Chapter XXIII: Pee-Wee Settles It

For half a minute there was no response, and the people, somewhat bewildered, stared here and there, applauding fitfully.

"Come ahead, I know where you are," Tom pronounced grimly; "I'll give you ten seconds."

The victim knew that voice; perhaps it was the only voice at camp which he would have obeyed. There was the sound of a cracking branch, followed by a frightened cry of "Look out!" Some one called, "He'll kill himself!" Then a rustling of leaves was heard, and down out of the tree he came and scrambled to his feet, amid cries of astonishment, Hervey Willetts was running true to form and the moment of his triumph was celebrated by a new stunt.

"Never mind brushing off your clothes," said Tom grimly; "come up just the way you are."

But he did not go up the steps, not he. He vaulted up onto the platform and stood there brushing the dirt from his torn khaki suit. The crowd, knowing but yet only half the story of his triumph, was attracted by his vagabond appearance, and his sprightly air. The rent in his sleeve, his disheveled hair, and even the gaping hole in his stocking seemed to be a part of him, and to bespeak his happy-go-lucky nature. As he stood there amid a shower of impulsive applause, he stooped and hoisted up one stocking which seemed in danger of making complete descent, and that was too much for the crowd.

Even Mr. Temple smiled as he said, "Come over here, my young friend, and let me congratulate the only Eagle Scout at Temple Camp."

And so it befell that Hervey Willetts found himself clasping in cordial grip the friendly hand of Mr. John Temple with one hand while he still hauled up his rebellious stocking with the other. It was a sight to delight the heart of a movie camera man. His stocking was apparently the only thing that Hervey could not triumph over.

"My boy," said Mr. Temple, "it appears that we know more about you than you know about yourself. It appears that your memory and your handbook study have not kept pace with your sprightly legs and arms----"

"How about his dirty face?" some one called.

"And his stocking?" another shouted.

"These are the honorable scars of war," Mr. Temple said, "and I think I prefer his face as it is. I think we shall have to take Hervey Willetts as we find him, and be satisfied.

"Hervey Willetts," he continued, "you stand here to-day the easy winner of the greatest honor it has ever been my pleasure to confer. Stand up, my boy, and never mind your stocking. (Laughter.) You have won the Eagle award, and you have made your triumph beautiful and unique by working into it one of the best good turns in all the history of scouting. I doubt whether a youngster of your temperament can ever really appreciate what you have done. But of course you could not escape Tom Slade--no one could. He has your number, as boys say----"

"Bully for Tom Slade!" a voice called.

"What's the matter with Tomasso?"

"Hurrah for old Sherlock Nobody Holmes!"

"Oh, you, Tommy!"

"Tag, you're it, Hervey!"

"I have here a paper procured by Tom Slade," Mr. Temple continued, "and bearing the signatures of three scouts--John Weston, Harry Bonner and George Wentworth. These scouts testify that they were in Catskill village drinking soda water----"

"That's all they ever go there for," a voice shouted.

"They saw Hervey Willetts stop a runaway horse, saw him unfasten the harness of the animal when it fell, frightened and exhausted, and saw him procure and pour cool water on the animal's head. This was never reported in camp till Tom Slade made inquiries. Hervey Willetts had neglected to report it."

"He's a punk scout," some one called.

"I have here also," Mr. Temple continued, "the testimony of Tom Slade himself that Hervey Willetts climbed a tree and in a daring manner saved a bird and its nest from the ruthless assault of an eagle. That bird's nest, with its little occupant, hangs now in the elm tree at the corner of the pavilion." (Great applause.)

"Thus Hervey Willetts won the animal first aid badge without so much as knowing it. (Applause.) He had won twenty-one merit badges and he did not know it. (Great applause.) He was then and there an Eagle Scout and he did not know it. (Deafening cheers.) But Tom Slade knew it and said nothing----"

"Thomas the Silent," some irreverent voice called.

"So you see, my friends, it really made no difference whether our young hero tracked an animal or not. He was an Eagle Scout. He could go no higher. He had reached the pinnacle--no, not quite that. To his triumph he must add the glory of a noble, unselfish deed. Never knowing that the coveted honor was already his, he set out to win it by a tracking stunt which would fulfill the third requirement to bring him the stalking badge, and with it the Eagle award. He had said that nothing would stand in his way, not even mountains. He had made this boast to Tom Slade.

"And that boast he failed to make good. Something _did_ stand in his way. Not a mountain. Just a little tenderfoot scout. You have seen him up here. Alfred McCord is his name. (Applause.)

"And when Hervey Willetts found this little scout hot upon the trail, he forgot about the Eagle award, forgot about his near triumph, braved the anger and disappointment of his friends and comrades----"

The troop of which Hervey was a member arose in a sudden, impetuous burst of cheering, but Mr. Temple cut them short.

"Just a moment and then you may have your way. Hervey Willetts cared no more about the opinion of you scouts than this big oak tree over my head cares about the summer breeze. There were two trails there, one visible, the other invisible. One on the ground, the other in his heart. And Hervey Willetts was a scout and he hit the right trail. If it were not for our young assistant camp manager here, Hervey Willetts would this minute be witnessing these festivities from yonder tree, and little would he have cared, I think.

"But he reckoned without his host, as they say, when he sought the aid of Tom Slade. (Deafening applause.) Tom Slade knew him even if he did not know himself.

"My friends, many scouts have sought the Eagle award and a few have won it. But the Eagle award now seeks Hervey Willetts. He threw it aside but still it comes to him and asks for acceptance. He deserves something better, but there is nothing better which we have to give. For there is no badge for a noble good turn. Tom Slade was right."

"You said something!" some one shouted.

"To be enough of a scout to win the Eagle award is much. To be scout enough to ignore it is more. But twenty-one badges is twenty-one badges, and the animal first aid badge is as good as any other. The technical question of whether a bird is an animal----"

"Sure a bird's an animal!" called a voice from a far corner which sounded suspiciously like the voice of Pee-wee Harris. "Everybody's an animal--even I'm an animal--even you're an animal--sure a bird's an animal! That's not a teckinality! Sure a bird's an animal!"

"Well, then, that settles it," laughed Mr. Temple amid a very tempest of laughter, "if that is Mr. Harris of my own home town speaking, we have the opinion of the highest legal expert on scouting----"

"And eating!" came a voice.

Thus, amid an uproarious medley of laughter and applause, and of cheering which echoed from the darkening hills across the quiet lake, Hervey Willetts stood erect while Mr. John Temple, founder of the camp and famous in scouting circles the world over, placed upon his jacket the badge which made him an Eagle Scout and incidentally brought him the canoe on which so many eyes had gazed longingly.

And then one after another, pell-mell, scouts clambered onto the platform and surrounded him, while the scouts of his own troop edged them aside and elbowed their way to where he stood and mobbed him. And amid all this a small form, with clothing disarranged from close contact, but intent upon his purpose, squirmed and wriggled in and threw his little skinny arms around the hero's waist.

"Will you--will you take me out in it?" he asked. "Just once--will you?"

"The canoe?" Hervey said. "You'll have to ask my troop, Alf, old top; it belongs to them. What would a happy-go-lucky nut like I am be doing, paddling around in a swell canoe like that?"

"Let me--let me see the badge," little Skinny insisted.

But already Hervey had handed the badge over to his troop. Probably he thought that it would interfere with his climbing trees or perhaps fall off when he was hanging upside down from some treacherous limb or scrambling head foremost down some dizzy cliff. No doubt it would be more or less in the way during his stuntful career....