The Boy Scouts of Lenox.

by Frank V. Webster.

CHAPTER I

WHEN THE SEED TOOK ROOT

"I move we go into it, fellows!"

"It strikes me as a cracking good idea, all right, and I'm glad Tom stirred us up after he came back from visiting his cousins over in Freeport!"

"He says they've got a dandy troop, with three full patrols, over there."

"No reason, Felix, why Lenox should be left out in the cold when it comes to Boy Scout activities. Let's keep the ball rolling until it's a sure thing."

"I say the same, Josh. Why, we can count about enough noses for a full patrol right among ourselves. There's Tom Chesney to begin with; George Cooper here, who ought to make a pretty fair scout even if he is always finding fault; Carl Oskamp, also present, if we can only tear him away from his hobby of raising homing pigeons long enough to study up what scouts have to know; yourself, Josh Kingsley; and a fellow by the name of Felix Robbins, which happens to be me."

"That's five to begin with; and I might mention Billy b.u.t.ton; yes, and Walter Dougla.s.s, though I guess he'd take the premium for a tenderfoot, because he knows next to nothing about outdoor life."

"But he's willing to learn, because he told me so, Josh; and that counts a lot, you know. That makes seven doesn't it? Well, to complete the roster of the patrol we might coax Horace Herkimer c.r.a.psey to cast in his lot with us!"

The boy named Josh laughed uproariously at the suggestion, and his merriment was shared to some extent by the other two, Carl Oskamp and George Cooper. Felix shook his head at them disapprovingly.

"Just go slow there, fellows," he told them. "Because Horace has always been so afraid of his soft white hands that he wears gloves most of the time isn't any reason why he shouldn't be made to see the error of his ways."

"Oh! Felix means that if only we can coax Horace to join, we _might_ reform him!" exclaimed Josh, who was a thin and tall boy, with what might be called a hatchet face, typically Yankee.

"By the same token," chuckled Felix in turn, "a few of us might drop some of our bad habits if once we subscribed to the rules of the scouts, because I've read the same in a newspaper. They rub it into fellows who find fault with things instead of being cheerful."

"Oh! is that so, Felix?" burst out George Cooper, who took that thrust to himself. "How about others who are lazy, and always wanting to put things off to another day? Do those same rules say 'procrastination is the thief of time?'"

"Well boys," remarked Carl Oskamp, pouring oil on the troubled water as was his habit, "we've all got our faults, and it might be a good thing if joining the scouts made us change our ways more or less. There comes Tom, now, let's get him to tell us something more about the chance for starting a troop in Lenox right away."

"He said he believed he knew a young man who might consent to act as scout master," observed Felix. "It's Mr. Robert Witherspoon, the civil engineer and surveyor."

"Why, yes, I believe he used to be a scout master in the town he came from!" declared Carl. "I hope Tom is bringing us some good news right now."

"If that look on his face counts for anything, he's going to give us a chance to let out a few cheers," a.s.serted Felix, as the fifth boy drew near.

It was a Friday afternoon near the close of winter when this conversation took place. School was over for the week, and as there was an unmistakable feeling of coming spring in the air the snow on the ground seemed to be in haste to melt and disappear.

Every now and then one of the boys would be overcome by an irresistible temptation to stoop, gather up enough of the soft clinging snow to make a hard ball, which was thrown with more or less success at some tree or other object.

The town of Lenox was just one of many in the eastern section of the great United States, and boasted a few thousand inhabitants, some industries, a high school, and various churches. In Lenox the boys were no different from those to be found in every like community.

They had a baseball club that vied with rival schools in spirited contests, a football organization, and in fact almost every element that might be expected to thrive in the midst of a lively community.

There was, however, one thing in which the boys of Lenox seemed to have been lacking, and this had been brought home to them when Tom Chesney came back from his recent visit to Freeport, some twenty miles away.

Somehow the growing fever among boys to organize scout troops had not broken out very early in Lenox; but if late in coming it bade fair to make up for lost time by its fierce burning.

