The Wolf Patrol: A Tale of Baden-Powell's Boy Scouts — John Shaqi
The Wolf Patrol: A Tale of Baden-Powell's Boy ScoutsFinnemore, John
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The Wolf Patrol: A Tale of Baden-Powell's Boy Scouts
Finnemore, John
Adventure and adventurers -- Juvenile fiction; Boy Scouts -- Juvenile fiction
Chippy's destination was the first cottage beside the grass-grown track
which was the only road into Locking. He lifted the latch of the gate
and entered the garden. Standing in the garden was a young man whom
Chippy had never seen before. Chippy looked hard at the stranger, and
the stranger took his pipe out of his mouth and stared hard at Chippy.
'Hallo, nipper!' he said at last.
Chippy acknowledged the politeness by a nod, and went up the paved path
to the cottage door. His grandmother was busy about the wood-fire on
the broad hearth, making the tea, and she told him he'd just come at
the right time to have a cup with them.
'Who's that out in the garden, gra'mother?' asked Chippy.
'That's my lodger,' replied the old woman.
'I never knowed yer 'ave a lodger afore!' said Chippy.
'No; I never did,' she replied. 'But he come here an' he begged o' me
to gie him a room, an' I did. 'Twas Jem Lacey's mother as brought him.
He's come from Lunnon. His name's Albert.'
At this moment the latch of the door clicked and the lodger came in.
'Tea ready, Mrs. Ryder?' he asked.
'In a minute,' she replied. 'This here's my grandson. He've a-come
over from Bardon.'
The stranger gave Chippy a cheerful nod, and they soon fell into
conversation, and Albert proved very talkative.
'First-rate place to pick yer up, this is!' remarked the lodger.
'Been ill?' asked Chippy.
'Ain't I just?' replied the other. 'I'm boots at a big 'otel in the
Strand, an' there's a lot o' them Americans come to our place. An' I
can tell yer their stuff tykes a bit o' handlin'. Them American women,
they travel wiv boxes about the size of a four-roomed cottage, more or
less. An' I got a bit of a strain pullin' of 'em about. Then I
ketched a bad cold, an' it sort o' settled in the bellows!'--and the
stranger gave himself a thump on the chest--'so I had to go on my club,
an' I was laid up eight or nine weeks. Well, arter I'd been on the box
that time, the doctor, 'e says to me, 'e says: "What you want now is a
change an' fresh air." So Jem Lacey--he's porter at our place--put me
up to this spot, an' it's done me wonders!'
'Yer look all right now,' said Chippy, and Chippy spoke truly.
The lodger appeared the picture of health. He was tall, broad, of fair
complexion, had sandy hair and blue eyes, and, as he drank his tea, he
looked as fit as a fiddle.
'Ah, it's a healthy place here on th' old h'eth!' said Mrs. Ryder.
'Look at me!' said Albert. 'I'm a livin' example!'
The conversation now turned on Bardon, and the stranger showed keen
interest in the ships which had lately gone up and down the river.
'I know a bit about ships,' he remarked, 'I 'ad a brother as went for a
sailor.'
After a time he returned to the garden to smoke his pipe, and Chippy
looked after him through the window.
'He seems a smart un!' remarked the boy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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