  The second day of the County Fair promised to show even a greater attendance than the opening one had done. Of course, the really fine weather had considerable to do with the success of the undertaking, for it would be hard to imagine a more complete failure than such an exhibition always proves when an unfortunate rainy spell comes along just after it had started. Once again did the scouts appear in full numbers, eager to undertake another afternoon’s work. At home and abroad, as well as in the school-room, they had been hearing nothing but encouraging words, and were thus primed for excelling their previous record. Walter Osborne saw the scout master looking at him with a quizzical smile on his face, as soon as he arrived at the camp. He shook his head rather dolefully in the negative. “That name gets on my nerves, for a fact, Hugh!” the Hawk leader confessed. “Then, after all, you didn’t dream the answer last night, or have it pop into your head the first thing this morning?” asked Hugh. “Same old story,” said Walter. “I’d open my mouth to say where I had met that boy, and then get no further. I mean to keep an eye on him part of the afternoon. Perhaps I may glimpse some little way he has about him that will freshen up this silly old memory of mine. A fine scout I’m turning out to be when I can’t remember a little thing like that.” “Oh! don’t bother your head too much about it,” Hugh advised him; “that is, I hope you won’t let it interfere with your duties.” “I can promise you that, Hugh. My folks had word from Uncle Reuben and Aunt Ruth this morning. They hope to land in Oakvale on that six-twenty train this evening, so I expect to go right down from here and meet them in time for supper.” “I’m glad they’ll be here for the last two days of the Fair,” remarked Hugh, “for it certainly will be worth seeing.” He soon had his various detachments at work. Some were sent to the station to meet the next train; others wandered about the grounds, and into the various buildings where all manner of exhibits of great interest to the farmer and the housewife were being admired by thousands of visitors. “I wonder whether we’ll have any serious cases to-day?” remarked Arthur Cameron, as he joined Hugh, and looking around expectantly as he spoke at the passing throng. “It’s to be hoped not,” the other replied. “I wouldn’t seem so anxious if I were you, Arthur. If they come we’ll try our best to take care of them; but all the same we shouldn’t allow ourselves to wish for anything like that.” “Oh! I didn’t mean it that way, Hugh,” exclaimed Arthur, turning red with confusion; “though a fellow begins to have a professional curiosity concerning the character of his next job. That was so easy what we had yesterday, you know.” “Was it?” remarked Hugh. “Well, all the people who spoke to me about it seemed to think the other way. Several said they admired the nerve you showed; and one old lady even went so far as to tell me—now don’t get proud, Arthur—that you were a born surgeon.” Arthur drew in a long breath. That praise did him more good than anything he had ever heard; for he meant to be a surgeon; and nothing must be allowed to stand in the way of his following whither inclination and destiny beckoned. Again there were scores of visitors attracted by the trim camp, and the sight of the manly looking boys in scout uniforms. They stopped to ask questions, and were shown the complete camping arrangements, all of which interested them. Hugh could not but notice that a look of doubt and skepticism crossed many of the faces of these strangers when they heard that the second tent was to be used as an emergency hospital, and that the boys stood ready to perform any needed surgical operation as covered by the rules of “first aid to the injured.” The good people could readily understand how boys might camp out, take care of themselves in the woods if lost, and engage in various games connected with life in the open—such as reading signs left by small wild animals, or following the trail of a comrade—but they were unwilling to believe the boys could actually save human life by prompt attendance. “We ought to have a little pamphlet to hand out to these Doubting Thomases, according to my way of thinking,” said Don Miller, the leader of the Fox Patrol, after a party of rustics had gone on, smiling, and exchanging nods after hearing of that useful tent’s part in the arrangements. “The chances are,” said Hugh, “that even then they’d think we were blowing our own horns a little. The only thing that convinces some people is a practical demonstration.” “Oh! well, our folks know we can do what we claim, so what’s the use bothering about what these other people think?” said Buck Winter, who had happened along in time to overhear this little talk. In the very next lot of visitors Hugh saw a boy who was all eyes and ears for the different devices looking to giving the scouts comfort when in camp. Apparently the lad was wild to join a troop, but his father had a sour look on his face that would seem to indicate he did not approve of such a thing. “I’d like to sow a few seeds there that may take root and grow,” Hugh told himself, and immediately he took great pains to explain a dozen different ways whereby scouts are bound to become better boys at home on account of the training they receive when in company of their mates. After he had managed to interest the man he began telling him of a number of instances he could vouch for where backward boys had been aroused from their condition of seeming torpor, and surprised their parents by the new spirit with which they took hold of things. All the while the boy was tugging at the coat of his father, and every jerk he gave when Hugh made some likely assertion seemed to say: “There, didn’t I tell you so, dad? What do