Percy Keese Fitzhugh

“ Suppose Archer should be mistaken. Suppose this dim trail should take him nowhere. Panting, he ran on, trying to conquer this haunting fear. Beyond Leeds Crossing the trail was hardly distinguishable and he must pause and lose time to pick it up here and there. Through woods, and around hills, and into dense, almost impenetrable thickets he labored on, his side aching, and his heart thumping like a triphammer.
At last he came out upon the Kingston road and was down on his knees, examining minutely every mark in the dusty road, trying to determine whether Tom had passed. ”

“ They had never envied the scouts who had been compelled to make their camp homes there. It seemed so much like a military encampment, so close and stuffy and temporary, and unlike the free and remote abode that they were used to. They all of them tried not to think of it in this way, and Roy was in no mood to cherish any resentment against Tom now.
"It's near the cooking shack anyway, that's one good thing," Peewee observed.
"Listen to the human famine," Connie Bennett said. "Peewee ought to be ashamed to look Hoover in the face." ”

“ If you wanted to give him our cabins, him and his troop, why didn't you come and say so? Gee whiz, we would have been willing to do them a good turn. We've camped in tents before, if it comes to that."
Tom stood perfectly motionless, with no more expression, either of anger or sorrow or surprise, than he usually showed. His big, tight set, resolute mouth was very conspicuous, but Roy did not notice that. The elevator came down, and the metallic sound of its door opening was emphasized in the tense silence which followed Roy's tirade.
"Going up," the colored boy said. ”

“ Burton and Margaret Ellison, and certainly no one made a fuss over him on account of it. Why should anybody make a hero of a young fellow just because he is not quite sure of himself in crossing the street, and because his mouth twitches? Boy scouts are both observant and patriotic, but they could not see that there was anything missing about Tom. All they had noticed was that in resuming his duties at the office he had seemed to be drifting away from them—from the troop. ”

“ It's you—Slady——"
He put his hand on Tom's shoulder and looked at him with a kind of expectancy. And still Tom's gaze was fixed upon the camp below them.
"I don't mind having things go wrong," Tom said, with a kind of pathetic dullness that must have gone straight to the other's heart. "As long as I got a friend it doesn't make any difference what one—I mean who he is. Lots of times the wrong trail takes you to a better place." ”

“ If you once get caught in the net of scouting, you will never disentangle yourself. A fellow may grow up and put on long trousers and go and call on a girl and all that sort of thing, but if he was a Scout, he will continue to be a Scout, and it will stick out all over him. You'll find him back in the troop as assistant or scoutmaster or something or other.
I think Tom Slade is a very good example. He left the troop to go and work on a transport; he got into the motorcycle messenger service; he became one of the greatest daredevils of the air ”

“ It had come to be the regular custom for Barnard to rise early and follow the secluded trail down to the state road where the mail wagon passed. He had early claimed it as his own job, and Tom, ever anxious to please him, had let him do this while he himself was gathering wood and preparing breakfast. "Always hike to work out west and can't get out of the habit," Barnard had said. "Like to hobnob with the early birds and first worms, and all that kind of stuff. Give me a lonesome trail and I'm happy—take one every morning before breakfast, and after retiring. ”

“ Peewee yelled.
"It's a spot where they cut ice," said Roy; "shut up, will you?"
"Are there only three cabins up there?" one of the Dansville scouts wanted to know.
"That's all," Westy Martin, of Roy's troop answered. "We spent, let's see, three summers up there. We had the hill all to ourselves. We even did our own cooking."
"And eating," Peewee shouted.
"Oh sure, we never let anyone do that for us," one of the Bridgeboro scouts laughed.
"If you want a thing well done, do it yourself—especially eating," Roy said. "A scout is thorough."
"Do you know Chocolate Drop? He's cook," Peewee piped up. ”

