Roy Blakeleys Adventures in Camp | Page 4

it was pitch dark and I couldn't see any boats at
all, only lights, moving a little on account of the boats rocking.
In a little while I heard oars splashing and the sound seemed to be
coming nearer and nearer, so I knew it was the first boat-load of
fellows coming back. I thought it was awful soon for them to be getting
back. It seemed funny that they weren't talking, especially if it was the
Raving Ravens (that's what we call the Raven Patrol) because Pee-wee
Harris would be sure to be running on high. That's the way he always
does, especially coming home from the movies. And if it was the Elk
Patrol I'd be sure to hear Bert McAlpin because he's a human victrola
record.
Pretty soon I could make out a black spot coming nearer and then I
knew for sure it was headed for the house-boat. But there wasn't any
sound except the splashing of the oars and I thought that was mighty
funny. In a couple of minutes the boat came alongside and I heard
someone say, "Pst" very quiet like. I went and looked over the rail and
there I saw a fellow all alone in a rowboat. I couldn't see him very well,

but I could see he had on an old hat and was pretty shabby.
Then he sort of whispered, "Anybody up there, Skeezeks?"
I told him no, and asked him who he was and what he wanted, but he
didn't say anything, only tied his boat, and climbed up over the rail.
Then I could see him better by the light shining through the cabin
window, and his clothes were all ragged and greasy. He looked pretty
tough, but one thing, anyway, he smiled an awful nice kind of a smile
and hit me a whack on the shoulder and said: "Don't get excited,
Skeezeks; you're all right and I won't hurt you. How are you, anyway?"
I told him I was very well, but I'd like for him please to tell me who he
was, so I'd know.
Then he gave me another push, and I don't know, there was something
about him that kind of made me like him, and I wasn't scared of him at
all.
"Don't you know who I am?" he said.
"I kind of think maybe you're the fellow that jumped out of this boat
and ran away, when it was up the creek near Little Valley. You look
kind of like him."
"Right the first time," he said, "and I bet you're a bully little scout.
What do you say?" Then he looked out over the water to be sure
nobody was coming.
"I'm a first class scout, and I've got nine merit badges, and I'm a patrol
leader," I told him. "Anyway I'd like to know what you want here."
"Patrol leader! No!" he said, and I could see he was only trying to get
on the right side of me, and that he didn't know what a patrol leader is
at all.
"Can patrol leaders keep secrets?" he said.
I told him if it was a good secret, they could. Then he hit me a good

whack on the shoulder and he winked at me awful funny and said:
They are fools who go and tell Wisely has the poet sung. Man may
hold all sorts of jobs If he'll only hold his tongue.
"Are you a tramp?" I asked him.
"A tramp!" he said, "that's pretty good. I dare say I look like one."
Then he jumped up on the railing and began laughing so hard I was
afraid he'd fall backwards into the water. I told him he'd better look out,
but he only laughed more, and said I was a great kid. Then all of a
sudden he happened to think and he looked around to see if anyone was
coming. Then he said,
"Are you game to help me in a dark plot?"
Gee, I didn't know what to tell him. "It depends upon how dark it is," I
said. Because, jiminy, I wanted to be careful and watch my step. But
that only made him laugh a lot. Then he said,
"Well, it isn't exactly a black plot, but it's a kind of a dark brown."
"One thing sure," I said, "you're not a tramp, I know that--I can tell."
"You're a wise little gazabo," he said. "Would you really like to know
who I am?"
I told him sure I would.
"Do you think I look like a tramp?" he asked me.
"I think you kind of look like one," I said; "but you don't act like one,
and you don't laugh like one."
"I've got blamed little reason to laugh," he said, "because I'm