Roy Blakeley - Percy Keese Fitzhugh
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Transcriber's notes:
1. The disease "consumption" as used in this book has been renamed
in modern times. Today we call this disease "tuberculosis."
(The term "consumption" might also have been applied to other
wasting diseases such as cancer.) Of course, tuberculosis in
one as young as the character of "Skinny" is pretty serious.
2. The first 3 books in the Roy Blakeley series are pretty much
one story.
ROY BLAKELEY
HIS STORY
Being the true narrative of his adventures and those of his troop on
land and sea and in the mud--particularly in the mud. Taken from the
Troop Book of the 1st Bridgeboro Troop B. S. A. and arranged by himself
with the assistance of Pee-wee Harris and
PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH
AUTHOR OF
TOM SLADE, BOY SCOUT, TOM SLADE AT TEMPLE CAMP, ETC.
ILLUSTRATED BY HOWARD L. HASTINGS
PUBLISHED WITH THE APPROVAL OF THE BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA
1920
Illustration #1
"I began sinking as low as my waist"
TABLE OF CONTENTS
I. TROUBLES OF MY OWN--THE BIG CONCLAVE
II. SWATTING THE SPY
III. SWATTING THE SPY--CONTINUED
IV. THE PLOT GROWS THINNER--OR ELSE THICKER
V. LOST
VI. THE TIGHT PLACE
VII. WEETONKA, THE TERRIBLE CHIEF
VIII. RESOPEKITWAFTENLY
IX. THE LOST LETTER
X. THE RAVENS
XI. LOST
XII. ARTIE'S ADVENTURE
XIII. TRACKING
XIV. THE SLACKER
XV. DURING NOON HOUR
XVI. NOBLE RAGS
XVII. THE TWO CROSSES
XVIII. SCOUT LAW NUMBER THREE
XIX. THE END OF THE MEETING
XX. MOSTLY ABOUT SKINNY
XXI. SOMETHING MISSING
XXII. SHOWS YOU WHERE I DO THE TALKING
XXIII. IN THE WOODS
XXIV. TREASURE ISLAND
XXV. THE SHORT CUT
XXVI. IN MY OWN CAMP
XXVII. THE GENTLE BREEZE
XXVIII. JOLLYING PEE-WEE
XXIX. JIMMY, THE BRIDGE-TENDER
XXX. GONE
XXXI. THE CAPTAIN'S ORDERS
XXXII. I MAKE A DANDY FRIEND
XXXIII. SO LONG--SEE YOU LATER
CHAPTER I
TROUBLES OF MY OWN--THE BIG CONCLAVE
Well, here I am at last, ready to tell you the adventures of our young
lives. Right away I have trouble with Pee-wee Harris. He's about as easy
to keep down as a balloon full of gas. We call him the young dirigible
because he's always going up in the air. Even at the start he must stick
in his chapter heading about a conclave.
Hanged if I know what a conclave is. It's some kind of a meeting I guess.
He said it was something like a peace conference, but believe me, the
meeting I'm going to tell you about wasn't much like a peace conference.
I told him I'd use my own heading and his too, just to keep him quiet.
I think he's got his pockets stuffed full of chapter headings and that
he'll be shooting them at me all the way through--like a machine--gun.
I guess I might as well tell you about Pee-wee before I tell you about
the conclave or whatever you call it He's Doctor Harris's son and he's
a member of the Raven Patrol. He's a member in good standing, only he
doesn't stand very high. Honest, you can hardly see him without a
magnifying glass. But for voice--good night!
He sings in the Methodist Church choir and they say he can throw his
voice anywhere. I wish he'd throw it in the ash barrel, I know that.
He always wears his belt-axe to troop meetings, in case the Germans
should invade Bridgeboro, I suppose. He's the troop mascot and if you
walk around him three times and ruffle up his beautiful curly hair,
you can change your luck.
