Tom Slade at Black Lake

by Percy Keese Fitzhugh

  "Did that job all by yourself, didn't you?" he asked as they rowedacross. He looked a Tom curiously.

  "A friend of mine helped me," Tom said; "he's gone home."

  "Why didn't you hit into the main road and go down through Catskill?You're likely to miss the train this way."

  "I'm going to hike home," Tom said.

  "Far?"

  "In Jersey, about twenty miles from the city."

  "Some jaunt, eh?" Archer inquired pleasantly.

  "I don't mind it," Tom said.

  "What are you goin' home for?"

  "Because I want to; because I'm finished," Tom said.

  This ended the talk but it did not end Archer's rather curious study ofTom. He said little more, but as he rowed, he watched Tom with anintense and scrutinizing interest. And even after Tom had said good-byeto him and started up the trail through the woods, he rowed around, inthe vicinity of the shore, keeping the boat in such position that hecould follow Tom with his eyes as the latter followed the trail in andout among the trees.

  "Humph," he said to himself; "funny."

  What he thought funny was this: being an observant scout he had noticedthat Tom carried more rations than a scout would be likely to take on along hike, through a country where food could easily be bought in ahundred towns and villages, and also that one who limped as Tom didshould choose to go on a hike of more than a hundred miles.

  A scout, as everybody knows, is observant. And this particular scout wasgood at arithmetic. At least he was able to put two and twotogether....

  CHAPTER XXX

  THE TROOP ARRIVES

  The ten forty-seven train out of New York went thundering up the shoreof the lordly Hudson packed and jammed with its surging throng ofvacationists who had turned themselves into sardines in order to enjoy abreath of fresh air. The crowd was uncommonly large because Saturday andthe first of August came on the same day. They crowded three in a seatand ate sandwiches and drank cold coffee out of milk bottles and let thechildren fly paper-bag kites out of the windows, and crowded six deep atthe water cooler at the end of the car.

  In all that motley throng there was just one individual who had masteredthe art of carrying a brimful paper drinking-cup through the aislewithout spilling so much as a drop of water, and his cheerfulministrations were in great demand by thirsty passengers. Thisindividual was scout Harris, alias Peewee, alias Kid, alias Shorty,alias Speck, and he was so small that he might have saved his carfare bygoing parcel post if he had cared to do so. If he had, he should havebeen registered, for there was only one Peewee Harris in all the wideworld.

  "Are we going to carry the tent or send it up by the camp wagon?" RoyBlakeley asked, as he and the others crowded each other off the train atCatskill Landing. "Answer in the positive or negative."

  "You mean the infirmative," Peewee shouted; "that shows how much youknow about rhetoric."

  "You mean logic," Roy said.

  "I know I'm hungry anyway," Peewee shouted as he threw a suitcase fromhis vantage point on the platform, with such precision of aim that itlanded plunk on Connie Bennett's head, to the infinite amusement of thepassengers.

  "Did it hurt you?" Peewee called.

  "He isn't injured--just slightly killed," Roy shouted; "hurry up, let'sgo up in the wagon and get there in time for a light lunch."

  "You mean a heavy one," Peewee yelled; "here, catch this suitcase."

  The suitcase landed on somebody's head, was promptly hurled at somebodyelse, and the usual pandemonium caused by Temple Camp arrivals prevaileduntil the entire crowd of scouts found themselves packed in the big campstage, and waving their hands and shouting uproariously at thepassengers in the departing train.

  "First season at camp?" Roy asked a scout who almost sat on his lap andwas jogged out of place at every turn in the road.

  "Yop," was the answer, "we've never been east before; we came from Ohio.We haven't been around anywhere."

  "I've been around a lot," the irrepressible Peewee piped up from hiswobbly seat on an up-ended suitcase.

  "Sure, he was conductor on a merry-go-round," Roy said. "What part ofOhio do you fellows come from?"

  "The Ohio River used to be in our geography," Peewee said.

  "It's there yet," Roy said; "we should worry, let it stay there."

  "Do you know where Columbus is?" Peewee shouted.

  "He's dead," Roy said; "do you fellows come from anywhere near Dayton?"

