He was of the merriest temperament, was Pee-wee, and, as he had often said, not averse to "being jollied." But he was withal very sensitive and during the trip he had more than once fancied that Tom and Roy had fallen together to his own exclusion, and it awakened in him now and then a feeling that he was the odd number of the party. He had tried to ingratiate himself with them, though to be sure no particular effort was needed to do that, yet sometimes he saw, or fancied he saw, little things which made him feel that in important matters he was left out of account. Roy would slap him on the shoulder and tousle his hair, but he would ask Tom"s advice--and take it. Perhaps Roy had allowed his propensity for banter and jollying to run too far in his treatment of Pee-wee. At all events, the younger boy had found himself a bit chagrined at times that their discussions had not been wholly three-handed. And now, as he watched the others hiking off through the twilight, and heard their laughter, he recalled that it was usually _he_ who was appointed a "committee to stay and watch the boat."
This is not a pleasant train of thought when you are standing alone in the bleakness and sadness and growing chill of the dying day, with tremendous nature piled all about you, and watching your two companions as they disappear along a lonely road. But the mood was upon him and it did not cheer him when Roy, turning and making a megaphone of his hands, called, "Look out and don"t fall into the gas tank, Pee-wee!"
He _had_ reminded them that they had better buy gasoline at Newburgh, while they had the chance. Roy had answered jokingly telling Pee-wee that he had better buy a soda in the city while _he_ had the chance, and Tom had added, "I guess the kid thinks we want to drink it."
Well, there they were hiking it up over the hills now in quest of gasoline and still joking him.
If Pee-wee had remembered Roy"s generous pleasure in the "parrot stunt,"
he would have been much happier, but instead he allowed his imagination to picture Tom and Roy in the neighboring village, having a couple of sodas--perhaps taking a flyer at a movie show.
He did as much as he could toward getting supper, and when it grew dark and still they did not return, he clambered up on the cabin roof again and sat there gazing off into the night. But still they did not come.
"Gee, I"m a Silver Fox, anyway," he said; "you"d think he"d want one of his own patrol with him _sometimes_--gee!"
He rose and went down into the cabin where the dollar watch which hung on a nail told him that it was eight o"clock. Then it occurred to him that it would serve them right if he got his own supper and was in his bunk and asleep when they returned. It would be a sort of revenge on them. He would show them, at least, that he could get along very well by himself, and by way of doing so he would make some rice cakes. Roy was not the only one who could make rice cakes. He, Pee-wee, could make them if n.o.body stood by guying him.
He had never wielded the flopper; that had been Roy"s province; but he could, all right, he told himself. So he dug into Roy"s duffel bag for the recipe book which was famous in the troop; which told the secrets of the hunter"s stew; which revealed the mystery of plum-duff and raisin pop-overs in all their luscious details and which set you on the right path for the renowned rice cakes.
Between the leaves, right where the rice cake recipe revealed itself to the hungry inquirer, was a folded paper which dropped out as Pee-wee opened the book. For all he knew it contained the recipe so he held it under the lantern and read:
"Dear Mary:
"Since you b.u.t.ted in, Tom and I have decided that it would be better for Pee-wee to go with _him_, and I"ll stay home. Anyway, that"s what I"ve decided. So you"ll get your wish all right and I should worry.
"Roy."
Pee-wee read it twice over, then he laid it on the locker and sat down and looked at it. Then he picked it up and read it over again. He did not even realize that its discovery among Roy"s things would indicate that it had never been sent. Sent or not, it had been written.
So this was the explanation of Roy"s invitation that he accompany them on the trip. Mary Temple had asked them to let him go. Yet, despite his present mood, he could not believe that his own patrol leader, Roy Blakeley, could have written this.
"I bet Tom Slade is--I bet he"s the cause of it," he said.
He recalled now how he had talked about the trip to Mary Temple and how she had spoken rather mysteriously about the possibility of his going along. So it was she who was his good friend; it was to her he owed the invitation which had come to him with such a fine air of sincerity.
"I always--crink.u.ms, anyway girls always seem to like me, that"s one thing," he said. "And--and Roy did, too, before Tom Slade came into the troop."
It was odd how he turned against Tom, making him the scapegoat for Roy"s apparent selfishness and hypocrisy.
"They just brought me along for charity, like," he said, ""cause she told them to. Cracky, anyway, I didn"t try to make her do that--I didn"t."
This revelation in black and white of Roy"s real feeling overcame him and as he put the letter back in the book and the book back in the duffel bag, he could scarcely keep his hand from trembling.
"Anyway, I knew it all the time," he said. "I could see it."
