CHAPTER XV
SCOUTS
WHEN, toward the latter part of March, the days were so warm thatJohnnie was able once more to take short, daily walks, he never wentwithout bringing home a box to split up for kindling. The box was anexcuse. And he wanted the excuse, not to ease his conscience aboutleaving Grandpa alone, but to save himself should Big Tom happen homeand find him gone.
So far as Grandpa was concerned, the feeble veteran scarcely seemed toknow any more whether he was alone or not, there being small differencebetween the flat without Johnnie and the flat with Johnnie if Johnniehad a book. But also Grandpa always had some one else with him now--someone who comforted his old heart greatly. This was Letitia.
Grandpa had always shown much fondness for the old doll. And oneday--soon after Cis received the new one--when Johnnie chanced to giveLetitia into the hands of the old man, the latter was so happy thatJohnnie had not taken Letitia away, and Cis had not. Instead, she gavethe old doll to Grandpa. And so it came about that Letitia shared thewheel chair, where she lay in the crook of Grandpa's left arm like alimp infant (she was shedding sawdust at a dreadful rate, what with theneglect she was suffering of late), while her poor eyes fixed themselveson distance.
"She don't look like she's happy," Johnnie had declared to Cis morethan once. "She looks like she's just standin' it."
"Why, Johnnie!" Cis had reproved, "And here you've always said that _I_was silly about her!"
"Who's silly?" Johnnie had demanded, defensive, and blushing furiously.
"Grandpa's tickled to have her," Cis had continued.
There the matter was dropped. Nevertheless, Johnnie had then formed acertain firm conviction, which he continued to hold. It was that Cis waslacking in loyalty to the old doll (forgetting that only recently he hadhurled Letitia headfirst into the tiny room).
By the end of March Johnnie had begun to fret about One-Eye. He missedthe cowboy sadly; and what made the latter's absence seem all the harderto bear was the belief that his friend was back in New York again, yetwas not visiting the flat because he was, for some reason, displeased.With Cis?--about that new doll--or what?
"He's mad about somethin',"--Johnnie vowed it over and over. "He saidhe'd be gone a few days. But that was _months_ ago."
Cis denied that she had anything to do with One-Eye's staying away. Shemissed him, too; or, rather, she felt the loss of those almost nightlygifts of fruit and sweets. As for Barber, he had no more good cigars tosmoke before his fellow longshoremen. And his lunch pail lacked orangesand bananas at noontime, and had to be filled with prunes. Altogether,the cowboy's failure to return worked a general hardship.
"Oh, why don't he write me again?" mourned Johnnie. These days hesecretly enjoyed any glimpse of Edwarda, and would even steal into Cis'sroom sometimes to peep at her. She made him feel sure that One-Eye hadreally once been there with them--as did also the letter and the bluehandkerchief.
Johnnie lightened his heart with all this testimony. For it was oftendifficult for him to feel any more certain about the cowboy than he didabout his four millionaires, or Sir Galahad, say, or Uncas, or Goliath,or Crusoe. He could revel gloriously in make-believe, yes; but perhapsfor this very reason he found himself terribly prone to doubt facts! Andas each day went by, he came to wonder more and more about the realityof One-Eye, though the passing time as steadily added romantic touchesto the figure of the Westerner.
Often at night Johnnie held long conversations with him, confessing howmuch he missed him, thanking him for past favors, begging him to return."Oh, One-Eye, _are_ y' mad at me?" he would implore. And if there werestars framed by the window, they would dance as the gray eyes swam.
Whenever he roved hither and thither, hunting for boxes, he was reallyhunting his friend. He kept close watch of the men who passed him,always hoping earnestly that one day he might catch sight of One-Eye.
He brought home only one box at a time. At first if some grocer gave hima large one, so that he had more wood than was needed to start themorning fire, he burned his surplus, so that he would have to go outagain the following day. Later on he gave the extra sticks to Mrs.Kukor, tying them into a Robinson Crusoe bundle, like fagots, andsending them up to the little Jewish lady via the kitchen window whenshe let down a string. The two had a special signal for all this; theycalled it the "wood sign."
One morning as Johnnie was strolling along New Bowery, alert as ever forthe sight of a pair of fur-faced breeches, his heart suddenly came at ajump into his throat, and his head swam. For just ahead of him, going inthe same direction, was a tall man wearing a One-Eye hat!
Without a doubt in his mind that here was some one who knew his dearfriend, Johnnie let fall a small box he was carrying under one arm andrushed forward, planting himself, breathless, in the man's way. "Oh,Mister!" he cried. "Oh, where's One-Eye? Would y' tell him for me that Iwant t' see him?--_awful_ bad! I'm Johnnie--Johnnie Smith!"
