The Banner Boy Scouts Snowbound. George A. Warren
when I fell you never would a got me. Now what’re you meanin’ to do about it? Ain’t a feller got a right to walk the public streets of this here town without bein’ grabbed by a pack of cowards in soldier suits, and treated rough-house way?”
“That doesn’t go with us, Jud Mabley,” said Bobolink, indignantly. “You were playing the spy on us, you know it, trying to listen to all we were saying.”
“So as to tell that Lawson crowd, and get them to start some mean trick on us in the bargain,” added Tom Betts.
“O-ho! ain’t a feller a right to stop alongside of a church to strike a match for his pipe?” jeered the prisoner, defiantly. “How was I to know your crowd was inside there? The streets are free to any one, man, woman or boy, I take it.”
“How about the broken window, Jud?” demanded Bobolink, triumphantly.
“Yes! did you smash that pane of glass when you threw your match away, Jud,” asked another boy, with a laugh.
“He was caught in the act, fellows,” asserted Frank Savage, “and the next question with us is what ought we to do to punish a sneak and a spy?”
“I said it before—ride him on a rail around town so people can see how scouts stand up for their own rights!” came a voice from the group of excited boys.
“Oh! that would be letting him off too easy,” Tom Betts affirmed. “’Twould serve him just about right if we ducked him a few times in the river.”
“All we need is an axe to cut a hole through the ice,” another lad went on to say, showing that the suggestion rather caught his fancy as the appropriate thing to do—making the punishment fit the crime, as it were.
“Keep it goin’,” sneered the defiant Jud, not showing any signs of quailing under this bombardment. “Try and think up a few more pleasant things to do to me. If you reckon you c’n make me show the white feather you’ve got another guess comin’, I want you to know. I’m true grit, I am!”
“You may be singing out of the other side of your mouth, Jud Mabley, before we’re through with you,” threatened Curly Baxter.
“Mebbe now you might think to get a hemp rope and try hangin’ me,” laughed the prisoner in an offensive manner. “That’s what they do to spies, you know, in the army. Yes, and I know of a beauty of a limb that stands straight out from the body of the tree ’bout ten feet from the ground. Shall I tell you where it lies?”
This sort of defiant talk was causing more of the scouts to become angry. It seemed to them like adding insult to injury. Here this fellow had spied upon their meeting, possibly learned all about the plans they were forming for the midwinter holidays, and then finally had the misfortune to fall and smash one of the window panes, which would, of course, have to be made good by the scouts, as they were under heavy obligations to the trustees of the church for favors received.
“A mean fellow like you, Jud Mabley,” asserted Joe Clausin, “deserves the worst sort of punishment that could be managed. Why, it would about serve you right if you got a lovely coat of tar and feathers to-night.”
Jud seemed to shrink a little at hearing that.
“You wouldn’t dare try such a game as that,” he told them, with a faint note of fear in his voice. “Every one of you’d have to pay for it before the law. Some things might pass, but that’s goin’ it too strong. My dad’d have you locked up in the town cooler if I came home lookin’ like a bird, sure he would.”
Jud’s father was something of a local power in politics, so that the boy’s boast was not without more or less force. Some of the scouts may have considered this; at any rate, one of them now broke out with:
“A ducking ought to be a good enough punishment for this chap, I should say; so, fellows, let’s start in to give it to him.”
“I know where I can lay hands on an axe all right, to chop a hole through the ice,” asserted Bobolink, eagerly.
“Then we appoint you a committee of one to supply the necessary tools for the joyous occasion,” Red Collins cried out, gleefully falling in with the scheme.
“Hold on, boys, don’t you think it would be enough if Jud made an apology to us, and promised not to breathe a word of what he chanced to hear?”
It was Horace Poole who said this, for he often proved to be the possessor of a tender heart and a forgiving spirit. His mild proposition was laughed down on the spot.
“Much he’d care what he promised us, if only we let him go scot free,” jeered one scout. “I’ve known him to give his solemn word before now, and break it when he felt like it. I wouldn’t trust him out of my sight. Promises count for nothing with one of Jud Mabley’s stamp.”
“How about that, Jud?” demanded another boy. “Would you agree to keep your lips buttoned up, and not tell a word of what you have heard?”
“I ain’t promisin’ nothin’, I want you to know,” replied the prisoner, boldly; “so go on with your funny business. You won’t ketch me squealing worth a cent. Honest to goodness now I half b’lieve it’s all a big bluff. Let’s see you do your worst.”
“Drag him along to the river bank, fellows, and I’ll join you there with the axe,” roared Bobolink, now fully aroused by the obstinate manner of the captive.
“Wait a bit, fellows.”
It was Jack Stormways who said this, and even the impetuous Bobolink came to a halt.
“Go on Jack. What’s your plan?” demanded one of the group.
“I was only going to remind you that in the absence of Mr. Gordon, Paul is acting as scout-master, and before you do anything that may reflect upon the good name of Stanhope Troop you’d better listen to what he’s got to say on the subject.”
CHAPTER VII
PAUL TAKES A CHANCE
These sensible words spoken by Jack Stormways had an immediate effect upon the angry scouts, some of whom realized that they had been taking matters too much in their own hands. Paul had remained silent all this while, waiting to see just how far the hotheads would go.
“First of all,” he went on to say in that calm tone which always carried conviction with it, “let’s go back to the meeting-room, and take Jud along. I have a reason for wanting you to do that, which you shall hear right away.”
No one offered an objection, although doubtless it was understood that Paul did not like such radical measures as ducking the spy who had fallen into their hands. They were by this time fully accustomed to obeying orders given by a superior officer, which is one of the best things learned by scouts.
Jud, for some reason, did not attempt to hold back when urged to accompany them, though for that matter it would have availed him nothing to have struggled and strained, for at least four sturdy scouts had their grip on his person.
In this manner they retraced their steps. Fortunately the last boy out had been careful enough to close the door after making his hurried exit, so that they found the room still warm and comfortable.
They crowded inside, and a number of them frowned as they glanced toward the broken window, through which a draught was blowing. They hoped Paul would not be too easy with the rascal who had been responsible for that smash.
“First of all,” the scout-master began as they crowded around the spot where he and Jud stood, the latter staring defiantly at the frowning scouts, “I want to remark that it needn’t bother us very much even if Jud tells all he may have heard us saying. We shall always be at least two to one, and can take care of ourselves if attacked. Those fellows understand that, I guess.”
“We’ve proved it to them in the past times without number, for a fact,” observed Jack, diplomatically.
“If they care to spend a week in the snow woods, let them try it,” continued the other. “Good luck to them, say I; and here’s hoping they may learn some lessons there that will make them turn over