  "We come from Dansburg," said their scoutmaster, a bright-looking youngfellow with red hair, who had been listening amusedly to this banteringtalk.

  A dead silence suddenly prevailed.

  "Oh, I know who you fellows are," Roy finally said. "You're going tobunk in the three cabins on the hill, aren't you? Is your name Mr.Barnard?"

  "Yes sir," the young man answered pleasantly, "and we're the firstDansburg, Ohio, troop."

  "Do you like mince-pie?" Peewee shouted.

  "We eat it alive," said scoutmaster Barnard.

  "Can you eat seven pieces?" Peewee demanded.

  "If we can get them," young Mr. Barnard replied.

  "G--o--o--d night!" Peewee commented.

  "Our young hero has a fine voice for eating," Roy observed. "Sometimeshe eats his own words, he's so hungry."

  "I don't think you can beat the Dansburg, Ohio, scouts eating," Mr.Barnard observed.

  "Is Dansburg on the map?" Peewee wanted to know.

  "Well, it thinks it is," Mr. Barnard smiled.

  "I know all about geography," Peewee piped up, "and natural history,too. I got E plus in geometry."

  "Can you name five animals that come from the North Pole?" Peeweedemanded, regaining his seat after an inglorious tumble.

  "Four polar bears and a seal," Roy answered; "no sooner said thanstung. Our young hero is the camp cut-up. You fellows ought to be gladhe won't be up on the hill with you. He's worse than the mosquitoes."

  "We used to bunk in those cabins on the hill," Peewee said; "there aresnakes and things up there. Are you scared of girls?"

  "Not so you'd notice it," one of the Dansburg scouts said.

  "Gee, I'm not scared of girls, that's one thing," Peewee informed them."I'm not scared of any kind of wild animals."

  "And would you call a girl a wild animal?" young Mr. Barnard inquired,highly amused.

  "They scream when they get in a boat," Peewee said; "most always theysmile at me."

  "Oh, that's nothing, the first time I ever saw you I laughed out loud,"Roy said.

  And at that everybody laughed out loud, and somebody gave Peewee anapple which kept him quiet for a while.

  "I'm very sorry we can't all be up on that hill together," Mr. Barnardsaid, "I gather that it's a rather isolated spot."

  "What's an isolated spot?" 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 scoutswanted to know.

  "That's all," Westy Martin, of Roy's troop answered. "We spent, let'ssee, three summers up there. We had the hill all to ourselves. We evendid our own cooking."

  "And eating," Peewee shouted.

  "Oh sure, we never let anyone do that for us," one of the Bridgeboroscouts laughed.

  "If you want a thing well done, do it yourself--especially eating," Roysaid. "A scout is thorough."

  "Do you know Chocolate Drop? He's cook," Peewee piped up. "He makesdoughnuts as big as automobile tires."

  "Not Cadillac tires," Roy said, "but Ford tires. Peewee knows how topuncture them, all right."

  "He'll have a blow-out some day," Connie Bennett observed.

  "So you boys used to be up on the hill, eh?" Mr. Barnard inquired,turning the conversation to a more serious vein. "And how is it you'renot to bunk up there _this_ year, since you like it so much?"

  As if by common consent Roy's troop left it for him to answer, and evenPeewee was quiet.

  "Oh, I don't know," Roy said; "first come, first served; that's th
erule. You fellows got in your application, that's all there was to it. Iguess you know Tom Slade, who works in the camp's city office, don'tyou, Mr. Barnard?"

  "Indeed I do," young Mr. Barnard said. "We met in a shell hole inFrance. We knew each other but have never seen each other. It's ratherodd when you come to think of it."

  "I suppose that's how he happened to assign you the cabins," ConnieBennett observed; "old time's sake, hey?"

