Part 2 (1/2)
”Good gracious, here's a boy that _wants_ to go to school!” laughed Dr.
Meyer. ”It does you credit, my son, but it can't be.”
”But it's been so hard for mother----”
”It would be harder for her if you couldn't go to school at all--ever, wouldn't it?” said the doctor, leaning forward and laying a kindly hand on Joe's knee.
”Yes--yes, sir,” said Joe, who was now pretty white and scared.
”Dr. Meyer,” Tom put in, ”oughtn't Joe to go away somewhere to the mountains--the Adirondacks, or Colorado, or--or some place?”
”Well, he'd undoubtedly mend quicker in the Rockies, if he could be looked after,” the doctor replied. ”I wouldn't say it's absolutely necessary in his case, but if he knows somebody out there to look after him, and can afford it----”
”'Course I can't afford it, Spider,” Joe put in. ”Quit pipe dreamin'.”
”I'm not pipe dreaming,” Tom replied. ”If you'll get well quicker in the Rockies, you're going to the Rockies, and I'm going along to take care of you.”
”How are you going to manage it, Tom?” said Mr. Rogers.
”I--I dunno, but I'm _going_ to, somehow. Old Joe's got to get well and finish high school, and room with me in college, and then we're going to be civil engineers or foresters, and----”
”But the first thing is to get well,” the doctor interrupted. ”You can plan for the Rockies later. Right now we must see about Joe's diet and daily schedule.”
After he had drawn these up--and it seemed to Joe he'd got to live on raw eggs and milk and cod liver oil, and spend most of his life in a chair on the porch--the two boys and the scout master departed.
It was now Joe who was depressed and glum, and Tom who needed no prompting to be cheerful. The minute he saw his chum in the dumps, he set about restoring his spirits.
”Buck up, old scout,” he cried. ”The doc told you it would be all right.
Gee, what's just sitting on the porch for a few weeks? You won't have to translate any old Caesar, and I'll come every day to see you swallowing cod liver oil, and then as soon as I can get it doped out, we'll hit the trail for the Rocky Mountains. Don't you want to see the Rocky Mountains?”
”Oh, quit your kidding,” poor Joe answered. ”The only way I'll ever see the Rocky Mountains is in the movies.”
”Don't you fool yourself. Mr. Rogers and I'll dope out something yet, won't we, Mr. Rogers?”
”We'll put our heads together hard, anyhow,” the scout master answered.
”But first, Tom, we must get the scouts together and find a way in which we can all help Joe's mother, now Joe can't haul wood and do heavy work.”
”That's easy, sir. And we must teach all the scouts to stop sleeping with their windows shut, too, mustn't we?”
”Alas!” said Mr. Rogers. ”I thought I had. I guess we've got to teach the mothers and fathers to let them open the windows. And that's not easy, Tom.”
”I s'pose not. Funny how afraid some folks are of fresh air. Well, old Joe's going to get plenty. I'm going to set up my tent in his yard this afternoon.”
”Not your new tent, Spider, it might spoil it,” said Joe.
”Spoil your grandmother,” Tom retorted. ”I guess it's my tent and I can do what I please with it, can't I? You go home and drink a tumbler of cod liver oil.”
”I'm going with him, and have a talk with his mother,” said Mr. Rogers.
”You can bring the tent after dinner, and if you need a cot bed for it, stop at my house and get my folding camp cot. That'll be my contribution.”
”Sure, we'll fix him up so he'll never want to move into the house again,” cried Tom, hurrying off toward his house.