CHAPTER XVIII—A SHOWER BATH
Brent said, “I bet Brother Abbington will be pretty hot to-day with that frock coat of his and that high hat.”
I said, “It’s going to be a scorcher, all right.”
“Lucky for me,” he said, “as long as my mackinaw and my khaki shirt have gone in the good cause.”
“You should worry,” I told him.
“Only I don’t look very presentable,” he said.
“Don’t you care,” I said; “we won’t meet anybody along this road.”
“It’s the least of my troubles,” he said; “what I’m thinking about is this pesky engine. It jumps like a bull-frog; I think it’s got the pip.”
Pee-wee said, “Some engines have the sleeping sickness and they won’t go at all.”
Then we all got to saying how we hoped that Harry and Rossie and Tom would get the three cars to Grumpy’s Cross-roads in time so those actor people could give their show.
“Even if we’re not with them,” I said.
“I guess we’ll be able to make connections before they get there,” Brent said.
“Oh, boy, that’ll be some good turn,” Pee-wee said. “I bet old Grump won’t be mad at the scouts any more; he’ll see that they’re dauntless and—something or other.”
“Oh, he’ll see that they’re something or other,” Brent said. “I never knew a scout that wasn’t something or other.”
“He’ll see that they do good turns,” the kid shouted. Gee whiz, good turns are his favorite fruit—good turns and doughnuts. Even if he had a turning lathe he couldn’t turn out any more good turns.
Now maybe you know what a tornado is. Anyway, there wasn’t any that day. So you don’t need to worry. But all of a sudden dark clouds came and pretty soon the sky was all black and the wind was blowing like anything. I guess it was a cyclone, all right, only it decided not to come that way on account of the road being so bad.
Anyway the wind kept up and blew right in our faces and after a while Brent said, “Did you bring those old togs along, kid?”
Pee-wee said, “You mean the convict suit? It’s in the van.”
“Well, get me the coat and I’ll slip it on,” Brent told him. “We may not be able to catch the convict, but I’m blamed sure I’ll catch cold.”
So Pee-wee went around and into the van by the doors in back and got the convict’s jacket. I guess none of us thought there was anything funny about Brent wearing it for a little while. Only I said to him, just joking like, “You wanted to be a convict, now you’ve got your wish.”
“If my mother could only see me now,” he said. “Do I look like a zebra, Pee-wee?”
We had to laugh, he looked so funny in that striped jacket; but anyway it was a pretty lonely road and we weren’t likely to meet anybody.
Pretty soon we began passing houses, and Brent took the jacket off and threw it back into the van through the little window in front. In about five minutes we came to a village. I said, “Go slow or you’ll run over it.” The village was almose right underneath the van. The main street of that village was all black and sticky from tar and oil that they had been sprinkling on it and pretty soon we came to the sprinkler, standing still right in the middle of the road, with a couple of men near it.
We had to stop because we couldn’t get past, so we just sat there on the seat, watching them. The sprinkler wouldn’t work and they were trying to fix it. One man was sticking a piece of wire into all the little holes along the pipe that ran crossways at the back of the big tank.
Brent said, “They’ll never fix it that way. Maybe some of those holes are clogged up, but not all of them.” Then he called down to the man and said, “What seems to be the trouble? Won’t she sprinkle?”
“Mixture’s too gol darned thick, I reckon,” one of the men called back.
“Well, it wouldn’t clog up all the holes,” Brent said; “probably the feed pipe is clogged up.”
The man said, “Well, I don’t know how we’re ever going to get at that unless we take the whole bloomin’ thing apart.”
Then I heard Brent say, under his breath kind of, “I could fix that in five minutes.”
“Then you have to do it,” the kid shouted; “you have to do a good turn.”
“Look and see if there isn’t a turn cock on the feed pipe,” Brent called down; “maybe it joggled shut. That sometimes happens on an auto.”
The two men got down under the sprinkler and began looking and feeling around, but they couldn’t seem to find anything. After a couple of minutes Brent climbed down and said, “Let’s take a look at this.” I guess they could see that he was a pretty good mechanic, all right. Anyhow they stepped out of the way and Brent crawled down under the sprinkler. He lay on his back part way underneath it and we all watched him.
“He’ll find the trouble,” Pee-wee said to the man; “he’s head of a scout troop, he is, and he’s resourceful. A scout has got to be resourceful. Don’t you worry, we’ll do you a good turn, all right.”
The men kind of smiled, and one of them said, “All right, sonny. So yer fer doin’ good turns, hey?”
“Sure,” Pee-wee said; “that’s one of our rules. If anybody’s in trouble we’ve got to help them out—no matter how much trouble it is. You see a scout can always help you out, because he’s resourceful.”
One of those men said, “Oh, that’s it, is it?”
“Sure,” the kid shouted; “all you have to do is come to us. Even Uncle Sam came to us when he wanted to sell Liberty Bonds; we helped him out.”
The man said, “I bet he was tickled to death.”
I said to Pee-wee, “Shut up; don’t be shouting so much about good turns. Actions speak louder than words.”
“Words speak loud enough,” the kid yelled.
“Good night, you said it,” I told him.
“Even now we’re doing a good turn,” the kid shouted; “we’ve got three more autos over on the other road and we’re taking some Uncle Tom’s Cabin actors to the Veteran’s Reunion. We should worry if the railroad trains don’t run.”
Jimmies, I don’t know how much more he might have told them, he’s a human billboard for the Boy Scouts of America, that kid is; but all of a sudden, zip goes the fillum, that black tarry stuff came shooting out from all the holes in the sprinkler and Brent came crawling out from underneath it with his trousers and his shirt all black and sticky and his hair all mucked up with the stuff and with a big streaky smudge all over his face.
“Good night!” I shouted. “What happened?”
“I found it,” he said; “it had joggled shut, just as I thought. If you happen to have a few feathers handy, you can tar and feather me. I did a good turn, only I didn’t turn over and get out quick enough.”
Oh, boy, that fellow was a sight!