Tom Slade : Boy Scout of the Moving Pictures

by Percy Keese Fitzhugh

  What did Tom Slade do after the best night's sleep he ever had? He wentto Mrs. O'Connor's, where he knew he was welcome, and washed his faceand hands. More than that, he attended to his lessons in school thatday, to the teacher's astonishment. And why? Because he knew it wasright? Not much! But because he was anxious not to be kept in thatafternoon for he wanted to go down and peek through the fence ofTemple's lot, to see if there were any more wonders performed; to tryto get a squint at Mr. Ellsworth and Westy.

  In short, Tom Slade had the Scout bug; he could not escape it now. Hehad thrown it off once before, but that was a milder dose. As luckwould have it, that very afternoon he had an amusing sidelight on thescouting business which gave him his first knowledge of the "good turn"idea, and a fresh glimpse of the character of Roy Blakeley.

  Inside Temple's lot the full troop was holding forth in archerypractice and Tom peered through a knothole and later ventured to abetter view-point on top of the fence.

  When any sort of game or contest is going on it is absolutely necessaryto the boy beholder that he pick some favorite whom he hopes to seewin, and Tom lost no time in singling Roy out as the object of hispreference.

  It was not a bad choice. As Roy stood sideways to the target, his feetfirmly planted, one bared brown arm extended horizontally and holdingthe gracefully curving bow, and the other, bent but still horizontal,holding the arrow in the straining cord, he made an attractive picture.

  "Here's where I take the pupil out of the Bull's-eye," he said, and thearrow flew entirely free of the target.

  "No sooner said than stung!" shouted Pee-wee Harris.

  "Oh, look who's going to try,--mother, mother, pin a rose on me!"shouted another boy.

  "Mother, mother, turn the hose on me," called another.

  "Stand from behind in case the arrow goes backwards!"

  "I bet he hits that fellow on the fence!"

  Tom could not help laughing as Mr. Ellsworth, with unruffledconfidence, stepped in place.

  "Oi--oi--oi--here's where Hiawatha turns over in his grave!"

  It surprised Tom quite a little that they did not seem to stand at allin awe of the scoutmaster. One boy began ostentatiously passing his hataround.

  "For the benefit of Sitting Bull Ellsworth," said he, "highest salariedartist in Temple's lot--positively last appearance this side of theRockies!"

  But "Sitting Bull" Ellsworth had the laugh on them all. Straight insidethe first ring went his arrow, and he stepped aside and gave anexceedingly funny wink at Tom on the fence.

  Tom changed his favorite.

  Presently Roy sauntered over to the fence and spoke to him. "Regularshark at it, isn't he?"

  "Which one is Westy?" Tom asked.

  "Westy? That fellow right over there with the freckles. If you get upclose you can see the Big Dipper on his left cheek. He's got Orionunder his ear too."

  "O'Brien?"

  "No, Orion--it's a bunch of stars. Oh, he's a regular walkingfirmament."

  Tom stared at Westy. It seemed odd that the invisible being who hadcaught that message out of the darkness and turned the car back, shouldbe right here, hobnobbing with other mortals.

  "Come over here, Westy," shouted Roy, "I want Tom Slade to see yourfreck--well, I'll be--if this one hasn't shifted way over to the otherside. Westy's our chart of the heavens. This is the fellow that helpedsend you the message last night, Westy. He ate two plates of plum-duffand he lives to tell the tale."

  "I understand Roy kidnapped you," said Westy.

  "It was fun all right," said Tom.

  "Too bad his parents put him out, wasn't it?" said Westy.

  "Did you ever taste any of his biscuits?" asked another fellow, whosauntered over. They formed a little group just below Tom.

  "We've got two of them in the Troop Room we use for bullets," hecontinued.

  "What do you think of Camp Solitaire?" Westy asked.

  Tom knew well enough that they were making fun of each other, but hedid not exactly know how to participate in this sort of "guying."

  "'Sall right," said he, rather weakly.

  "What do you think of the Eifel Tower?"

  "'Sall right."

  "Did he show you the Indian moccasins Julia made for him?"

  This precipitated a wrestling match and Tom Slade witnessed the slowbut sure triumph of science, as one after another the last speaker'sarms, legs, back, neck and finally his head, yielded to the invincibleprocess of Roy's patient efforts until the victim lay prone upon thegrass.

  "Is Camp Solitaire all right?" Roy demanded, laughing.

  "Sure," said the victim and sprang up, liberated.

  Tom's interest in these pleasantries was interrupted by the voice ofMr. Ellsworth.

  "Come over here and try your hand, my boy."

  "Sure, go ahead," encouraged Westy, as the group separated for him tojump down.

  "_I_ couldn' hit it," hesitated Tom, abashed.

  "Neither could he," retorted Roy, promptly.

  "If you let him get away with the championship," said another boy,indicating the scoutmaster, "he'll have such a swelled head he won'tspeak to us for a month. Come ahead down and make a stab at it, justfor a stunt. You couldn't do worse than Blakeley."

  Everything was a "stunt" with the scouts.

  Reluctantly, and smiling, half pleased and half ashamed, Tom lethimself down into the field and went over to where the scoutmasterwaited, bow and arrow in hand.

  "A little more sideways, my boy," said Mr. Ellsworth; "turn this footout a little; bend your fingers like this, see? Ah, that's it. Now pullit right back to your shoulder--one--two--three--" The arrow shot pastthe target, a full three yards shy of it, past the Ravens' patrol flagplanted near by, and just grazed the portly form of Mr. John Temple,who came cat-a-cornered across the field from the gate.

