Читать книгу Skinny McCord - Percy Keese Fitzhugh - Страница 9

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There came a time when they said of Skinny that he had been frightened into participation in his half-brother’s bizarre and daring plan. But that was not true of him. He tried, as we have seen, to dissuade Danny. When the worst came to the worst and he knew that he could not dissuade him, he was loyal. He was loyal in a dastardly business.

This wonderful big brother of his could not teach him anything in the matter of stealth; he was a little demon at that. He had accustomed himself to stepping carefully and making no noise in the days when he went barefoot in the slummy east end of Bridgeboro whence he had emanated one day to stare wide eyed at the scouts practicing archery. There happened to be a vacancy in Connie Bennett’s patrol (Elks), so they took him in. He was their mascot. They didn’t even mind his not having a scout suit. He had a winsome smile when they jollied him and they liked him immensely. He was not only glad, but proud to run on errands.

When the McCords moved to Bridgeboro and hired three rooms in Corkscrew Alley down near the marsh that bordered the river, Danny was not with them. He had already taken his departure, under escort, to Blythedale Boys’ Home, which he was right in saying was not a home at all. He had been sent thither because of his escapade with Mr. Burt’s Ford, though this had by no means been his first escapade. But it was the crucial one. So the scouts of the First Bridgeboro Troop, of which Skinny was an obscure and lowly member, had never seen the enterprising Danny. His colorful career came to a halt in Irontown and soon afterward the hapless family moved to Bridgeboro, where Mr. McCord had secured a job in the paper mill. Danny’s mother was dead and Skinny was the child of Mr. McCord’s second wife. Whatever else may be said of Danny, he had always afforded Skinny all the sturdy advantages of a big brother.

Skinny missed him when he moved to Bridgeboro. The hoodlums down in Corkscrew Alley called him Owleyes and Jumbo and other piquant appellations. Once or twice he was moved to tell them that things would be different when Danny returned. When he got in with the scouts he never mentioned Danny. He had too much pride and these strange, wonderful boys of the upper world would not understand. They would not appreciate the knock-out blow administered to the unhappy Kinney. And now, at last, when Skinny had attained to the glory of a real scout suit, here was this brother come to Temple Camp, a fugitive, and with all his wonted assurance proposing a scheme for hiding which struck poor Skinny dumb with terror.

Silently he sped through the woods back to camp and stealthily, ever so stealthily, up to the Martha Norris Memorial Cabins, where his troop was quartered that season. A splendid organization was the First Bridgeboro Troop, with four full patrols, and they held sway in these four cabins which represented one of the camp endowments. In the Elks’ cabin all was still.

With every nerve on edge, Skinny crept to the rustic lockers at the end of the building. He was so fearful that he jerked his foot up in nervous excitement as he turned the key of his own locker. He paused after the slight click, listening. His heart beat like a trip-hammer. No sound, no stir. Only the audible breathing of Vic Norris. One of the other boys turned over and settled down in deeper slumber. Somewhere outside an owl hooted. Skinny stood stark still.

The plaguey hinges! He eased the swing of the locker door as he opened it inch by inch. There was his old pasteboard suitcase; he was the only boy in the patrol who had not a duffel bag. On top of it lay the bundle containing his scout suit and hat just as he had brought the treasured purchase back from Kingston. He had not dared to wear this flaunting regalia nor even to tell his patrol about it. He did not know whether or not they knew about it. Would the paper rustle as he lifted the bundle? No; he lifted it out carefully. Then he opened his suitcase and got his Handbook. So far, so good. Softly he closed the door and locked it. Then with his precious Handbook and the bundle he crept stealthily over to the trail which led up through the woods.

Now his heart beat more easily. Action is always stimulating, and being launched on this perilous business it was not so hard to go ahead. He had not done much so far, but what he had done had been successful. He had done what Danny had told him to do and it had been easy. It seemed to Skinny that this was a dreadful thing his brother was about to attempt, but Danny must know what he was about.

“Why it’s going to be a cinch,” his brother assured him when he had donned the suit; it fitted him much better than it fitted poor Skinny. When he tossed the hat on, he looked like a scout indeed and poor Skinny was even moved to feel a certain pride in him. He was a fine looking boy, there was no denying that, with an easy nonchalance about him that was captivating.

“You—you won’t be a really truly scout,” Skinny warned him. The warning seemed to include a confession that Danny did look like one. “And what are you going to do when he comes—that other feller?”

“I’ll be on my way,” said Danny lightly.

“You’ll be using up the money that’s going to pay his board, too,” Skinny said.

The answer did not comfort him. “Sure, he’ll be out of luck,” said Danny.

Skinny gazed at this daring brother of his in mingled admiration and terror. “Will you—Danny, will you—if I get fifteen dollars, will you not do it?”

“Where would you get fifteen bucks, kid? You should worry,” he added. “Let’s take a look at that book. Does it tell all about it and everything? How you drill and everything?”

“Now you see, you don’t know anything about it,” Skinny said excitedly, in a pitiable way of triumph. “They don’t drill at all; they track and stalk and all like that, and win merit badges, and all like that. Now you’re going to get in trouble.” He clenched his little hands nervously and almost cried as he spoke. “You’re going to get in trouble Danny. They’re smart, scouts are, and they’ll find out. Just because I’m not so smart and they make fun of me like; and just because I can’t do all the things they do, you needn’t think they’re not smart. That’s where you’re all the time wrong, you think boy scouts——”

“Who makes fun of you?” Danny asked with a queer scrutiny in his eyes.

“Now you’re going to get into scraps, too,” poor Skinny said. “You’re going to call them kids and everything. Even if they make fun of me they’re not mad at me.”

There was a grim look in Danny’s eyes and a menacing sneer in his voice as he said, “Is—that—so!” In the lowering comment was real feeling for Skinny and a high contempt for Temple Camp and all its scouts.

“You should worry, kid,” he said. “Go on back and go to bed. All you’ve got to do is not notice me. Don’t be coming around. Act just like if you didn’t know me. All I want to do is just lay low for three or four days; I’ll get away with it that long, don’t worry. If you had the money I’d beat it, but I can’t bang out of here without a red, and that bunch after me. What am I going to do? I know what’s troubling you, kid. You think it’s kind of like stealing, using up that what’s-his-name’s board money. You’re a little brick, kiddo. But I’ll only be here two or three days. And when he gets here next month—why these guys won’t know till then there was anything phony about me! And you won’t be hooked up with it at all. Now trot along and turn in, Tiny, old pal.”

“Won’t I see you any more after you go away from here? Maybe you’ll go all the way around the world on a ship, hey?”

“Suuuuure, you’ll see me again. And you’ll get paid back for your suit too. Don’t I line up pretty nice as a boy scout. How do you do that—what is it, a salute they’ve got?” He wriggled his thumb against his ear in a funny way and laughed at Skinny and gave him an affectionate shove. “Go on back now or you’ll be walking in your sleep,” said he. “And whatever you do, don’t let on when you see me again.”

“I can look at you, can’t I?” said poor Skinny.