Well, now I'll tell you about the meeting. We had a big special meeting
to decide about two things, and believe me, those two things had
momentous consequences. Momentous--that's a good word, hey?
One thing, we wanted to decide about our campaign for collecting books
for soldiers, and another thing, we wanted to decide how we could all
go up to Temple Camp in our cabin launch, the Good Turn.
This large arid what--do--you--call--it launch--I mean commodious
launch--is a dandy boat, except for one thing--the bow is too near the
stern. If we were sardines instead of boy scouts, it would be all right,
but you see there's twenty-four of us altogether, not counting Captain
Kidd, our mascot--he's a parrot.
So I got up and said, "How are we going to crowd twenty--four growing
boys and a parrot into a twenty foot launch?"
"It can't be did," Doc Carson shouted. "Then some of us will have to
hike it on our dear little feet," I said.
"Or else we'll have to get a barge or something or other and tow it,"
Artie Van Arlen said.
"What, with a three horse-power engine?" somebody else shouted.
"You can bet I won't be one of the ones to hike it," Pee-wee yelled;
"I'll dope out some scheme or other."
And believe me, he did.
Well, after we'd been talking about an hour or so on how we'd manage it,
Mr. Ellsworth, our scoutmaster, up and said there was plenty of time for
that as long as we were not going to camp for a couple of weeks anyway,
and that we'd better begin thinking of how we were going to start about
collecting books for soldiers.
All the while I had something very important to or say, and I was kind of
trembling, as you might say, "for I thought maybe Mr. Ellsworth wouldn't
like the idea. Anyway I got up and began:
"The author that wrote all about 'Tom Slade's adventures in the World
War'," I said, "told me it would be a good idea for one to write up our
troop's adventures and he'd help me to get them published."
Then up jumped Pee-wee Harris like a jack--in--the--box.
"What are you talking about?" he shouted; "don't you know you have to
have a command of language to write books? You're crazy!"
"I should worry about a command of language," I told him. "Haven't I
got command of the Silver Fox Patrol? Anybody who can command the Silver
Fox Patrol ought to be able to command a few languages and things. I
could command a whole regiment even," I kept up, for I saw that Pee-wee
was getting worked up, as usual, and all the fellows were laughing,
even Mr. Ellsworth.
"If you could command a division," Westy Martin said, in that sober
way of his, "you ought to be able to command English all right."
"I can command any kind of a division," I shouted, all the while
winking at Westy, "I can command a long division or a short division or
a multiplication or a subtraction or a plain addition."
"What are you talking about?" Pee-wee yelled.
"You're crazy!"
"I can command anything except Pee-wee Harris's temper," I said.
Well, you ought to have seen Pee-wee. Even Mr. Ellsworth had to laugh.
"How can a fellow your age write books?" he fairly screamed. "You have
to have sunsets and twilights and gurgling brooks and--"
"You leave the gurgling brooks to me," I said; "I'll make them gurgle
all right. There's going to be plenty of action in these books. And
Pee-wee Harris is going to be the village cut-up." "Are you going to
have girls?" he shouted.
"Sure I'm going to have girls--gold haired girls--all kinds--take your
pick."
"Good night!" Pee-wee shouted, "I see your finish."
Well, pretty soon everybody was shouting at the same time and Pee-wee
was dancing around, saying we were all crazy. Most of the Raven Patrol
were with him and they ought to be called the Raving Patrol, believe me.
Then Mr. Ellsworth held up his hand in that quiet way he has. "This
sounds like the Western Front or a Bolshevik meeting," he said, "and
I'm afraid our young Raven, Mr. Pee-wee Harris, will presently explode
and that would be an unpleasant episode for any book."
"Good night!" I said. "Don't want any of my books to end with an
explosion."
Then he said how it would be a good idea for me to write up our
adventures and how he'd help me whenever I got stuck and how he
guessed the author of Tom Slade would put in fancy touches for me,
because he lives in our town and he's a whole lot interested in our
troop. He said that breezes and distant views and twilights and
things aren't so hard when you get used to them and even storms and
hurricanes are easy if you only know how. He said girls aren't so easy
to manage though.