“ At times whole days would be spent on that further slope of the hillside and Uncle Jeb, busy with preparations for the first arrivals, could not see him at all, only hear the sound of his axe, and sometimes the pulleys creaking. He did not go down into camp for lunch as a rule, and spent but a few minutes eating the snack which he had brought with him. ”

“ He liked people, but he did not depend on them. The lake and the trees and the wild life talked to him, and as for human beings, he was always glad of their company.
It was also characteristic of Uncle Jeb that no adventurous enterprise, no foolhardy, daredevil scheme, ever caused him any astonishment. Mr. Burton, engrossed in a hundred and one matters of detail and routine had simply laughed at Tom's plan, and let him go82 to Temple Camp to discover its absurdity, and then benefit by the quiet life and fresh air. It would have been better if Tom had been sent up there long before. ”

“ Who discovered America? Ohio. Correct."
"What?" yelled Peewee.
"Columbus is in Ohio; it's the same thing—only different," said Roy; "you should worry. How about it, Tomasso?"
Tom was laughing already. It would have done Mr. Burton and Mr. Ellsworth good to see him.
"We were having a hot argument about the army, before you came in," Connie Bennett said. "Peewee claims the infantry is composed of infants...."
"Sure," Roy vociferated, "just the same as the quartermaster is the man who has charge of all the twenty-five cent pieces. Am I right, Lucky Luke? Hear what Lucky Luke says? I'm right. ”

“ He had hit Pete Connegan plunk on the head with a rotten tomato.
That was before the war; oh, long, long before. It was a young war all by itself. It happened when Tom was a hoodlum and lived with his drunken father in Barrel Alley. And in that little affair Tom Slade made a stand. Filthy little hoodlum that he was, instead of running when Pete Connegan got down out of his truck and started after him, he turned and compressed his big mouth and stood there upon his two bare feet, waiting. It was Tom Slade all over—Barrel Alley or No Man's Land—he didn't run. ”

“ Roy gulped in suspense as he waited. One second, two seconds, three, four—Would the pedestrian never appear?199
And then they met, and Roy Blakeley stood out in the middle of the road and held his arms out so the wayfarer could not pass. And yet he could not speak.
"Tom," he finally managed to say, "I—I came alone because—because I wanted to come alone. I wanted to meet you all alone. I—I know all about it, Tom—I do. None of the fellows will bunk in these cabins till you—till you—come back—they won't. Not even Barnard's troop. I'm sorry, Tom; I see how I was all wrong. ”

“ Tom said, "but I wanted it to be a stunt, as you might say."
"'Tain't no stunt," Uncle Jeb said. "Who's writin' yer from out in Ohio? I see the postmark. 'Tain't them kids from out Dayton way, I hope?"84
Tom opened the letter and read aloud:
Dear Tom:
When I save a fellow's life I claim the right to call him by his first name, even if I've never seen him. If anybody ever tells me again that the world is a big place, I'll tell them it's about the size of a shell-hole, no bigger, and that's small enough, as you and I know. All I can say is, "Well, well!" ”

“ Uncle Jeb asked. "Yer got catched into one, huh?"
And then, for the first time since Tom had returned from France, he was moved to tell the episode which he had never told the scouts, and which he had always recalled with agitation and horror. Perhaps the camp-fire and Uncle Jeb's quiet friendliness lulled him to repose and made him reminiscent. Perhaps it was the letter from Barnard.
"That's how I got shell-shocked," he repeated. "When you get shell-shocked it doesn't show like a wound. There's a place named Veronnes in France. A German airman fell near there. ”

“ He understands everything well enough; all he needs is to get a grip on himself." That is what Mr. Burton had told Margaret Ellison, and Margaret Ellison, being a girl, understood better than all the army surgeons in the country.
You see how it was; they had made a wreck of Tom Slade's nerves as a trifling incidental to making the world safe for democracy. ”

