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<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Sure Pop and the Safety Scouts, by Roy
Rutherford Bailey</h1>
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re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
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<p>Title: Sure Pop and the Safety Scouts</p>
<p>Author: Roy Rutherford Bailey</p>
<p>Release Date: June 28, 2009 [eBook #29260]</p>
<p>Language: English</p>
<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SURE POP AND THE SAFETY SCOUTS***</p>
<p> </p>
<h4>E-text prepared by David Edwards, Emmy,<br />
and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
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<p> </p>
<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;" cellpadding="10">
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</td>
<td>
Images of the original pages are available through
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</table>
<p> </p>
<hr class="full" />
<p> </p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 421px;">
<img src="images/i001.jpg" width="421" height="600" alt="Cover" title="" />
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p>
<h1>Sure Pop and the Safety Scouts</h1>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a></span></p>
<div class="blockquot"><i>Being a Safety Scout means doing
the right thing at the right time.</i><br />
<div class='right'>—<span class="smcap">Colonel Sure Pop</span><br /></div>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p>
<h1>SURE POP AND<br />
THE SAFETY SCOUTS</h1>
<h3>BY</h3>
<h2>ROY RUTHERFORD BAILEY</h2>
<div class='center'>
PUBLISHED UNDER THE AUSPICES OF THE NATIONAL<br />
SAFETY COUNCIL<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /><i>ILLUSTRATED</i><br /><br /><br /></div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 72px;">
<img src="images/i002.png" width="72" height="70" alt="Emblem" title="" />
</div>
<div class='center'>
<small>YONKERS-ON-HUDSON, NEW YORK</small><br />
WORLD BOOK COMPANY<br />
1916<br />
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span></p>
<div class='center'>
<i>Get the Safety Habit</i><br /></div>
<div class='copyright'><br /><br /><br /><br />
<i>Copyright, 1915, by World Book Company. Copyright, 1915, in Great Britain.</i><br />
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p>
<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
<div class='center'>
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents">
<tr><td align='left'> </td><td align='right'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Introduction</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Adventure Number</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">One: Bob Thirsts for Adventure and Gets It</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Two: The Royal Signet Ring</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Three: The Woman and the Wizard</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Four: The Persistent Pigm</span>y</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Five: The Magic Button's Warning</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Six: The Live Wire</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seven: Betty Evens the Score</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Eight: Little Schneider's Fire Alarm</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nine: "Chance Carter's Way"</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ten: The Twins Meet Bruce</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Eleven: "Just for Fun"</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Twelve: Getting Down to Business</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thirteen: Dalton Patrol</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fourteen: Six Timely Tips</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fifteen: Twin Uniforms</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sixteen: Where Safety Was a Stranger</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seventeen: Giving the Other Fellow a Square Deal</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Eighteen: An Adventure in Safety</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nineteen: One Day's Boost for Safety</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td></tr>
</table></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span></p>
<h2>THE SAFETY SCOUT'S PLATFORM</h2>
<div class='poem2'>
<i>I will bear in mind the value of human life and a sound body.</i><br />
<i>I will take no risks to endanger my body or any of its parts.</i><br />
<i>I will do nothing to endanger the life or limb of any other person.</i><br />
<i>I will be vigilant not only for my own safety, but for that of others,<br /> in the street or indoors, on foot or in conveyances, anywhere and at all times.</i><br />
<i>I will try to do at least one Good Turn for Safety every day.</i><br />
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>
<h2>INTRODUCTION</h2>
<h3><span class="smcap">Safety First—The Prevention of Accidents</span></h3>
<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">Americans</span> are realizing the need for preventing accidents.
The general conservation and efficiency movements and the
Workmen's Compensation Laws first directed the attention of
employers to the needless waste of human life. The discovery
that by the safeguarding of machinery and the education of
workmen ninety per cent of the industrial accidents could be
prevented, has proved the value of educational methods in Public
Safety work, and the Safety activities of public officials, trade
organizations, public schools, churches, and other agencies have
been directed toward the prevention of accidents on the street,
in public places, and in homes. Every phase of human life is
affected by accidents, and their elimination means saving human
life and the avoidance of destitution and misery.</div>
<p>The National Safety Council realizes the importance of educating
school children in the principles of Safety; for they will be
the future industrial workers and the representatives of public
opinion; their interest must be aroused to practice and preach
"Safety First" everywhere. Children can be taught to become
alert to their own safety, and can influence their parents to a
deeper realization of their responsibilities.</p>
<p>The National Safety Council has directed the preparation of
this book and hopes that through its pages children will be
brought to realize the manliness of caution, the importance
of courtesy and consideration; that, in short, the Safety way
is simply the right way of doing things; and that the efficiency,
comfort, and happiness of many individuals will be increased
by the practicing day in and day out of "Safety First."</p>
<div class='sig'>
<span style="margin-right: 6em;">R. W. CAMPBELL</span><br />
<i>President National Safety Council</i><br />
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p>
<div class="center"><i>You have no right to take a chance;
some one else may have to take the<br />
consequences.</i>
—<span class="smcap">Colonel Sure Pop</span><br /></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p>
<h2>SURE POP AND THE<br />
SAFETY SCOUTS</h2>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/i003.jpg" width="450" height="284" alt="Pulled out of the way" title="" />
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2>ADVENTURE NUMBER ONE</h2>
<h3>BOB THIRSTS FOR ADVENTURE AND GETS IT</h3>
<p>"Bully for Uncle Jack!" cried Bob, a stalwart lad just
on the edge of twelve, excitedly waving a letter with a
South American postmark. "What wouldn't I give to be
with him on his exploring trips! Here, Betty, listen to this
part about their fight with the natives!"</p>
<p>"Oh, don't, please!" said his twin, clapping both hands
over her ears, but listening just the same. "I'm always so
afraid Uncle Jack will get killed."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p>
<p>"Uncle Jack get killed? Hardly! Just listen to what
he says:</p>
<p>"'This last scrimmage was one of the liveliest I've ever
been up against. The warlike up-river tribes, it seems, mistook
our native scouts for a war party and lay in ambush
for us. Might have been worse, though. Our losses were
two men killed and seven wounded—but of course that's
only a fraction of what you wound and kill every day back
there in the States.'"</p>
<p>"Why, what does he mean by that?" wondered Betty.
