Roy Blakeley's Adventures in CampFitzhugh, Percy Keese
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Roy Blakeley's Adventures in Camp
Fitzhugh, Percy Keese
Boy Scouts of America -- Juvenile fiction; Camping -- Juvenile fiction
It cleared up nice and sunny while I was gone and when I got back to
camp, everybody was getting ready for supper. I had to change my
clothes, they were so wet, and while I was doing it Mr. Ellsworth came
into our cabin and asked me if I knew where Skinny was.
I said, "No, I don't; I hiked all over looking for him, but I couldn't
find him. That's how I got so wet I should think Connie would have his
patrol out hunting for him."
Mr. Ellsworth and I walked over to supper together, and he seemed kind
of worried. "I'm afraid this thing has jarred his balance a little,"
that's what he said.
"One reason he wants to be alone," I said, "is because he hasn't got
any friends."
"I think his patrol is very proud of him," he said; "the whole camp is
proud of him."
"They're proud of what he _did_; they couldn't help being proud of it,"
I said. "But they're not proud of _him_. Why don't they take him in and
make friends with him? He's won the gold cross for them; gee, the least
they can do is to show some interest in him. Are they ashamed of him?
They don't even trust him, that's what _I_ think."
Mr. Ellsworth said, "Yes, he's won the gold cross for them; no doubt of
that."
"Yes," I said, "and where is he now? He's gone off so's he can be
alone. One fellow around here says everybody in camp thinks he's a
thief."
"Oh, I guess he didn't say just that, Roy," Mr. Ellsworth said, very
nice like, "but we've got to have a little talk with Skinny about the
way he talks--the things he says. He's a very queer youngster. They see
he's different from the rest of us, that he's out of the slums and,
well, they don't understand him, that's all."
"He just blurts everything out," I said, "that's all."
"Well, he _mustn't_," Mr. Ellsworth laughed, "especially when he's out
on the lake. His tirade to-day, after the rescue, sounded very strange.
The boys are not used to hearing talk about picking pockets and
stealing silverware. They don't understand it."
"I should worry about them," I said; "Skinny's just a kind of a freak.
Look at the way he wanted to go away and be alone by himself. Doesn't
that prove it?"
"Well," Mr. Ellsworth said, "it will be more to the point if he comes
back all right."
"It would be more to the point if the Elks were out hunting for him," I
said. You can bet I wasn't afraid to say it--to Mr. Ellsworth or
anybody else.
"I think we'll have to organize a search if he doesn't show up soon,"
Mr. Ellsworth said. Then neither of us said anything for a few seconds.
"How about the camping fellow?" I asked him.
"They took him home in a skiff," Mr. Ellsworth said; "he wanted to go,
so three of the boys rowed him across after the weather cleared."
"I don't see how Skinny held him up--I just don't," I told Mr.
Ellsworth.
Mr. Ellsworth said, "No, it was marvelous any way you look at it. I
think Skinny nearly broke the poor fellow's jaw. There is wonderful
power in frantic desperation."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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