CHAPTER XXXI—THE SAND-BAG
The regatta was always the big event of the season at Temple Camp. Pee-wee always had to suck lemon drops for several days succeeding it to ease the huskiness in his throat. Sometimes he continued sucking them for several weeks, for a scout is nothing if not thorough.
The institution of the regatta (and the lemon drops) dated from the season when pretty Mary Temple, daughter of the camp’s founder, had offered the silver cup. A Rhode Island troop had won it, then it had passed to a Pennsylvania troop, and then to the Bridgeboro Troop. The Bridgeboro scouts took a particular pride in keeping it because Bridgeboro was the home town of the Temples.
Each troop chose its challenger or defender by its own process of selection, paying a certain regard to the claims of its patrols. Naturally the merit badge for Athletics, or for Physical Development, or for Seamanship, would imply eligibility for the honor of challenger or defender. And these things counted in the selection.
Particularly had they counted in the selection of Connie Bennett of the Elk Patrol for defender. How much they really counted in a race was another question. Also, as in the selection of a presidential candidate the claims of the states have to be considered, so in this business the patrols had to be considered, and it was now considered to be the Elk Patrol’s turn. Thus Connie Bennett had been put forward.
There was no complaint about this and no anxiety, but there was just a little undercurrent of feeling (which Pee-wee could not browbeat out of the troop’s mind) that the cup was not quite so secure upon its little velvet box as they could wish it to be.
A course was marked around the lake by long poles driven in about fifteen to eighteen feet from shore. Some of them had to be pretty long to reach the bottom. They were saved from year to year. A heavy cord was carried around the lake caught at each of these poles and from this cord hung troop and patrol pennants at intervals all the way round. The whole thing made a very festive and inspiring sight. The cup race (always a canoe event because Mary Temple thought that canoes were scoutish, being of Indian origin) consisted of one complete round of the lake. There were other races of course; comic events, tub races and the like.
I wish to tell you of this thing just as it occurred for it is talked of at Temple Camp whenever scouts get around a camp-fire. And in a sense it has never been fully explained.
Mary Temple, with her parents, came up from Bridgeboro by auto, reaching camp early in the afternoon. They received an ovation as usual. Mary was exceedingly pretty and looked the more so because of the color which the breeze had blown into her cheeks. She reached down out of the car and shook hands merrily with Connie Bennett and handed Pee-wee an enormous box of peanut brittle, which caused much laughter.
“Oh, I know you, too,” she said, reaching out her hand to Billy Simpson who lingered in the background. “I often see you in Bridgeboro.”