He had no appet.i.te for rice cakes now. He took some cakes of chocolate and a couple of hard biscuits and stuffed them in his pocket. Then he went out into the c.o.c.kpit and listened. There was no sound of voices or footfalls, nothing but the myriad voices of nature, or frogs croaking nearby, of a cheery cricket somewhere on sh.o.r.e, of the water lapping against the broken old wharf as the wind drove it in sh.o.r.eward.
He returned to the cabin, tore a leaf from his scout notebook and wrote, but he had to blink his eyes to keep back the tears.
"Dear Roy:
"I think you"ll have more fun if you two go the rest of the way alone. I always said two"s a company, three"s a crowd. You"ve heard me say it and I ought to have had sense enough to remember it. But anyway, I"m not mad and I like you just as much. I"ll see you at camp.
"WALTER HARRIS."
"P. S.--If I had to vote again for patrol leader I"d vote for you."
He was particular not to mention Tom by name and to address his note to Roy. He laid it in the frying pan on the stove (in which he had intended to make the rice cakes) and then, with his duffel bag over his shoulder and his scout staff in hand, he stepped from the _Good Turn_, listening cautiously for approaching footsteps, and finding the way clear he stole away through the darkness.
CHAPTER X
PEE-WEE"S ADVENTURE
A walk of a few yards or so brought him to the railroad track. He was no longer the clown and mascot of the _Good Turn_; he was the scout, alert, resourceful, bent on hiding his tracks.
He did not know where he was going, more than that he was going to elude pursuit and find a suitable spot in which to camp for the night. Matters would take care of themselves in the daytime. He wanted to follow the railroad tracks, for he knew that would keep him close to the river, but he knew also that it had the disadvantage of being the very thing the boys would suppose it most likely that he would do. For, feel as he would toward them, he did not for a moment believe that they would let him take himself off without searching for him. And he knew something of Tom Slade"s ability as a tracker.
"They won"t get any merit badges trailing _me_, though," he said.
So he crossed the tracks and walked a couple of hundred feet or so up a hill, grabbed the limb of a tree, swung up into its branches, let himself down on the other side, and retraced his steps to the tracks and began to walk the ties, northward. He was now thoroughly in the spirit of the escapade and a feeling of independence seized him, a feeling that every scout knows, that having undertaken a thing he must succeed in it.
A walk of about ten minutes brought him to a high, roofed platform beside the tracks, where one or two hogsheads were standing and several cases. But there was no sign of life or habitation. It was evidently the freight station for some town not far distant, for a couple of old-fashioned box-cars stood on a siding, and Pee-wee contemplated them with the joy of sudden inspiration.
"Crink.u.ms, that would be a dandy place to sleep," he thought, for it was blowing up cold and he had but scant equipment.
He went up to the nearest car and felt of the sliding door. It was the least bit open, owing to its damaged condition, and by moving it a very few inches more he could have slipped inside. But he paused to examine the pasters and chalk marks on the body. One read "Buffalo--4--LLM."
There were the names of various cities and numerous strange marks. It was evident the car had been quite a globe-trotter in its time, but as it stood there then it seemed to Pee-wee that so it must have stood for a dozen years and was likely to stand for a dozen years more.
He slid the door a little farther open on its rusty hinges and climbed inside. It was very dark and still and smelled like a stable, but suddenly he was aware of a movement not far from him. He did not exactly hear it, but he felt that something was moving. For a moment a cold shudder went over him and he stood stark still, not daring to move.
Then, believing that his imagination had played a trick, he fumbled in his duffel bag, found his flashlight and sent its vivid gleam about the car. A young fellow in a convict"s suit stood menacingly before the door with one hand upon it, blinking and watching the boy with a lowering aspect. His head was close-shaven and shone in the light"s glare so that he looked hardly human. He had apparently sprung to the door, perhaps out of a sound sleep, and he was evidently greatly alarmed. Pee-wee was also greatly alarmed, but he was no coward and he stood his ground though his heart was pounding in his breast.
"You ain"t no bo," said the man.
"I--I"m a scout," stammered Pee-wee, "and I was going to camp here for the night. I didn"t know there was anyone here."
The man continued to glare at him and Pee-wee thought he had never in his life seen such a villainous face.
"I"ll--I"ll go away," he said, "I was only going to sleep here."
The convict, still guarding the door, leered brutally at him, his head hanging low, his lips apart, more like a beast than a man.
"No, yer won"t go "way, nuther," he finally said; "yer ain"t goin" ter double-cross _me_, pal. Wot d"yer say yer wuz?"
"A scout," said Pee-wee. "I don"t need to stay here, you were here first. I can camp outdoors."