"I'll help you out with the girls," Pee-wee said; "I know all about
girls. And I'll help you with the names of the chapters, too."
"All right," Mr. Ellsworth said, "I think Pee-wee will prove a
valuable collaborator."
"A which?" Pee-wee said, kind of frightened.
So then we all laughed and Mr. Ellsworth said it was getting late and
we'd better settle about collecting books for the soldiers.
We decided that after we got to camp I'd begin writing up our
adventures on the trip, but we couldn't decide how we'd all go in our
boat, and that was the thing that troubled us a lot, because the fellows
in our troop always hang together and we didn't like the idea of being
separated.
Well, I guess that's all there is to tell you about the meeting, and in
the next chapter I'm going to tell you all about how we collected the
books for the fellows in camp, and how the mystery about the boat was
solved. Those are Pee-wee's words about the mystery of the boat. I can't
see that there was any mystery about it, but there was another kind of a
mystery, believe me, and that kid was the cause of it. I guess maybe
you'll like the next chapter better than this one.
So long.
CHAPTER II
SWATTING THE SPY
Now I'm going to tell you about how we collected books for soldiers
and especially about Pee-wee's big stunt.
The next morning we started out and by night we had over five hundred
books. Mr. Ellsworth said they were mostly light literature, but if
he had only had to carry fifty of them on his shoulder like I did, he'd
have thought they were pretty heavy literature, believe me.
This is the way we fixed it. The Raving Patrol, (that's Pee-wee's
patrol, you know) used Doctor Harris's five-passenger Fraud car. It
didn't go very good and Pumpkin Odell (Raven) said he guessed it was
because the wheels were tired--that's a joke. They held up all the
houses in Little Valley. That's about sumpty--seven miles or so from
Bridgeboro. They've got two stores there and a sign that says "Welcome
to Automobilists" and how they'll be arrested if they don't obey the
speed laws. Welcome to jail--good night!
The Elk Patrol (that's our new patrol, you know) went over to East
Bridgeboro with Pinky Dawson's express wagon (one horse power) and some
horse--I wish you could see him. The Elks were a pretty lively bunch,
I'll say that, and they cleaned out all the private libraries in East
Bridgeboro. They even got cook-books and arithmetics and books about
geometry--pity the poor soldiers.
The Silver Fox Patrol took care of Bridgeboro. That's the best patrol
of the whole three. I'm leader of the Silver Foxes. The Ravens call us
the Silver-plated Foxes, but that's because we can them the Raving
Patrol and the reason we call them the Raving Patrol is on account of
Pee-wee.
Let's see, where was I? Oh yes, the Silver Foxes took care of Bridgeboro.
Brick Warner (He's red-headed) has a Complex car or a Simplex, or
whatever you call it--I should worry. I mean his father has it. He's got
a dandy father; he gave Brick five dollars so that we could have a
blow--out at lunch time. Oh, boy, we had two blow--outs and a puncture.
We got over two hundred books that day--light literature, dark
literature, all colors. I could tell you a lot of things that happened
that day, because we did a lot of good turns, and one bad turn, when
we grazed a telegraph pole. What cared we? But you'll care more about
hearing of Pee-wee and the raving Ravens and how they made out. ...
Anyway, I guess I might as well tell you now about the scouts in my
patrol. Don't ever borrow trouble, but get to be a patrol leader, and
you'll have troubles of your own. Then you can pick out the one you
want and I'll drown the rest. After that I'll tell you about the grand
drive in Little Valley.
First in the Silver Fox Patrol comes Roy Blakeley--that's me. I'm
patrol leader and I've got eleven merit badges. I've got two sisters too.
One of them is crazy about the movies.
