Chapter VI: Taking the Bait

When the great news concerning the boys of Cliffwood had circulated around town during the next few days it created no end of talk. Everywhere it caused the most intense excitement among the rising generation. Parents in particular commended the plan of Mr. Holwell as a means for gripping the restless activities of the town boys, and turning them into some more useful channel than loitering about the streets at night and playing all sorts of practical jokes.

At school it was the subject of talk wherever two or three fellows came together on the campus, or while in the classrooms during intermission.

Nearly every boy was in favor of the scheme. They talked it over and saw all manner of splendid possibilities looming up, for not only the long evenings of the coming winter but even during the spring and summer months.

“I’ve handed in my application,” announced Phil Harkness, as with several other fellows he stood in the school basement keeping warm near the furnace, while he munched some lunch purchased at the counter. “I hope nothing blocks me in joining the Juniors, because I expect they’re going to have great times.”

“Mighty few fellows try to throw cold water on the idea,” ventured Dan Fenwick; “unless it’s Nat Silmore and Dit Hennesy, who’ve gone around sneering, and saying it’s all a bunk game on the part of Mr. Holwell and Harry Bartlett to keep boys from having good times playing tricks.”

“Yes, but even they’re talking of applying for admission,” spoke up Clint Babbett; “and it wouldn’t surprise me if we had a heap of trouble with that crowd. If they get in to the first meeting which has been called for tomorrow night, look out for squalls, that’s all.”

“Mr. Holwell thinks they are not as black as they’re painted,” suggested Peg Fosdick. “But that’s because he’s got such a big heart he just can’t decide that any sort of boy is beyond redemption.”

“If they come in,” asserted Dan, vigorously, “there’ll be a rumpus, as sure as you’re born. I wish there were going to be some of the Seniors present, but I understand that it’s an off night for them, and that only Mr. Holwell, with perhaps Harry Bartlett, can be present at the first meeting.”

“Oh! well, where do we all come in?” demanded Peg, puffing out his chest in a vainglorious fashion. “We’ll chase that crowd out in a hurry if they get too gay. Besides, police headquarters is close by, and Mr. Holwell could call them up on the ’phone if it got too smoky.”

“I understand that nearly two dozen applications are already in,” remarked Phil, “so there ought to be something of a crowd out at the meeting. I’m wild to know just what the plans are.”

“First of all,” said Peg, “there’s going to be a small initiation fee, and monthly dues, just to help pay expenses, and make the boys feel it isn’t a charity. That’s Mr. Holwell’s idea; he doesn’t believe boys like to be given everything. And one of the rules is going to be that they must earn the amount of their entering fee and dues.”

“Wow! I see my finish then,” groaned Andy Hale; “because this morning my dad tempted me with an offer to saw and split a cord or two of wood that’s piled up in our back yard. Now I’ll just _have_ to agree, if he’ll advance the pay to me.”

“Some of the boys,” explained Phil, “are going to be given a chance to do certain things about the Y. M. C. A. building, such as taking care of the furnace, cleaning windows at odd hours, and the like.”

“A good idea, too,” admitted Peg, “because some of the fellows who work in the mills would want to join us, you see, and they couldn’t afford to stand for the admittance fee.”

“Uncle Henry Capes has let it be known that he stands ready to assist any worthy boy he thinks is in dead earnest, and who can’t afford the price,” announced Leslie.

“Bully for your uncle, Leslie; he’s all right!” cried Peg, enthusiastically.

“Here’s another thing, fellows, I’m meaning to bring up the first chance I get after the Boys’ Department is well started,” said Phil. “You know all of us have been a whole lot annoyed by Mr. Loft, the librarian, who believes all boys’ books should be thrown out of our Public Library, and only volumes along educational lines kept there.”

“That’s right,” broke in Dan, eagerly. “I never call for a book that I’ve wanted to read but that he tried to show me the folly of indulging in such silly nonsense as he calls it. Guess the high-brow Mr. Loft never was a boy himself. He must have been fed on Greek grammar and ancient history when he was six years old. He makes me tired, that’s what. But go on and tell us what you’ve been thinking up, Phil.”

“All right, I will, fellows,” replied the one spoken to. “In the beginning I want to say I’ve already talked the matter over with Mr. Holwell, Harry Bartlett, and Leslie’s Uncle Henry, and all of them took to the idea first rate.”

“Go on, and let’s hear!” called out several of the more impatient lads as they clustered around the speaker.

“Listen then,” said Phil, impressively. “After we get the Junior Club well started the idea is to have a library of our own, containing only such books as Mr. Holwell will have passed upon as being the right sort for boys to read. These can be filled with pleasing adventure such as all boys want, and at the same time be of a healthy, uplifting nature, and all our own.”

“Fine!” exclaimed Dan Fenwick, who was a great reader of stories of all sorts.

