“It’s become a chronic habit with everybody to sweep their waste into the street, so that everywhere you go you’ll find stray papers blowing about and lying in all fence corners. Why, sometimes you’d think a city dump was close by, from the way old stuff flies in the wind. All that could be changed if we just made up our minds to take hold and assist the women of the town. The job they tackled twice has always been too much for them. Let’s see what the scouts can do to help out. And as the majority rules in our meetings, I hope somebody will call for a rising vote.”
At that, Alec was before Billy in jumping to his feet and making the proposition that the troop take hold in earnest to put themselves in the running when it came to having a clean city, worth living in.
The motion was carried unanimously. If there were any “doubting Thomases” there who feared that the attempt might end in failure, they were carried off their feet by the wild enthusiasm that seemed to pervade the meeting, for every scout registered his willingness to embark in the scheme, no matter what it called for.
A little discussion was next in order. Hugh believed in taking the bull by the horns, and hence he told the others what he feared might be their most difficult task: keeping the Corbley crowd from undoing all their work spitefully, just to show that Boy Scouts could not run that town.
“We’ll not cross a bridge until we come to it, though,” said Hugh in conclusion, “and now, what’s to hinder our getting in some fine work for a starter to-night?”
“Hurrah!” cried a number of the interested scouts in a volley.
“It happens that the moon is almost full for the occasion,” said Bud Morgan, one of the Wolves and a boy who could always be depended upon to do his share in everything that came along; Bud had seen considerable practical experience in the field, as he had once been on a Western ranch and had also worked through a vacation season with a surveying party.
“But what can we do in such a rushing hurry, Mr. Scout Master?” asked Arthur Cameron, another of the same patrol, whose particular hobby was in the lines of photography and weather bureau work.
“For a starter, I thought we might take a turn around the little park and get it in apple-pie shape. People throw away greasy paper from luncheons there, and newspapers they’ve been reading. It’s a shame the way that pretty little square looks. My mother says she avoids passing across it whenever she can, because it seems so much like a pig-pen. Now, boys, what do you say, shall we set to work with a vim and make that a fit spot for any lady to sit or walk?”
“We can do it!” cried Blake Merton of the Hawks, a fellow who had a melodious voice and was called on many times by his chums when in camp to start up the songs they loved.