"There's no war going on in this country, is there?"</p>
<p>"Not that I know of." Even Brother Bob looked puzzled
for a moment. "No Indians left to fight! But say, Betty,
Uncle Jack's life is just fairly dripping with adventure!
Think of it—every day chock-full of thrills and narrow
escapes—and adventures every time he turns around!
Well, it won't be many years now before I can be a scout
and explorer myself."</p>
<p>A yell from their playmates outside brought the twins
to the street in a hurry. Bob's legs were longer, but Betty,
quick as a cat, got there first.</p>
<p>"You're it, Bob!" "Bob's last, so he's it!" Like a
band of savages the screeching boys and girls scuttled across
the car tracks and around the corners, while Bob counted
up to five hundred "by fives."</p>
<p>"Four hundr' nine' five, FIVE HUNDRED!" yelled
Bob, and started to dash across the tracks, for he had caught<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span>
a glimpse of Jimmy West's new red boots disappearing under
his grandmother's porch across the street. The sound of
the wind in his ears as he ran drowned out the roar of the
coming street car, and of course he had eyes only for those
tell-tale red boots.</p>
<p>Another jump and Bob would have been under the
wheels—but a strong little hand on his shoulder stopped
him. The street car roared by with a startled clang of its
gong, for the motorman had seen Bob too late to throw off
the power.</p>
<p>Bob gasped in relief—then whirled around to see what
had stopped him. And what do you think he saw, right
there beside him in the street? Was it a scout—or a
pygmy—or what?</p>
<p>He was old and snowy haired, but as fresh as a daisy
and as spry as a cricket. His cheeks were as ruddy as
Spitzenberg apples and his only wrinkles were the laughter
wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. And such eyes! They
were big and clear, and so bright that Bob could only look
at them a moment and then turn away. It was like trying
to stare at the sun.</p>
<p>He was tiny, but straight as a ramrod in his natty khaki
uniform. And he was holding up his right hand just like
the big policeman on the corner downtown. As he dropped
it to shake hands with Bob, there was a sudden flash of
green.</p>
<p>"Why, hello there!" Bob could scarcely believe his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>
eyes. "Where on earth did <i>you</i> come from? And who—who
<i>are</i> you, anyway?"</p>
<p>"My name is Sure Pop!" answered the scout in a clear
voice, like the note of a bugle. "I've dropped in on the
United States on my second tour of scouting duty, and I
hear you are thirsting for adventure. Well, you've had
<i>one</i>, at any rate; if I hadn't grabbed you just in the nick
of time—" He shuddered and hustled Bob back to the
sidewalk.</p>
<p>"Thanks, old scout!" stammered Bob. "I didn't
know there was a car coming, and you see I was in such
a hurry—"</p>
<p>"I see!" said Sure Pop, dryly. "<i>I</i> see, Bob, but <i>you</i>
didn't. How do you suppose a wee chap like me ever
gets across the busy streets downtown?"</p>
<p>"Give it up!" said Bob, "unless you can fly!" And
he gave a sly glance at the scout's square little shoulders,
half expecting to see wings.</p>
<p>Sure Pop grinned. "No more than you," he chuckled.
"So I keep my eyes and ears open. Folks who have no
wings must use their wits."</p>
<p>Bob felt a bit uncomfortable to have his mind read so
easily, and promptly changed the subject. "What a funny
name you have—'Sure Pop'!"</p>
<p>"Well, 'tis a funny one, sure pop! That name was wished
on me by a crowd of Borderland folk, and then His Majesty
gave it to me for keeps."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p>
<p>"His Majesty—do you mean your King?"</p>
<p>"Right—the King of the Borderland." The two had
been walking toward the Dalton house as they talked.
Now Sure Pop followed Bob up the steps and curled up in
the big porch chair to tell him all about it.</p>
<p>"Once upon a time, some years ago, when I was a younger
man than I am now," began Sure Pop, "I was standing on a
corner in the largest city in the Borderland. It was noontime,
and crowds of horsemen and chariots were dashing
up and down the street.</p>
<p>"Suddenly I saw a youngster start over to my side of
the street without looking either way. There was a chariot
almost upon him when I held up my hand, as I did to
you now, and yelled, 'Look sharp!' He stopped short—and
those thundering wheels missed him by about an inch.</p>
<p>"He picked his way across the street, then, and held
out his hand. 'That was a close shave,' he said. 'You've
saved my life, Mr.—Mr.—' For of course he didn't
know <i>my</i> name from Captain Kidd's.</p>
<p>"'That's all right!' I said. 'But you should always
look before you cross.'</p>
<p>"'Do <i>you?</i>' he asked, with a sudden sharp glance.</p>
<p>"'Sure pop!' I told him. 'Safety First!'</p>
<p>"By this time quite a crowd of Borderland folk had
gathered around us, and they all laughed and cheered and
called me 'Sure Pop.' And one bold-eyed rascal threw
up his pointed cap and shouted, 'Bully for Sure Pop!' and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>
ran off to tell the King. At that all the rest of the crowd
clapped their hands, for though they laughed at the name
they knew I had the right idea."</p>
<p>"Ha!" said Bob. "So that's how you came by that
comical name of yours?"</p>
<p>"Sure pop!" answered the Safety Scout with a twinkle.</p>
<div class="center"><i>Folks who have no wings must use their wits.</i>—<span class="smcap">Sure Pop</span><br /></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/i004.jpg" width="450" height="289" alt="The Royal Signet Ring" title="" />
</div>
<h2>ADVENTURE NUMBER TWO</h2>
<h3>THE ROYAL SIGNET RING</h3>
<p>Sure Pop paused in his story as Betty came dashing
around the house. Like a shot the stranger jumped to his
feet, and again Bob caught that sudden flash of green as
he raised his hand in salute.</p>
<p>"Hello, Betty, glad to see you!"</p>
<p>"Why, goodness me!" exclaimed Betty. "You seem
to know me, but I don't know who you are—unless you
are one of those Boy Scouts Bob is so crazy to join?"</p>
<p>"Not exactly <i>Boy</i> Scouts," chuckled Sure Pop with a
wink at Bob, "unless you count us boys till we're ninety-nine
years old! Girls are scouts, too, in <i>my</i> regiment."</p>
<p>"Now, Betty," warned Bob, "sit down here and don't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>
you dare interrupt, for Sure Pop's right in the middle of a
story—and I think he's come to stay a while, haven't
you, Sure Pop?"</p>
<p>"Sure pop! I'll stay as long as the King will let me,"
laughed the merry little scout.</p>
<p>"Well, after I got away from the crowd," he went on,
"my eyes must suddenly have been opened to the thousand-and-one
things that might happen even in Borderland to
folks who didn't look sharp on the street, for on my way
home I saved several others from getting hurt.</p>
<p>"The first was a careless little cabin boy, who went
along whistling with his hands in his pockets. He slipped
and fell plump in front of a chariot, and of course he couldn't
jerk his hands out of his pockets in time to save himself.
