search for a long missing treasure, immured in an ancient and almost inaccessible cave in the heart of a wild region. How they won out against apparently insurmountable obstacles makes exciting and instructive reading.
“The Boy Scouts for Uncle Sam,” the fifth volume, related some surprising events that occurred when the boys’ aid was called into requisition in connection with a new type of submarine which foreign powers were doing their best to appropriate, but which was intended for the United States Government. Readers of that volume will readily recall Rob’s abduction and marooning on a desert island and the pernicious activities of a green motor boat which was used by the agents of a foreign power. Rob’s marvelous swim across a narrow inlet, through which the tide boiled like a mill race, and the interchange of Scout signals with astonishing results, are only two of the incidents that go to show that the Eagle Patrol was always to be relied upon to do its duty and live up to the strict letter of the inspiring motto, “Be Prepared.”
For the next few days the lads of the Eagle Patrol were busy indeed with preparations for what was to them a very important piece of work. This was nothing more nor less than the placarding of the town with announcements that a team made up of the Eagles would play the Hampton nine in the first baseball game of the season, the proceeds to be equally divided. The Boy Scouts’ half, of course, would go toward the general patrol fund for the purchase of equipment and so on.
Each of the lads had a duty to perform in this connection. Hiram Nelson, whose father was in the printing business, was to get up the posters, which were to be printed on big, yellow sheets. Andy Bowles, whose uncle conducted a livery stable, arranged for rigs to convey the young bill-posters around the country; while Tubby Hopkins, – since the duty was partly of a culinary nature, – undertook to make the paste. This, despite unkind remarks to the effect that, unable to restrain his appetite, he might be tempted to eat it! In this manner the different duties were distributed and each member of the patrol took an active part in the work.
Rather to Rob’s surprise, and likewise to the astonishment of the other lads, Jared Applegate’s name appeared as pitcher for the Hampton team. But, after all, there was nothing so very astonishing in this, for Jared, before he left for New York, had been a clever pitcher on the Hampton Academy team, which had beaten some of the best ball players on Long Island. Sam Lamb, the regular pitcher for the Hamptons, it was later learned, had sprained his wrist in jumping on a moving train, and Jared had eagerly volunteered to take his place. He had made open boasts about the town that he meant to “knock some of those tin soldier kids higher than so many kites.”
“Let him do his best,” was all Rob had said, when Andy Bowles, the diminutive bugler of the Eagles, brought him this information.
When not engaged in preparations for “billing” the surrounding country, which occupied almost all the time they could spare from their studies, the Scouts practiced hard and faithfully. They had a good team, but they had to admit that the town boys, too, played very good ball. As the day for the contest, a Saturday, drew near, excitement began to run high. Jared never spoke to any of the Scouts, all of whom, by this time, knew of his disgrace while a member of the Black Wolf Patrol. Possibly he did not wish to run a chance of being snubbed; but be that as it may, when he passed any of the uniformed youngsters he kept his eyes on the ground. This did not prevent him, however, from hanging around when the Scouts were at practice and making all sorts of contemptuous remarks concerning their play.
The Saturday before the game, the lads started out in different directions to put up their bills. Those whose duties lay within easy distance of Hampton went on foot; but the others took rigs. Among the latter were Rob, Merritt and Tubby Hopkins. With them they carried a good thick bundle of bills, plenty of paste and long-handled brushes. It was a beautiful day and they were in high spirits as they drove along the pleasant country roads.
Their way took them by Farmer Applegate’s place.
“Let’s plaster up a few on the old grouch’s barn,” suggested Merritt with a laugh.
“No; I don’t want to do that,” declared Rob positively, “although he isn’t entitled to much consideration. It was a shame the way he treated Fred Mainwaring’s sister.”
“Such a pretty girl, too,” chuckled Tubby, with a mischievous look at Merritt. Rob intercepted the glance and turned red, at which both his companions teased him more than ever. Luckily for Rob’s peace of mind, however, at this juncture something occurred to cause the current of Tubby’s thoughts to flow in another direction.
Beyond the farm buildings a spotted pig was nosing about contentedly in the middle of the road. As his eyes lighted on the porker, Tubby gave a shout of delight.
“We can use him,” he cried delightedly.
“There you go again. Always thinking about something to eat,” snorted Merritt.
“Not this time,” retorted Tubby indignantly; “anyhow, I’ve never heard of your being absent at meal times. But on this occasion it’s alive and in his proper person that Jake is going to be useful to us.”
“In what way?” asked Rob.
“As a living advertisement,” chuckled the stout youth, his round cheeks shaking as he eyed the unsuspecting Jake.
CHAPTER IV
SOME UP-TO-DATE ADVERTISING
By the time the buggy drew up alongside Jake, who was too engrossed in his rooting operations to perceive it, or at any rate to bestow any attention upon it, Tubby had disclosed his plan to his chums, who hailed it with shouts of delight. From his pockets the fat boy produced an apple and a bit of cake. Tubby never traveled far without provisions. “Keeping in touch with his base of supplies,” he called it.
It spoke volumes for his enthusiastic belief in the success of his plan that he was willing to offer both of these to Jake as soon as he had alighted from the buggy. Close behind him came Rob and Merritt, the latter with the horse’s hitching rope in his hand.
“Come, pig! pig! pig! Nice Jake!” warbled Tubby in the most dulcet voice he could assume.
Jake looked up. His small eyes twinkled. Unsuspectingly he sniffed the air as he perceived a rosy apple temptingly held out toward him.
“It’s a shame,” laughed Rob, half contritely, “if he hadn’t caused a lot of trouble for a mighty nice girl I wouldn’t stand for it.”
“Pig! pig! pig!” chortled Tubby persuasively.
“Unk! unk! unk!” grunted Jake, wiggling his tail.
“Wonderful how they understand each other, isn’t it?” remarked Merritt with a grin. But Tubby was too intent on what he had in hand to resent the gross insult.
Closer and closer shuffled Jake, his greedy little eyes on the apple. All at once he appeared to make up his mind in a hurry. He made a dart for the tempting bait.
“Now,” yelled Tubby.
Quick as a flash, as soon as he heard the preconcerted signal, Merritt flung the looped hitching rope about the pig’s neck. Jake gave a squeal and wriggled with might and main, but his ears held the rope from slipping off.
“Give him the apple to keep him quiet,” suggested Merritt, as Jake squealed at the top of his voice.
Tubby proffered the apple and instantly Jake forgot his troubles in devouring it. In the meantime Tubby slipped to the wagon and selected a poster or two and a brush full of paste. Returning, amidst shouts of laughter from his fellow conspirators,
