Chapter 29

"EVERY SCOUT TO FEED A SOLDIER"

The returning scouts found Hillsgrove buzzing with preparation. In fact, so changed was the atmosphere of the town that it was hard to believe they had been away for little more than a week. Several of the young men had already enlisted in army or navy. The post-office, courthouse, and many of the stores displayed inspiring posters urging others to do the same. A home guard was being organized for the purpose of dealing effectually with any sort of disturbance from resident foreigners, while a number of men, both young and middle-aged, talked of forming a regular military troop to be drilled twice weekly on the green by army officers or men who had been at Plattsburg.

It was all stirring and inspiring, and there is no telling to what extent the members of Troop Five might have become involved had not Mr. Curtis given them a serious talk at the first meeting after their return from camp. Captain Chalmers had departed with his regiment to take up guard duty along the line in one of the important railroads of the State, leaving Mr. Curtis in general charge of the scout situation at Hillsgrove; so that this talk was later repeated in substance at meetings of the other troops.

"I know you're all very keen to get into things and do your bit," he said, when the boys gathered around him in the parish-house. "The only question, of course, is how you can be most useful without frittering away your time. I've taken the matter up with headquarters, and talked it over with the mayor and several other men, and have come to this conclusion: first of all, we'll go ahead with our preparations for the rally, but instead of having it a free exhibition, as we planned, we'll charge admission and turn over the proceeds to the Red Cross. Next, I'm going to organize a signaling corps and a first-aid division formed of the real experts in each troop. There may be no immediate use for either of these, but you'll be ready when the time comes. Then there is the detail of helping to keep public order, in which the Boy Scouts have always been especially useful. There is no telling when or where you may be called upon, but your training and discipline helps you to quick thinking and action."

He paused an instant, and then his voice took on a deeper, more earnest note. "But more important than anything else just now is the need for each one of you to do everything in his power to help conserve and increase the food supply. All over the world this supply is low. The whole of Europe looks to us for a goodly proportion of its daily bread, and we've got to meet that expectation. We've got to make this a year of bumper crops, even at a time when labor will naturally be scarcer than ever. And to help out in this crisis the men at the head of the Boy Scout movement have adopted a motto--a slogan--which should be first and foremost in every scout's mind until the war is over. 'Every Scout to Feed a Soldier!' Isn't that fine? A scout with a hoe may equal a man with a gun. The President himself has stated more than once that a man may serve his country as effectually in the corn-field as at the front. And how much more is this the duty of a boy whose age makes it impossible for him to reach the firing-line. I've known you fellows too long and too intimately to have any doubts as to your responses to this appeal. Those of you who have home gardens that will take all your time must look after them, releasing, if possible, some man for other work. The others, I hope, will volunteer their services to any one needing them, and I expect very soon to have an organized clearing-house for farmers in the neighborhood needing help and boys willing to furnish it. I may say that any one going into this will be allowed to absent himself from the afternoon school session and all day on Wednesdays. Later, the schools may be closed entirely for workers. Now, I know this doesn't sound nearly so stirring and patriotic as joining a military company and drilling and all that; but this isn't a moment in which to pick and choose. The duty of each one of us is to give himself where he is most needed. And, believe me, fellows, by helping to plant and harvest you will be performing the highest sort of service to your country and humanity. I want you to think this over to-night, and from to-morrow on I'll be ready to take the names of volunteers."

It was a rather silent crowd that filed out of the meeting-room a little later. To the great majority Mr. Curtis's proposition certainly didn't sound in the least interesting or alluring. On the contrary it had a decidedly depressing effect, and several openly declared that they'd be hanged if they'd spend the entire summer in that kind of drudgery. But second thought, aided, perhaps, by a little solid advice at home, wrought a change. The next afternoon the fellows held a private meeting of their own at which the few persistent objectors were crushed by bodily force, when necessary, and which ended in the whole troop volunteering as a body.

It wasn't at all an easy thing for some of them to do. In boys like Ranny Phelps, who loathed "grubbing with a hoe" and had never had the slightest experience in farming, it was something almost akin to heroism. But not one of them shirked or backed down. Within a week they were all placed, and, from that time on, blistered hands, weary backs, and aching muscles were the order of the day. As Ranny once expressed it,--airily, but with an underlying touch of seriousness,--the only bright spots in the week were Sunday, when they could sleep late, and the two afternoons they were let off at four o'clock to practise for the rally.

They made the most of those brief hours. In good weather the drill took place in a pasture belonging to old Mr. Grimstone, after which they enjoyed a refreshing plunge in the lake, and generally ended up with supper in the cabin. When he had time, which wasn't often, Mr. Curtis joined them. Usually Ranny Phelps was in charge, and whenever they could they carried off Mr. Grimstone for supper.

It was on one of these latter occasions, as they sat out on the bank of the lake after supper, that Frank Sanson suddenly voiced a feeling which was present, more or less often, in the breast of every scout in the troop.

"Mr. Grimstone," he said abruptly, "I don't suppose you realize what a dandy thing you did when you gave us this place. I don't know what we'd do without it now; do you, fellows?"

There was an emphatic chorus of agreement which brought a touch of color into the old man's leathery, tanned face and made him shuffle his feet uneasily. Then suddenly he raised his eyes and there was a twinkle in them.

"It ain't me you ought to thank," he said abruptly. "It's that Dale boy there; he's to blame."

"Dale Tompkins!" exclaimed several surprised voices at once. "Why, what's he got to do with it?"

"Most everything," returned Grimstone, briefly. "It was him that brought out my dinner last Thanksgivin', an cooked it, an' et it with me. That's what give me a new idea of you boys, an' nothin' else."

An astonished silence followed, broken presently by a low whistle from Mr. Curtis. "Well, what do you know about that," he murmured. "A good turn come home to roost!"

But no one heard him, for the whole crowd, as one boy, had pounced on Tompkins and was pummeling him and rolling him about over the ground to the accompaniment of shouts and laughter and jocular, approving comment.

Glancing sidewise at Caleb Grimstone, the scoutmaster's eyes widened with surprise and sudden comprehension. The old man's gaze was fixed on the flushed, laughing face of the kicking, protesting victim. His own brown face glowed; his stern, tight lips were relaxed in a smile which was almost tender.