“ There was the work, all but finished, three new cabins standing alongside the other three, and all the disorder of choppings and bits of wood lying about.
He glanced at Tom Slade where he sat near him by the fire, and noticed the torn shirt, the hand wrapped in a bandage, the bruised spot on that plain, dogged face, where a chunk of wood had flown up and all but blinded him. He noticed that big mouth. The whimsical thought occurred to him that this young fellow's face was, itself, something like a knot129 of wood; strong and stubborn, and very plain and homely. ”

“ What he thought funny was this: being an observant scout he had noticed that Tom carried more rations than a scout would be likely to take on a long hike, through a country where food could easily be bought in a hundred towns and villages, and also that one who limped as Tom did should choose to go on a hike of more than a hundred miles.
A scout, as everybody knows, is observant. ”

“ If we're going up to camp on the first of August, we'll have to begin getting our stuff together—the43 sooner the quicker—keep still, I'm not through. We were all saying how numbers look funny on scout cabins—five, six, seven. It reminds you too much of school. Uncle Jeb said it would be a good idea for us to paint the pictures of our patrol animals on the doors and scratch off the numbers, because the way it is now, the cabins all look as if they had automobile licenses, and he said Daniel Boone would drop dead if he saw anything like that—Cabin B 26. ”

“ Burton's desk awaiting his leisure, and Tom was standing awkwardly close by.
"I suppose it's because they don't grow fast enough," Mr. Burton laughed; "they can't keep up with him. To my certain knowledge young Peewee, as they call him, hasn't grown a half an inch in two years. It isn't because he doesn't eat, either, because I observed him personally when I visited camp."
"Oh, he eats terrifically," Margaret said.
"I like the troop better than anything else," Tom said.32
"Well, I guess that's right, Tom," Mr. Burton observed; "old friends are the best." ”

“ The hill trail was nothing but a dotted line, but Tom knew it for more than that, for it was along its winding way into the dark recesses of the mountains that he had qualified for the pathfinder's badge. Black Lake was just an irregular circle, but in his mind's eye he saw there the moonlight glinting up the water, and canoes gliding silently, and heard the merry voices of2 scouts diving from the springboard at its edge. ”

“ They represented the sumptuous fortune of Lucky Luke, alias Tom Slade.
"And I thought you were going to ..." Thornton began; "Slady, I can't do this; it's all you've got."
"It's no good to me," Tom said. "Anyway, you got to go back and get there before those fellows do. Then you can fix it."175
Thornton hesitated, then shook his head. Then he went over and sat on the sill where they had talked before. "I can't do it, Tom," he said finally; "I just can't. Here, take it. This is my affair, not yours."
"You said we were good friends up here," Tom said; "it's nothing to let a friend help you. ”

“ Thornton crossed one knee over the other and talked with more ease and assurance. "I met Barnard on the train coming east, Slady. He has red hair like mine, so I thought I'd sit down beside him; we harmonized."
Tom could not repress a smile. "He told me in a letter that he had red hair," he observed.163
"Red as a Temple Camp sunset, Tommy old boy. You're going to like that fellow; he's a hundred per cent, white—only for his hair. He's got scouting on the brain—clean daft about it. He told me all about you and how he and his crew of kids were going to spend August here and make things lively. ”

“ Barnard had not been there two days when his thoughtfulness relieved Tom of one of the daily tasks which had taken much time from his work. This was to follow the trail down the hillside and through the woods to where it ran into the public road and wait there for the mail wagon to pass and get the letters. "I'll take care of that," he said, as soon as Tom answered his inquiry as to how mail was received at camp, "don't you worry. I have to have my little hike every day." ”

“ Tom said; "there isn't anybody but me in camp now. The season is late starting. I guess troops will start coming Saturday."
"Yes?" said his companion, rather interested, apparently. "Well, I don't suppose they'll bother us much if we stick up here. What are you doing, building a city? The last time we met was in a hole in the ground,113 hey? Buried alive; you remember that? Little old France!"
"I don't want to talk about that," Tom said; "when I told Uncle Jeb about it, it made me have a headache afterwards. ”