The boy who now joined the four whose chatter we have just recorded was a healthy looking chap. There was something positive about Tom Chesney that had always made him a leader with his comrades. At the same time he was never known to a.s.sume any airs or to dictate; which was all the more reason why his chums loved him.

"What luck, Tom?" demanded Josh, as soon as the newcomer joined the others.

"It's all fixed," was the quick answer given by Tom, who evidently did not believe in beating about the bush.

"Good for you!" cried Felix. "Then Mr. Witherspoon is willing to organize the Lenox Troop of Boy Scouts, is he, Tom?"

"He said he would be glad to have a hand in it," replied the other, "his only regret being that as he is often called out of town he might not be able to give the matter all the attention he would like."

"That's great news anyhow, Tom!" declared Josh, beaming with satisfaction. "We've just been figuring things out, and believe we can find eight fellows who would be willing to make up the first patrol."

"We would need that many for a starter," commented Tom; "because according to the rules he tells me there must be at least one full patrol before a troop can be started. And I'm glad you can figure on enough. It's going to make it a success from the start."

"There's yourself to begin with," remarked Josh, counting with his fingers; "Felix, Walter Dougla.s.s, George here, Billy b.u.t.ton, Horace c.r.a.psey, Carl and myself, making the eight we need for a patrol."

"I'm glad you're all anxious to join," said Tom, glancing from one eager face to the other, as they walked slowly down the street in a group.

"Why, so far as that goes, Tom," ventured Felix Robbins, "most of us are counting the days before we can be wearing our khaki suits and climbing up out of the tenderfoot bunch to that of second-cla.s.s scout.

Only Carl here seems to be kind of holding back; though none of us can see why he should want to go and leave his old chums in the lurch."

At that Tom gave Carl another look a little more searching than his first. He was immediately struck by the fact that Carl did not seem as happy as usual. He and Tom had been close chums for years. That fact made Tom wonder why the other had not taken him into his confidence, if there was anything wrong.

Carl must have known that the eyes of his chum were upon him for he flushed, and then looked hastily up.

"Oh! it isn't that I wouldn't be mighty glad of the chance to go into this thing with the rest of you," he hastened to say; "don't believe that I'm getting tired of my old chums. It isn't that at all. But something has happened to make me think I may be kept so busy that I'd have no time to give to studying up scout laws and attending meetings."

"Oh! forget it all, Carl, and come in with us," urged Josh, laying a hand affectionately on the other's shoulder. "If it's anything where we can help, you know as well as you do your own name that there isn't a fellow but would lay himself out to stand back of you. Isn't that so, boys?"

Three other voices instantly joined in to declare that they would only be glad of the opportunity to show Carl how much they appreciated him.

It always touches a boy to find out how much his chums think of him.

There was a suspicious moisture about Carl's eyes as he smiled and nodded his head when replying.

"That's nice of you, fellows. But after all perhaps I may see my way clear to joining the troop. I hope so, anyway, and I'll try my best to make the riffle. Now Tom, tell us all Mr. Witherspoon said."

"Yes, we want to know what we'd have to do the first thing," added Josh, who was about as quick to start things as Felix Robbins was slow. "I sent off and got a scout manual. It came last night, and I'm soaking up the contents at a great rate."

"That was why I saw a light over in your room late last night, was it?"

George Cooper demanded. "Burning the midnight oil. Must have been interesting reading, seems to me, Josh."

"I could hardly tear myself away from the book," responded the other boy. "After to-night I'll loan it to the rest of you, though I guess Tom must have got one from Mr. Witherspoon, for I see something bulging in his pocket."

Tom laughed at that.

"Josh," he said, "it's very plain to me that you will make a pretty clever scout, because you've got the habit of observing things down to a fine point. And if you've read as much as you say, of course you know that one of the first things a tenderfoot has to do is to remember to keep his eyes about him, and see things."

"Yes," added Josh, eagerly, "one test is for each boy to stand in front of a store window for just two minutes, making a mental map of the same, and then go off to jot down as many objects as he can remember to have seen there."