  "Oh, dear no," young Mr. Barnard laughed. "I should say that you boyscome first if it's a question of old time's sake. No indeed, we shouldfeel like intruders, usurpers, if there were any question of friendlypreference. No, it was really quite odd when you come to think of it. Inever dreamed who Tom Slade was when our accommodations were assignedus; indeed, his name did not appear in the correspondence. It was just acase of first come, first served, as you say. Later, we received somecircular matter of the camp and there was a little note with it, as Iremember, signed by Slade. Oh, no, the thing was all cut and driedbefore I knew who Slade was. Then we started a very pleasantcorrespondence. I expect to see him up here. He was one of the bravestyoung fellows on the west front; a sort of silent, taciturn, youngfellow. Oh, no," young Mr. Barnard laughed in that pleasant way he had,"you boys can't accuse us of usurping your familiar home. You must comeup and see us there, and I hope we shall all be good friends."

  Roy Blakeley heard these words as in a dream, and even Peewee was silent.The others of Roy's troop looked at each other but said not a word. _Noindeed, we should feel like usurpers if there were any question offriendly preference_. These words rang in Roy's ears, and as he saidthem over to himself there appeared in his mind's eye the picture of TomSlade, stolid, unimpassioned, patient, unresentful--standing there nearthe doorway of the bank building and listening to the tirade of abusewhich he, Roy, hurled at him. "_If you want to think I'm a liar you canthink so. You can tell them that if you want to. I don't care what youtell them_." These words, too, rang in Roy's ears, and burned into hisheart and conscience, and he knew that Tom Slade had not deigned toanswer these charges and recriminations; _would_ not answer them, anymore than the rock of Gibraltar would deign to answer the petulantthreats and menaces of the sea. Oh, if he could only unsay those wordswhich he had hurled at Tom, his friend and companion! What mattered itwho bunked in the cabins, so long as he knew what he knew now? Howsmall and trifling seemed Tom's act of carelessness or forgetfulness, ashe loomed up now in the strong, dogged pride which would not explain toone who had no right to doubt or disbelieve. How utterly contemptibleRoy Blakeley seemed to himself now!

  He tried to speak in his customary light and bantering manner, but hewas too sick at heart to carry it off.

  "He's--he's sort of like a rock," he said, by way of answering Barnard'scomments on Tom. "He doesn't say much. You don't--you can't understandhim very easy. Even--even _I_ didn't----. I don't know where he is now.We haven't seen him for a long time. But one thing you can bet, you'rewelcome to the cabins on the hill. He said we wouldn't lose anything.Anyway, we won't lose much. We've got a tent we're going to put up downon the tenting space. You bet we'll come up and see you often, and youbet we'll be good friends. Our both knowing Tom, as you might say, oughtto make us good friends."

  CHAPTER XXXI

  ARCHER

  When these two troops reached camp they found the tall scout Archerwaiting for them. How much he knew or suspected it would be difficult tosurmise.

  "Uncle Jeb told me I might show you up to the hill," he said. "Some ofyou fellows came from Ohio, I understand. You're all to bunk up on thehill."

  "I guess that's a mistake," Roy said.

  "No, I think Uncle Jeb has things down about pat," Archer said in hiseasy off-hand manner. "The old man's pretty busy himself and so he toldme to be your guide, philosopher and friend, as old somebody-or-othersaid."

  The two troops followed as he led the way, the Bridgeboro boys glancingfondly at the familiar sights all about them.

  "There's where we'll put up our tent," one of them said, pointing at thearea which was already crowded with the canvas domiciles. The place didnot look so attractive as Roy and his companions had tried to picture itin their mind's eyes. They had never envied the scouts who had beencompelled to make their camp homes there. It seemed so much like amilitary encampment, so close and stuffy and temporary, and unlike thefree and remote abode that they were used to. They all of them tried notto think of it in this way, and Roy was in no mood to cherish anyresentment against Tom now.

  "It's near the cooking shack anyway, that's one good thing," Peeweeobserved.

  "Listen to the human famine," Connie Bennett said. "Peewee ought to beashamed to look Hoover in the face."

  Roy said nothing. There was one he would be ashamed to look in the faceanyway.

  When they reached the hill, he was the first to pause in amazement.

  "What do you call this?" Connie asked in utter astonishment.

  There stood the six cabins, the new ones bright and fresh in theafternoon sun.

  "I--I don't understand it," Roy said, almost speechless with surprise.

