CHAPTER XV CRUISING IN THE "HONOR SCOUT"
"I don't say I'll get it this summer," said Tom in his sober and ratherawkward way. "'Cause you can never tell what you'll get. I care moreabout all the members getting them, anyway, and when we get twenty-onewe're an Eagle Patrol."
"There's no such thing as an Eagle Patrol, Tom," said Mr. Ellsworth.
"If a scout is an Eagle Scout when he gets twenty-one merit badges," saidTom, doggedly, "then a patrol is an Eagle Patrol when it has twenty-onemerit badges. I don't care what National Headquarters says."
Mr. Ellsworth laughed. The patrol idea was so firmly rooted in Tom's mindthat he could never think of the individual scout. Rule or no rule, youcouldn't pry that notion out of his head with a crowbar. Everything wasfor the glory and honor of the patrol.
"You've only one more to get yourself to be a star scout, haven't you?"asked Garry.
"I got nine," said Tom. "We got sixteen in the patrol. If I get one moreI'll be a star scout as you call it. I'd like the Gardening Badge or theAutomobile Badge----"
"Smallest flivvers thankfully received, hey?" said Roy.
A half dozen or more of them were sprawled upon the cabin roof as the_Honor Scout_ glided silently up the river.
"Merit badges are a cinch," said Roy.
"No, they're not either," said Connie Bennet.
"Sure, all you have to do for the Architecture Badge is to build a castlein the air. Know how to win the Astronomy Badge?" he asked, turning tolittle Raymond who was always hugely amused at Roy's nonsense. "Jump outof a third-story window, land on your head and see stars. The AviationBadge is easy, too. Fly up in the air when anybody kids you--likePee-wee. Know how to win the Plumbers' Badge? Just have a pipe dream.Know how to win the Photography Badge? Cultivate _taking_ ways."
"Tell some more," said Raymond.
"Well, if you want the Blacksmith's Badge, you just forge a check, andfor the Business Badge, mind your own business."
"I think we'd _better_ mind our business," said Mr. Ellsworth, "and slowdown if we expect to stop at West Point."
"Man the tiller, Pee," called Roy. "I don't mean _man_ it, I mean _smallboy_ it."
They paused for a visit at West Point, where they were cordially receivedand shown about. They saw the immaculate barracks, watched the drillwhich was carried through with the precision of clock-work, noted withenvy the erect posture and almost mechanical salutes of the youngofficers, and Pee-wee, at least, felt assured that the talk which he hadheard about unpreparedness was without foundation.
"It makes me feel like a tramp," said Will Bronson, as they resumed theircruise, "to see all those swell uniforms and the way those fellows standand walk."
"Some class," agreed Roy, perched in his usual place upon the combing.
Mr. Ellsworth, who was steering, laughed. "I guess they don't always looklike that," said he.
"If Germany sinks many more of our ships, they won't look like that,"said Connie. "They'll put on khaki and roll up their sleeves."
"You said something," observed Roy.
"What would _we_ do if the country went to war?" asked Pee-wee.
"Move to the city," said Roy.
"I like uniforms," said a timid voice, "because that shows what you are;a policeman makes you feel safe and so does a soldier, because they havetheir uniforms. It says in a book I read, 'Show your colors' and thatmeans, show what you are."
Everybody turned and stared at little Raymond Hollister who was sittingon the cabin with his feet dangling in the cockpit. It was not often thathe spoke up. Indeed, he had never seemed to be thoroughly at home withanyone except Garry and Jeb Rushmore. They all liked him for the quiet,odd little fellow that he was. They seldom jollied him as they didPee-wee and they humored his prejudices and notions when those becameknown. He would sit, hour in and hour out, quietly listening to theirtalk, laughing at Roy's nonsense, and occasionally emboldened to defendGarry against some bantering charge.
"Right you are, Ray, old pal," said Roy. "It's the suit that makes thescout. That's a good slap at Tomasso; sling it into him, Ray!"
"I don't know," said Mr. Ellsworth. (He always hesitated to direct theirarguments, preferring to let them dope things out themselves.) "Theuniform is only good for what it means--as it seems to me. To be a scoutmeans certain things and to wear the uniform says to the world that youare for those things. So I'm for the uniform. The uniform is the scout'schief badge. It's just a great, big merit badge and it ought to be wornlike the other merit badges."
"There might be an invisible badge," said Tom.
Everybody laughed except Tom himself.
"I'm afraid not," said Mr. Ellsworth. "An invisible badge wouldn't be abadge at all."
"It would be like a silent noise," said Roy, "You've got the right idea,Raymond, _Show your colors_. Rub it into him? He sold the _Friday EveningPest_ all winter and he got fifty cents twice a week for leading MissWade's kindergarten class in physical torture; gee, I think he's savingup to pay the national debt, or something! And look at him with that oldbook strap for a belt. Can you beat it!"
