CHAPTER XII.

WHAT A SCOUT STANDS FOR.

Things were certainly looking much more rosy now. With an experienced swamp man to guide them, there would no longer be that danger of getting lost that had kept hovering over their heads.

Then there was the white winged dove of peace in the camp in connection with the solving of the dreadful mystery that had been bothering Giraffe and some of the others, all in fact but Bumpus and Step Hen, for so long.

They sat around the fire, which did not feel at all uncomfortable, enjoying the communion with this “unique character,” as Smithy privately termed the alligator skin collector.

“I been hearin’ a heap ’bout this Boy Scout bizness,” the man finally remarked, after he had been observing many of the ways of the boys, that had more or less connection with their patrol teaching; “an’ I jest don’t git on tuh the objeck o’ theh same. Be yuh agwine tuh grow up tuh be sogers, an’ is them uniforms a sign o’ the same?”

“Oh! no, like a good many other people you’ve got the wrong idea of this Boy Scout business, Mr. Smith,” Thad told him. “In America, the movement hasn’t anything whatever to do with the military spirit, except that it tries to make a boy follow out some of the rules that soldiers are bound by. He must try and be brave, obey when ordered by one in authority; be respectful to his superiors, and keep himself clean, both in mind and body.”

“Though they don’t always do that last,” interjected Davy Jones, as he cast a black look toward the lolling Bumpus; who only answered him by a derisive smile, and a good-natured nod.

“Tell me some more, son,” said the guide, showing great interest. “If them ijees kin be kerried out, I sure reckons I knows sum boys what had orter jine the scout movement in a hurry.”

“Oh! I couldn’t begin to tell you a tenth of what scouts are supposed to do and know,” Thad went on. “It’s done the greatest lot of good for most of us right here. Where a boy was weak and timid it makes him healthy and self-reliant. Where he may have been silly he becomes thoughtful, learning to _do_ things instead of having others do them for him. No boy can subscribe to the twelve rules that he does, without it making him better in every way.”

“S’pose yuh tell me what them same rules be, son, ’case I’m thet int’rested I’d like tuh know,” the guide went on to say.

It was a subject which Thad never wearied of talking about, because his whole heart was wrapped up in it.

“Why, here they are then,” he remarked. “When a boy joins a patrol he has to promise to observe what is called scout law. That is, he will do his level best to be trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent.”

“Well, now, thet same sounds good tuh me, son,” the guide went on to declare. “I jest don’t know plumb all yuh mean by sum o’ them words, but I git the ijee all right.”

“And,” continued Thad, “you can see that even in trying to do what he promises, a boy is bound to stop telling lies, taking things that belong to others, talking meanly about his companions and all such things.”

“Especially that last!” broke in Bumpus, giving Davy and Giraffe an eloquent glance as he spoke.

“Say, seems tuh me as how they might be a heap o’ good in this heah scout bizness,” Tom Smith remarked. “But how about fightin’, son; yuh didn’t say anything on thet line.”

“There’s nothing said about it, except that a scout must keep the peace under all circumstances, unless as a last resort,” Thad told him.

“Go on an’ explain her some more, please; I don’t jest ketch on tuh thet,” the guide admitted.

“Why,” said Thad, “there may be occasions when a scout could hardly be expected to keep the peace, because he’s a real flesh and blood boy, you know, and not a saint.”

“Sure thing,” Alligator Smith remarked, with a grin, as he swept his eyes around at the circle of eager boyish faces.

“If he should be set on by a superior force he would not be expected to stand and turn the other cheek, and be mauled,” Giraffe broke in with.

“Thet is, he kin defend hisself, yuh mean?” Tom Smith asked.

“Yes, in an emergency,” Thad told him. “Then again, if he happened to see a big bully picking on a poor little chap, or a girl it might be, why, he’d be doing the right thing if he interfered.”

“Even if he had to fight to get peace,” chuckled Step Hen.

“But seems tuh me if this heah thing goes on it mout make the boys kinder timid. We needs brave men, such as kin go tuh war if need be. I jest don’t know how thet’ll turn out, son.”

“Well, I do,” said the young scout-master, firmly. “I’ve had considerable experience with boys who became scouts. I’ve known lots of them who waked up and became just the opposite to what they used to be. I’ve seen them stop going through the world as though they were wearing horse’s blinders, and then they found a thousand things that had been around them all the while, but they hadn’t known it before. I’ve started them on the way to studying the habits of the birds, fishes, animals and insects to be met with in the woods and waters until they seemed to live in a different world. I’ve watched sleepy, dull boys change into wide-awake, alert scouts, surprising their parents and teachers in school by the new interest they took in life. But Mr. Smith, I give you my word that I never yet knew of a true blue scout who was a coward!”

“Hear! hear!” cried Bob White, clapping his hands with delight.

“In fact,” continued Thad, enthusiastically, “I’ve watched more than a few boys who were known to be next door to cowards, change into resolute fellows, brave and self-reliant. One went into a burning house and saved an old man at the risk of his own life. Another stopped a runaway horse with as much skill as a policeman educated for the business might have shown.