The man had long hair that covered his collar like Grandpa's. Also heplainly had a temper much like Big Tom's. For after staring down at theboy for a moment, he kicked out at him. "_On_ your way!" he orderedangrily. "Ske-daddle!--you little rat!"
Johnnie obeyed. He was stunned--that any man having on a One-Eye hatcould act so bad. His pride was hurt, too, at being kicked at in public,and called a rat--he, the intimate of the famous Westerner. And hissense of justice was outraged; he had done nothing to deserve attack andinsult.
This was not a matter for one of those "think" revenges. He might neversee the man again, and whatever he did must be as plain to all passersbyas had been the other's performance. So when Johnnie was well out ofreach of the long-haired man, he halted to call back at him. "_You_ain't no real cowboy!" he declared. "Girl's hair! Girl's hair!"
But a pleasant experience came treading on the very heels of theunpleasant. This was under the Elevated Railroad in Second Avenue. Atthe moment, Johnnie chanced to be a great, champing war horse, grandlydrawing, by a harness made all of the finest silk, a casket (that smallbox) filled with coins and bars of gold from Treasure Island. Being awar horse of Camelot, and, therefore, unused to New York and traintracks on stilts, he was prancing and rearing under his gay trappings inwild style when----
Up the stone-paved avenue they came, two and two, two and two, two andtwo, and behind those twos still others, all boys of Johnnie's own age,all dressed just alike, wearing clean khaki uniforms, new flat-brimmedhats of olive-drab, leggings, and polished brown shoes. What they werehe did not know, though he guessed them to be rich, noting how proud wastheir carriage--chins up, backs straight. Beside them walked theirleader, a grown young man, slender, and with a tanned face plentifullytouched with red.
The war horse shrank into his rags. He would have darted out of sight soas not to be seen; would have hid behind a pillar of the Elevated,dreading looks of scorn, and laughter, and cat calls, but the sight ofthat marching column thrilled and held him. Once before he had seen anumber of boys whom he had envied. They had had on sweaters and caps,the caps being lettered. They had carried baseball masks, and bats. Butwere such--a noisy, clamorous crew--worthy to be compared with _these_young gods?
Tramp! tramp! tramp! tramp!--they passed him, their look high. But theeyes of all were kind and friendly as they caught sight of Johnnie.Yet--could they know who he was? of his friendship with the greatcowboy? Hardly. And still the column did not mock at him. There was nota taunt, not a hoot!
When they were gone, he stood staring after them, so entranced that hewas in danger of being run down by a surface car, or an automobile.Presently, however, on being ordered off the rails by an irate truckdriver, he made on homeward slowly, his yellow head loweredthoughtfully, the box scraping along behind him at the end of a piece ofrope.
"Guess they're some kind of soldiers," he told himself, and reflectedthat they were small to have been sent to war.
A hand touched his shoulder, stopping him. He glanced up. And couldscarcely believe his eyes. For here, as surprising as lightning out of asunny sky,
was that leader, that grown young man. "Say, boy!" he panted,breathing hard from a run. "I saw you just now as we went by. Would youlike to be a scout?"
"A--a scout?" faltered Johnnie, and did not know whether or not he couldtrust his ears; because only recently he had come to know all aboutscouts, regarded them as far beyond even the most distinguished amongmen (always barring cowboys), and had decided that, next after being oneof One-Eye's company, he would like to be a scout. And here----
"Yes. Would you?" What had brought the leader back was the look ofheartrending yearning in the gray eyes of a tattered little boy. Hesmiled, seeing that look swiftly change to one of joy, of awe.
"A scout!" repeated Johnnie. Suddenly beside him there was standing afigure that was strange to Second Avenue. The figure was that of asunburned, lanky individual wearing a hunting shirt of forest-green,fringed with faded yellow, and a summer cap of skins which had beenshorn of their fur. Under the smock-frock were leggings laced at thesides, and gartered above the knees. On his feet were moccasins. Therewas a knife in his girdle, and in his hands a long rifle. This was oneof Johnnie's new friends, that slayer of bad Indians, that crack shot,the brave scout of _The Last of the Mohicans_. "And y' say I can be one?One just like Hawkeye?"
"Hawkeye?"--the young man was puzzled.
Johnnie was disappointed. "Oh, y' don't know him," he said. "But he's ascout."
"I mean a boy scout," explained the other, kindly. "Like my troopthere"--with a jerk of the head toward the khaki-clad column, now halteda block away on the edge of the sidewalk.
