Percy Keese Fitzhugh

“ Poor Tom, he was very far gone in admiration for this girl in khaki who was afraid to go out on a ledge. He saw the new light which she showed him with a readiness which should have flattered her. It was just her own teaching reflected as in a mirror.
What he never thought to remind her was that the great outdoors, the woods, the rough life, and even the dangerous ledges, are what make one big and broad. And that if one is big and broad and wholesome, why then he has a fine character and if he has a fine character he is a good citizen. ”

“ If from the crown of this impartial giant you look afar at Woodstock and then at the vast reservoir which spreads over the green, undulating valley; and then if you think of another little village, partly obliterated and partly pushed aside by that inland sea; why then, it is not hard to get the point of view of some poor little old man, who was turned out of house and home. For the old mountain seems to make everything plain. Serene, towering and apart from all the passions and enterprises and bickerings of men, it makes one see the great city of New York as a kind of invading bully. ”

“ On the campus, as they called the clearing, Whalen and Fairgreaves were picking up bits of wood. Tom smiled as he observed the graceful, athletic form of the amiable Fairgreaves. Each time he stooped he looked as if he were bowing to some grand lady. His khaki trousers and cutaway coat made him look outlandish.
Yet, thought Tom, here was a kind man. If Fairgreaves were a failure at least he could enjoy the success of others. He was the soul of generosity. He could not be so bad. Perhaps the world needs just such amiable ne’er-do-wells as Fairgreaves. ”

“ You must go and tell them, Tom, you must tell them that he is here. If we disrespect the law we can’t expect the law to protect us. Do you know what an indictment says, Tom? How it begins? It says, ‘We the people.’ Tom—poor Tom—I’m sorry, oh, so sorry. But you’ll do what’s brave and right, won’t you? Yes, you will. You came to ask me and I have to tell you. It’s just like—I know—it’s just like going to war and shooting mothers’ sons, Tom. But you were a soldier and a scout and that means you’re a citizen. Aren’t you, Tom? ”

“ Killed him in futile and insane frenzy. Struck him down in misguided passion born of the worthy love of his grandparents and his boyhood home. How could any person capable of such feelings, such love and loyalty, do such a horrible thing? And this solitary, taciturn man, Ned Whalen, had been that boy.
In his musings, Tom thought of poor old Caleb and his cane, of his wanderings, and of himself, Tom, finding a haven for him at last. He thought of the old man’s sturdy hatred and defiance of the great reservoir and of his resolute conviction of his grandson’s innocence. ”

“ The withered hands were trembling and the funny rustic cane, memento of the woods and companion of his lonely travels, was shaking as if in very sympathy.
Of a sudden Tom’s heart was touched by this aged wanderer. And then, as if by some new fight, he saw the poor old creature’s crazy vow as something fine and heroic.
To set the vast Ashokan Reservoir at defiance was certainly a conception worthy of one cast in a heroic mould. To go to New York City and still not drink of the supply from that distant sea, was surely something in the nature of a stunt. ”

“ Tom suspected that his memory might be good enough to recall salient things, but not details. Moreover, it is very hard to discourse familiarly with one who does not look at you. Personal intercourse is quite as much with the eyes as with the voice. Tom had an amused sense of the handicap to conversation in the little old man’s queer way of talking, as if making dogmatic announcements to the world at large.
“Well, let’s stroll down to camp,” he said, rising. “When I meet a person who’s travelled as much as you have, I feel as if I want to know him better. ”

“ Tom said. “You see, I got to know Ned Whalen and you didn’t. I got to know him by being off in the woods with him and seeing all what he could do, and what kind of a man he is. And I kinder felt it was right to be loyal to him. And you see I was right. So maybe reading and kind of deciding things that way isn’t best. You can’t say there are two sides to scouting, studying and thinking—and then having adventures. It’s having the adventures that help you. Maybe I’m all wrong but if you’re not brave in one way you won’t be brave in another. ”

