CHAPTER VI
GETTING ACQUAINTED
Most of the boys around the camp fire sat as if petrified for a fewmoments. Some of them clutched at their scalp locks, as if to make sureof their continued existence.
The first scout to show real signs of recovery was a thin, lanky,freckled-faced hero of unheroic appearance, who spoke in a jerky fashionpeculiarly his own.
"Help!" he cried. "Help! Mother! Why'd my pa let me come to this wildplace? Injuns! Robbers! Help!"
"Oh, shut up, Chick-chick," cried a small boy. "You'll have 'em comingback."
A contemptuous laugh came from a big, handsome boy who sat in the middleof the circle--big and handsome, yet with a supercilious look.
"Never mind, kid," he assured the little fellow. "You are safe enoughhere. Chick-chick can't help having hysterics, but you're safe while I'mhere."
"Sure, you're safe," echoed Chick-chick. "Ev'body's safe. Matty willprotect you. Matty protects whole camp. Go after heap big Injun, Matty.Jes' disappeared northwest by south."
"That's enough from you, Chick-chick," retorted the handsome scout, MattBurton, who did not bear chaffing cheerfully. "I could go after thatIndian if I cared to. And get him, too."
"Why should anyone want to go after him," interrupted Apple Newton."He's done nothing but suddenly appear and give some information thatmay be valuable."
"He just came up from nowhere," said a scout. "I don't believe he's areal Indian at all--just a spirit."
"He was right close to me," declared Chick-chick. "I smelled thespirits."
"Maybe he is a phantom Indian. I've heard of such things," said AppleNewton, ignoring Chick-chick's absurd remark. "I think it would be fineto have a phantom come purposely to get us started on the right trackfor the treasure hunt. 'Hunt heap stone' was what he said. We shall haveto look for peculiar formations of stone."
"Maybe we'll find one that has a letter under it telling where to dig,"eagerly suggested one of the younger ones.
"Likely thing," said another. "How long would a letter stand theweather? There'll be marks cut in the stone if there's anything."
"Much you fellows know about Indian ways," boasted Matt Burton. "Whatdid those Indians know about our language. Indians talk by signs andnumbers. It will take a smart fellow to tell what it means when you findyour heap stone."
"Don't worry, fellows. When you find it hike back an' ask Matty. He'lltell you."
Matty was saved from delivering his angry response, for just then "taps"sounded. The scout master demanded prompt attention to all camp signals.It was understood that after taps there was to be no noise, nounnecessary conversation. All was to be quiet and orderly.
Mr. Newton would not hear of Glen pushing Jolly Bill back to the farmhouse.
"We have an empty tent with two cots and bedding too--left here bymembers who were called home. You turn right in with us. We are glad tohave you--both of you. I think we'll make Glen a scout."
This invitation suited both of them splendidly. Spencer was pleased,and, as for Glen, he had never experienced anything so gratifying inhis life. He was so excited that he could not sleep for some time, butlay on his comfortable cot thinking of the many happenings of the lastfew eventful days, and especially of the exciting story of the campfire, and the dramatic appearance of the Indian. He was glad that he washere to help his good friend, Jolly Bill, but he felt that it would bemuch more glorious to help him by finding bars of bright, glisteningbullion, than by looking for a lost lake.
Glen was still dreaming of Indians when the bugle call aroused him, andhe awakened to the glorious activities of a summer morning in a scoutcamp. Two scouts were in the tent almost before he had hopped out of hisblankets and into his clothes.
"We came to help our friend, Mr. Spencer," explained Apple Newton.
"Want to wind up his machine an' put on some funny story records," addedChick-chick.
"I can't tell funny stories before breakfast," objected Jolly Bill. "I'mhungry enough to eat Indian."
"We have eggs for breakfast--fresh laid. We got 'em from the farmeryesterday."
"You're sure they're fresh?" asked Spencer. "I'm very particular aboutmy eggs since I camped out a few years ago. One of our fellows wasn'tmuch good about cooking, but he said he'd get the eggs. He came backpretty soon with a whole dozen. 'You're sure these are fresh?' I askedhim. 'Dead positive' said he. So I started to break one into my pan, andabout all there was that was still egg was the shell. 'What made you sopositive these eggs were fresh?' I asked that chap after I let him cometo a little. 'I could have sworn to it,' he said. 'I lifted the henright off the nest myself and the eggs were warm yet.'"
"Our eggs aren't laid by the dozen," said Apple, "and we know they'refresh because the farmer said so. Come on now, if you're ready. Thescout master says we're to push your automobile right up to the end ofthe table, next to him."
It was a jolly crowd at the table, and no less jolly was the squadacting that morning as waiters. The scout master believed it gooddiscipline to teach every scout how to do the humblest duty as well ashow to do the greatest, so each scout took his turn at waiting on table.Patrol leader Matt Burton was in charge of the waiter squad thismorning. He was the one exception who showed that it did not agree wellwith every scout to do these menial tasks. He considered them beneathhis dignity and never would have condescended to them had there been away of escape. Since there was not, he had made the best of a bad job,and as he was very bright and a natural leader he had managed to reachthe rank of Patrol Leader in spite of his disinclination to certainmatters of work.
"Bob said he had a special order for Mr. Spencer, Matt," said Apple,stepping to his side after he had wheeled the cart up to the table."Tell him Mr. Spencer wants his eggs sure fresh and likes 'em soft."
"You can just carry Mr. Spencer's order to Black Bob yourself," saidMatt disgustedly. "I'm no waiter."