I grabbed him up in the very nick of time, or he'd have been
smashed flatter than a pancake.</p>
<p>"And only a block farther on, I met a carpenter hurrying
through the crowd with a ladder on his shoulder. Some
one shouted to him, and he whirled around with never a
thought of his ladder. The end of it would have hit a fat
old banker squarely between the eyes if I hadn't been watching
for that very thing and caught it as it swung. I went
home and thought no more about all this, till that night,
at midnight, I was summoned before the King."</p>
<p>"The King!" cried Betty. "My, weren't you scared?"</p>
<p>"I was, sure pop! When I marched into the throne room
it was crowded with richly dressed people. The King and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>
Queen sat on their thrones, and as I went toward them I
had to pass between two long lines of trumpeters.</p>
<p>"Suddenly up went the silver trumpets, and the trumpeters
blew a mighty blast. Let me tell you, it was enough to
send the shivers down your spine, that trumpet call was!
It seemed as if I never had climbed a longer flight of steps.
But at last I found myself bowing before the King and
Queen. The King, who wore a brand new uniform, just
like this one I have on, beckoned a herald to his side.</p>
<p>"'Now hark to his words,' he said to me, 'and say if he
speaks the truth.' And then the herald read aloud from a
long white scroll, with scarlet seals on it, the story of how I
had saved the young chap from the chariot that noon, and
all about the cabin boy and the fat old banker I'd helped
on my way home!</p>
<p>"'Does the herald speak truly?' asked the Borderland
King. And all the rest strained their ears for my answer.</p>
<p>"'Sure pop, Your Majesty!' I replied before I knew
what I was saying. At that he pulled from his finger a new
signet ring, inked it with some magic ink, and motioned for
me to hold out my right hand. How do I know it was
magic ink? Why, it must have been, for the print it
made has never faded. Look!"</p>
<div class="figright" style="width: 150px;">
<img src="images/i005.jpg" width="150" height="153" alt="UNIVERSAL SAFETY" title="" />
</div>
<p>Bob and Betty looked at the little
scout's right hand, which he held up
again like the crossing policeman downtown.
And this is what they saw:</p>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p>
<p>"'Hold it up,' commanded the King, 'where all can
see!' And then the trumpets sounded again.</p>
<p>"'Long live Colonel Sure Pop, the Safety Scout!' cried
the herald. The court wizard stepped forward, waved his
hand and mumbled a few magic words over me, and—what
do you think!—I found myself dressed in a brand new
scouting uniform, the only one just like the King's!"</p>
<div class='center'>
<i>Long live the Safety Scouts!</i>
—<span class="smcap">Sure Pop</span><br /></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/i006.jpg" width="450" height="288" alt="THE WOMAN AND THE WIZARD" title="" />
</div>
<h2>ADVENTURE NUMBER THREE</h2>
<h3>THE WOMAN AND THE WIZARD</h3>
<p>Sure Pop, the Safety Scout, drew a long breath and
watched the automobiles whirling recklessly down the busy
street. "But say, haven't you twins had enough stories
for one day?"</p>
<p>"Not much we haven't! What did the King do next?"</p>
<p>No doubt about the twins' being thirsty for adventure!
Sure Pop smiled.</p>
<p>"Well, a single wave of the King's hand dismissed his
people. Looking very sorrowful, he opened the great book
in which he keeps the record of everything that happens
over here in the New World.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p>
<p>"I looked where he pointed, and trembled. For this
was what I read:</p>
<div class='center'>
"'UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</div>
<div class='poem2'>
'Fathers and mothers and boys and girls killed by accidents last year. . . .<br />
'Injured, blinded, crippled, and maimed. . .'<br />
</div>
<p>"He ran his finger across the page to the totals, and I saw
that the first total ran clear up into the thousands—and
the second one into the millions!</p>
<p>"'Colonel Sure Pop,' said the King, 'if only the thought
you put into the mind of that lad you saved this noon,
might be put into the mind of all America!'</p>
<p>"'Your Majesty means—Safety First?' I asked.</p>
<p>"The King nodded. 'All the lives lost in all our battles,'
he said grimly, 'are but a drop in the sea as compared with
the slaughter of a single year in a single land!'</p>
<p>"'Oh, Your Majesty, let me go and teach them Safety
First—now, before another life is thrown away!'</p>
<p>"'No, Colonel. Not yet. The time is not yet ripe.
