The Boy Scouts in A Trapper's Camp

by Thornton W. Burgess

"Youse hasn't got fifty dollars," he said weakly. "Youse is bluffin'."

In truth he had every reason for thinking so from the Indian's appearance. One does not expect to find so large a sum on a man presenting so rough an appearance as this fellow, particularly in the woods. Imagine Sparrer's surprise therefore when the Indian felt inside his shirt and brought out a worn buckskin bag which apparently had been suspended by a thong around his neck and from it drew forth a wad of greasy bills. Squatting on his heels he unfolded these and began to count them out before him on the snow. They were in small denominations and as he slowly spread them out, counting aloud as he did so, the effect was most impressive. He meant that it should be. He counted on the influence that the sight of so much currency would have.

It was a cunning move. Had he shown the money in a pile, or had the bills been in large denominations the effect would not have been nearly so impressive. As it was the snow around him was literally carpeted with bills. In spite of himself Sparrer gave vent to a little gasp. The Indian heard. Stuffing the two bills which remained after he had counted out fifty back in the little bag he rose to his feet and with a dramatic sweep of one hand above the green carpet exclaimed:

"All white boy's for fox! White boy count—fifty dollar! White boy buy much things. Have good time." He smiled meaningly. "Indian take fox and leave much money. White boy hide um—so." He thrust a hand into his shirt. "Nobody know. Indian go way—far." He swept a hand toward the mountains. Then he pointed at the bills at his feet. "Much money. Very much money. White boy count."

Sparrer looked down in a fascinated stare and unconsciously he did count. He had but to say the word and all those bills would be his, his to hide away in his bosom and gloat over in secret until he should reach home. And then? A vision of the things they would buy passed before him—things his boyish heart had coveted; things which his mother and brothers and sisters needed; things which would for a time make life brighter and better. And it would not be stealing. The fox was his. He had shot it and he had a right to do what he pleased with it "It would not be stealing," he repeated to himself almost fiercely.

But would it be honorable? Could he go back to his companions and tell them freely and openly what he had done? No. He must keep his deed a secret, locked in his heart, to be boasted of only among his companions of the street gang. Once he would have had no qualms whatever. His conscience would not have been troubled in the least. But that was when he was Sparrer Muldoon, street gamin and champion scrapper of the gang; with no higher ethics than the right of might. Now he was Edward Muldoon Boy Scout, sworn "to keep physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight;" to obey the Scout law of which the first commandment is to be trustworthy and the second to be loyal.

Would he be either mentally awake or morally strong if he yielded to this temptation? Could he regard himself in the future us trustworthy or as loyal to his friends? Two selves were battling in one boy.

"It ain't nothin' wrong," insisted Sparrer Muldoon.

"A Scout's honor is to be trusted," whispered Edward Muldoon.

"You bet it is!" Unconsciously the boy spoke aloud. The battle was won. His face cleared. In that moment he understood many things. He knew now exactly what he would do. He would take the fox to the cabin and turn it over to Pat and Alec. He knew that that was what he had intended to do all along before the Indian had appeared. He knew, too, who this low-browed, ugly-faced redskin was. He was one of the thieves who had been stealing fur and who had butchered the deer the day before. It came over him all in a flash that it was he who had set those traps at the beaver houses, that he himself had been seen there and followed. Doubtless the Indian had been in hiding close by all the time and the killing of the fox had brought him forth because he could not let so rich a prize slip through his fingers. Yes, everything was clear to Sparrer now. In his first surprise, his own problem following hard on the heels of it, he had no chance to think or even to wonder how the man had happened to appear there at that moment. Now he understood and his face flushed with anger.