CHAPTER IX
GODEY PECK
That stirring initiation meeting was the forerunner of others thereafterheld weekly in the small town hall, when the members of the new patrolhad their bodies developed, stiffened into manly erectness by a gooddrill and various rousing indoor games, while their minds were expandedby the practice of various new and exciting "stunts" as Leon calledthem.
To Starrie Chase the most interesting of these in which he soon becamesurprisingly proficient was the flag-signaling, transmitting orreceiving a message to or from a brother scout stationed at the otherend of the long hall. Spelling out such a message swiftly, letter byletter, with the two little red and white flags, according to either thesemaphore or American Morse code, had a splendid fascination for him.
More exciting still was it when on some dark fall evening, at the end ofthe Saturday afternoon hike, he gathered with his brother scouts arounda blazing camp-fire on the uplands, with the pale gray ribbon of thetidal river dimly unrolling itself beyond the low-lying marshes, and thescoutmaster would suggest that he should try some outdoor signaling toanother scout stationed on a distant hillock, using torches, two redbrands from the fire, one in each hand, instead of the regulation flags.
"Oh! but this is in-ter-est-ing; makes a fellow feel as if he were'going some'!" Starrie would declare to himself in an ecstatic drawl,as, first his right arm, then his left, manipulated the rosy firebrands,while his keen eyes could barely discern the black silhouette of hisbrother Owl's figure on its distant mound, as he spelled out a briefmessage.
It certainly was "going." There was progress here: exciting progress.Growth which made the excitement squeezed out of his former pranks seemtame and childish!
And more than one resident of the neighborhood--including Dave Baldwin'sold mother, who lived alone in her shallow, baldfaced house, almostdenuded of paint by the elements, at a bleak point where upland andsalt-marsh met--drew a free breath and thanked God for a respite.
In addition to the indoor signaling there were talks on first-aid tothe injured by the busy doctor and on seamanship by Captain Andy whosebig voice had a storm-burr clinging to it in which, at exciting moments,an intent ear could almost catch the echo of the gale's roar, of ragingseas, shrieking rigging and slatting sails--all the wild orchestra ofthe storm-king.
Then there were the Saturday hikes, and once in a while the week-endcamping-out in the woods from Friday evening to Saturday night, wheneverScoutmaster Estey, Colin's much-admired brother, could obtain a forenoonholiday, in addition to the customary Saturday afternoon, from theoffice where he worked as naval architect, or expert designer offishing-vessels, in connection with a shipbuilding yard on the river.
A notable figure in relation to the scouts' outdoor life was ToineyLeduc, the French-Canadian farmhand. As time progressed he became aninseparable part of it.
For Harold, the abnormally timid boy, for whom it was hoped that the newmovement would do much, was inseparable from him: Harold would not cometo scout meeting or march on hike without Toiney, although with hisbrother Owls and their scoutmaster he was already beginning to emergefrom his shadowy fears like a beetle from the grub.
In time he would no doubt fully realize what impotent bugaboos were hisvague terrors, and would be reconciled to the world at large through themedium of the Owl Patrol.
Already there was such an improvement in his health and spirits that hisgrandfather raised Toiney's wages on condition that he would consent towork all the year round on the little farm-clearing, and no longer spendhis winters at some loggers' camp, tree-felling, in the woods.
Moreover Old Man Greer, to whom the abnormal condition of his onlygrandson had been a sore trial, was willing and glad to spare Toiney'sservices as woodland guide to the boy scouts, including Harold, wheneverthey were required for a week-end excursion.
And so much did those eight scouts learn from this primitive woodsman,who could not command enough English to say "Boo!" straight, accordingto Leon, but who understood the language and track-prints of bird andanimal as if they the shy ones had taught him, that by general petitionof all members of the new patrol, Toiney was elected assistantscoutmaster, and duly received his emblazoned certificate fromheadquarters.
His presence and songs lent a primitive charm to many a camp-firegathering; no normal boy could feel temporarily dull in his company, forToiney, besides being an expert in woodlore and a good trailer, wasessentially a _bon enfant_, or jolly child, at heart, meeting everyexperience with the blithe faith that, somehow--somewhere--he would comeout on top.
In the woods his songs were generally inaudible, locked up in his heartor throat, though occasionally they escaped to his lips which would movesilently in a preliminary canter, then part to emit a gay bar or two, ajoyous "Tra la la ... la!" or:--
"Rond', Rond', Rond', peti' pie pon' ton'!"
But on these occasions the strain rarely soared above a whisper and waspromptly suspended lest it should startle any wild thing within hearing,while he led his boy scouts through the denser woods with the skill andstealth of the Indian whose wary blood mingled very slightly with thecurrent in his veins.
