CHAPTER XI

IF

Skinny knew that Danny was wise, that he would not appear in camp before half past nine, because there was no boat or train which would permit his arrival before that time. Danny's attention to detail in his free and lawless progress commanded admiration if not respect. He never committed a silly blunder. Also Skinny knew that this runaway brother of his could not commit the perilous act of false registration until the office opened at ten o'clock. So there was time enough for what he had planned to do.

Hurriedly opening his old suit-case, he pulled out the only extra shirt and trousers that he had and put them on. Then he locked the suitcase again so that no prying comrade might discover that the new suit was not there. Just as he started from the cabin the breakfast horn sounded. He hurried along with that funny shuffling sideways gait of his and paused at the cooking shack to get an apple and a sandwich from Chocolate Drop, the colored chef. Any scout contemplating a short hike was welcome to this customary refreshment. He wanted it for Danny. He wondered how Danny had spent the night and hoped he had not been aroused by all the fuss caused by his early swim. At cooking shack he took occasion to ask Chocolate Drop if he knew where Helmer Clarkson stayed.

"He dat boy wots folks done send 'im big grapefruit 'n' boxes wi' dem figs. Sho he done sleep up dere yonder in one dem woods cabins. You know dat cabin wi' de skunk skin tacked on de do'? Lor' Massa Skincord, dat boy am rich! Him folk send him _great big_ crate full of fruit. Dat ain't good fer no young boy, dat ain't. Bein' diffrent, _dat am bad_. I say ter Massa Slade, I say, dat ain't no camp scout business. Share one, share all, in dis yer camp, dat's wot I say. You gwine straight up dat path, you'll find it."

It was little enough that poor Skinny knew about the unwise procedure of rich parents with their sons at camp. I dare say Chocolate Drop was right; there was too much pampering. Certainly no one had ever sent Skinny a grapefruit or a box of figs. Something in the little fellow's wistful look touched the kindly heart of Chocolate Drop, who reigned unquestioned monarch in the fragrant cook shack, and he made up an extra sandwich and handed it to him together with four cookies. "You watch out you don' get bit by dem rattlesnakes," he warned. Rattlesnakes were the terror of Chocolate Drop's life. "You jes' good as dat Clarkson son. Now you scamper off ter breakfast."

But Skinny did not go to breakfast. He started up the hill, encouraged, elated. He was going to do business with a boy who had expressed a desire for a canoe, and whose people were so rich that they sent him figs and grapefruit. He did not know just exactly how he would approach such a boy; he dreaded this more than he had dreaded his swim across the lake. But, of course, rich boys could be talked to.

He was not exactly afraid; he felt that luck had favored him thus far. He had lifted the white pennant and had been able thereby to conceal the real purpose of his absence at night. He had won the Hiawatha canoe. And now he was going to sell it to a boy who was so rich that he received delicacies by parcel post. That would be easy. Then he would hurry on up to the old shanty in the cut and give Danny the food and the money. After that he would, of course, worry about Danny's escape from the reform school. But at least the dangers at Temple Camp would be averted.

On arriving at the cabin with the skunk skin tacked on the door, Skinny was astonished to find that it was the very cabin from which he had taken the white pennant. The place looked different in the daylight. He had not seen the skunk skin on his nocturnal raid, nor the quaintly worded sign above the door which read:

THE ALLIGATORS OF ALLEGHANY

But he saw clearly the hole from which he had so stealthily lifted the pennant staff. The Alligators had not gone down to breakfast; there were voices inside. He wondered whether his little masterstroke would leave them prejudiced against him. Hardly that, he realized, for scouts are good sports and cheerful losers. Perhaps they would even give him credit, as the saying is. He was not doubtful about scouts, but he was a little afraid of a rich boy.

The voices inside were loud and angry; the occupants of the cabin seemed all talking at once and excitedly.

"Awh, forget it, and come ahead down to eats, will you?"

"I'm through," said another boy.

"If you're talking of breakfast I haven't even started yet," said still another. "For the love of Mike, will you cut it out and come on down."

"I'm through," said the boy who had made this pronouncement before.

"All right, we're satisfied," another said.