“ Perhaps it was because Tom had another friendship which he cherished that he felt so ready to acknowledge his fondness and admiration for this taciturn, lonesome man. Being rich in joy he could afford to be open-hearted. He never asked himself where his heart really lay; it was enough to be so opulent in friendships.
Ned Whalen had no friends save Tom. His fancy for the youngster who had been thrown with him was very strong and Tom’s cheery nature and unsophisticated squint seemed to furnish a measure of amusement in his silent, weary life. ”

“ Poor Tom, with all his wholesome, adventurous life, could not see this because pretty and clever Audry Ferris got in the path of his vision and dazzled him. She was not superior to him, she was only smarter.
“It isn’t strength of body that makes a soldier,” she said. “It’s strength of character. To have the strength to do something unpleasant because it’s right. That was what won the war. That was what triumphed over militarism—bodily strength.”
“You—bet—your—sweet—life,” said Tom. “I wish some of those kids at Temple Camp could hear you talk. They seem to think scouting is just a game. ”

“ Tom thought he would just give that weary look, lay down his axe and follow the men, the detectives. Perhaps it would even be a relief to him. Would he have to know that Tom was the one—the good citizen? He would just say good-bye to the men in that taciturn way of his; he could never be excited, he could never be otherwise than brave—never. Tom was glad to think that there was one up there who would be loyal, elegantly loyal, and try to cheer him. Fairgreaves. He was all right, Fairgreaves. Cutaway coat and derby hat and royal manner, but he was all right. ”

“ Not good scout, not good citizen. But just goodfellow. He mused upon the name. And from musing upon the name he came to think of Whal—Anson Dyker. He had been a mere boy when he did that rash, insane thing. Tom’s heart went out to him now. There was something touching about the man. Must he die? Die! He, Tom’s rescuer and friend? Must he sit in a chair and....
He tried to think, tried to think all by himself. With his simple, honest mind, he tried to think—out there in the boat that he loved. He had no book knowledge to help him, no fine spun principles. ”

“ Fairgreaves’ ample welcome seemed to bespeak the friendly, rough and ready spirit of the place. It made Tom feel a little guilty.
There were eight or ten men lounging on the porch, ranging in age from twenty to thirty, Tom thought. He was introduced to but three or four individually, and these he supposed to be the steadies.
One who seemed youngish, although quite bald, he guessed to be the inventor with a fortune hinging on a law suit. Even in the dim light Tom could see that two or three were rather dubious looking characters. ”

“ And look at your war record—Reims, Verdun, the Marne—Why, I haven’t even got a wound.”
“I’m sorry,” said Whalen.
“No, but that’s just your darned sarcastic way,” said Tom. “You don’t give anybody a chance to praise you or like you. Look at the way you came down here with the legitt just as if you were a tenderfoot and just did everything I suggested without letting me know that you know all about the woods and everything. It just makes me feel like a fool when I think how I told you things. And you ten years older than I am and a regular A-1 scout!” ”

“ Tom rested on the long seat which ran around the deck with the rail for its back. The little sliding cabin door was closed and its rusty rollers creaked as the boat rocked. On the bulkhead at either side of this tiny door hung a circular life preserver. On each of these was printed Goodfellow. In his abstraction and distress of mind, he thought wistfully how Pee-wee Harris had once likened such a life preserver to a doughnut. It is odd how such irrelevant thoughts flit through a troubled mind. ”

“ They walked in silence toward where the clearing led into the trail, then along the narrow, obstructed way till the obscure, overgrown path ran close to the precipitous descent and the distant reservoir lay full in view.
“That’s Woodstock,” said Tom; “that village about half-way.”
“Oh I’d love to go there,” said Audry. “They must be wonderful, those people, those artists and writers. They’re doing something really worth while. They’re all thinkers.” ”

