Tom Slade | Page 8

the uproarious laughter through the
basement windows and wondered what it was all about. Strange that
fellows could be enjoying themselves so thoroughly who were not up
to some kind of mischief.
Presently, the basement door opened and the scouts began to come out.
Tom loitered in the shadow across the way.
The first group paused on the sidewalk bent on finishing their
discussion as to whether "whipping" was as good as splicing for two
strands of rope. One boy insisted that splicing was the only way if you
knew how to do it, but that you had to whittle a splicing needle.
"I wouldn't trust my weight on any double whipping," said
another fellow. "The binding wouldn't stand salt water--not unless you
tarred it."
"If my little snow-white hand is going to grab that loop, it'll be
spliced," said the first speaker.
Another boy came out and said he could jump the gap without
any rope at all; it was only seven feet, and what was the use of a rope
anyway? Then someone said that Pee-wee would do it scout pace, and
there was a great laugh. The group went on up the street.
Then out came the renowned Pee-wee himself in hot pursuit of them,
running a little, walking a little, according to his habit.
Two more boys came out and one of them said it was going to rain
to-morrow. Tom wondered how he knew. Then three or four of the
Ravens appeared and one said it would be a great stunt if they could
work that on the Silver Foxes at midnight.

Tom didn't know what the Silver Foxes were (he knew there were no
foxes in Bridgeboro), and he had no notion what "that" meant, but he
liked the idea of doing it at midnight. He would like to be mixed up in
something which was done at midnight himself.
But his trusty pal, Mr. Ellsworth, did not appear. Whether he was
absent that evening, Tom never knew. The last ones to emerge from the
Library basement, were a couple of boys who were talking about dots
and dashes.
"You want to make your dot flares shorter," one said.
"Shall I tell you what I'm going to say?" the other asked.
"No, sure not, let me dope it out."
"Well, then, get on the job as soon as you reach home."
"All right, then I won't say good-night till later. So long."
"See you to-morrow."
How these two expected to say good night without seeing each other
Tom could not imagine, but he thought it had something to do with "dot
flares"; in any event, it was something very mysterious and was to be
done that night. He rather liked the idea of it.
The two boys separated, one going up toward Blakeley's Hill and
pausing to glance at the quarantine sign on the Bennett house as he
passed. Tom was rather surprised that he noticed it since he seemed to
be in a hurry, but he followed, resolved to "slam" the fellow if he took
it down.
Then there came into his head the bright idea that if he followed this
boy up the hill to an unfrequented spot he could hold him up for a
nickel.
A little way up the hill the boy suddenly turned and stood waiting for
him. Tom was hardly less than amazed at this for he had thought that

his pursuit was not known. When they came face to face Tom saw that
it was none other than the "half-baked galook" Roy Blakeley.
He wore the full Scout regalia which fitted him to perfection, and upon
his left breast Tom could see a ribbon with something bright depending
from it, which seemed to be in the shape of a bird. He had a trim figure
and stood very straight, and about his neck was a looselyknotted scarf
of a silvery gray color, showing quite an expanse of bare throat. His
sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and on one wrist he wore a leather
band.
"What are you following me for?" he asked.
"Who's follerin' yer?"
"You are."
"I ain't follerin' yer neither."
"Yes, you are."
"Yer mean ter tell me I'm lyin'?" shouted Tom, advancing with a
threatening air.
"Sure."
Tom's hulking form was within a few inches' of Blakeley and he thrust
forward his lowered head and held his clenched fist conveniently ready
at his side, but Roy did not budge. On the contrary, he seemed rather
amused. He did not scare worth a cent.
"Yer want me ter hand ye one?"
"No, sure not."
"Well then, was I lyin'?"
"Surest thing you know."

There was a pause.
"Gimme a nickel 'n' I'll leave ye off," said Tom magnanimously.
The boy laughed and asked, "What do you