Now that radiant, sunlit look--the glowing eyes and the flashing teethadding to the shine of hair and brows and lashes. "_Boy_ scout!" criedJohnnie. Hawkeye was gone. Another vision stood in his place. It wasJohnnie himself, gloriously transformed. "Oh, gee! Oh, my goodness! Oh,Mister! Oh, _could_ I? I'm crazy to! _Crazy!_"
The usual crowd of the curious--boys mostly--was now pressing about theleader and Johnnie, the two or three grown people in it peeping over theheads of the younger ones. But the young man seemed not to mind; and asfor Johnnie, if honors were coming his way on the open street, whatcould be better than to have a few onlookers?
"Of course you'll be one," declared the leader, heartily. He produced apencil and a businesslike notebook. There was a pair of glasses hangingagainst his coat on a round, black cord. These he adjusted. "Name andaddress?" he asked; "--then I'll drop in to see you, and we'll talk itall over with your father."
Johnnie gave the information. "Only I ain't got a father," he corrected,as the pencil traveled. "But y' can tell the boy scouts, if y' want t',that I got a cowboy friend named One-Eye, and he lives in a gardenthat's down in a terrible big cellar, and wears fur all up his pants infront, and a bigger hat'n yours, and spurs. And I got fivebooks--_Aladdin_, and _The Mohicans_, and _Treasure Island_, and _KingArthur_ and _Crusoe_!"
The crowd listened, ready to laugh if the young man did, which was whatthe young man did not. On the contrary, what Johnnie had said seemed tohave wrought the considerable effect Johnnie had desired. For the youngman opened his eyes so big at Johnnie that the glasses fell off, andhit a button of his tunic with a clear ring. "You--you read?" heinquired.
"I should say so!" returned Johnnie, cheeks going red with pride. "Mostall the time! But I'm goin' t' write a lot next--goin' t' copy all mybooks out, 'cause Cis says that's the way I can learn t' spell the bigwords. And lookee!--the handkerchief One-Eye give me!"
"Did you say One-Eye or Hawkeye?" asked the young man, feeling of thehandkerchief with evident respect for its appearance and quality.
"Oh, One-Eye!" declared Johnnie. "'Cause that's all the eyes he's got.But he owns miles and miles of land, and hunderds of cattle, and he's sorich that he rides ev'rywheres he goes in the city in a taxi, all thetime!"
"Well! well!" exclaimed the leader. There was just the flicker of asmile in his eyes now (Johnnie noted that those eyes were exactly thecolor of ground coffee).
"I've got a dog, too,"--talking as fast as possible in order to get agreat deal said. "But I jus' think him, like I do Mister Buckle, andMister Astor, and Mister Rockefeller, and Mister Carnegie, and thePrince of Wales, and Mister Van----"
At that the leader laughed, but he patted Johnnie on the shoulder. "Tellme all about 'em when I come," he said. "I must go now. But I'll see yousoon. Good-by!" As he backed, his hand went to the brim of his hat--in asalute!
"Goo-good-by!" Johnnie faltered. His own right hand moved uncertainly,for he would have liked to make the salute in return, only he did notknow how.
The other started off at a run, following the rails up the Avenue, whilesome of that crowd turned away, scattering. What remained of the groupbegan to aim questions at Johnnie, rooted to the pavement beside hisbox. "Who's 'at, kid? What's he want? What y' goin' t' do?"
To answer, Johnnie had to lower himself down from the skies, to which hehad been lifted by that salute. "You kids don't know One-Eye," he said,a trifle loftily. "Well, do y' know Aladdin? or Long John Silver? or--orJim Hawkins? or Uncas? or King Arthur?"
The last name proved to be an error in selection. Instantly thehalf-dozen boys about Johnnie set up a derisive shout: "He knows a King!Aw, kids! He knows a King! Whee!"
A faint smile, betokening pity, curved Johnnie's lips. Oh, but they_were_ ignorant! and had no stylish friends! "That gent, he come back t'ask me t' be a scout," he explained calmly. "Didn't y' hear what hesaid? And maybe I'll be one--that is till I go out West t' be a cowboy."
The shouting and the laughter broke forth again, redoubling. "And he'sgoin' t' be a cowboy!" they yelled. "Look at 'im! Old rags! Yaw!"
Johnnie put the rope over a shoulder and again started for home. Hescarcely heard the screeching urchins. And he did not heed them. He wasin khaki and leggings now, and had on a wide hat held in place by athong which came just short of his chin. A haversack was on his back,hanging from lanyards that creased a smart coat. He was also equippedwith a number of other things the names of which, as yet, he did notknow.
Tramp! tramp! tramp! tramp!--he was as military as a major-general.