Those were mighty moments for the young scoutmaster and members of theOwl Patrol when they "lay low," crouching breathlessly in some thicket,with Toiney, prostrate on his face and hands, a little in advance ofthem, his black eyes intent upon a fox-path, a mere shadow-track such asfour of their number had seen on that first memorable day in the woods,where only the lightly trampled weeds or an occasional depression insome little bush told their assistant scoutmaster, whom nothing escaped,that some airy-footed animal was in the habit of passing there fromburrow to hunting-ground.
The waiting was sometimes long and the enforced silence irksome toyouthful scouts; there were times when it oppressed one or other of theboys like a steel cage against the bars of which his voice, like arebellious bird, dashed itself in some irrepressible sound, apinched-off cry or smothered whistle.
But that always drew a backward hiss of "Mak' you s-silent! W'at for youspik lak dat?" from the advance scout, Toiney, or a clipped, sarcastic"_T'as pas besoin_ to shoutee--engh?"
And the needless semi-shout was repressed next time by the reprimandedone, many a lesson in self-control being learned thereby.
"MAK' YOU S-SILENT! W'AT FOR YOU SPIK LAK DAT?"]
More than once patience was at last rewarded by a glimpse of thetrotting traveler, the sly red fox, maker of that shadow-path: of itssandy coat, white throat, large black ears, and the bushy, reddish tail,with milk-white tip, the "flag" as woodsmen call it.
Instinctively on such occasions Leon at first yearned for his gun, hisold "fuzzee," with which he had worked havoc--often purposeless andexcessive--among shore birds, and from which he had to part when heenlisted in the Boy Scouts of America, and adopted principles tendingtoward the conservation of all wild life rather than to destruction.
Gradually, however, Starrie Chase, like his brother scouts, came underthe glamour of this peaceful trailing. He began to discover a subtlerexcitement, more spicy fun--the spicier for Toiney's presence--in thebrief contemplation of that dog-fox at home, trotting along, unmolested,to his hunting-ground, than in past fevered glimpses of him when allinterest in his wiles and habits was merged into greed for his skin andtail.
Many were the opportunities, too, for a glimpse at the white flag of theshy deer as it bounded off into some deeper woodland glade, and forbeing thrilled by the swift drumming of the partridge's wings when itrose from its dusting-place on the ground or on some old log whosebrown, flaky wood could be reduced to powder; or from feasting on thebrilliant and lowly partridge-berries which, nestling amid theirevergreen leaves, challenged November's sereness.
Each woodland hike brought its own revelation--its specialdiscovery--insignificant, perhaps--but which thereafter stood out as abeauty spot upon the face of the day.
The hikes were generally conducted after this manner: seven of the Owlswith their tall scoutmaster would leave th
e town bright and early on aSaturday morning, a goodly spectacle in their khaki uniforms, and, staffin hand, take their way through the woods to the little farm-clearingwhere they were reinforced by the assistant scoutmaster in his roughgarb--Toiney would not don the scout uniform--and by Harold, the stillweak brother.
Their coming was generally heralded by modified shouting. And theimpulsive Toiney would suspend some farm task and stand erect with anexplosive "_Houp-la!_" tickling his throat, to witness that mostexhilarating of present-day sights, a party of boy scouts emerging fromthe woods into a clearing, with Mother Nature in the guise of the earlysunshine rushing, open-armed, to meet them, as if welcoming her straychildren back to her heart.
Then Toiney, as forest guide, would assume the leadership of the party,and not only was his thorough acquaintance with "de bird en de littalwil' an-ni-mal" valuable; but his fund of knowledge about "heem beegtree," and the uses to which the different kinds of wood could be put,seemed broad and unfailing, too.
The most exciting discovery of that season to the boys was when hepointed out to them one day the small hole or den amid some rocky ledgesnear Big Swamp where the Mother Coon--as sometimes happens, though shegenerally prefers a hollow tree--had brought forth her intrepidoffspring; both the one which had raided Toiney's hencoop, and RaccoonJunior who had come to a warlike issue with the crows.
Toiney, as he explained, had investigated that deep hole amid the ledgeswhen the woods were green with spring, and had discovered some wildanimal which by its size and general outline he knew to be a coon,crouching at the inner end of it, with her young "littal as small cat."He had beaten a hasty retreat, not willing to provoke a possible attackfrom the mother rendered bold by maternity, or to disturb the infantfamily.
He was radiant at finding the coon's rocky home again, thoughtenantless, now.
"Ha! I'll know we fin' heem den"; he beamed upon his comrades withprimitive conceit. "We arre de boy--engh? We arre de bes' scout ev'rytam!"
