The man could hardly speak at first, from the effect of his anger, together with his hasty rush from the road up to the camp. Then holding his threatening whip in one hand he pointed a quivering finger straight toward the fowls that they were expecting to have for their supper, and which could no longer be concealed by Josh.
“So,” bellowed the man, “now I know where the chickens that were stolen from my coop last night went. Raidin’ the farms up this way, are you? I want to tell you it’s going to be a bad job for every one of ye. I’ll have the law on ye if I have to go to Lenox and look every boy in town over. And I’ll know ye all again, if its a month from now.”
He snapped the whip viciously as he stopped talking; but Mr. Witherspoon did not seem to shrink back an inch. Looking the excited farmer squarely in the eye the scout master started to speak.
“I judge from what you say, sir, that you have had the misfortune to lose some of your poultry lately? I’m sorry to hear of it, but when you come and accuse us of being the guilty parties you are making a serious mistake, sir.”
“Oh, am I?” demanded the other, still as furious as ever, though the boys noticed that he made no effort to use the dreadful whip he carried. “I lost some fowls, and you’re expecting to have some chickens for dinner. Anybody with hoss sense could put them facts together, couldn’t they? I ain’t to be blarnied so easy, let me tell you.”
“You seem to talk as though no one owned chickens up this Bear Mountain way but yourself, sir,” said Mr. Witherspoon, calmly. “These lads are Boy Scouts. They are a part of the Lenox Troop, and I can vouch for every one of them as being honest, and incapable of stealing any man’s fowls.”
“You don’t say, mister?” sneered the man; “but tell me, who’s a-goin’ to vouch for you, now?”
“My name is Robert Witherspoon,” replied the scout master, showing wonderful self-control the boys thought, considering the insulting manner of the angry farmer. “I am a civil engineer and surveyor. I love boys every way I find them; and it is a pleasure to me to act as their scout master, accompanying them on their hikes when possible, and seeing that they behave themselves in every way. You can find out about my standing from Judge Jerome, Doctor Lawson or Pastor Hotchkiss in Lenox.”
The man still looked in Mr. Witherspoon’s calm eyes. What he saw there seemed to have an influence upon his aroused feelings, for while he still shook his head skeptically there was not so much of menace in his manner now.
“Boys will be boys, no matter whether they have scout uniforms on or overalls,” he said sullenly. “I’ve suffered mor’n once from raids on my orchards and chicken coops, and found it was some town boys, off on what they called a lark, that made other people suffer.”