Читать книгу Roy Blakeley's Adventures in Camp - Percy Keese Fitzhugh - Страница 7

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The next day was Sunday and two things happened, not counting dinner. Early in the morning we drew lots to see who’d be deck steward for the day, and Skinny was the one. That meant he’d have to sweep up the deck and wipe the rail and do everything outside like that. Anyway, there wasn’t much to do.

At about twelve o’clock I went into the galley to cook dinner and Charlie Seabury and Brick Warner went along to help me. While we were peeling the potatoes, Skinny came in and showed me three or four dimes and some pennies, and said he found them on the deck, when he was sweeping. He said, “I’ve been to every fellow in the troop and nobody lost any money. Are they yours?”

I told him no and so did Brick and Charlie and we said he had better give them to Mr. Ellsworth. “One of them is a French coin,” Brick said, and he showed it to me and I saw that it was.

“I guess one of the fellows dropped some change climbing over the rail,” Charlie said, “and maybe didn’t miss it on account of not losing all he had, hey?”

“He’d know if he had a French coin and lost it,” Brick said.

It made me feel kind of funny, because all the while I knew where those coins came from. Anyway, Skinny went and gave them to Mr. Ellsworth and when we were all together at dinner, Mr. Ellsworth asked us if any fellow owned a French coin that was missing. Nobody said yes, and then he said, kind of funny like, “Well, I suppose this is what our young friend Mr. Walter Harris would call a mystery,” and he said we’d put the money in the troop treasury. Then he gave it to Will Dawson (he’s in my patrol), because Will is troop treasurer.

Somebody said, “How about the French coin? That’s no use in the treasury.” And Mr. Ellsworth said we’d give that to Skinny, because he found the money. He said it would be a kind of a merit badge to Skinny, for keeping his eyes open.

I was mighty glad Mr. Ellsworth didn’t ask us if anybody knew anything about the money, because then—jiminy, I don’t know what I would have done. Maybe it would have been all right to keep still because I wasn’t dead sure whose it was. But all the while I knew I was sure. Maybe I would have said I knew only I didn’t want to tell, hey? Anyway, he didn’t ask and that was one good thing.

After dinner Skinny came to me all smiles and said, “I’ve got a merit badge, it’s for keeping my eyes open, and will you bore a hole in it so I can wear it around my neck?” Oh, but that kid was happy.

I said, “Did you have a good dinner, kiddo?” And he said, “Yes, but will you bore a hole in it so I can wear it around my neck?” He looked awful thin and his scout suit didn’t fit him and his belt wasn’t tight enough and he didn’t look anything like pictures you see of scouts—you know what I mean. And when he smiled it made wrinkles in his cheeks. One thing sure, he was different from all the rest of the fellows. Even if it was only a little thing that he was interested in, he got all excited about it, and his eyes got all bright and if he grabbed you by the arm you could feel that his hand was trembling—he’d be so excited. We made a lot of allowance for him, because he was sick and came out of the slums, but anyway, one trouble with him was, that Mr. Ellsworth couldn’t make him study up scouting the way other fellows do. All of a sudden he’d go crazy for the gold medal or the eagle badge and you couldn’t tell him that a fellow has to get to be a first class scout, before he can be an eagle scout. “He wants what he wants when he wants it,” that’s what Mr. Ellsworth said, and he only just laughed and said, “He’ll hammer into shape all right, let him enjoy the trip.”

And it was just like him—I mean about that French coin. He was always coming to me, too, as if I was scoutmaster and everything else. He began clutching me by the arm and saying, “I got it for keeping my eyes open, didn’t I? I got it for being honest and asking all the scout guys, didn’t I?”

I had to just pull his hand off my arm, he was holding so fast to it. Cracky, I didn’t know what to tell him. Then I said, “I tell you what you do Alf.” (I wasn’t going to be calling him Skinny,) I said, “You go and ask Vic Norris if he’s got an awl or a small gimlet—see? Then I’ll fix it for you.” Vic had charge of the locker where we kept the lights and oil and tools and all that kind of stuff.

Pretty soon he came back with an awning needle and asked me if it would do. I think he would have gone crazy if I had told him no.

I said, “Yes, I guess so. Come ahead, and let go my arm, do you hear? I’m not going to run away.”

Then he said, “I like you better than any of the scout guys.”

“We’re not guys, we’re just scouts,” I told him; “you can cut out the guys. Didn’t Mr. Ellsworth tell you that?”

The fellows were sitting around on the deck, reading. Some of them were sprawling around on the cabin roof, killing time and jollying Pee-wee. I don’t know where Mr. Ellsworth was, but I guess he was inside writing letters. Anyway, it was nice and sunny and you could see the sun in the water. Over on shore, in St. George, I could hear a church bell and it sounded clear. There weren’t many boats out, except sometimes the boats to Coney Island went by and we could hear the music. I thought I’d rather be where I was, anyway. Maybe it was because it was Sunday and because it was so still all around that I had a good idea. Anyway, I thought it was a good idea, but good night, it got me into a kind of a scrape.

That’s one thing about me, I’m always getting in scrapes.

So then I took Skinny and we climbed in through the galley window. I guess nobody noticed us; nobody said anything except El Sawyer. He asked me if I was going to get supper.

“Supper!” I said. “Didn’t you just have dinner?” Honest, that fellow never thinks of anything except eats.

When we got into the galley, I said to Skinny, “Let’s sit up on the board so we can look out and see the bay.” So we sat on the board that was on two barrels. I used it to open cans on and slice bread and all that. And I always washed it good and clean, you can bet. Oh, but it was nice sitting there and it was just as quiet as it is in the woods. Sometimes a motor-boat would go by and we could hear it chugging.

“One thing, nobody’ll bother us here,” I said, “some fellows don’t like Sunday, but I do.”

Skinny said, “I like Christmas best, because rich people bring baskets of food.”

Cracky, I felt awful sorry for him.