Boy Scouts of America -- Juvenile fiction; Rocky Mountains -- Juvenile fiction
Westy drew his legs up onto the seat, careful not to touch Artie’s
bandaged foot. And so these two friends sat one at either end of the
seat facing each other and chatting. Artie was the one boy in all the
troop whom it was impossible to quarrel with. He had almost a girl’s
delicacy and an amiability that made him likeable to every one.
“Yes, but you wanted to go all right,” said Westy.
“What you don’t get you don’t miss,” Artie said.
“Well, I’m going to miss it,” said Westy sullenly.
“Well, what do you say we both miss it together?” said Artie. “Then
we’ll have some fun missing it. I dare say my mother will be
disappointed; she’s getting postcards from me out there already. Well,
let’s see. You were asking if I’ve seen any of the troop. Elsie Harris
sent me up some jelly; the chauffeur brought it; I guess she wouldn’t
trust Pee-wee. Safety first, hey? Sure, all the troop have been up. Mary
Temple was here yesterday; she’s in Barnard now. Say, Wes, do you know
how Mr. Temple first got hold of Uncle Jeb.”
“Sure, he was out in Montana.”
“Yes, but do you know how he got in with him? Mary was telling me about
it.”
“They were surveying or something, weren’t they?”
“Sure, they were surveying for a branch of a railroad through a pass in
the mountains. Mr. Temple himself went out there when they got to the
pass because he wanted to see that place with his own eyes. _Boy_, but
it must be lonely out there!” Artie burst out laughing at the solemn
stare of interest and disappointment on Westy’s face. “Wait till you
hear what I’m going to tell you,” Artie added.
“You only make it worse,” Westy said.
“I had to laugh at the way Mary Temple shuddered when she told me about
it,” said Artie, still laughing.
“Yes, and you wanted to go out there just as much as I did,” Westy said.
“Go on, what did Mary tell you?”
“I’ve got you interested, hey?”
“_Will you go on and tell me?_”
“Sure, but I can’t tell you the whole thing, because it’s a mystery.”
“Yes, go on.”
“All right,” said Artie, “one, two, three, _go_. Mr. Temple went out to
Montana to see the pass; it was all like a deep ravine through the
mountains. That’s the Continental Divide out there. From there if you
don’t look out you go rolling down into the Pacific Ocean, _kersplash_.”
“Will you talk sense and go on?” Westy fairly pleaded.
Artie craned his neck under the swing seat and glanced inquiringly here
and there. “Your father isn’t anywhere around, is he? Because there’s a
peach of a place for breaking your neck out there. Well, Mr. Temple went
out there----”
“You said that four times.”
Artie continued, “He went to a large city with a population of
thirty-two people in it--and two dogs. I think there was a cat too----”
“Will you _please_----”
“The name of it is Eagle City; I guess it’s named after the Eagle Scout
Award, hey? All right, I’ll go on. Mr. Temple went there, there’s a
train stops there every Tuesday and a week from Friday----”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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