I've got seven scouts to look after and Captain Kidd, the parrot--he's
our mascot. Our patrol color is green and he's green with a yellow neck.
He's got one merit badge-for music. Good night! Then comes Westy Martin,
and Dorry Benton and Huntley Manners and Sleuth Seabury, because he's a
good detective, and Will Dawson and Brick Warner and Slick Warner and
that's all.
Now I'll tell you about the raving Ravens. Of course, I can't tell you
all that happened in Little Valley that day, because I wasn't there. Doc
Carson said they had trouble with the motor and Pee-wee. He said that
Pee-wee kept running wild an day. But anyway they brought back a lot of
books with them, I'll say that much.
Well, when the day's drive was over, we all took our books to the troop
room and piled them up on the table, and waited for Mr. Ellsworth to
come. He usually comes home from the city on the Woolworth Special. We
call it the Woolworth Special because it gets to Bridgeboro at five ten.
Along about six o'clock he showed up, and we began sorting out the
books. The biggest pile was brought in by the Ravens, and when he
noticed a pile of about twenty or thirty books tied with a brown cord,
he asked where those came from. Then up jumped Pee-wee, very excited,
and said: "I'll tell you about those."
"Do tell," said Elmer Sawyer, winking at me.
"Good night! Pee-wee's got the floor," shouted Westy.
"Floor!" shouted Dorry Benton. "He's got the walls and the ceiling and
the mantelpiece and everything."
"Will you pay a little attention?" Pee-wee screamed.
"We're paying as little as possible," I told him.
"You're the worst of the lot," he yelled; "that pile of books, the ones
with the brown cord, were given to us by a kindly old gentleman; he--.
"A which?" Doc Carson said.
"Don't you know a kindly old gentleman when you see one?" Pee-wee
fairly screamed.
"Let's see one," Artie shouted.
And that's the way it went on till Mr. Ellsworth came to Pee-wee's
rescue like he always does. He said we should let Pee-wee have the
chair.
"Here's a couple of chairs for him," we shouted.
"He can have the table too, if he wants it," I said; anything to keep
him quiet.
"I don't want to be quiet," Pee-wee screamed.
Good night, that was some meeting. Well, pretty soon Mr. Ellsworth got
us all throttled down and Pee-wee started to tell us about his visit
to the kindly old gentleman. It seemed that was one of the houses that
Pee-wee called at alone and the kindly old gentleman fell for him like
grown up people mostly do. I don't know what it is but everybody seems
to like Pee-wee. You know just because you jolly a fellow, it's not a
sign you don't like him. Pee-wee is one bully little scout, I'll say
that much.
"Do you want to hear about it?" he said.
"Proceed with your narrative," I told him; "begin at the beginning, go
on till you come to the end, then stop."
"Be sure to stop," Westy said.
Well, then Pee-wee went on to tell us about the kindly old gentleman. He
lived in a big white house, he said, with grounds around it and a big
flag pole on the lawn, with a flag flying from it. He said that the old
gentleman didn't talk very good English and he thought maybe he was a
German or French or something or other. He guessed maybe he was a
professor or something like that. Anyway, he took Pee-wee through his
library, picking out the books he didn't want, till be had given him
about twenty or thirty. Then they tied them up in a brown cord and
Pee-wee took them out to the Fraud car.
Well that's about all there was to it, and I guess nothing more would
have happened, if I hadn't untied the cord and picked up the book that
lay on top. It was a book about German history, princes and all that
stuff, and I guess it wouldn't interest soldiers much. Just as I was
running through it, I happened to notice a piece of paper between the
leaves, which I guess the old gentleman put there for a book-mark. As
soon as I picked it up and read it, I said, "Good night! Look at this,"
and I handed it to Mr. Ellsworth.
It said something about getting information to Hindenburg, and about
how a certain German spy was in one of the American camps in France.
Mr. Ellsworth read it through two or three times, and then said, "Boys,
this looks like a very serious matter. You said the old gentleman spoke
broken English, Walter?"
