CHAPTER VIII.

MOCKING THE MAYOR.

This thrilling news awakened Hugh to the fact that after all the bold Corbley crowd meant to defy the mayor. They had “taken the bull by the horns,” and to make the lesson all the more impressive, had selected the front yard of His Honor as the scene of their vandalism.

Now Hugh had dimly suspected that something along these lines might happen, and for that reason had chosen to be close to the scene. He knew the place of the mayor very well, as he had seen it year in and out while passing to school and back.

The owner took considerable pride in the well-kept lawn and the shrubs he had planted, some of them coming from foreign lands. In fact, it was one of the show places in town, and strangers were usually piloted around that way to see how lovely one of the local homes could appear.

Reckless of consequences, indeed, must the young rascals have been, thus to bring matters straight home to the head of the community. Hugh was satisfied that they were really playing into the hands of the good women who had long endeavored to arouse the sluggish mayor, but in vain. If the wanton destruction wrought by these vicious boys was brought home to him, His Honor would have no other course to pursue than to push the war until he had broken up the unruly gang and made people understand that he was going to stand back of the Town Improvement League.

So Hugh was in no particular hurry to get around there and bring the operations of the vandals to a stop. It would be a pity to burst in upon them too soon, when they were doing the finest thing possible to end this reign of lawlessness that had gripped the pretty city in its throes.

Besides, it was necessary that they summon others of the scouts to help them in the round-up. Half a dozen, at least, should be on hand in order to make a sure thing of it.

Hugh had all this sort of thing already figured out in his mind, so that when the emergency came along he did not have to do any thinking. The motto of the scouts, “Be Prepared,” he had taken to heart long ago and never let an opportunity pass for laying his plans in case certain things came to pass.

Just on the other side of the beat that he and Billy the Wolf were covering, he knew could be found Alec and Bud Morgan, two of the most dependable of the troop. Counting the side partner of Arthur, who was no other than Monkey Stallings, there would thus be six of them in all, which Hugh determined ought to be enough to carry out his plans.

Advancing part way toward the next meeting point, Hugh gave the Wolf cry in a subdued fashion. If Bud should hear this he would know that he and his partner were needed in the quarter from whence the cry sprang.

Twice more did Hugh sound the call to action. Then he heard the swiftly moving patter of feet and the two scouts came hurrying into view, looking eager and fit for business.

“What’s up?” asked Alec, as he and Bud Morgan joined the others.

“The gang is at work, doing all the damage they can to the mayor’s front lawn. We want to try and round them up in a hurry,” Hugh explained.

“How many are there of them?” asked Bud, not that he cared what the answer might be for fear of consequences, but only for general information and interest.

“I forgot to ask Arthur about that,” declared Hugh, turning to the scout in question and adding, “How about it?”

“We saw three of them at work,” replied the other, just as Monkey joined him, “and there may have been yet another keeping watch on the street so as to let them know if the cops were coming.”

“Did they see you running away?” asked the scout leader.

“We tried to keep from showing ourselves, but even if they did, chances are they think we were heading for downtown to tell the police,” Arthur replied.

“Well, what we want to do is to get into the Simmons place, next door to the mayor’s, and climb through the hedge. Then we’ll try to lay our plans so as to close in around one particular chap and gobble him,” Hugh explained in a low voice.

“But what if he shows fight? Do we lick him into subjection?” asked Bud, acting as though ready to roll up his sleeves and pitch in.

“Don’t hit him any more than you can help,” warned Hugh. “It might reflect on us as scouts if we gave him a black eye. People would say we were only the same old brand of fighters under a new name. But hold on tight, and if you can only get him down, sit on him. That ought to be enough to tell you what to do.”

“Leave it to us, Hugh,” said Bud Morgan with a chuckle. “We’ll do our level best to convince the chap he ought to stop over awhile with us, and find out if the water is still as warm as it was last month.”

“Then come right along, and keep low down,” directed Hugh, starting toward the gate of the place adjoining that of the mayor.

The other five boys trailed after him like Indians, every fellow bending down and walking as silently as the conditions permitted. Hugh opened the gate and they passed through. Across the lawn they started, heading for the fine big hedge that stood on the line between the properties.

You would have thought that Hugh had been there before, spying out the land, or that some sense of intuition led him to find the one place in all that hedge where it was thin and the barrier weak, for he struck it almost the first thing. Well, possibly he _had_ noticed this fact that afternoon when walking past the home of the mayor. It often pays to take note as you go, and scouts find that out in their everyday experiences.

Reaching the hedge, Hugh looked through one of the small openings where the foliage was unusually thin. He could see the fine lawn of the adjoining place, with its choice shrubs and bordering trees.

