“They’ll get me early in the game,” explained Bonner who really originated this ruse. “And that’ll help us. In the first place they’ll never suspect that two of us are near together. And, after I’m tagged, I’ll be free to keep an eye out for any one that approaches the river. That way, it’s almost a cinch that we can ‘hide out’ one of us at least.”
Saturday every one was early astir. Even before nine o’clock a procession of buggies, carriages and automobiles was entering the picnic grounds. At half past eight the Coyotes reached the camp. To the surprise of all, the proprietor of the table factory had hired the Scottsville Silver Cornet Band and on foot it preceded the Coyotes. The martial music gave gayety to the occasion. But a new banner borne by the Coyotes did not. On this were blazoned the words: “Camp Meeting, Five to Two.”
This unexpected demonstration rather upset the Wolves. They could understand the band and the banner and the assurance of their rivals—these were provided and inspired by the Coyotes’ present backer, the owner of the factory where most of the Coyotes were employed. But the inroad of spectators mystified them. It was explained later that the evening newspaper of the day before had suddenly made a great event out of the boyish contest. It had explained that the show would be interesting in pitting the ingenuity of each patrol against the other; that it was free, that visitors were welcome and that citizens should turn the day into a gala occasion.
The response to this showed what few had expected, that the previous clashes between the two patrols had already inexcusably developed partisans in the town. Finally, when the large automobile of the table factory owner appeared and began scattering broadcast little tags worded “Encourage the Boy Workers,” with a crude picture of a coyote head printed beneath, the cause of special interest became apparent.
“It’s Chase of the table factory,” Connie heard his father remark to Mr. Trevor. “We ought to do something. He’s turning an innocent sport into a bitter struggle.”
“You’re right,” answered Mr. Trevor soberly. “He probably thinks it will help him with his discontented workmen if he stirs up feeling; trying to make it a fight between what he calls labor and the leisure class.”
“Do you think we ought to call the event off?” asked Mr. Conyers.
“By no means,” responded the father of the Boy Scout idea. “I believe Chase is putting bad ideas into the Coyotes’ heads. But for our boys to retreat before them will not mend matters. Perhaps the best thing that could happen to the Coyotes would be a good defeat and,” he went on significantly, “I have reason to believe the Wolves can give it to them. If Mr. Chase persists in putting us in the ‘leisure class,’ which none of us are, I’ve got just pride enough to want to show him that everything isn’t accomplished by muscle alone.”