Читать книгу Roy Blakeley's Adventures in Camp - Percy Keese Fitzhugh - Страница 4

Table of Contents

We weren’t anchored very far from shore, so it didn’t take long for all the troop to row over, even though we only had one small boat. Mr. Ellsworth went with them so he could look after Skinny.

As soon as I had finished clearing up after supper, I got out the troop book and began writing it up. I was behind about two weeks with it and so I had about ten pages to do. Oh, but it was dandy sitting there on the deck with my feet up on the railing, writing. I mean I was writing with my hand. Pretty soon it began getting dark and I could see the lights coming out on all the different boats just like stars. It’s kind of fun being alone sometimes. I could see all the lights in the town, too, but what did I care? I said I’d rather be alone where I was. Pretty soon it was too dark to write and so I just sat there thinking. Maybe you think it’s no fun just thinking. But I was thinking how pretty soon we’d be hiking up from Catskill Landing to Black Lake, and how I’d see Jeb Rushmore, and how I’d take a hike and find out if the robin’s nest was just where it was last year. That robin is a member of our patrol—he’s an honorary member.

All of a sudden I saw it was pitch dark and I couldn’t see any boats at all, only lights, moving a little on account of the boats rocking.

In a little while I heard oars splashing and the sound seemed to be coming nearer and nearer, so I knew it was the first boat-load of fellows coming back. I thought it was awful soon for them to be getting back. It seemed funny that they weren’t talking, especially if it was the Raving Ravens (that’s what we call the Raven Patrol) because Pee-wee Harris would be sure to be running on high. That’s the way he always does, especially coming home from the movies. And if it was the Elk Patrol I’d be sure to hear Bert McAlpin because he’s a human victrola record.

Pretty soon I could make out a black spot coming nearer and then I knew for sure it was headed for the house-boat. But there wasn’t any sound except the splashing of the oars and I thought that was mighty funny. In a couple of minutes the boat came alongside and I heard someone say, “Pst” very quiet like. I went and looked over the rail and there I saw a fellow all alone in a rowboat. I couldn’t see him very well, but I could see he had on an old hat and was pretty shabby.

Then he sort of whispered, “Anybody up there, Skeezeks?”

I told him no, and asked him who he was and what he wanted, but he didn’t say anything, only tied his boat, and climbed up over the rail. Then I could see him better by the light shining through the cabin window, and his clothes were all ragged and greasy. He looked pretty tough, but one thing, anyway, he smiled an awful nice kind of a smile and hit me a whack on the shoulder and said: “Don’t get excited, Skeezeks; you’re all right and I won’t hurt you. How are you, anyway?”

I told him I was very well, but I’d like for him please to tell me who he was, so I’d know.

Then he gave me another push, and I don’t know, there was something about him that kind of made me like him, and I wasn’t scared of him at all.

“Don’t you know who I am?” he said.

“I kind of think maybe you’re the fellow that jumped out of this boat and ran away, when it was up the creek near Little Valley. You look kind of like him.”

“Right the first time,” he said, “and I bet you’re a bully little scout. What do you say?” Then he looked out over the water to be sure nobody was coming.

“I’m a first class scout, and I’ve got nine merit badges, and I’m a patrol leader,” I told him. “Anyway I’d like to know what you want here.”

“Patrol leader! No!” he said, and I could see he was only trying to get on the right side of me, and that he didn’t know what a patrol leader is at all.

“Can patrol leaders keep secrets?” he said.

I told him if it was a good secret, they could. Then he hit me a good whack on the shoulder and he winked at me awful funny and said:

They are fools who go and tell

Wisely has the poet sung.

Man may hold all sorts of jobs

If he’ll only hold his tongue.

“Are you a tramp?” I asked him.

“A tramp!” he said, “that’s pretty good. I dare say I look like one.”

Then he jumped up on the railing and began laughing so hard I was afraid he’d fall backwards into the water. I told him he’d better look out, but he only laughed more, and said I was a great kid. Then all of a sudden he happened to think and he looked around to see if anyone was coming. Then he said,

“Are you game to help me in a dark plot?”

Gee, I didn’t know what to tell him. “It depends upon how dark it is,” I said. Because, jiminy, I wanted to be careful and watch my step. But that only made him laugh a lot. Then he said,

“Well, it isn’t exactly a black plot, but it’s a kind of a dark brown.”

“One thing sure,” I said, “you’re not a tramp, I know that—I can tell.”

“You’re a wise little gazabo,” he said. “Would you really like to know who I am?”

I told him sure I would.

“Do you think I look like a tramp?” he asked me.

“I think you kind of look like one,” I said; “but you don’t act like one, and you don’t laugh like one.”

“I’ve got blamed little reason to laugh,” he said, “because I’m in Dutch, and you’ve got to do me a good turn. Will you?”

“Good turns are our middle names,” I told him, “but anyway, I’d like to know who you are—that’s sure.”

Then he said, “I’m Lieutenant Donnelle, Mr. Donnelle’s son. And I guess I had a right to run away from the boat, didn’t I?”

“G-o-o-d night!” I said.