Immediately he discovered moving forms. They looked shadowy in the deceptive moonlight, but Hugh felt sure they were just boys, going about trying to do all manner of things that would tell the owner that they snapped their fingers with contempt at the order he had taken the trouble to issue, which was staring down at passing citizens from every fence and blank wall in town.

Yes, there were three of them in sight. Just what they were doing, Hugh could not say; but he plainly heard the sound of cutting, and thought that they might be damaging some of those highly prized foreign shrubs for which the mayor had paid fancy prices.

Like a general surveying the field of battle, Hugh took in the details, and in a few seconds he had planned his campaign. Napoleon could not have done it better, so the other scouts thought, after they had heard what he whispered to them.

At a certain moment, when the backs of the intruders happened to be turned, they were one and all to crawl through the hedge. Every scout was expected to keep his eyes fixed upon the moving figures beyond, and should one of them seem to act as though suspicious of the presence of the newcomers, Hugh would give the shrill call of the katydid. Upon hearing this each was to remain perfectly motionless until the tiny cry of the cricket announced that it was safe to be advancing again.

Twice did this occur while they were making the passage of the hedge; but owing to the extreme care taken by the scouts, those they were trying to surprise did not appear to have taken alarm, as would certainly have been the case had they suspected that enemies were near.

From that time on, Hugh figured upon creeping along in the dense shadow of the hedge until he could lead his followers to a certain spot where he had hastily calculated that one of the three vandals was heading.

It was evident that the scouts had profited by what experience they had had in creeping up on an imaginary enemy, for they conducted the operation splendidly. The fellow who was slashing away at the foliage of the bushes, chuckling while he worked as though vastly enjoying himself, had not the slightest suspicion of hovering danger until Hugh gave the Wolf call and six figures quickly surrounded him.

There were cries of alarm from the other two roughs, who melted into the shrubbery, doubtless under the impression that the whole scout troop was on the field, ready to encompass their capture. So the unlucky one was left to the tender mercies of the half-dozen scouts.

He saw that his case was desperate and immediately tried to dash through the encircling line. This action had been anticipated, however, and instantly two of the most active scouts pounced upon him, Monkey Stallings actually fastening upon his back as though he were the Old Man of the Sea whom Sindbad could not get rid of when once he had him on his shoulders.

For a brief time there was something of a mix-up, and even the quick percussion of blows could be heard. No one ever admitted who was responsible for them, although Bud Morgan carried not only a blackened eye for a week, but skinned knuckles into the bargain.

It soon ended in the trespasser being made a prisoner, and his hands tied behind his back with a thong that had been carried along for this very purpose. When they came to look at him, now that his cap was knocked off, it was found that their captive was a fellow by the name of Betts Smith, known among the boys of the town as “Whistling Smith.” The reason for giving him that name was rather a queer one. It seems that he stuttered dreadfully at times, and in order to be able to stop when once started, he was in the habit of taking in a quick breath and then uttering a sharp whistle or two, after which, singular to say, he could go on speaking as rationally as any one.

The scouts took him out on the street and then offered him a choice between being ducked or handed over to the police to be locked up. Perhaps he hardly believed that they meant to carry out either threat, or his infirmity may have taken such a grip on him that he could not utter a word in reply. Whatever the cause, he was silent.

Accordingly, the boys took it upon themselves to pronounce sentence. Then while Hugh went to leave word for the rest of the troop to close up and protect the mayor’s place against a return of the raiders, his followers decided not to wait for him but to hustle the prisoner at once toward the river bank.

Hugh was surprised to find them gone on his return. He had expected that nothing would be done toward punishing the captured boy until they had all gathered for the purpose. Of course he could give a good guess as to which direction the others had taken, and with more or less apprehension he hurried after them.

As he drew near the river, he could hear the boys talking. They seemed to be trying to impress the wretched victim with a sense of the punishment that was about to be dealt out to him. Whistling Smith tried in vain to say something. He grew thicker and thicker in his utterance, owing to excitement and alarm; but it could be fairly well understood that he was pleading with them not to throw him into the river, which was deep at that point, with a rapid current.

“He says he doesn’t know how to swim, fellows,” Bud Morgan was heard to call out; “but that’s all a cooked-up story. Of course, every boy knows how to swim. Overboard with him, clothes and all. He’s got to learn that this town’s going to be a clean town after this. We’ll begin by giving him a bath. Souse him in!”

There followed a tremendous splash, and Hugh sprinted for all he was worth lest he arrive too late. Even as he came up, he heard Arthur Cameron cry out:

“Look at him go under, will you? Say, perhaps he spoke the truth when he said he couldn’t swim a stroke! Do you think he can be drowning out there? Bud, why don’t you jump in and grab hold of him? There, he’s gone down again!”

Some one sprang past, shedding shoes and coat as he ran. Then there was another splash, as Hugh Hardin leaped headlong into the moonlit river and struck wildly out for the struggling figure of the late prisoner, already fighting for his life.