"Do you take back what you said?"

"No, I don't take back what I said."

There was a pause and Skinny tremblingly knocked on the door. It was opened by a tall scout whom he had seen before.

"Does Helmer Clarkson live here!" he asked, his voice shaking a little. He had quickly decided that he would not mention the affair of the white pennant.

"Sure, you're welcome to him," said a boy from within. "We give six coupons free to anybody who'll take him."

"Cut that out," said another boy.

"Here, put him in your pocket and take him home," said still another as he pushed a rather small boy through the open door. It was evident that the victim of this hearty eviction was the Rockefeller of Temple Camp, Helmer Clarkson. He was an effeminate looking boy; rather sissified, Skinny thought. It was easy to believe that he was of a sort to be the recipient of dainties from home.

Skinny, in his simplicity, went straight to the point. "Do you want to buy a canoe!" he asked.

"What canoe?" asked a boy from inside.

"The Hiawatha Prize canoe," said Skinny, addressing Clarkson, as they all gathered about the doorway staring and listening. "I heard you wanted to buy a canoe and I'll sell you that one for as much--I mean--only fifteen dollars." He was too simple to place the price at a little more than Danny needed. The canoe was actually worth seventy dollars.

"What's the big idea?" somebody asked.

"_You!_" laughed another. "What are _you_ doing with the prize canoe? You mean that one in the headquarters building?"

"I won it by swimming across the lake," said Skinny, blushing to the roots of his hair, "and I don't want it because--because it's my own business why I don't want it. So do you want to buy it for fifteen dollars? I heard you wanted one."

"I'm leaving this camp and I don't want it," said Helmer Clarkson.

"He hasn't got the price," a boy taunted.

For answer Helmer Clarkson displayed the contents of a neat wallet which almost staggered poor Skinny. "I've had enough of this camp," he said, "and I'm going home on the noon train from Catskill."

"It's only fifteen dollars," poor Skinny said. "Maybe I'd take ten."

"If you gave me the canoe for nothing I wouldn't stay here," said Helmer Clarkson in a very mincing manner. "If you'd come around two or three days ago--even yesterday--I might have given you twenty-five dollars for it. I can spend fifty dollars for one if I want to. But I've had enough of this crowd, thank you. I'm going home."

Poor Skinny's hopes were dashed. He cast a forlorn look at the scouts, who were laughing heartily. They were not laughing at him; for once he was not the victim. They were laughing (and that with a kind of tolerant contempt) at Helmer Clarkson.

"Yes, we got no canoes to-day," one boy sang.

"I don't want to play in your yard," sang another.

"Tell him why you're going home, Ellie," a third shouted.

"I'll tell him," another volunteered. "You know we had the white pennant up here--we took it away from that Virginia troop over near Turtle Cove. Each one of us is supposed to stay awake forty minutes every night and listen. Last night our little sleeping beauty--_that's him_--falls asleep at the switch. Somebody walked away with the pennant. We even knew somebody was hanging around, because just a little while before that I sneaked out and caught a fellow nosing about. On top of that Sweet-dream Ellie has to go to sleep when his turn was on. And--listen, get this--when we jump very gently on his neck he gets sore and says he won't play any more."

During the recital of this indictment, Helmer Clarkson held himself aloof in silent dignity. "I'm through with the scouts for good," said he. "It was only an experiment anyway. But I certainly do love canoing----"

"Sure, in the bathtub," interrupted one of the boys.

"_Chief Dead-to-the-world_ sailing down the Alleghany River," mocked another.

"If it wasn't for my leaving," said Helmer, ignoring them, "I'd be only too glad to buy your canoe. I'd have given you more than fifteen dollars for it."

Skinny looked from one to the other of this cheery group; they seemed an interesting patrol, notwithstanding their family disturbance. Then his eyes fell on Helmer Clarkson in a woebegone, incredulous gaze. He realized that by his own act of "lifting" the pennant he had effectually prevented the sale of the canoe. If he had not stolen up in the dead of night, so softly that the dozing Helmer never heard him, he might now have fifteen dollars--thirty perhaps--with which to speed his erring brother forth to safety.

What a tragic word is IF!