And that was the aim of each member of the Owl Patrol, with theexception, perhaps, of Harold, not indeed to be the "best scout," but tofigure as the equal in scoutcraft of any lad of his age and acorresponding period of service, in the United States. To this end hedrilled, explored and studied, somewhat to the mystification of boys whostill held aloof from the scout movement!
"Where are ye off to, Starrie?" inquired Godey Peck, a youth of thistype, one fair November afternoon, intercepting Leon about an hour afterschool had closed. "Don't you want to come along with me? I'm going downto Stanway's shipyard to have a look at the new vessel that they'regoing to launch at daybreak to-morrow. She's all wedged up on the ways,ready to go. Say!" Godey edged slyly nearer to Leon, "us boys--ChocLatour, Benjie Lane an' me--have hit on a plan for being launched inher. You know they won't allow boys to be aboard, if they know it, whenshe shoots off the launching ways. But those ship carpenters'll have torise bright and early if they want to get ahead of us! See?"
Godey laid a forefinger against the left side of his nose, to emphasizea high opinion of his own subtlety.
"How are you going to work it?" Leon asked briefly.
"Why! there's a vessel 'most built on the stocks right 'longside thefinished hull. Us boys are going to wake very early, trot down to theshipyard before any of the workmen are around; then we'll shin up thestaging an' over the half-built vessel right onto the white deck o' thenew one that's waiting to be launched. 'Twill be easy to drop below intothe cabin an' hide under the bunks until the time comes for launchingher. When we hear 'em knocking out the last block from under herkeel--when she's just beginning to crawl--then we'll pop up an' be ondeck when she's launched; see?"
"Ho! So you're going to do the stowaway act, eh?" Starrie Chase, withthat characteristic snap of his brown eyes, seemed to be taking a mentalphotograph of the plan.
"Only for an hour or two. You want to be in this too; don't you,Starrie?"
Leon was silent, considering. The underhand scheme ran counter to theaboveboard principles of the scout law which he had sworn to obey; ofthat he felt sure. "On my honor I will do my best ... to keep myselfmorally straight!" Voluntarily and enthusiastically he had taken thechivalrous oath, and he was "too much of a fellow" to go back on itdeliberately.
"No! I don't want to play stowaway," he answered after a minute. "It's acrazy plan anyhow! Give it up, Gode! Likely enough you'll scratch up thepaint of the new cabin with your boots, skulking there all three ofyou--then there'll be a big row; and 'twould seem a pity, too, after allthe months it has taken to build an' paint that dandy new hull."
Such a view would scarcely have presented itself to Leon two months ago;he certainly was "deepening the water" in which he floated.
"Well, let's pop down to the shipyard anyhow, an' see her!" urged Godey,hoping that a contemplation of the new vessel, airily wedged high on thelaunching ways, with her bridal deck white as a hound's tooth, wouldweaken the other's resolution.
"No, I'll be down there to-morrow morning, on the river-slip, to see hergo. But I want to do something else this afternoon. I'm going home tostudy."
"What?"
"Flag-signaling in the Boy Scout Handbook. I can send a message bysemaphore now, twenty letters per minute; I must get it down to sixteenbefore I can pass the examination for first-class scout!" Starrie threwthis out impetuously, his face glowing. "We're going to have an outdoortest in some other things this evening--if I pass it I'll be asecond-class scout. I don't want to be a tenderfoot for ever! Say! butthe signaling gets me; it's so interesting: I'm beginning to study theMorse code now."
"Pshaw! You boy scouts jus' make me tired." Godey leaned against theparapet of the broad bridge above the tidal river whereon the boysstood, as if the contemplation of so much energy ambitiously directedwas too much for him. "Here comes another of your kind now!"
He pointed to Colin Estey who came swinging along out of the distance,his quick springy step and upright carriage doing credit to the scouts'drill.
Colin halted ere crossing the bridge to hail a street-car for an oldgentleman who was making futile attempts to stop it, and thencourteously helped him to the platform.
Godey shook his head over the action. "Cock-a-doodle-doo!" he crowedscornfully. "Ain't we acting hifalutin?"
Yet there was nothing at all bombastic about the simple good turn or inColin's bright face as he joined the other scout upon the bridge andmarched off homeward with him, their rhythmic step and erect carriageattracting the attention of more than one adult pedestrian.
Godey lolled on the parapet, looking after them, racking his brain forsome derisive epithet to hurl at their backs; he longed to shout,"Sissies!" and "Spongecakes!" But such belittling terms clearly didn'tapply.
The only mocking shaft in his quiver that would come anywhere nearhitting the mark of those well-drilled backs--straight as a rod--was onewhich even he felt to be feeble:--
"Oh! you Tin Scouts," he shouted maliciously. "Tin Soldiers! _TinScouts!_" sustaining the cry until the two figures disappeared from viewin the direction of the Chase homestead.
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