"You won't be if the scout master hears you," said Apple, his goodnature exhausted. "You'll be a traveler."
"He surely will," observed Chick-chick. "I'll take care of Mr. Spencer,Apple. Leave him to me."
"It's more in your line," insinuated Matt. "I guess it's about the samething as waiting on your father's customers at his garage."
"An' it's proud I am to do it," retorted Chick-chick. "I do it wheneverthey want anything I can handle, from gasoline to a new machine. Lem'mesell you a new car, Matty. Lem'me sell you one that'll make your blueblood bubble all over itself. Tell ye 'bout it jest as soon as I getthose eggs."
"We've just bought a new car," said Matt. "And I'd walk before I'd letmy folks buy one of you, anyway."
"I don't believe that fellow likes you," observed Glen, as he went up tothe cook shack with Chick-chick.
"He surely don't disgrace himself by too much show of affection," agreedChick-chick. "You musn't think it's because it's me, though. There'son'y one person Matty really loves. He's real smart, Matty is. Younoticed he spoke so the men couldn't hear him."
Black Bob had Mr. Spencer's eggs all ready.
"These is for the ge'mman as told the stories last night," he announced."He sure is quality, if they ain't much to him."
"Give 'em to me, Bob," said Chick-chick. "I'm going to wait on Mr.Spencer."
"You go away, you Henry Chicken," objected Black Bob. "I know all 'boutyore tricks. Bear Patrol is waitin' table dis yere mohnin' an' youain't no Bear Patrol."
"Well, here's Goosey," exclaimed Chick-chick, grabbing the shoulder of asmall scout who had just appeared. "Goosey is in Bear Patrol, and he's afriend of mine, ain't you, Goosey?"
"I surely am," declared the small scout. "Anything I can do forChick-chick I do."
"Hustle these eggs down to Mr. Spencer, Goosey, an' make it yourbusiness to wait on him. Bob won't give me a thing."
"Not when you ain't on duty. Oh, I know you, Mr. Henry-chick," Bobaffirmed.
"Bob doesn't seem to trust you," said Glen. "Aren't you friendly?"
"Just best friends ever. Bob hasn't better f
riend 'n me in camp. I likeBob 'n I love his cakes an' pies. 'Tain't my fault if he doesn't alwaysseem to reciprocate, is it, Bob?"
"What dat 'bout recipe fo cake? Nev' you min', Mister Henry-chick. Iknows you, I do."
Bob shook a fist as he spoke, but the chuckle in his voice and the laughin his eye were more apparent than the threat in his fist.
"Well, let's go back an' get ours while they're hot," said Chick-chick."Goosey'll wait on Mr. Spencer. Good boy, Goosey. Goin' do somethinggood for Goosey some day."
He led Glen back to the long table of smooth boards laid on trestleswhich stood on the grassy level. The scouts were helping themselves fromgreat bowls filled with eggs cooked in the shell, or from large platterson which eggs fried or poached were served, according to theirpreference. Bob was a good cook and gave them their choice. Glen, withan appetite that cared little for the fine points of preference, choseimpartially from every dish that reached him. An occasional glanceshowed that the small scout known as Goosey was giving good attention toJolly Bill, and not only he but Apple Newton and other scouts wereendeavoring eagerly to anticipate his wants.
Glen was mentally putting the fellows in their proper places on theshelves of his esteem. Apple Newton and the boy called Chick-chick hewarmed to most particularly, and they were given prominent places. Heliked young Goosey, as well as several other of the younger boys whosenames he had not learned. There was a big fellow called Tom Scoresbythat he believed that he would get along with pretty well. Just onescout he found no room for anywhere. That was Matt Burton. He hatedhim, he was quite sure. His unruly young heart only had one desire forMatt. He wanted just one good chance to measure strength with him andplant his hard, clenched fist right where that smile of insolence curledthe handsome lips.
Quite engrossed in his thoughts Glen did not notice that the boys aroundhim had risen from the long bench on which they sat. Suddenly he heardMatt Burton's voice behind him.
"Get up," he said. "Can't you see that we want these places for thewaiters."
Glen slowly and deliberately turned around in his seat and looked at hisquestioner.
"Who are you?" he asked, and his voice was so aggressive that everyscout in hearing distance turned to see what was up.
"You'll find out who I am," replied Matt angrily. "Get up when I tellyou."
"I don't have to get up when you tell me, nor lie down when you tell me,nor do anything when you tell me. Did you get that? What now?"
Matt was getting very angry but he did not entirely forget his position.
"If I call my patrol you'll get up mighty quick," he said. "I'd like toknow who let you come here, anyway."
"Never mind about your patrol and don't fuss about who let me come here.You come and make me get up, all by yourself."
Matt looked at the brown skin and the strong tough features of theobstinate boy a long minute, as if making up his mind.
"Oh, well," he said, "I suppose if you're a guest you must do as youplease."
"Since you're so nice about it," said Glen, "the seat's yours. Do whatyou want with it."
Glen knew in his heart that there would be a clash with Matt Burton ifhe stayed long in that camp. He felt also that he had not come out ofthis first brush with entire distinction. Matt had been in the wrong andhad shown that he was angry, yet he had a certain discipline which hadenabled him to control his temper, and the issue had ended in defeat forthe undisciplined waif who might well have been victorious had they cometo blows.
The Boy Scout Treasure Hunters; Or, The Lost Treasure of Buffalo Hollow Page 6