But—perhaps we can make a beginning. Come to me
again tomorrow night, at midnight, and we shall see.'</p>
<p>"The next night I went to the throne room and found the
King studying a big map. He had a red pencil and a blue
one in his hand, and he pointed to a lot of red rings he had
drawn on the map.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p>
<p>"'Those,' he told me, 'are America's great mills. In
them and the other factories, thousands upon thousands
of workmen are killed by accident every year—by accident,
Colonel, not in battle.</p>
<p>"'And that is not all,' the King went on. 'These blue
lines mark the trails of the great iron horses—the railroads.
Last year these iron horses trampled out thousands of lives
in America alone. And all because the Americans haven't
learned to <i>think</i> Safety!'</p>
<p>"That was too much for me. I pleaded with him to let
me come straight to America and help end that awful suffering.
But the King shook his head.</p>
<p>"'The more haste, the less speed, Colonel. Before you
can help America, you must help yourself; and the quickest
way to do that is first to teach Safety to our own people.
Let me see you win your spurs here in the Borderland, and
then—to America you go!'</p>
<p>"'Teach Safety to our own people?' I repeated, a bit
puzzled. 'How ought I to go about it, Sire?'</p>
<p>"'Go through all the Borderland,' said the King, 'and
muster an army of Safety Scouts. Train them to know
signs that spell DANGER, as an Indian scout reads the signs
of the trail. Teach them to report every danger signal
they see—and they will teach their neighbors, and so the
knowledge will spread. But above all, be sure your Safety
Scouts are well chosen.'</p>
<p>"'But how?' I asked. 'Shall I pick out wise people?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p>
<p>"'Colonel of the Scouts,' said the King, shrewdly, 'the
wisest are not always the safest. Have you never thought
why it is "bad luck to go under a ladder"?'</p>
<p>"'Never,' I owned up. 'I've always thought of it as just
a proverb.'</p>
<p>"'True. But proverbs without reason would be like
trees without roots. Stop and think: sometimes a ladder
breaks or slips, which is bad for the climber—and bad for
any one who happens to be under that ladder just then. And
sometimes a painter's heavy paintpot falls—and woe to
him who walks under the ladder then, be he the wisest man
in the kingdom. Now go, and one moon from tonight bring
me a full regiment of Safety Scouts.'</p>
<p>"So out through the Borderland I went, saying over and
over to myself, 'It is bad luck to go under a ladder,' and
waiting for the King's meaning to be made plain.</p>
<p>"First I went to the home of a great wizard, the wisest
man in the Borderland. As I neared the house, the door
opened and the wizard came out, a heavy book of wisdom
under his arm.</p>
<p>"He had a long black pipe in his mouth. Pulling out a
match, he lighted his pipe, threw the burning match over his
shoulder, and hurried on toward the city.</p>
<p>"I started to run after him, when a flicker of light caught
my eye. There in the straw that littered the roots of the
ivy vines by the steps, a little tongue of flame was lapping
up the tangle of leaves!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p>
<p>Bob jumped to his feet as if he had heard the clang of
a fire bell. "Good enough for him, the old fossil! Did it
burn his house down?"</p>
<p>"Came mighty near it," said Sure Pop, looking at the
scars on his hands. "He had a sick wife in there all alone,
and if I hadn't happened along just then—</p>
<p>"Well, anyway," he went on cheerfully, "I got the fire
out at last. And the King's meaning was made plain—it
is one thing to have wisdom and another thing to use it.
So I didn't ask the wizard to join the Safety Scouts, after
all."</p>
<p>"I should say NOT!" cried Bob and Betty with one voice.
"But where <i>did</i> you find your Scouts?" added Bob.</p>
<p>"Well, the next idea I had was to ask mothers, for mothers
give up much of their time, anyhow, to keeping children out
of harm's way. I found one whose house looked so trim
and neat, and her children so clean and happy, that I had
almost made up my mind to invite her to join—when my
eye fell on a shining butcher knife hanging beside the kitchen
table, where even the baby could reach it without half
trying.</p>
<p>"And that wasn't all I saw. There was a saucer of fly
poison on the window sill! Then I saw the mother starting
to carry out a pail of water to scrub the steps, when
the brass knocker on the door gave a thump, and she left
that hot water right there in the middle of the floor while
she talked to a peddler!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p>
<p>"Just then the baby came toddling across the room.
He got safely past the scalding water and the fly poison, but
the next moment I saw him climb up on a chair, open the
medicine chest, and grab a bottle from the bottom shelf—the
bottom shelf, Betty, of <i>all</i> shelves in the house! Out
came the cork, and up went the bottle to his lips, just as I
saw to my horror a skull and crossbones on its label. Like
a flash I—"</p>
<p>"What's a skull and crossbones, Sure Pop?" broke in
Betty.</p>
<p>"Poison sign!" explained Bob, shortly. "Don't interrupt!
Go on, Sure Pop!"</p>
<p>"Like a flash," said Sure Pop, "I bounded to the baby's
side and snatched the bottle away. I tell you, I did some
earnest thinking as I left that house. I realized that it
would never do to ask that mother to join our army of Safety
Scouts, for until she herself had formed the Safety habit,
she could hardly be expected to teach Safety to others.
The adventure of the baby and the poison bottle had opened
my eyes to the real meaning of the King's words about
finding Scouts who could read the little signs that spell
DANGER.</p>
<p>"By the way, I told the poison bottle story to a great
doctor the other day, and now he's doing his best to get a
law passed requiring that all poison bottles be of some
special shape, different from any other bottles. That will
make them much safer, even in the dark."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p>
<p>"But how can they be made different in shape?" asked
Betty. "What shape, Sure Pop?"</p>
<p>"Three-cornered, probably. That certainly would be a
life-saving law, if he could only get it passed. Just think!