That's the name he always called Pee-wee.
"Cracky," I said, "Pee-wee's kindly old gentleman is a German spy."
"Sure he is," said Westy Martin, "and he's only flying the American
flag for a bluff, he's a deep dyed villain."
"He can't be dyed very deep," said Doc Carson, in that sober way of
his; "because we haven't any German dyes to dye him with."
I was just going to say something to kid Pee-wee along, when I noticed
that Mr. Ellsworth was very serious, and Pee-wee was staring like a
ghost.
"Boys," Mr. Ellsworth said, "I have no idea of the full meaning of
this paper." Then he said how maybe in collecting books we had caught a
spy in our net. He said that he was going to take the paper anyway and
show it to the Federal Commissioner, down in the Post Office Building.
"If he's a spy, we'll swat him all right," I said.
"We'll more than swat him," Mr. Ellsworth said, and I could see by the
look in his eye that he meant business.
CHAPTER III
SWATTING THE SPY--CONTINUED
We didn't swat him in that chapter because I had to go to supper, but
we'll surely swat him in this one. Positively guaranteed.
Pee-wee was proud that he made such a hit with the old gentleman and
especially because he got so many books from him. But when he realized
that the paper I found in one of the books had something to do with
spying, it was all Mr. Ellsworth could do to keep him quiet. He told us
all not to say anything, because maybe, the old man might find out that
he was going to be nabbed and go away. I guess Pee-wee felt pretty
important. Anyway I know he was frightened, because all the next
morning he kept asking me if he'd have to go to court and things like
that.
"The only court you'll go to, is the tennis court," I told him; so we
made up a set with my two sisters, Ruth and Marjorie, and the girls beat
us three games. While we were playing, along came Mr Ellsworth and
Commissioner Terry with two strange men, and I could see Pee-wee was
very nervous. They sent the girls away and then began to ask Pee-wee
questions. I could see that they thought the discovery we made was
pretty serious.
"Are you the boy that found the paper in the book?" they asked me. Then
they wanted to know what kind of a book it was, and I told them it was a
book about German history and they screwed up their faces and looked
very suspicious.
"You say that the man spoke broken English?" one of them asked Pee-wee.
Pee-wee was kind of nervous, I could see. "It--it--well it wasn't
exactly broken," he said.
"Just a little bent," I said, and oh, you ought to have seen the frown
Mr. Ellsworth gave me.
"It was kind of--just a little--" Pee-wee began.
"We understand," one of the men said. Then the other one spoke to us.
He said, "Boys, we want you to go over with us and we want this
youngster to identify the man. You needn't be afraid, Uncle Sam is with
you."
But, cracky, I didn't like it and I guess Pee-wee didn't either. I've
read stories about boys that had men arrested and all that, and I always
thought I'd like to be one of those regular heroes. But when it came to
really doing it, I knew then that I didn't like to help arrest anybody,
and I bet most real fellows feel the same way. I felt funny, kind of.
That's why I have no use for young detectives in stories, because I know
you've got to be a grown-up man to feel that way and do things like that.
They had an automobile right near the tennis courts and we all got in
and Pee-wee and I sat in back with our scoutmaster. Cracky, I was glad
our scoutmaster was along, that's one sure thing. Pretty soon we got to
Little Valley and Pee-wee pointed out the big white house with the lawn
and the flag flying there. Jiminy, but it looked good and I wished we
were up at Temple Camp, raising our colors near the boat landing.
While we were going up the gravel path; the old gentleman came out on
his porch and looked at us and I felt kind of ashamed and I could see
Pee-wee did too. But, cracky, I've got no use for spies, that's one sure
thing. Pee-wee and I kind of hung behind and I guess he felt funny, sort
of, when the old gentleman waved his hand to him, as if they were old
friends.
