VIII—GRUMPY
We ran the cars all that night so as to get those people to Grumpy’s Cross-roads in the morning. The ladies slept in the van, all except one; she was the one that played Aunt Ophelia. In the play she had to be strict, like a school teacher kind of, with Topsy. But when she wasn’t in the play she was awful nice. She sat up all night in Rossie Bent’s car, because she said she liked the fresh air. Mr. Abbington and Harry sat together outside the van. I didn’t get sleepy much. The rest of the fellows sprawled in Tom Slade’s car and Brent Gaylong’s car, and were dead to the world. It was nice traveling in the night only we had to go slow. We went across a kind of a prairie and every once in a while we came to farms. It was dandy to see the sun come up in the morning.
About five o’clock we came to a village and we asked a man how far it was to Grumpy’s Crossroads. He must have got up before breakfast, that man. He said it was about thirty-five miles, but that we’d have to go very slow on account of the road being all stones. We had to drive those cars easy, because they were supposed to be delivered new.
The man said, “If you’re bound east why didn’t you hit the south road and cut out Grumpy’s Crossroads altogether?”
Harry said, “Because these people have to appear at the Grand Army reunion at Grumpy’s Cross-roads this afternoon and we’ve got to get them there.”
The man said, “If that’s all you’re going to the Cross-roads for, you might as well take the south road. Bill Thorpe, he was t’the Cross-roads yesterday en’ he said th’ Uncle Tom’s Cabin show was called off on ’count of thar bein’ no trains runnin’. He said ole Major Grumpy was tearin’ ’is hair like a wild Injun at th’ railroad unions.”
Harry said, “Is that so? Well, I hope he won’t have his hair all pulled out by 2 P. M. Do you suppose old Grump ever heard of the Boy Scouts of America?”
“I’ll tell him all about them!” Pee-wee shouted. “You just leave it to me.”
The man was smoking a pipe and it kind of smelled like a forest fire. It smelled like a forest fire and a gas engine put together, kind of. He laid his pipe down on the step of the van so we’d know that what he was going to say was very serious.
He said, “You take my advice en’ daon’t mention no scaout boys t’the major; it’s like wavin’ a red flag before a bull as yer might say.”
“Doesn’t like ’em, hey?” Harry said.
“Hates ’em,” the man said.
“Eats ’em alive, I suppose,” Brent said.
“He’d eat ’em raw, only he ain’t got teeth enough,” the man said.
Brent said in that funny way he has, “Well, I guess that settles it, we’ll hit the trail for the Cross-roads; I kind of like old Grump already. I have a kind of a hunch he’ll put some pep into this Lewis & Clarke expedition. All we needed to make our joy complete was somebody to try to foil us.”
“Cracky, I hope he tries to foil us,” Pee-wee piped up.
“Is he a villain?” Brent wanted to know.
“Wall, he ain’t just exactly what you might call a villain,” the man said, very serious.
Brent said, “Oh, that’s too bad. We haven’t got a villain for our story yet. I suppose we’ll have to advertise when we hit into Indianapolis. ‘Wanted, willing and industrious villain; one with some experience preferred; good chance for advancement; duties, being foiled by the Boy Scouts of America.’”
The man said, “Guess you’re a kind of a comic, hey?”
“What’s the trouble between old Grump and the kids, anyway?” Harry asked him.
The man said, “Wall, naow, I’ll tell you. Th’ major’s an old Civil War man en’ he’s a great stickler on military training for boys; ain’t got no use for studyin’ natur’ en’ all that kind o’ thing. He’s daft abaout the Civil War, en’ he’s jest abaout th’ biggest old grouch this side o’ th’ Missippi River. This here reunion o’ his, every three years, is the pet uv his heart, as th’ feller says. He has th’ poor ole veterans limpin’ in from miles araound fillin’ ’em up with rations en’ givin’ ’em shows. He’s got money enough so’s ter make the United States Treasury look like a poor relation; and stingy!”
“That sounds fine,” Brent said; “we’ll have him eating out of our hands; we’ll have him so he comes when we call him. First I was in hopes we might fall in with some train robbers——”
“Gee, it isn’t too late yet!” Pee-wee shouted.
“But a ferocious old major is good enough,” Brent said; “we can’t expect to have everything. You’re positive about his hating the Boy Scouts, are you?” he asked the man. “Because we shouldn’t want to count on that and then be disappointed. It’s pretty hard when you think you’ve found a regular scoundrel and then find that you’re deceived. Are you willing to guarantee him?”
“Wall, I wouldn’ say exactly as he’s a villain,” the man said; “but he’s a ole wild beast, so everybuddy says, en’ I’m tellin’ yer not to wave no red flag in front uv him with a lot uv this scaout boy nonsense. ’Cause he ain’t in the humor, see?”
Harry said, “Do you know, Brent, I think the old codger will do first rate.”
“Oh, he’ll do,” Brent said; “of course, it isn’t like finding a pirate, or a counterfeiter, or an outlaw——”
“You make me tired!” Pee-wee yelled. “If Roy’s going to write all this stuff up, we have to have an old grouch, so as we can convert him sort of, don’t we, and then he’ll—then he’ll—what-d’ye-call-it—he’ll donate a lot of money and say the boy scouts are all right. I’ll manage him, you leave him to me.”
Brent said, “You don’t happen to know if he has a gold-haired daughter, do you?”
Gee whiz, I guess that man thought we were crazy—I should worry. Even the Uncle Tom’s Cabin people were laughing.
Brent said, “Because if our young hero could only rescue old Grump’s gold-haired daughter from kidnappers, perhaps old Grump would come across with a real watch that keeps time as a reward for our young hero’s bravery. I think we’ll have to try our hand with old Grump.”
“Are you—are you sure he’s mad at the scouts?” Pee-wee wanted to know.
“Tell us the worst,” Harry said.
THE BLOODHOUND BEGAN SNIFFING THE FOOTPRINT.