There were several thousand deaths in the United States
last year from that one cause alone—just from mistaking
bottles of poison for other medicine."</p>
<p>"But what I can't see," said Bob, "is how anybody <i>could</i>
mistake a poison bottle. They all have skulls and crossbones
on them, haven't they?"</p>
<p>"Stop and think a moment," said the Safety Scout.
"Suppose baby has croup in the night, and mother is roused
out of a sound sleep and rushes to the medicine chest; she's
only half awake—the light is dim—poor baby is gasping
and choking—not a moment to lose. She isn't likely to
stop and read labels very carefully, is she? But if she felt
her hand close over a <i>three-cornered</i> bottle, it would wake
her up in a hurry. Even in the darkness and in the excitement—if
she had been trained to think of a three-cornered
bottle as meaning DANGER, perhaps death—it would
stay her hand as surely as a red light stops an engine."</p>
<p>"I suppose," said Betty, "that when folks are badly
hurt, or awfully, awfully sick, other folks lose their heads
and don't know what they really <i>are</i> doing."</p>
<p>"Betty, you've hit the nail right on the head. Now
that's why we must fix things so safety won't depend on
level heads or time to think. The danger signal must pop<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>
right into our heads from force of habit. The sooner American
boys and girls—yes, and the grown-ups, too—get the
Safety habit, the sooner 'Safety First' will change from
phrase into fact.</p>
<p>"The first day I ever spent in America opened my eyes
to the price your country is paying for the word 'guess.'
The more I studied the situation, the oftener I noticed folks
saying 'I guess' where they should have said '<i>I know</i>.' In
nearly all of America's accidents, guesswork is the real
cause.</p>
<p>"The moment I realized that, I said to myself, 'It's high
time America dropped guesswork out of its daily life.' My
work was cut out for me: I began right then and there to
study out ways of getting folks to stop guessing, once for all,
<i>and be sure</i>—sure pop!"</p>
<div class='center'>
<i>Stop guessing, once for all, and be sure.</i>
—<span class="smcap">Sure Pop</span><br />
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/i007.jpg" width="450" height="283" alt="THE PERSISTENT PIGMY" title="" />
</div>
<h2>ADVENTURE NUMBER FOUR</h2>
<h3>THE PERSISTENT PIGMY</h3>
<p>"Say, Sure Pop!" burst out Bob, as the Safety Scout
paused in his story. "A whole regiment—did you realize
that was a lot of Scouts to get together in one month?"</p>
<p>"Did I?" echoed Sure Pop with a chuckle. "<i>Did</i> I?
Well, if I didn't when I set out on my search, I did before
the first day was over. I had lost out on the wisest man in
the Borderland—<i>he</i> wouldn't do, for all his wisdom. He
only served to remind me of what the King had said, that
the wisest are not always the safest."</p>
<p>"Sure—sure pop!" Bob broke in again. "But how
did you ever get a whole regiment together in one month?
You simply couldn't disappoint the King, you know."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p>
<p>"You're right, Bob, I simply couldn't. So as fast as I did
find one that would do for the army, I set him to work finding
others—passing the good work along. I soon saw I
could never make good with the King by trying to do it
all myself, and I do believe the King knew all along that
there was only one way a really big work could be done—by
getting <i>everybody</i> stirred up and enthusiastic. So I
turned each new Scout loose to hunt for more.</p>
<p>"You'd laugh to know who was the first Scout enrolled.
As I slipped out of the poison-bottle house, I saw a funny
little pigmy hurry out of a cottage across the lane and go
z-z-zam! down the front steps. We'd had a nip of frost the
night before, and the slippery steps took him by surprise.
For a moment he stood rubbing his head, with his merry little
face puckered up into a comical sort of bowknot. Then he
picked his way slowly up the steps into the house.</p>
<p>"A minute or two and out he came again with a bag of
salt and sprinkled the steps with it. Though he was in
just as big a hurry as our friend the wizard, the Safety
First idea had got him, and he plainly had made up his mind
to begin right then and there.</p>
<p>"'Well, I declare!' I said to myself. 'I've a notion to
muster him into the scouting service—but what would the
King say to my enrolling a pigmy?' Just as I was wondering
about it, down he went again, flat on his little back!</p>
<p>"This time it was on the sidewalk in front of his house.
Some careless youngster had thrown a banana skin on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>
walk. Poor little pigmy, what a bump he did get that
time! But again he picked himself up, and this time he
didn't wait a moment—just poked the banana skin off into
the gutter where it could do no more harm.</p>
<p>"Such persistence was too much for me! I told him the
King wanted him for the royal army of Safety Scouts, and
that he was to have the honor of being the first one enrolled.
His eyes fairly popped out of his head as he listened, and
before you could say 'Jack Robinson,' he
had scampered off to help me raise an
army—with one of these buttons in the
lapel of his leather jerkin."</p>
<div class="figright" style="width: 150px;">
<img src="images/i005.jpg" width="150" height="153" alt="Universal Safety" title="" />
</div>
<p>Sure Pop pulled a sparkling button out
of his pocket and laid it before the twins.</p>
<p>"There, that's the Safety Scouts' badge of honor, and no
Scout can wear one till he earns the right. The King himself
designed it."</p>
<p>"My! I wish—!" The twins remembered their manners
and stopped short, but Sure Pop understood. He threw
back that wise little head and how he did laugh!</p>
<p>"You wish—eh? That's what they all say, the minute
they lay eyes on that button! You see, that's a magic
button, so it's no wonder everybody wants one. Friends,
that button can <i>talk!</i>"</p>
<p>Bob stared at the button as if he couldn't believe his
ears. Betty, taking Sure Pop at his word, grabbed the
button and laid it to her ear. She gave a squeal of delight.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p>
<p>"It does! It does talk—doesn't it?" she cried.</p>
<p>"Sure pop it does!" laughed the Safety Scout. "That's
all it can say, just four words at a time—but those four
are enough to save thousands of lives every year."</p>
<p>"What four words?" yelled Bob, clapping the magic
button to his ear. How his jaw dropped when he heard—or
seemed to hear—the magic button's words, four
words he will never, never forget, even if he lives to be a
hundred years old!</p>
<p>"<i>Safety First</i>," whispered the magic button in his ear.