I can't remember all they said but the two men who I knew were
detectives showed the old gentleman the paper and asked him what it
meant. First he seemed kind of flustered and angry and I know Pee-wee's
heart was thumping-anyway it would have been thumping, except that it
was up in his throat.
Then the men said that they'd have to search the house to see if there
was a wireless and then the old gentleman got angry; then all of a
sudden he sat down in one of the wicker chairs on the porch and began
to laugh and laugh and laugh. Then he looked at Pee-wee and said, "I
suppose this is the young gentleman who succeeded in trapping me. I
must take off my hat to the Boy Scouts," and he smiled with an awful
pleasant kind of a smile and held out his hand to Pee-wee.
Well, you should have seen Pee-wee. It was as good as a three-ringed
circus. He stood there as if he was posing for animal crackers. And
even the detectives looked kind of puzzled, but all the while
suspicious.
"Are you the spy-catcher?" the old gentleman said to Pee-wee, but
Pee-wee looked all flabbergasted and only shifted from one foot
to the other.
"I hope you don't mean to kill me with that belt.
axe?" the old gentleman asked. But Pee-wee just couldn't speak.
"He must be a telephone girl--'he doesn't answer," I blurted out,
and even the detectives had to laugh.
"Gentlemen, if you will step inside, I'll make full confession and
then give myself up," the old man said; "for I see there is no use
in trying to escape the Boy Scouts. It was I who wrote that
treasonable memorandum and I may as well tell you that I have a
wireless. I will give you my whole history. I see that my young
friend here is a most capable secret service agent."
"We're only small boys--we belong to the infantry," I said, for I
just couldn't help blurting it out.
Well, we all went inside and I could see that the Commissioner and
the detectives kept very near the old gentleman as if they didn't
have much use for his laughing and his pleasant talk. I guess maybe
they were used to that kind of thing, and he couldn't fool them.
When we got into his library I saw books all around on the shelves,
hundreds of them I guess, and the desk was covered with papers and
there was a picture of Mark Twain with "Best regards to Mr. Donnelle,"
written on it. Gee whit taker, I thought when I looked around; maybe
Mr. Donnelle is a deep-dyed spy all right, but he's sure a high-brow.
"You'd have to take an elevator to get up to him," I whispered to
Pee-wee.
"Shhh," Pee-wee said, "maybe he isn't dyed so very deep--there's
different shades of dyes."
"Maybe he's only dyed a light gray or a pale blue," I said.
Then Mr. Donnelle got out a big fat red book that said on it "Who's
Who in America" and, jiminy, I'm glad I never had to study it, because
it had about a million pages. I hate biography anyway--biography and
arithmetic. Then he turned to a certain page.
"Now, gentlemen," he said, "if you will just read this I will then
consent to go with you," and he smiled all over his face.
The four men leaned over and began reading, but Pee-wee and I didn't
because they didn't ask us and Boy Scouts don't butt in.
"I bet it tells all about German spies and everything, and now he's
going to make a full confession," Pee-wee said; "maybe our names will
be in the New York papers, hey?"
"They'll be more likely to be in the fly-paper," I said; "there's
something funny about this."
"I bet he was going to blow up some ships," Pee-wee said.
"I bet he'll blow us up in a minute," I told him; because I could see
that he was saying something to the men while they all looked at the
book, and that the whole four of them were laughing--especially
Mr. Ellsworth.
"It was the elder boy who discovered it," I heard him say, smiling all
the while.
"Good night!" I said to Pee-wee, "I thought we had a German in custody,
but instead of that. We're in Dutch!"
"Will they send us to jail?" he whispered.
"I think we'll get about ten merit badges for this--not," I said; "he's
no spy."
Well, the men didn't pay much attention to us, only strolled over to one
side of the room and began chatting together, and Mr. Donnelle got a box
of cigars and they each took one.
"I wouldn't smoke one of those cigars," Pee-wee said, "they might be
bombs. The Germans are pretty tricky--safety first."