Part 4 (1/2)

Sure enough, the very next day Tom did hear from his application. He rushed over to Mr. Rogers' studio.

”Look,” he cried. ”I get a job all right, but I don't know just what it means. It says I'm to be in charge of the Many Glacier tepee camp, if I turn out to be big enough, and suit the boss. Otherwise, I'll be a bellhop in the Many Glacier Hotel. I'll get forty dollars a month and board at the camp. What's a tepee camp?”

”You know as much about it as I do,” the scout master said. ”I suppose it's a camp composed of Indian tepees, which the hotel rents to people who'd rather camp out than stay inside. Anyhow, I hope you get that job, for I don't like to think of one of my scouts taking tips all the time, the way a bellhop gets to do. It's un-American. Probably Joe could help you 'round the tepee camp, anyway with the cooking. And speaking of Joe, the first thing we must do is to take him 'round to Dr. Meyer's again, and find out just what he can and can't do, and what you've got to feed him, and so forth. Suppose we go right now.”

The doctor gave Joe another thorough examination, from head to foot, and then put him on the scales. He smiled as the weight had to be pushed twelve pounds beyond where it hung in May.

”You see what rest, food and minding the doctor does,” said he. ”Well, my boy, you're on the mend. As a matter of fact, there isn't very much the matter with you now except a weakened condition and, of course, a tendency to relapse without proper care. A year in the Rocky Mountains ought to make a well man of you.”

”A year!” Joe exclaimed. ”We're only going for the summer.”

”Well, the summer will help,” said the doctor. ”Keep on eating your milk and eggs, if you can get 'em, but probably after you've been in the woods a while you won't worry much about your food--you'll gobble what you can get, and so long as you feel right, go ahead. I'll give your friend a clinical thermometer to take your temperature, and you must get weighed once in so often. It wouldn't be a bad idea to have a doctor look you over now and then, too, if one comes into the Park. The things you must look out for are over-exertion and exposure. I wouldn't do anything but light work for a month yet, at least, and no climbing or long walks. If you must go somewhere, go on horseback, at a slow pace.

And keep warm and dry.”

”Well, Joe, that's a fine, encouraging report!” the scout master declared as they left. ”You keep on minding the doc, and you'll be a well man.”

”He'll keep on minding him, all right, all right,” said Tom, putting his arm around Joe's shoulder, and then tightening it around his neck till Joe's head was forced over where he could give it a friendly punch.

Joe started to duck and punch back, but Spider cried, ”Here--cut that out! No over-exertion!”--and then the three laughed and hurried on, to make arrangements for the departure of the boys.

Clothing, of course, was the most important thing, and the boys got out their trunks and selected what they would need, with the aid of a folder describing conditions in the Park. They took their scout suits, of course, with leggins, and their heaviest high boots. Tom also added a box of steel spikes and a key to screw them in with. They also took their sweaters, and mackinaws, though it seemed foolish to be taking mackinaws for a summer trip. Then they packed two suits of winter underwear, several pairs of heavy wool socks for tramping, two flannel outing s.h.i.+rts, and rubber ponchos, which both boys had bought the year before when the scouts took a five day hike. Then, of course, they took their knapsacks, and both boys sent for dunnage bags of stout canvas.

They took their scout axes and cooking kits, knives, Tom's camera, compa.s.ses, and notebooks to keep diaries in. Tom had a folding camp lantern for which they got a box of candles. For bedding, each packed two pairs of heavy double blankets, and Joe's mother insisted on making a separate bundle of a winter bed puff, which, as it turned out later, he was glad enough to have. They also put in their winter pajamas, their scout hats, and some old leather gloves. Finally, they got some packages of dehydrated vegetables, soup sticks, powdered egg, army rations, and tabloid tea, to use on walking trips if Joe got strong enough to tramp.

Such condensed and light weight rations, Mr. Rogers thought, probably could not be purchased in the Park.

It was a lovely day, almost at the end of June, when the two boys finally started. There had been a scout meeting the night before, at which Bob Sawtelle, who was to act as patrol leader in Spider's absence, had made a speech for the rest and presented Joe with a pocket camera, the gift of the entire troop. It was a short speech, but to the point.

”Old Joey's pipes have gone on the blink,” he said, ”and he's got to beat it out West to pump 'em full of ozone. We other fellers thought we'd like to see what he's seen, when he gets back, so we all chipped in and got a camera. Here it is, Joe, and don't try to snap Spider with it, or you'll bust the lens.”

Joe tried to make a speech in reply, but he couldn't do it. He just took the camera, and said, ”Gee, fellows, you're--you're all to the good.”

”And don't you worry about your mother's coal, either,” Bob added.

”We're going to keep right on fillin' the hods, and if anybody forgets when it's his turn, I'm goin' to beat him on the bean.”

”That's a good one,” cried little Sam Cowan. ”You forgot yourself yesterday!”

”Well, I ain't goin' to forget any more, or let you, either,” Bob answered.

Bob and several more scouts, as well as Mr. Rogers, Joe's mother and little brother and sister, and Tom's family, were all down at the depot to see the boys off in the morning. There were kisses and some tears from the women, and a scout cheer from the boys, and cries of ”Have you got your axe, Spider?” and ”Joe, dear, are you sure you put in your comb and brush?” and ”Tom, dear, now don't forget to send mother a postcard just as soon as you get there,” and ”Say, Joey, bring home a Rocky Mountain sheep's head for the clubroom,” and ”Hi, Spider, don't forget a grizzly bear rug for me, so my little tootsies won't be cold when I hop out of bed.”

The train came, the boys got aboard, it pulled out, and looking back they saw their friends and parents on the platform, waving good-bye, and the church spires and housetops of their village vanis.h.i.+ng into the June green of the tree tops.

”Well,” said Tom, ”we're off for the Rocky Mountains!”

Joe rubbed his eyes. ”Sure we are!” he answered. ”I kind of hate to leave ma, though, and the kids.”

Tom slapped him on the shoulder.