CHAPTER VI--How Two Millionaires Did a Good Turn
Gideon Landon sat talking with his friend Franklin Haynes in the cityhome of the former one cold evening in the early spring of 1912. You mayrecall that they had been estranged for a time, but after the removal ofthe misunderstanding, they became more intimate than before. They wereassociated in various business deals and hardly a day passed withouttheir seeing each other.
The subject of their conversation on this occasion was the Boy Scouts ofAmerica, in which both were deeply interested, for they knew that theirsons, of whom you have already learned something, had joined theorganization.
"That fact led me to look closely into it," said Landon, "and the more Ilearned about it the more I liked it; in my opinion the Boy Scouts markthe grandest advance that has been made in all history by the youths ofany country. It will prove a mighty factor in the betterment ofmankind."
"It has started with such a boom," remarked Haynes, "that I fear itscollapse; such an enthusiasm as a rule soon expends itself; action andreaction are equal and the higher the climb the greater the fall."
"There will be nothing of the kind in this case, for there is no elementof weakness in the organization. It was originated and is controlled bymen who understand boy nature through and through, and who know how toappeal to it. The very word 'scout' kindles that yearning which everyhealthy boy feels for stirring incident. What youngster can resist thecall of the fragrant woods, the rugged climb of the mountains, therollicking plunge and splash in the crystalline waters, the trailingthrough the cool twilight of the forest,--the fishing, canoeing, huntingwith a tinge of danger, the crackle of the camp fire, the stories ofadventure, the sweet dreamless sleep on the bed of spruce tops or balsamboughs,--the songs of the birds----"
The friend raised his hand in protest,
"Cease, I pray thee. You remind me of the colored parson and his deaconriding on mule back through the Arkansas lowlands. The deacon depictedso eloquently the rapturous delicacy of browned 'possum, smothered inrich gravy, that the preacher suddenly gasped and dived from his animal,splitting a boulder apart with his head. As he climbed to his feetunharmed but slightly stunned, he explained that he couldn't stand theravishing memories called up by the deacon's picture. And here you arediscoursing so fascinatingly on the out-door life, that I am tempted toclap on my hat and overcoat and make a run of it for the pine woods."
"I believe I should do it myself, if it were not too early in theseason."
"Yes, I see you hiking for the woods; before you reached the GrandCentral you would switch off to Wall Street. You managed to worrythrough a few weeks at Southport Island last summer, and then on thefirst flimsy excuse you could think of, sneaked back to New York andstayed there."
"I am afraid you are right, Franklin; we didn't begin early enough. Nodanger of our boys making that blunder; those youngsters know how tolive and they will get all there is coming to them, when they plungeinto the wilds of Maine. Not only are their bodies trained but theirminds and consciences. I was impressed some weeks ago when the BlazingArrow Patrol held a meeting in my library and by invitation I waspresent. I sat back and looked and listened. It was the regular Saturdayevening business session, when the Scout Master presided and the usualorder or schedule was followed. The one feature that caught me was whenthe leader called upon each Boy Scout to tell what 'good turn' he haddone for some one during the day. I then learned that each boy ispledged to do at least one such kindness for some person everytwenty-four hours. I felt a lump in my throat as the youths popped upone after the other and modestly told their stories. All the incidentswere trifling: one had volunteered to do an errand for his father ormother; another had helped an old lady across the street; a third hadassisted a small boy in carrying a big bundle; another, when challengedto fight by a young ruffian, had turned his back without a word andwalked away. 'And I knew all the time I could lick him,' the scout addedwith a flash of his eyes; still another had pointed out to a gentlemanthe best way to reach the Waldorf-Astoria, and so it went.
"Think of it,--a boy on the lookout every day of his life for a chanceto do a good turn for some one else. Such a youngster is sure very soonto beat that record; he will hit the four hundred mark every year;that's four thousand in ten years or twenty thousand in a half century.Won't that look fine, Franklin, on the credit side of the great Bookthat will be opened at the Judgment Day? Ah, I fear the balance will beon the other side of the account, so far as _I'm_ concerned."
"And with me, too," sighed his friend; "think what a different worldthis will be when every one, even the children, is hunting for anopportunity to do a kindness for a fellow creature."
"I wonder if the Boy Scouts would admit us into their organization,"said Landon with a wee bit of earnestness.
"We are both old enough, which is about our only qualification. We havedone many turns for others, but they hardly deserve to have theadjective 'good' applied to them."
"Well," sighed the elder millionaire, "I am so pleased with theprinciples of the Boy Scouts, and they have had such good effect uponAlvin--"
"The same is to be said of Chester."
"That I have decided to do the Blazing Arrow, the Stag and the EaglePatrols (which I believe are those that make up the troop) a good turnwhich is so slight that it isn't worth bragging about."
"What is that?"
"You know I own the southern shore of Gosling Lake, which lies in thelower part of Maine, a few miles from the bank of the Sheepscott. Ourclub is about to put up a bungalow on that bank that will serve forheadquarters. Such of the members as wish will bunk there while fishingthis summer. It is the close season for game, beside which there islittle to be had in that section. I have invited Scout Master Hall tospend the month of August there with his boys."