  Archer sat down upon a rock and beckoned Roy to him. "There isn't muchto tell you," he said. "A fellow from your town has been up herebuilding these three cabins, that's all. We fellows down at camp calledhim Daniel Boone, but I believe his name is Slade. He's been a kind of amystery up here for some time. The cabins are for you and your troop,there's no mistake about that; Uncle Jeb knows all about it. You can seehim later if you want to; there's no use bothering him now. I just wantto say a word to you there isn't much time to spare. Uncle Jeb tried tomake that fellow stay, but he wouldn't. I don't know anything about hisbusiness, or yours. I'm just going to tell you one thing. That fellowstarted away a little while ago, lame and without any money to hikehome to the town where he lives. It's none of _my_ business; I'm justtelling you what I know. I've banged around this country a little sinceI came up--I'm a kind of a tramp--I have an idea he's hit into the roadfor Kingston. There's a short cut through the woods which comes out onthat road about six or seven miles down. You could save--let's see--oh,about three miles and--oh, yes, Uncle Jeb told me to say you can havelunch any time you want it. I suppose you're all hungry."

  Not another word did Archer say--just left abruptly and, amid theenthusiastic inspection and glowing comments of his companions of bothtroops, Roy saw, through glistening eyes, this new acquaintancestrolling down the hill, hitting the wildflowers to the right, and leftwith a stick which he carried.

  There was no telling how much he knew or what he suspected. He was aqueer, mysterious sort of fellow....

  ROY BLAKELEY HELD OUT HIS ARMS SO THAT TOM COULD NOT PASS.Tom Slade at Black Lake--Page 199]

  CHAPTER XXXII

  TOM LOSES

  "_Me for lunch! Me for lunch!_" Roy heard Peewee scream at the top ofhis voice. And for just a moment he stood there in a kind of daze,watching his companions and new friends tumbling pell mell over eachother down the hill. He was glad to be alone.

  Yet even still he paused and gazed at the task, which Tom Slade, traitorand liar, had completed. There it was, a herculanean task, the work ofmonths, as it seemed to Roy. He could hardly control his feelings as hegazed upon it.

  But he did not pause to torture himself with remorse. Down through thewoods he went, and into the trail which Archer had indicated. Scoutthough he was, he was never less hungry in his life. Over fields hewent, and through the brook, and up Hawk's Nest mountain, and into thedenser woods beyond. Suppose Archer should be mistaken. Suppose this dimtrail should take him nowhere. Panting, he ran on, trying to conquerthis haunting fear. Beyond Leeds Crossing the trail was hardlydistinguishable and he must pause and lose time to pick it up here andthere. Through woods, and around hills, and into dense, almostimpenetrable thickets he labored on, his side aching, and his heartthumping 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 det
erminewhether Tom had passed. Then he sat down by the roadside and waited,panting like a dog. And so the minutes passed, and became an hourand----

  Then he heard someone coming around the bend.

  Roy gulped in suspense as he waited. One second, two seconds, three,four--Would the pedestrian never appear?

  And then they met, and Roy Blakeley stood out in the middle of the roadand held his arms out so the wayfarer could not pass. And yet he couldnot speak.

  "Tom," he finally managed to say, "I--I came alone because--because Iwanted to come alone. I wanted to meet you all alone. I--I know allabout it, Tom--I do. None of the fellows will bunk in these cabins tillyou--till you--come back--they won't. Not even Barnard's troop. I'msorry, Tom; I see how I was all wrong. You--you can't get away with it,you can't Tom--because I won't let you--see? You have to comeback--we--we can't stay there without you----"

  "I told you you wouldn't lose anything," Tom said dully.

  "Yes, and it's a--it's a _lie_," Roy almost sobbed. "We're losing _you_,aren't we? We're losing everything--and it's all _my_ fault. You--yousaid we wouldn't lose anything, but we _are_. Can't you see we are?You've got to come back, Tom--or I'm going home with you--you old--youold brick! Barnard wants you, we _all_ want you. We haven't got anyscoutmaster if you don't come back--we haven't."

  Tom Slade who had chopped down trees and dragged them up the hill, foundit hard to answer.

  "I'll go back," he finally said, "as long as you ask me."

  * * * * *