CHAPTER XII

SCOUT LAW NUMBER TWO

He had taken the white pennant. He had won the Hiawatha Prize. He had brought glory to his patrol. But all he had to give Danny was two sandwiches and four cookies. Hero though he was, he could not face his colleagues, for he had no scout suit to put on. So long as there was hope of selling the canoe, he had not considered what his patrol would think of this. He had thought only of Danny. But now, as he trudged on up through the woods, a forlorn little fellow, he wondered what Connie and the others would say when they heard that he had tried to sell the prize canoe. They would certainly hear that, and he could not tell them why he had attempted such an unscoutlike business. There was never any buying and selling of prizes at Temple Camp.

He trudged up through the woods, cautiously looking back now and then. It seemed to him a very long time since he had seen Danny, so much had happened in the meantime. He found him sitting on the shelf in the shanty, his knees drawn up to form a reading desk on which the Scout Handbook lay open.

"Hey, Tiny, this is some book," said he. "Honest, do they do all these things, or is it just bunk? Here's a good one on page--page--here it is, sixty-six. This is the one for me. Here's a gold medal you get for saving a guy's life, only you've got to risk your own. If you lose your life you're out of luck. If you get away with it they hand you this----"

"I know all about it," said Skinny.

"That ain't so worse," said Danny, idly running over the pages. "Wait till I find--oh here it is, here's a pippin! Here's where a guy makes out he's a smuggler--page four hundred and thirty--and the bunch has to track him. If he gets to the nearest town he's K.O. I ought to be able to get away with that, Tiny." It was certainly in his line. "They got some good dope here, all right," he added. "You can even be one if you're not in with a bunch."

"That's a pioneer scout," said Skinny.

"Here's a nifty--listen to this one. They got a lot of badges you can win. Here's one on riding a horse----"

"I know all about them," Skinny repeated.

It was evident that scouts had merits which Danny could admire, but had no desire to imitate. His rather nonchalant attitude toward scouting troubled poor Skinny. He had spent the whole night in nervous tension, planning and striving to save Danny from his own folly. And here was Danny leisurely inspecting the Scout Handbook, commenting upon its features with eminent fairness, and apparently without a care in the world. It must be admitted that so far as looks were concerned there was not a boy at Temple Camp more scoutlike than he. Poor Skinny's suit fitted him to perfection; it was in line with this blithesome young scapegrace's luck that his ungainly little half-brother had in his innocence bought the suit too large. Though, indeed, poor Skinny would never in any suit look as natty as this self-sufficient brother of his. The only false note in Danny's ensemble was a rakish tilt of the scout hat, which gave him a rather too easy-going and sophisticated air.

"I brought you something to eat," said poor Skinny. "I was afraid they'd find you, those reform school people, but I'm glad they didn't. There's two sandwiches here, and four cookies. I bet you didn't sleep much--I bet."

"You lose your bet," said Danny. "I was dead to the cruel world. Some blamed bird or other, that was screaming like Hail Columbia, woke me up."

"Those are blue jays," said Skinny.

"They'd be black and blue jays if I caught them," said Danny. "I went over there to a spring and washed up. Then I came back and started giving this book the once-over. What time is it anyway? Can I go and do my act yet?" He ate the sandwiches while Skinny talked.

"I tried to get fifteen dollars for you so you wouldn't have to stay here and I swam across the lake so as to win the prize canoe; I did it early this morning, Danny, and I won it. But the feller I tried to sell it to because he's rich and has grapefruit sent him and everything--that feller wouldn't buy it, because he's mad at his patrol and he's going home, because they're sore at him on account of his not staying awake so nobody could take the pennant. I'm the one that took it. So I'm the one to blame, because I can't give you fifteen dollars."

Danny was a boy who was always ready to do anything. Consequently nothing that any other boy did astonished him. He was interested in propositions to do things. He was not so interested in things that had been done. So all he said was, "You should worry."

"I got to worry," said poor Skinny.

"And I've got to stay here and I might as well have some fun," said Danny.

Poor Skinny was aghast at Danny's utter inability to perceive the peril in which he stood. This impersonation of another boy at Temple Camp was to be merely another casual adventure in the blithesome career of Danny. He had lost no sleep over it, he apprehended no complications. He would cross bridges when he came to them. He was not annoyed by Skinny's near success in the matter of the canoe. What Skinny had done did not seem to impress him as an exploit. Since he was not able to supply fifteen dollars, Danny accepted scouting as a means of escape. And he was not going to worry about it.

"Will you promise--cross your heart--that you won't say I told you to do it?" Skinny asked, with panic fear in every feature. "Will you promise--honest and true, cross your heart--that you won't ever even look at me?"

"Go on down and get your breakfast, kid," said Danny.

"I tried to get you the money so you could go away."

"Sure, you should worry; go down and eat, Tiny."

"And you won't go to the office till about half past ten, because on account of the train?"

"Leave it to me, kid."

"You're going to get in a lot of trouble," Skinny warned, pathetically apprehensive.

Poor little fellow, he had done the best he could to avert this bizarre and perilous undertaking of Danny's. He had risked his life. He was doomed to trouble with his comrades because of the missing scout suit, and because of his attempt to sell the reward of his heroism. They would not even laugh at him and make fun of him any more. He wondered if he had better go ask the Alligators of Alleghany not to mention the offer he had made at their cabin. But that would only discredit him with them; it would look sneaky.

Such troubles to arise from good intentions and deeds of skill and prowess! Poor Skinny, his excursion into the field of heroism had not been propitious. And pressing down upon him more heavily than all these perplexities was the terrifying thought of Danny. What might happen there made Skinny shudder. Such an act of effrontery as his half-brother was launched upon quite unnerved this poor little scout who had been so humble and obscure. Yet he was staunch in loyalty to Danny. He would bear the scornful taunts (as he had always borne the humorous taunts) of Temple Camp if that were necessary. And when the worst came to the worst he would be loyal to Danny. It was odd that through all this disheartening mess, he did not once recall with pride and elation that he was the winner of the Hiawatha Prize. He had forgotten all about the canoe.