"That is a long distance for them to travel and I'm afraid some cannotafford the expense."
"It shall not cost any one a cent. It is to be simply an outing for thetroop, who will be the guests of Alvin."
"And Chester: I shall insist upon _that_."
"As you please. Our boys will go to Southport early in July, or as soonas their schools close. They and Mike Murphy will manage to worrythrough several weeks with the motor launch, until the main party isready to hike for the woods and all have their picnic on Gosling Lake."
"I gather from what you say that this will not be the usual camping-outexperience, in which the boys put up their tents in the depth of thewoods and provide for their own wants."
"No; they will have something of the kind--to keep their hands in, asmay be said--during early spring and summer nearer their own homes. Theywill continue to study woodcraft, undergo training, perfect theirdiscipline, and in short rough it like real scouts. They will be onedge, and prepared to mix some of the conveniences of life with theroughness of existence out of doors. Perhaps you and I will feel liketaking a turn at it ourselves, if they will consent."
Haynes shook his head with a grim smile.
"As we agreed a few minutes ago, we have waited too long for that. Yourplan is admirable and does you credit."
"Precious little. If it is what may be called a good turn, it is theonly one of which I have been guilty in more years than I like to thinkof."
"You say you have talked the plan over with Scout Master Hall?"
"He has spent several evenings with me discussing the scheme with Alvin,Chester and myself. I may say it has been perfected; the boys are allanxious to go, but a few of them will spend their vacation in theirhomes. I believe we can count upon twenty guests at the clubhouse onGosling Lake."
"Call it an even score; that will be twenty good turns that you will doothers; you can't help piling up several additional ones during the dogdays, and will be able to make a creditable report when called upon."
"I never thought of that, but I'm blessed if it doesn't give me acomfortable sensation. I tell you, Franklin, the Boy Scouts are theJunior Freemasons of society and the most powerful organization everformed for
the advancement of the idea of the fatherhood of God and thebrotherhood of men. I shall do all I can to help along the work."
"And I am with you. But let's stick to practical facts. You and I willsend the troop into the Maine woods, at the beginning of August, and seethat every possible provision is made at the bungalow for the boys.Won't that place quite a task on your shoulders?"
"None whatever. When the boys arrive at the lake they will find sleepingquarters awaiting them in the clubhouse. If they think they are crowded,some of them can sleep in the woods, and it will be just like themajority to do so. Of course they will take their fishing tackle andsuch articles as they are likely to need with them."
"What about firearms?"
"The only one of which I have heard is a revolver of which Scout MasterHall is the proprietor. He talks as if he knows something about theweapon, but in my opinion he is bluffing and doesn't know whether to aimthe butt or muzzle at a target. Bear in mind that the Boy Scouts don'tlive to kill, and the safety of our friends will never demand a gun orpistol. Several for amusement may make a few bows and arrows, but notmuch will be done in that line. They wear uniforms because they looknatty, and they wouldn't be boys if they didn't like to make a display.Beyond question it helps to enforce discipline and assists in themilitary drill which forms a part of their training."
"Will the camp be provided with boats?"
"Two large canoes are to be sent there from Portland and they will be atthe disposal of the scouts at all times."
"What of provisions and supplies?"
"You may be sure that we have guarded against famine. There is a trackof several miles from the lake through the woods to the main road overwhich a strong team can be driven; thence the communication is easy withBoothbay Harbor, where there is no end of provisions. A wagon will makethe trip once a week taking all that may be needed to the camp."
"Those miles through the woods must be pretty tough traveling."
"That cannot be denied, but one of the things in Maine and many otherstates that will amaze you is the terrific roads over which teams seemto have little difficulty in making their way. Last summer I strolledalong the boardwalk ground the southern end of Squirrel Island. I waspuzzled by numerous tracks in the black earth. There were ruts, hollowsand cavities that looked as if made by wagon wheels, but that appearedimpossible, for the course was choked with huge boulders and deepdepressions over which it seemed as if only a chamois or goat couldleap. While I was speculating and wondering I saw a horse coming towardme, dragging a wagon in which sat a man in his shirt sleeves, driving.Straight over those boulders and through the abrupt hollows, he plungedand labored without halt or hesitation. Sometimes the hind wheelsbounced high in air with the front diving down, the body yawed and waswrenched, and the driver wobbled from side to side and forward and back,but he kept bravely on, and as he pitched and lurched and bumped past,calmly called out that it was a pleasant day. Compared with that roadwaythe few miles through the forest to Gosling Lake will be like amacadamized turnpike."
The conversation thus recorded may form the framework of the picture ofthe camp of the Boy Patrols on Gosling Lake. Omitting the preliminarieswhich otherwise might be necessary, let us step forward to that day,early in August, 1912, succeeding the arrival of the lads at thebungalow on this beautiful sheet of water in southern Maine.