  A dead silence prevailed.

  "I presume you have permission to use this property," demanded Mr.Temple in thundering tones.

  "Good afternoon, Mr. Temple," said the scoutmaster.

  "Good afternoon, sir. Will you be good enough to let me see yourauthority for the use of these grounds?" he demanded frigidly. "If Igave any such permission I cannot seem to recall it."

  "I am afraid, Mr. Temple," said Mr. Ellsworth, "that we can show nowritten word on--"

  "Ah, yes," said the bank president, conclusively, "and is it a part ofyour program to teach young boys to take and use what does not belongto them?"

  The scoutmaster flushed slightly. "No, that is quite foreign to ourprogram, Mr. Temple. Some weeks ago, happening to meet your secretary Iasked him whether we might use this field for practice since it is in acentral and convenient part of town, and he told me he believed therewould be no objection. Perhaps I should have--"

  "And you are under the impression that this field belongs to mysecretary?" asked Mr. Temple, hotly. "If you have nothing better to dowith yourself than to play leader to a crew of--"

  Here Mr. Ellsworth interrupted him.

  "We will leave the field at once, sir."

  "When _I_ was a young man," said Mr. Temple, with frostycondescension, "I had something more important to do with myself thanto play Wild West with a pack of boys."

  "There were more open fields in those days," said the scoutmaster,pleasantly.

  "And perhaps that is why my wealth grows now."

  "Very likely; and the movement which these boys represent," Mr.Ellsworth added with a suggestion of pride in his voice, "is growingquite as fast as any man's wealth."

  "Indeed, sir! Do you know that this boy's father owes me money?" saidMr. Temple, coldly indicating Tom.

  "Very likely."

  "And that the boy is a hoodlum?"

  Mr. Ellsworth bit his lip, hesitatingly. "Yes, I know that, Mr.Temple," he said.

  "And a thief and a liar?"

  "Don't run, Tom," whispered Roy.

  "No, I _don't_ know that. Suppose we talk apart, Mr. Temple."

  "We will talk right here, and there'll be very litt
le talking indeed.If you think I am a public target, sir, you are quite mistaken! Youclear out of this lot and keep out of it, or you'll go to jail--thewhole pack of you! A man is known by the company he keeps. If youchoose to cast your lot with children--and hoodlums and rowdies--Icould send that boy to jail if I wanted to," he broke off. "_Youknow_ he's a vicious character and yet you--"

  "NEITHER YOU NOR ANY OTHER MAN CAN BREAK UP THISMOVEMENT."]

  The Scoutmaster looked straight into the eyes of the enraged Temple,and there was a little prophetic ring in his voice as he answered.

  "I'm afraid it would be hard to say at present just what he is, Mr.Temple. I was thinking just a few minutes ago, as I saw him danglinghis legs up there, that he was on the fence in more ways than one. Isuppose we can push him down on either side we choose."

  "There's a right and wrong side to every fence, young man."

  "There is indeed."

  "As every good citizen should know; a public side and a private side."

  "He has always been on the wrong side of the fence hitherto, Mr.Temple." Mr. Ellsworth held out his hand and instinctively Tom shuffledtoward him and allowed the scoutmaster's arm to encircle his shoulder.Roy Blakeley elbowed his way among the others as if it were appropriatethat he should be at Tom's side.

  "I have no wish to interfere with this 'movement' or whatever you callit," said John Temple, sarcastically, "provided you keep off myproperty. If you don't do that I'll put the thumb-screws on and seewhat the law can do, and break up your 'movement' into the bargain!"

  "The law is helpless, Mr. Temple," said Mr. Ellsworth. "Oh, it hasfailed utterly. I wish I could make you see that. As for breaking upthe movement," he continued in quite a different tone, "that is allsheer bluster, if you'll allow me to say so."

  "What!" roared John Temple.

  "Neither you nor any other man can break up this movement."

  "As long as there are jails--"

  "As long as there are woods and fields. But I see there is no room fordiscussion. We will not trespass again, sir; Mr. Blakeley's hill isours for the asking. But you might as well try to bully the sun as totalk about breaking up this movement, Mr. John Temple. It is like a dogbarking at a train of cars."

  "Do you know," said the capitalist, in a towering rage, "that this boyhurled a stone at me only a week ago?"

  "I do not doubt it; and what are we going to do about it?"

  "Do about it?" roared John Temple.

  "Yes, do about it. The difference between you and me, Mr. Temple, isthat you are thinking of what this boy did a week ago, and I amthinking of what _he is going to do to-morrow_."

  The boys had the last word in this affair and it was blazoned forthwith a commanding emphasis which shamed "old John's" most wrathfulutterance. It was Roy Blakeley's idea, and it was exactly like him.

  He invited the whole troop (Tom included) up to Camp Solitaire andthere, before the sun was too low, they printed in blazing red upon agood-sized board the words

  TRESPASSING PROHIBITED UNDER PENALTY OF THE LAW

  When darkness had fallen this was erected upon two uprights projectingabove the top of Temple's board fence.

  "He'll be sure to see it," commented Roy, "and it's what he alwaysneeded."

  When a carpenter arrived on the scene the next morning to put up such asign, as per instructions, he went back and told John Temple that therewas a very good one there already, and asked what was the use ofanother.

  It was the kind of thing that Roy Blakeley was in the habit of doing--agood turn with a dash of pepper in it.

  CHAPTER VII

  "ON MY HONOR"