“ Their amiability and free and easy way of taking their employment, their humorous squint at the serious work of life, seemed to annoy her and she regarded them all with a sort of tolerant disdain. She had no faith even in the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, as Ferris called them, who by their fidelity had certainly earned the right to some consideration. “They stay because there’s nothing else they can do,” she said.
Tom had hoped that he might see Audry before he began work but he had to be content with hearing her voice in the kitchen where she was talking volubly with Miranda. ”

“ On the way to camp he said to Brent, “Seeing her neglected like that only makes me want her all the more.”
“You love her for herself alone,” said Brent in his droll way.
“I read in a book,” said Tom, “that if a fellow wants a thing and wants it bad enough and keeps on wanting it, in the end he’ll get it.”
“That isn’t what you read, Tommy,” said Brent. “You’re thinking of something that Stevenson said; ‘What a man wants, that thing he will get. Or he will be changed in the trying.’ That’s what you’re thinking of, Tommy. A man can have anything he wants if he’s willing to pay the price.” ”

“ He did not answer.
“You went to war, didn’t you—Tom? You had to shoot men—to kill them. Didn’t you? It was no pleasure for you, I know that. It was just your duty, and you conquered your feelings and did it. Didn’t you, Tom?” ”

“ Audry persisted, looking at him with her big, brown eyes.
“You said it,” said Tom. “God and country, that’s what the scout handbook says.”
“That’s why I wasn’t so carried away by what Mr. Whalen did,” said Audry. “A great many men are strong and even brave. It’s character that counts. These men are all deficient in some way. None of them will ever really amount to anything because they can’t lay a course and follow it.” ”

“ He was reserved and solitary, with a kindly, wistful squint at things and people. Even Tom could not shake him out of his whimsical, lonesome habit.
Only one person understood him thoroughly and that was Audry Ferris. At least that was what she said. “I’m always suspicious of people that have two meanings to everything they say,” she observed to Miranda. “He may be physically strong (alluding to his exploit) and all that, but just the same I don’t trust him. He’s like the rest of them—ne’er-do-wells. If they really amounted to anything they wouldn’t be here. ”

“ The village where I lived, West Hurley, was wiped out to make the Ashokan Reservoir. My home was took away from me.
“Why did New York have to come way up here for water? That water is poison—it has sorrow in it. If you drink that water you drink a bitter cup of sorrow. Every drink you take of it you’re drinking sorrow. Drink spring water. You’re a young man, don’t mix yourself up with a crime; keep your hands clean.”
“I don’t see how I’m going to keep my hands clean unless I wash them,” Tom laughed; “and down in New York the only way you can wash your hands is to turn on the faucet. ”

“ I found the murderer of Henry Merrick and I took his confession to the police. They’ll have to squash the indictment against you, or quash it, or whatever they do. The man is dead. It was—you knew him—it was Ganley.”
Now Whalen looked straight into Tom’s eyes with inquiry, incredulity.
“And I’ll tell you something else,” said Tom. “You didn’t know—when you saved my life you didn’t know, did you, that I’m the miracle man? You didn’t think about me—listen—you didn’t think about me being a little old boy scout, did you? Something for a service—good turns. Oh, I’m the little Santa Claus all right. ”

“ Scout! How do I know he did it anyway? I can’t swear absolutely that he’s the man; I don’t know he’s Anson Dyker. Anyway maybe he’s innocent. No siree, you don’t get me to—”
“Now you’re being dishonest with yourself,” she said calmly. “If he’s innocent, he has nothing to fear.”
“Then I’ll talk to him and get him to go to Kingston and—”
“No, you won’t do that, Tom, because that would give him the chance to escape. If a fellow is strong enough to sacrifice his life he is certainly strong enough to sacrifice a friendship. He is not going to let sentiment stand in the way of his duty.” ”

“ After a little while he came to Mead’s Mountain House, spacious, white and cool looking in its pleasant clearing on the mountainside. Summer boarders sat upon its spacious veranda and children played about the grounds. The fine old place seemed high enough without going higher.
A man in a golf suit called to Tom and asked him how the work was going up the mountain and he answered half-heartedly that things were going all right. ”