Chapter 22

SHOWS YOU WHERE I DO THE TALKING

Westy said we shouldn’t say anything to Mr. Ellsworth, but wait until Skinny had taken the oath and knew all the laws and all about scouting, and then maybe say something to him, how we thought maybe he had made a mistake sometime and would like to fix it right. Westy said we’d call it just getting off the trail. Westy’s a mighty nice fellow, you bet, and he’s a good scout.

But anyway, it knocked all the fun out of that meeting for us, and I don’t know what the other fellows thought.

Skinny was there in his new suit and he showed how proud he was to have it. He was always smiling in that bashful kind of a way, as if he was kind of scared but happy at the same time. Mr. Ellsworth told him to sit with us and he came over and sat in an extra chair right next to me. I guess he kind of liked to be near me—anyway, it seemed like that. I was nice to him all right, but I don’t know, it didn’t seem like it did before. But no fellow could get mad at him—he looked so poor, and his suit didn’t fit him very good and he looked all strange and nervous.

Pretty soon I said to him, kind of half interested, you know, I said, “That’s where you’re going to sit, in that vacant chair where the Elks are. They’re a good patrol, the Elks, and the fellow who used to sit there with them was Tom Slade. You have to try to be a good scout just like he was.”

“I know all the laws, every one,” he said in a whisper.

“Do you know law one?” I asked him.

“Yop, it’s the best of the lot,” he said; “it teaches you about honor. Do you know the two things about scouts I like best?” he asked me.

“No, I don’t,” I said.

“It’s that first law and the belt-axe that they wear.”

“Never you mind about the belt-axe,” I said.

“Yes, but you want me to tell you honest, don’t you?” he blurted out. And he looked straight at me and his eyes were all kind of hollow and excited like. Gee, he was a queer kid. “You can make fun of me all you want,” he said, “I don’t care. Will I be a scout to-night?”

“Not to-night,” I told him, “we’re going to turn you over to the Elks to-night. And then they’ll teach you things and get you ready.”

Pretty soon it came time to present him, but I didn’t feel like making any fun about it. Gee, I don’t know what my patrol thought about me. But anyway, Westy knew. So I just said how we found Alfred McCord and how he wanted to be a scout and we thought it was a good idea to give him to the Elk Patrol, to fill the place of Tom Slade. Cracky, there wasn’t any pep to it at all.

Then afterwards Mr. Ellsworth took up the collection of one dollar and seventy cents from each fellow, to buy the eats and pay the expenses of the cruise. I had to say that I wasn’t ready with it, and I guess he was surprised, because I never miss a chipping in, but anyway, I said I’d have it next day. I should worry about that.

On the way out I met Pee-wee shouting away like a machine gun. “Come on up the street with me,” I said; “I want to tell you something.”

When we were about a block off I said, “You listen here, kiddo. I don’t want you to be shouting about belt-axes and jack-knives and things like that in front of Skinny McCord. I’m telling you that and I want you to remember it. And I’ve got good reasons, too. Scouts aren’t made out of belt-axes and jack-knives and badges. They’re made out of ideas, as you might say. You just remember what I tell you and don’t be springing this stuff about the emblem of the woods and all that. A belt-axe costs two dollars—haven’t you got sense enough to know that. And do you know how much it costs to take the scout oath? Not one blooming cent!”

Jiminy crinkums, he just listened and didn’t say a single word. For two blocks he didn’t say a word.

It was the biggest stunt he ever did.