“We could buy the books ourselves with money we earned or had given to us,” declared Clint Babbett. “I know for one thing my mother will take to the scheme right away, because she hates to have me fetch home some of the greasy looking books from the public library. You see, she says you never can tell where they’ve been the week before; mebbe in a house where they have diphtheria or some sort of catching disease. Germs she hates the worst kind. Yes, she’ll be only too glad to help out.”

From all sides the idea was commended. No one had ever thought of such an original scheme before, though some of the boys had pretty extensive libraries of their own covering shelves of space in their dens at home, and consisting, for the most part, of modern books for growing lads, such as the well-meaning but short-sighted librarian disliked to see them taking from the public institution.

Dick, coming along just then, was told of the new scheme.

“I think it’s a good idea of yours, Phil,” he declared as soon as it had been explained to him. “Like the rest of you I’ve grown tired of having Mr. Loft forever looking so disgusted whenever I ask for a book by my favorite writer who knows boys, and writes straight down into their hearts.”

“Let them keep the library just for works of educational value if they want,” asserted the proud originator of the idea; “although few people think that’s the only function for a public institution.”

“Most boys get all the instruction they need in school,” asserted Peg; “and to read a good boy’s book, something along the line of outdoor sports, is one of their best recreations. Think of how every one of us, yes and our daddies and grandfathers, as well, have poured over such classics as Robinson Crusoe and Swiss Family Robinson.”

“Sure thing,” added Dick, convincingly, “and a good book keeps a boy from getting into heaps of mischief; because he’s just _got_ to be doing something. But there goes the bell, fellows. Hope to see all of you on hand at the first meeting of the Junior Organization.”

“We’ll be there, you can bet, Dick!” cried Peg, as he limped after the rest to resume his studies.

That afternoon Leslie Capes caught up with Dick as the latter was hastening home from school.

“I’m in a hurry to get home, Leslie,” said the latter, “but I wish you’d keep me company part of the way. Somehow or other I haven’t had much chance to get a few words with you on the sly so as to tell you how our little plan is moving along.”

“I’m just burning up with curiosity to know about that same, Dick. Has Old Nocker run across little Billy yet?”

“He certainly has,” replied Dick, promptly. “It happened yesterday. I showed Billy the very hole in the dividing fence through which we crawled on the Hallowe’en night, and, knowing Mr. Nocker was home at the time, I hid near so as to watch and see what happened.”

“Well, please go on, Dick; you’ve got me all worked up,” pleaded Leslie.

“Little Billy understood what he was to do, and wandered around the place, by degrees getting nearer and nearer the house. Then all at once I saw the old deacon hurrying out toward him. He looked cross, as if he meant to order the child off his grounds, and complain, in the bargain, to his parents if he ever trespassed again.”

“But he didn’t, Dick; I know you’re going to say he didn’t,” urged Leslie.

“Well, I could see him talking to little Billy for a while,” Dick went on. “Then he even bent down so as to get closer to him. Say, I warrant you there was something queer happening inside his frosty old heart just then. Perhaps he could see some familiar glimpse in little Billy’s blue eyes that made him think of the boy he once had.”

“What do you think he could have said to Billy?” asked Leslie.

“Oh! I saw him pointing toward the Brandon house through the trees, for with the leaves off he could get a glimpse of it from where he stood. So I knew he must be asking if the little curly-head lived there.”

“Yes, go on, Dick.”

“Finally, I saw Billy start to come back, and would you believe it Old Jed actually laid a hand on his mop of golden hair. Like as not that was the first time he’d ever willingly touched a child since his Amos was a kid.”

“Splendid, Dick! Things seem to be working along just as we planned them, don’t they?”

“When the little boy walked away, Old Jed stood and stared after him. Then I saw him shake his head and go back in the direction of the house. But three times he turned and looked after Billy until the kid was lost to sight.”

“And did you manage to find out what he said to the child, Dick?”

“Partly,” came the reply. “Billy told us the nice old gentleman had asked him who he was, and about his folks. Then as Billy was coming away Old Jed told him he must come again, and see him another day--tomorrow if it was pleasant.”

At that Leslie almost doubled up.

“The sly old fox has swallowed the bait, Dick!” he exclaimed, between laughs. “All you have to do now is to let him have rope enough, and he’ll be caught as neat as you please. When he’s got to just _yearn_ for little Billy, it’ll be time to pull the string, and tell him he can only have the child’s company on condition that the mother is equally welcome in his home.”

“I think myself that things begin to look kind of promising,” admitted Dick. “You must be sure to tell Uncle Henry all about it.”

“I certainly will,” continued Leslie, “and my mother as well, because she’s in the secret too. But about that meeting called for tomorrow night--have you heard that Nat and several of his cronies mean to attend?”

“If they do, it’ll be to make trouble for the rest of us, for they’ll try to break the meeting up,” said Dick, vehemently. “It would be only right if Mr. Holwell had the police chief present to keep things serene; but I suppose that wouldn’t look nice, seeing we would be in the Y. M. C. A. rooms.”