, and the darling o' his maw's heart, little Jim. Onlylast summer he was off swimmin' with several o' his chums, and gotcaught with a cramp. They got him out, brave enough, but--he never kimto agin."
Mr. Witherspoon cast a quick and meaning glance around the circle ofeager faces. Several of the scouts nodded in a significant fashion asthough they guessed what was flashing through the mind of their leader.
"Mr. Brush," said the scout master, gravely, "I'd like to tell you somethings that to my own personal knowledge scouts have done; things thatthey never would have been capable of performing in the wide world hadthey remained outside of this organization that first of all teachesthem to be manly, independent, helpful to others, and true tothemselves. May I, sir?"
"Jest as ye please, Mr. Witherspoon," came the low reply, for thefarmer had evidently been partly overcome with the sad remembrance ofthe vacant chair, and the face he missed so much at his table.
The scout master went about it in a very able manner. Again heexplained the numerous duties of a scout, and how he was taught torender first aid to the injured in case, for instance, his servicesshould ever be needed when some comrade cut himself with an ax, and wasin peril of bleeding to death.
"There are other ways," Mr. Witherspoon continued, "in which the scoutis instructed to be able to depend on himself should he be lost in thewilderness, caught in a tornado, tempted to take refuge in a barn, orunder an exposed tree during a thunder storm."
"All o' that sounds mighty interestin', I must say, sir!" commented thefarmer, deeply interested.
"To my own personal knowledge, Mr. Brush," finally said the other, "onthree separate occasions I have known of cases where a boy in swimmingwas apparently dead when dragged from the water after having been underfor several minutes; in every one of those instances his scoutcompanions, working according to the rules that had become a part oftheir education, managed to revive the fluttering spark of life andsave the lad!"
There was an intense silence as the last word was spoken. Every one ofthose boys realized how terribly the man was suffering, for they couldsee his face working. Presently he looked up, with a groan that welledfrom his very heart.
"Jest a year too late, sir!" he said, in an unsteady voice. "Oh, whydidn't ye come last June? My little Jim was alive then, and the appleof my eye. If he'd jined the scouts he might a be'n with us right now.A year too late--it's hard, hard!"
"But you said you have three boys still, Mr. Brush?" said the scoutmaster.
"So I have, and mighty dear they be to me too!" exclaimed the farmer,as he proceeded to bring down his ponderous fist on his knee, "andarter what you've told me this night, sir, they cain't be scouts anytoo soon to please me. I've had my lesson, and it was a bitter one. I'mright glad ye kim along to-night, and camped in my big woods, where weseen the light o' yer fire."
"And we're glad too, Mr. Brush," said the scout master, while severalof the boys were heard to cough as though taken with a sudden ticklingin their throats.
Long they sat there talking. Mr. Brush became an ardent advocate of thescout movement, and even made an arrangement for his boys to join thenew patrol being formed, though it would mean many a trip in and out ofLenox for him in his new cheap motor car, in order that they attend theweekly meetings.
After all that was an evening long to be remembered. Tom Chesney, whokept a regular log of the outing, meaning to enter h
is account in acompetition for a prize that had been offered by a metropolitan daily,found a fine chance to spread himself when jotting down theparticulars.
The farmer could hardly tear himself away from the crackling fire.Three times he said he must be going, yet did not stir, which quiteamused Josh Kingsley and Felix Robbins.
"Our scout master sure must have missed his calling when he set out tobe a civil engineer and surveyor," whispered the former in the ear ofFelix.
"That's so," replied the other, "for while he may be a pretty goodcivil engineer, he'd made a crackerjack of a lawyer or a preacher. Whenhe talks somehow you just hang on every word he says, and it convincesyou deep down. That old farmer on a jury would do whatever Mr.Witherspoon wanted. But it's been worth hearing; and I'm a heap glad tobe a scout, after listening to what he's been saying."
Finally the owner of the woods shook hands all around with them, andaccompanied by his hired man and the two dogs respectfully took hisdeparture.