Roy's propensity for jollying, together with his known fondness for Tom,made it possible for him to say almost anything he chose, and he neverlost a chance to set people good-naturedly by the ears. But you neverknow where a spark is going to fall. If these sparks of wit had fallenonly upon Tom they would have had no more effect than water, for he knewRoy, and their friendship was as a rock.
But they fell upon little Raymond Hollister, where they ignited othersparks which were already smouldering. Like many boys who have beeninvalids and have been much by themselves, Raymond had notions; away backhome he had first been attracted to the scouts by the trim khaki regalia;it was the first bait Garry had used with him, and to Raymond at first ascout was simply a boy who wore a khaki suit. With Garry's help, thepale-faced little fellow had managed to wriggle through the tenderfoottests, and then he wanted his suit. It was all he had thought of. I daresay there are a few other scouts like him. He had not delved very deeplyinto the Handbook.
The members of the little struggling patrol had slipped away until therewas no patrol, but Raymond still wore his precious suit and felt that hewas a Boy Scout. Perhaps he had the right idea, too, if you will justsubtract his prejudice. _Show your colors_ is a good slogan, but littleRaymond went farther than that. He assumed that if you didn't show yourcolors it was because you didn't have any; and like most scouts of thetenderfoot class, he was a great stickler for the khaki, for its ownsweet sake.
He had (as he had confided to Pee-wee that first night in camp) never"fallen for" Tom Slade. There was not much of the scout glamor about Tomand Raymond liked the scout glamor. He worshipped Roy and he idolizedGarry. He was so jealous for Garry that he looked on Tom as an unfairrival. Who had sent that smudge signal from the hill? Who had made HarryStanton get better? And who had been treated like a dog during his wholevacation? Who but his friend, Garry.
And who had taken Harry Stanton when he _got_ better, and broken up thelittle patrol which was just starting up all over again? Why, that wasthe fellow in the gray shirt and the book-strap belt, who was no scout atall--Tom Slade. Raymond knew what a scout was--he had seen picturesenough of them.
Probably, his diffident nature would have kept him from saying more nowexcept for Roy's laughing encouragement and the belief that Mr. Ellsworthstood with him. In any event, he launched forth in a way which astonishedthem all.
"That's why you don't wear the uniform--because you're not a scout!" heshouted at Tom. "You're too stingy, you are, and everybody knows it!You've no right to go with fellers that are scouts! You--you get them toname their boats after you--fellers--fellers that you stole--yes,_stole_, you did!"
It was unfortunate that both Mr. Ellsworth and Garry, either of whomcould have smoothed this thing out in half a jiffy, were on the forwarddeck getting the anchor ready to cast, and the other scouts were toosurprised, and perhaps a little too
amused, to put a stop to his tirade.Probably they did not think it would affect Tom.
But Raymond, losing all control of himself, his eyes brimming and hisvoice trembling, went on:
"That's because--you--you lived down in an alley where people kill eachother--and burglars live--and men get drunk and you don't know how otherkinds of people act--you don't.... And maybe, you stole other thingsbefore--maybe you did--before you ever _stole_ Jeff--I mean HarryStanton! _I_ wouldn't call you a scout with your old rags on--I wouldn't.Scouts wear the uniform and they don't steal----"
Then they stopped him.
"It's my fault," said Roy, as Connie vaulted to the cabin edge and puthis arm about Raymond, trying to quiet him.
"I know about scouts--I do--and I know what a scout is--I do----" heshouted, almost crying.
"All right, all right, Ray," said Connie, soothingly.
Tom Slade looked up, straight at Raymond. He was gulping and it waspitiful to look at him. "I know I did," he almost sobbed. "I----"
"Never mind, Tom," said Roy, softly. "Don't mind him. He doesn't meanit."
"I know I did," Tom said again. "But you _can_ have an invisible badge,just the same--I don't care for Mr. Ellsworth or anybody."
With a supreme effort to control himself, swallowing sob after sob ingreat painful gulps, he pushed aside the cabin locker, went down into thecabin and banged the door shut.
Roy followed after him, but Tom's stolid nature had been pierced at lastand he turned away even from Roy.
"Of course, you can, Tom," said Roy, almost frightened at his emotion."You _can_ have an invisible badge, Tom--I know you can, Tom."
He did not know exactly what Tom had meant; like many of his expressions,it had been a puzzle to them all, but he would have said almost anythingnow to soothe him and help to efface those black memories.
"Sure you can, Tom," he repeated. "That's easy--old man. It's a cinch!"