"<i>Get Busy!</i>"</p>
<p>Bob sprang to his feet, so startled that he nearly dropped
the button.</p>
<p>"Get busy?" he echoed. "Well, let's!"</p>
<p>"And let's be quick about it," chimed in Betty. "I
want to earn one of those magic buttons myself."</p>
<p>"Here too!" Bob whirled around to Sure Pop. "But
we'll have to get the soil ready first, won't we, just as the
King told you? So the seed won't be wasted, you know."</p>
<p>"That's the first move, Bob. Waste is something no
Scout can bear to see. Waste of life, waste of health, waste
of time, waste of food—even waste of money seems a crime
to a Safety Scout."</p>
<p>Betty was thinking hard. "Then before we can plant the
Safety First idea in other people's minds, shan't we have to
start it growing in our own, Sure Pop?"</p>
<p>"Sure pop, we shall! And now listen, friends. When I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>
first came to America, after years of Safety training among
my own people, I took up the task of planting the Safety
First idea among the great American mills and factories.
Some day I'll tell you about those years of Safety work
among the mill hands, but just now what I want to explain
is this: when I had got the work well established among
the mills, I thought at first that my work in America was
finished; but the more I thought it over, the plainer it became
that my most important work still lay before me."</p>
<p>"Your most important work," echoed Betty. "What
do you mean, Sure Pop—teaching Safety to the President
of the United States?"</p>
<p>"No, Betty. A far more important work than that—teaching
Safety to children. I saw that by making Safety
Scouts out of the boys and girls, I should be solving the
whole problem of the years to come—for workmen, Presidents,
and all. So I drew a long breath and started in again,
this time in America's homes.</p>
<p>"Now how do you suppose I came to choose your home
to begin on? Just as I was wondering which house to tackle
first, I overheard Bob wishing he had Uncle Jack's life of
adventure—though the United States has more real adventure
to the square mile than all South America put together!"</p>
<p>"You don't mean it? Why, this is a civilized country!"</p>
<p>"You Americans think so, Bob. And you're trying to
bring about world-wide peace, because you feel that war is
out of place in civilized life. But what about the thousands<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>
you kill and the millions you wound every year? More
than you killed and wounded, remember, in the whole Civil
War. What about that? Does that sound so very civilized?</p>
<p>"You want adventure. Good! You shall have it—early
and often. And you won't have to go to any other
country to find it, either."</p>
<p>"Well," said Bob, "here's hoping. What comes first?"</p>
<p>"First, we must get our eyes and ears open. That's the
first thing for any Scout to learn, and he isn't good for
much until he gets the habit of noticing things. Scout-craft
means reading signs in everything you come across and
acting on little silent hints that most folks wouldn't notice.</p>
<p>"Now, to begin with, here are three practical rules for
you to bear in mind—three things we found out in our
first year of Borderland Safety Scouting: First, a true Scout
is always on the alert. Second, a Scout always keeps cool.
Third, a Scout does one thing at a time. Do you suppose
you can remember these three things?"</p>
<p>"That's easy," said Betty.</p>
<p>"Easy as anything," said Bob. "Keep wide awake, keep
cool, and keep your mind on one thing at a time. Three
'keeps'—anybody can remember them!"</p>
<p>"Think so?" Sure Pop's voice sounded surprisingly far
away. "All right, we'll see!" And before the twins' very
eyes he faded away into thin air!</p>
<div class='center'>
<i>A true Scout is always on the alert.</i>—<span class="smcap">Sure Pop</span><br />
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/i009.jpg" width="450" height="288" alt="THE MAGIC BUTTON'S WARNING" title="" />
</div>
<h2>ADVENTURE NUMBER FIVE</h2>
<h3>THE MAGIC BUTTON'S WARNING</h3>
<p>"He's gone!" Bob and Betty stared at each other.
For a moment the whole thing seemed like a dream, and
they hated to think of waking up.</p>
<p>"But it <i>was</i> real!" Bob turned the magic button over
and over in his hand, glad to have something left to prove
the reality of their new friend, something they could still see
and touch.</p>
<p>"We can't wear that button, though," Betty reminded
him. "We've got to earn it first. What shall we do with it?"</p>
<p>Bob stuck it into his deepest pocket. "I'll hang on to
it till Sure Pop comes back—if he does come back. Oh,
hello, Joe!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p>
<p>Joe Schmidt, a wiry boy of Bob's own age, but fully half
a head shorter, turned around and gazed up at the Daltons'
porch.</p>
<p>"Why, hello, Bob! What are you doing?"</p>
<p>"Nothing." Bob ran down the steps and began talking
with Joe. In fact, the two lads were so busy talking that
they did not see George Gibson till he purposely bumped
into Joe's back with a sudden "Hey, there! Get off the
walk!"</p>
<p>Joe bristled like a ruffled sparrow. "Let's see you throw
me off!" When George good-naturedly took him at his
word, Joe clinched with him and managed to get a half-Nelson
hold on him. Joe always went at things in dead
earnest, anyway. Bob and Betty, laughing and shouting,
hopped gleefully around the swaying wrestlers, Bob
yelling encouragement to George, and Betty yelling just
as hard for Joe.</p>
<p>Suddenly—was it just Bob's imagination?—something
seemed to give a wiggle in his pocket—then a warning
flop. It must be that magic button!</p>
<p>Bob jumped, gave a snort of surprise, and jammed his
hand into his pocket. What had got into the button anyway?</p>
<p>Then an idea flashed across his mind—perhaps the
Safety button was trying to warn him. To be sure, if the
wrestlers went down hard on the cement sidewalk, it might
mean a broken skull! In his hurry to get them off the walk<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>
and over on the grass, Bob lost his head. He made the mistake
of trying to do it by force; he caught hold of George's
elbow, and got a sharp dig in the pit of his stomach for
his pains.</p>
<p>"Hey, fellows—danger!" he yelled, when he could
catch his breath. "Get over on the grass—look out!"</p>
<p>His warnings came too late. George, much the bigger
of the two, got a hip-lock on Joe, and, forgetting everything
else in his struggle to "lay him out," gave a sudden heave
that sent Joe sprawling on his back. His head struck
the sidewalk with a thud.</p>
<p>That was all. Joe lay like a lump of lead.</p>
<p>"He's <i>dead!</i>" screamed Betty wildly. She threw herself
at the gasping George. "You—you've <i>killed</i> him!"</p>
<p>George, puffing and blowing from his struggle, held her
at arm's length. A big policeman suddenly came around
the corner. "Here, what's all this?" he asked sternly,
bending over the fallen wrestler.</p>
<p>"He struck on the back of his head," spoke up Bob.
