Part 7 (1/2)

ADVENTURE NUMBER NINE

”CHANCE CARTER'S WAY”

BOOM! It was the distant roar of some Fourth of July cannon which had escaped the watchful eye of the police.

Bob Dalton stirred uneasily and flopped over in bed. The morning sun was s.h.i.+ning straight into his eyes.

By the time the twins were dressed and downstairs, Sure Pop was waiting for them in the back yard. He, too, had slept late after the excitement of the fire.

”I had hoped for a holiday today,” he said, ”but I can see there's going to be plenty of scouting for me to do, even on a 'sane Fourth,' so I'm off on my rounds. How are you two going to spend the day?”

”Going over to where the fire was, as soon as we've had our breakfast,”

said Bob. ”Looks from here as if Turner Hall's still smoking.”

Betty was fingering the Safety b.u.t.ton in Sure Pop's lapel. ”What are you doing, Betty?” asked the Safety Scout, with a twinkle.

”Turning your b.u.t.ton right side up,” Betty told him.

The merry little Colonel laughed and explained: ”I have to wear it wrong side up each day till I've done my One Day's Boost for Safety.”

”Oh,” said Bob. ”Same as the Boy Scouts wear their neckties outside their vests till they've done the day's good turn to somebody?”

Sure Pop nodded. ”That one little rule is the biggest thing in the whole Scout Law,” he said. ”The Scout who lives up to that test--doing a good turn to somebody every day, quietly and without boasting--will be cla.s.sed alongside the greatest Scouts the world has ever known. Bring me your _Handbook of Scout-Craft_ a moment, please, Bob. Listen to this from page 7, now:

”'Another way to remind himself is to wear his Scout badge reversed until he has done his good turn. The good turn may not be a very big thing--help an old lady across the street; remove a banana skin from the pavement so that people may not fall; remove from streets or roads broken gla.s.s, dangerous to automobile or bicycle tires'--to say nothing,” added Sure Pop, ”of the danger to barefooted boys and girls, or to folks with thin shoes! Don't you see, Bob and Betty, how every one of those good turns happens to be a good turn for Safety as well? I told you a few days ago that all true Scouts are brothers; aren't we all working toward the same end, after all?”

Bob and Betty saw the point. They turned their Safety b.u.t.tons upside down as Sure Pop waved them goodby, resolving to get them right side up at the very first chance that offered.

They found their father on the front porch reading the paper, taking solid comfort in the fact that Bruce's Mills were closed for the day. ”I want you to help me with a little work out in the yard,” he said, ”as soon as you've had your breakfast.” So it was almost one o'clock before Bob and Betty set out for the scene of last night's fire. Just across the river they met Chance Carter and George Gibson, bound in the same direction.

The German church still raised its steepled head toward the sky, but its roof had fallen in, and Turner Hall was a ma.s.s of blackened ruins. Parts of the walls were still standing, swaying as if ready to topple over any moment. Off in one corner the blackened timbers and jumbled bits of furniture were stubbornly smoldering.

The four stood and looked. ”Just think!” said Betty softly. ”All that from just one little careless match! Guess _that_ man won't light a match in a coat closet again.”

”Pshaw!” scoffed Chance Carter. ”That wouldn't happen once in a thousand times.”

”How many matches do you suppose are scratched in the United States every second?” asked Bob, shortly.

”Oh, a couple of hundred, I suppose.”

”Ten thousand, Chance, _every second_. And every match is a possible fire. Sure Pop told me last night that one third of the fire losses are due to carelessness in handling matches. And the fires in this country cost us over a million dollars every day--twice that, counting the cost of fire departments.”

”Whew!” Even reckless Chance looked impressed.

”When you get into the Boy Scouts,” Bob reminded him, ”you'll find out what _they_ think about fooling with fire. A real Scout never leaves his camp fire till he's dead sure it's out. Even after there's no fire left that he can see, he pours water on it and all around it to guard against its rekindling. A Scout who isn't careful about such things is looked down on by the others as not of much account.”