“I knew of another who saved a drowning chum, and I could tell you about a boy who hung on to a thief who was robbing a woman on the street, taking a fearful pounding, yet keeping him from running away until help came, and then fainting. Yet that same boy was afraid of his own shadow up to the time he became a scout.”

“I never heard theh like o’ thet, son,” declared the deeply interested guide.

“’Pears like they hain’t nawthin’ a scout ain’t ekal tuh.”

“Nothing that’s worth while, and that’s the truth,” Thad told him. “They can win merit badges by excelling in certain lines. If you look around right now, you’ll perceive that every boy in this Silver Fox Patrol of Cranford Troop wears at least one medal or badge. And let me tell you, sir, a scout is as proud of his badge as anybody could be.”

“Wall, wall, but sure this heah is int’restin’ tuh me,” the hunter assured his new friends. “And I’m right glad I run across you-all like I done. Never wud a believed they was so much as was good in this heah Boy Scout movement. Allers reckoned as how it mout be summat o’ a lark, er else jest agittin’ recruits fo’ the sojer job. Tell me a heap mo’, son. I kin listen tuh yuh talk fo’ hours.”

And so Thad, assisted from time to time by his chums, managed to explain many interesting details connected with Boy Scout lore.

It was a subject of which he never tired, and in which he believed, heart and soul.

Then in turn Thad asked questions, for he knew this man would be able to tell them many interesting facts connected with swamp life.

In turn they heard just how alligators were hunted, usually at night time, with a blazing pine knot in the bow of the dugout, by means of which “flare” their eyes could be “shined,” so that a single shot would place a victim to the credit of the hide hunter; also how the skins were taken off, roughly cured, and what price they brought in the market.

Then the willing guide told how he trapped all such animals as muskrats, raccoons, otter, foxes and others that possessed fur worth securing. Thad knew something about Northern methods along these lines, but he found quite a difference in the way things were done down in Dixie.

“And now,” the scout-master went on to say, “you’ve told us all about the fur, fin and feather of this big swamp, how about the human beings who live in it? We’ve been told they’re a queer lot.”

“Reckon yuh heared ’bout right, son,” admitted the guide, with a smile, “fust thar be quite a few runaway convicts, coons that dassent show themselves back whar they kim from. How they lives I jest don’t know, but my traps is empty more’n a few times, an’ when I sees tracks o’ bare feet alongside I changes the location o’ thet Victor in a hurry. I meet up with a black now an’ then, but they knows old Alligator Smith ain’t agwine tuh do ’em any hurt so they don’t molest me none.”

“Are there others besides?” asked Allan.

“Well, thar’s a feller as I’ve seen right smart, an folks done say as he’s a bad money maker, what they calls a counterfeiter, though I jest don’t know how true that mout be.”

“Whew!” broke in Step Hen, “I’d think a location in the heart of Alligator Swamp would be a pretty safe place for such a mint to hold out. Not much danger of the detectives and revenue men dropping in on him unexpected like.”

“Any more?” asked Bumpus, so deeply interested by all this narrative that he had been sitting there without moving for half an hour, his big head supported by his cupped hands, and his round eyes glued on Alligator Smith’s face.

“Thar’s another feller as I knows on wot makes moonshine whisky, but only in small lots, ’case he can’t git the cawn he wants fo’ his mash. Nobody ever bothers ole Pap Dody, an’ he’s done made his stuff yeahs and yeahs.”

“Seems like this old swamp might hold a lot of queer people and their secrets?” remarked Giraffe, yawning.

“It certain do, son,” replied the other, as he helped himself for the third time to the strong coffee the boys had made for him. “But then yuh must ’member as how she kivers a heap o’ territory. I never did know jest how many miles acrost from east to west this swamp is—anyway from ten to twenty, and nigh as far from no’th to south. But I forgot tuh tell yuh ’bout the voodoo doctor or medicine man.”

“Oh! is there one of those horrible negro wizards around here?” and Smithy shuddered as he put the question, showing that he must have read more or less on the subject.

“He holds out on the other side, so we ain’t likely tuh run acrost him,” Tom Smith went on. “They be heaps o’ the blacks as goes regular tuh see him, an’ I been told as how they hev a regular heathen fetish worship and dance like over in Afric. But they ain’t never offered up any human sacrifice, as I heard tell on. If they knows what’s good fo ’em they’ll fight shy o’ thet. The planters ’round hyah wouldn’t stand fo’ no sech goings on as thet, nohow.”

As the boys were showing signs of weariness, and the hour had grown late, the scout-master decided they had talked themselves out for one evening.

And so he went around to make sure that everything was secure, the boats protected as on the preceding night, the paddles, as well as all else of value taken into the tents, and every object calculated to tempt a prowling negro looked after.

The guide declared that he had no need of shelter, but would lie on the ground. And woe to the thief, either on two legs or four, who attempted to invade the camp while he was around.

His presence gave the boys much comfort.

They could lie down now and go to sleep without worrying about the possibility of unwelcome visitors. And as for Thad he shook hands with himself in imagination every time he stopped to think what a great thing the coming of Alligator Smith meant, connected with the carrying out of his plans.

All doubt could now be set aside. They were not going to be lost, as had on several occasions threatened to be the case. And when the mysterious man and girl were finally found, perhaps Thad’s fondest hopes would be realized.