you think of that? If other fellows can do it why don’t you give me a chance to try and see?” The man began to ask questions. He also looked at his boy as though debating the matter with himself, for it was hard to change his mind, when he had been running down this Boy Scout movement the way he had. Still, Hugh had appealed to him in a manner that was almost irresistible. “I’ve got a good notion to make the venture,” he said to Hugh, presently; “his maw’s been plaguing me nearly to death to let Johnny jine, but somehow I had an idea it was a fool thing, and he’d only waste his time. You see he’s not as bright as he might be; and since you’ve been telling me about other boys that woke up, it sot me to thinking perhaps Johnny might get some good out of it.” Hugh would never forget the look on the boy’s face as he heard his father make this confession. He was so utterly overwhelmed with joy that he hardly seemed to breathe as he looked first at Hugh and then at his father. “The chances are ten to one,” said the scout master, “that you’ll never regret it if you decide to let him come in. Do you live anywhere near Oakvale, sir; I don’t remember meeting you before?” “My name is Wheeler, and I’ve bought the old Lyons farm about three miles out,” the other explained. “I’ve been hearing a whole lot about the scouts, and what big things they’ve been doing over there at the cement works riot, and so on. Course it seemed impossible to me, but since coming to the Fair I’ve struck an old friend who said he helped keep back the crowd yesterday when you boys took care of the man that was hurt in that runaway accident.” “Oh! you must mean Mr. Jones,” said Hugh, mentioning the name the big man had given him before taking his departure. “Yes, he’s the one. Somehow, after I’d heard him tell a few things I began to feel sort of different toward you scouts. I had to own up to myself that I was prejudiced, and hadn’t been fair to you. Now, I come in on Saturday afternoons, and could fetch Johnny along with me, picking him up about ten o’clock when I passed by on the way home.” “Oh! dad!” gasped the delighted Johnny; while Hugh gave him a sunny look and a handshake that meant everything to the boy whose one longing seemed to be to see himself one of the scouts whom he had admired so long from a distance. Hugh never allowed a chance to slip past when he could say a good word for the advancement of the cause. He knew that thousands of boys would be eager to wear the khaki and start on the upward climb if it were not for the decided opposition they experienced at home. According to Hugh’s viewpoint that was the very place where they should be receiving the most encouragement. If parents, instead of blindly denouncing any movement like this, would only candidly examine it, see what it has done for other boys in their own town, and then decide the question on its merits, thousands of additions would be made to the scout ranks. As the afternoon wore on there were several cases requiring first aid. They happened to all be of a minor character, though Arthur gave them his best attention, for he believed in doing everything well. One boy was taken with a bad case of cramps, and howled dismally until “Old Doc Cameron,” as Billy had nicknamed Arthur, succeeded in relieving the griping pain by the use of some remedy he always carried in the medicine chest. Boys, when out in camp, are apt to be reckless in their manner of eating, and devour green apples or any other fruit calculated to double them up with cholera morbus. Then some remedy that contains camphor and pepper is needed to warm the stomach, and counteract the effects of the dangerous food. Arthur did manage to have one rather difficult operation later on. A man came limping over to the tent, claiming that he had made a bad stroke with an axe he was wielding and managed to cut his foot. On examination the hurt proved to be a serious one; but Arthur washed the foot, cleansed the wound perfectly, so that all danger of blood poisoning was avoided, and after binding it up properly, the man was sent to his home in a car offered by an accommodating visitor (who had been an interested spectator of the whole operation). He had just gone off when Hugh discovered Billy coming up. It dawned on him that Billy had kept himself aloof from the camp ever since they opened their headquarters that afternoon, though he must have been doing scout work elsewhere, for Billy was not the one to shirk. Hugh noticed that the stout chum looked excited, and while there was really no reason for connecting this fact with what they had talked about on the preceding afternoon, the scout master found himself remembering the cause of their conversation on that same occasion. “You’ve been up to something, Billy, if looks count,” Hugh told him as the other came up, panting a little from hurrying. “Well, I don’t know that you could hardly call it that, Hugh,” said Billy. “I own up I’ve been keeping an eye on that medicine fakir and Cale, because I like to study human nature, you remember, and that pair certainly make a fellow sit up and take notice.” “Anything new in that quarter?” asked Hugh, carelessly, to draw the other out. “Just what I hurried here to tell you, Hugh.” “Oh! then there have been developments?” “I think the queer influence that slick fakir Old Doctor Merritt has been exercising over that chap Cale must be weakening around now, Hugh. How do I know? Well, I’ll tell you. As I passed close to their medicine tent I heard a loud voice. It was the fake doctor threatening violence to the boy if he didn’t keep on doing his part to victimize the public. Hugh, I believe Cale is trying to break away; and I tell you—it’s about time we stepped in to take a hand in the game.” |
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