"They were wrestling—just in fun, you know—and Joe
struck his head on the sidewalk. Is—is he dead?"</p>
<p>"Small thanks to you young rascals if he isn't," growled
the officer. "Crazy Indians, wrestling on a cement walk!
Where does he live?"</p>
<p>He lifted the limp body in his arms and hurried to the
Widow Schmidt's modest little cottage with the green blinds
and the neatly scrubbed doorstep. George and Bob, feeling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>
very sick, trailed sadly along after him; they hated to
think of the look that would come into the Widow Schmidt's
motherly face. Joe was all she had in the world.</p>
<p>Betty, womanlike, was first to think of the doctor. Almost
before the policeman had reached Joe's side, she was
running to the corner drug store as fast as her feet would
carry her. The druggist would know where to reach a
doctor with the least delay—she could telephone.</p>
<p>It seemed ages before the fluttering lids opened and Joe's
black eyes looked out on the world again. "No bones
broken," said the doctor at last. "Half an inch farther to
the right or left, though—"</p>
<p>He stopped, but the twins understood. Silently they
gripped Joe's hand as it lay helpless on the bed, nodded to
George, and the three tip-toed out of the hushed little room.</p>
<p>That night, before Bob and Betty went to bed, Sure Pop
came back. He found the twins sitting with their heads
together, studying Bob's <i>Handbook of Scout-Craft</i> as if their
lives depended on learning it by heart in one evening. Bob
still lacked a few months of being old enough to join the
Boy Scouts; he had long looked forward to his coming
birthday, but it had never meant so much to him as now.</p>
<p>Sure Pop nodded and smiled as he saw the familiar handbook.
"Good work!" he said. "All true Scouts are
brothers, you know. Well, how about the 'three keeps'
of the Scout Law? Did you find them as easy as you
thought?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p>
<p>Bob and Betty grew very red. They did not know what
to say.</p>
<p>The Safety Scout saved them the trouble. "Joe's better
tonight," he told them, comfortingly. "I've just come from
there, and the doctor says he'll be up again in a day
or so. What shall we do tomorrow, friends—begin hunting
for adventure and planting Safety First ideas?"</p>
<p>Bob looked at Betty and swallowed hard at a lump in
his throat. Somehow this wise little Sure Pop knew everything
that happened!</p>
<p>"I think," said Bob, frankly, "we really planted one today!"</p>
<div class='center'>
<i>All true Scouts are brothers.</i>—<span class="smcap">Sure Pop</span><br />
<br /><br /></div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
<img src="images/i010.jpg" width="400" height="93" alt="Sure Pop" title="" />
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
<img src="images/i011.jpg" width="400" height="251" alt="THE LIVE WIRE" title="" />
</div>
<h2>ADVENTURE NUMBER SIX</h2>
<h3>THE LIVE WIRE</h3>
<p>Sure Pop saw, the moment he laid eyes on Bob and Betty
next morning, that they had made up their minds to earn
a magic button apiece that day.</p>
<p>"Where shall we go for today's adventure?" was the first
question.</p>
<p>The Safety Scout laughed. "We probably shan't have
to go far. Once a Scout's eyes are really open, so that
danger signs other folks wouldn't notice begin to mean something
to him, why, adventure walks right up to him.
It walked right up to you two yesterday, but you didn't
read the signs till too late. Being a Scout, remember,
means doing the right thing at the right moment. Now<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>
let's start out and walk a few blocks, and see what danger
signals we come across that other folks are overlooking."</p>
<p>Just as they opened the gate, Mrs. Dalton came to the
door. "Bob! Come here a moment, please. I want you
to take a note over to Mrs. Hoffman's for me. Their telephone
is out of order."</p>
<p>She lowered her voice as she handed him the letter, and
added, "Who is that out there with Betty?"</p>
<p>"Oh, that's one of the Scouts. We're going out for a
little practice scouting."</p>
<p>Mrs. Dalton knew how eagerly Bob had been awaiting
the day when he could become a Boy Scout. She trusted
the Scouts and was glad to have Bob and Betty spend their
vacation time in scouting. She little guessed that the three
friends were to start an order of Safety Scouts which even
fathers and mothers would join.</p>
<p>Bob hurried back to Betty and Sure Pop. "Can you
wait while I run over to Mrs. Hoffman's with this? All
right, I'll be back in no time!"</p>
<p>Hurrying though he was, he looked both ways before he
crossed the car tracks, for already the habit of "thinking
Safety" was growing on him. He reached Mrs. Hoffman's
in record time, delivered the note, and raced back toward
home.</p>
<p>As he slowed down to catch his breath, he met a crowd
of yelling youngsters "playing Indians." Several of them
wore Indian suits. One, dressed as a cowboy, tried to rope<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>
him as he passed. This gave the Indians an idea, and they
came howling after Bob, waving their tomahawks and
promising to scalp him. Two yelping dogs joined in the
chase.</p>
<p>Bob grinned and broke into a long, easy run which soon
shook the redskins off his trail. But at a sudden delighted
whoop from the enemy he stopped and looked back.</p>
<p>"Hi-yi!" yelled the biggest Indian. "Look at that
telephone wire on the ground! Come on, let's chop it off
and use it to bind the palefaces to the stake."</p>
<p>Pellmell across the street swarmed the little fellows, each
bound to get there first. But Bob was too quick for them.
