CHAPTER XXX
THE SILVER CROSS
In spite of their long and careful preparation, the members of Troop Five were not a little keyed up and excited when the night of the big scout rally finally arrived. Each boy dressed with unusual care, and the majority reached the parish-house some time before the hour named for assembling. From here they marched in good order to the old-fashioned frame building, whose entire third floor constituted the masonic hall, where the performance was to come off. Another troop was close on their heels, and, in their hurry to get there first, the boys pushed and jostled one another on the narrow, twisting stairs. But in the hallway above they paused to fall in, and at the word of command from Mr. Curtis they marched through the double doors into the brightly lighted assembly-room, wheeled smartly to the right, and took up their position at one side of the doorway.
The hall was already well filled and resounded with the buzz of conversation. Pretty girls in Red Cross costumes flitted among the audience seeking contributions and memberships. By eight o’clock the rows of chairs that packed over half the big room were occupied, and there were people standing. When the doors were finally closed and the entertainment began, the place was almost uncomfortably jammed by a throng of proud mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters of the performers, to say nothing of a great many other members of the community who were interested in the movement or curious to see the result of the past year’s work.
The first thing on the program was a review and inspection of the entire scout body by Captain Chalmers, who had unexpectedly obtained leave of absence for the occasion. When this was over, there followed a brief pause, during which the captain, standing before the long, double row of boyish figures, in their trim, immaculate uniforms, conferred in whispers with Scoutmaster Curtis, whom he had summoned from the line. Instantly a faint, scarcely perceptible stir swept down the lines of waiting scouts. What was coming? they asked themselves eagerly. Dale Tompkins caught the captain’s glance fixed on him for a moment, and wondered uneasily whether anything was the matter with his equipment. He had no time to grow seriously disturbed, however, before Mr. Curtis returned to the head of the troop and the captain faced the audience.
“I dare say you have all heard more or less about our scout law and the high principles it inculcates in every boy who promises to obey it,” he said in his pleasant, easy manner. “I’d like to tell you briefly about the way two scouts right here in our own town applied some of the most vital of these principles. The first incident happened late last fall, when a powerfully charged electric wire was blown down in a storm and dangled in the street. A small boy saw it, and, without realizing the danger, grasped it in both hands. Instantly the current, passing into his body, made him helpless. He screamed with pain and struggled to tear himself loose, but in the throng that quickly gathered no one dared to touch him. No one, that is, until one of the scouts I speak of appeared. He had been a tenderfoot only a few days, but he was a true scout at heart. Without hesitation he gripped the child by one shoulder and was instantly flung the width of the street. Recovering, he remembered something he had read about electricity and insulation, remembered that paper was a good non-conductor and rubber even better. In a flash he had wrapped about his hands some of the newspapers he carried, flung down his waterproof delivery-bag to stand on, and went again to the aid of the child, this time successfully. It was not only a brave deed, but he kept his head; and when the danger was over he slipped quietly away without waiting for either praise or thanks.”
A burst of applause and hand-clapping came from the audience, and while waiting for it to subside the captain glanced again toward Dale Tompkins. This time he did not meet the boy’s questioning glance, but saw only drooping lids and a face flushed crimson. His smile deepened a little as he raised one hand for silence.
“A few months later the other scout was skating with a companion on Crystal Lake. He could swim only a few strokes, but when the second boy broke through the ice he did not hesitate an instant in going to his rescue. He was dragged into the water and nearly drowned, but he, too, kept his head and held up his friend until help came.
“I like to think that the actions of those two boys was typical rather than exceptional. I don’t believe there is a scout here,” his glance swept the line of khaki-clad figures for an instant, “who, given the chance to risk his life for another, would not respond exactly as these boys did. When I heard of what they had done I applied to our national council for honor medals such as are awarded to scouts for the saving of life. They arrived some time ago, but I awaited this occasion to present them. Scouts Dale Tompkins and Frank Sanson will please step forward.”
Amid the thunder of applause that followed, Captain Chalmers turned and faced the line of scouts again, two small square boxes in his hand. Dazed, bewildered, and blushing furiously, Dale stood as if rooted to the spot until Harry Vedder gave him a sharp dig in the ribs. Then he stumbled forward a few steps, realized that another halting figure was beside him, and, recovering a little, but with face still flushing, he crossed the interminable space to where the captain stood.
One thing only was he thankful for at that moment–the heartening touch of Sanson’s shoulder against his own. To have faced the ordeal alone would have been almost intolerable. He did not raise his eyes above the third button on the captain’s coat, and so he missed the look of pride and approval the man bent on him as he pinned the silver cross upon the boy’s left breast.