Hatless, breathless, he threw himself between the Indians
and the swaying wire. "Get back!" he roared. "That's
no telephone wire—it's alive! Keep back, I say! You'll
be killed!"</p>
<p>It was no easy thing to stand between the youngsters
and the deadly wire. They were laughing and yelling so
hard, and the dogs were barking so wildly, that at first Bob
couldn't get the idea of danger into their heads. He fairly
had to knock two or three of them down to keep them from
hacking at the wire with their hatchets. Would they
never understand? "I won't forget this time, anyway!"
muttered the boy, gritting his teeth as he remembered the
"three keeps" of the Scout Law.</p>
<p>Up ran one of the dogs, capering around with sharp, ear-splitting
barks, and tried to get his teeth into Bob's ankle.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>
When Bob tried to kick him away, of course the Indians and
cowboys yelled harder than ever. The dog stumbled and
fell across the electric wire—gave one wild yelp of pain—and
lay there kicking and struggling, unable to jerk
himself loose. Worst of all, he had landed in a puddle of
water, so that the electric current was pouring straight
through his twitching body into the wet earth.</p>
<p>At last Bob managed to drive all the boys back out of
harm's way, only to see one of the cowboys rush for the dog
with a cry that tore at Bob's heartstrings.</p>
<p>"It's Tige! Oh, Tige!—poor old Tige! Let me go!
I've <i>got</i> to save my dog!"</p>
<p>Bob had grabbed the little fellow and held him tight.
"Too late, old scout," he said, with tears in his own eyes as
he saw the dog kicking his last. "Tige's done for, I'm afraid.
Keep back, there—that wire will get you too!" For the
boys were crowding nearer again.</p>
<p>"Who has a telephone at home?" asked Bob.</p>
<p>"We have," said one of the larger boys.</p>
<p>"Then run home quick, call up the Electric Light Company,
and have them send their repair crew. Tell them a
live wire has killed Tige and may kill the boys if they don't
hurry. Tell 'em it's at the corner of Broad Street and
Center Avenue. Run!"</p>
<p>While he waited for the repair wagon, Bob managed to
get the boys lined up in all directions, where they could
mount guard over the danger zone. Then he stood guard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>
with the rest, and they succeeded in keeping all teams and
passers-by from running into danger till the repair men
came.</p>
<p>It seemed a long while before the clatter of hoofs and the
rumble of heavy wheels told him the rescue party was coming
at last. He jumped with surprise when the repair
wagon dashed around the corner and pulled up beside the
curb, for there beside the driver sat Sure Pop, the Safety
Scout! Puzzled by Bob's long stay and hearing the
gong as the wagon hurried up, he had decided to come
along.</p>
<p>Ten minutes later the live wire was back in place, the
repair crew had clattered off again, and a little band of
mourning Indians and cowboys had carried poor Tige's
body over to his master's back yard, where they buried him
after a solemn funeral service. Only a dog—but the tears
they dropped on his little grave were very real and sincere,
for he had been a jolly playmate and a loyal friend.</p>
<p>Bob was very sober as he walked home with Sure Pop.
"Wish I could have saved Tige, somehow!"</p>
<p>The Safety Scout laid his hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Bob, you did just right. You remembered the 'three
keeps' this time—you kept wide awake, kept cool, and kept
your mind on one thing at a time. No Scout could have
done more. If you had risked touching that wire, it would
have cost a good deal more than the life of a dog, I fear.
It's important to know what <i>not</i> to do, sometimes. Robert<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>
Dalton, I'm proud of you! Here—you've earned it this
time, sure pop!"</p>
<p>He reached down into his pocket, pulled out the Safety
button, and fastened it in Bob's coat lapel. The boy flushed
with pride as he lifted the magic button to his ear. And
never had words thrilled him more than those which greeted
him now—for two of them were new words which his own
quick wits had earned:</p>
<p>"<i>Safety First!</i>" whispered the button, clear and sweet
as a far-away bugle call. "<i>Good Work!</i>"</p>
<div class='center'>
<i>Safety first—not part of the time, but all the
time.</i>—<span class="smcap">Sure Pop</span><br /><br />
</div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/i012.jpg" width="450" height="105" alt="Carrying a ladder" title="" />
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/i013.jpg" width="450" height="297" alt="BETTY EVENS THE SCORE" title="" />
</div>
<h2>ADVENTURE NUMBER SEVEN</h2>
<h3>BETTY EVENS THE SCORE</h3>
<p>All through supper time Betty schemed and plotted.</p>
<p>"I certainly am proud of the way Bob won his," she said
to herself. "But I've never been behind Bob <i>yet</i>, and that
magic button's going to be twins before tomorrow night,
<i>somehow!</i>"</p>
<p>The hot summer sun woke her early next morning, and
she hurried downstairs to be through breakfast before Sure
Pop came for the day's adventures.</p>
<p>"Where do we go today?" she asked Sure Pop an hour
later, dancing up and down and looking wistfully at Bob's
new Safety button.</p>
<p>"Sorry, friends," said the Safety Scout, "but I can't be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>
with you today. I'm due for a little outside scouting duty—something
you twins aren't quite ready for yet."</p>
<p>"Oh, say!" Bob's face fell. "What are we going to
<i>do</i> then, all day alone?"</p>
<p>"Do?" laughed the merry Colonel, waving them goodby.
"Why, you'll be out scouring the neighborhood for new
adventures, I fancy. And as for Betty, if I'm any mind
reader, she has something up her sleeve sure enough!"</p>
<p>Sure Pop was right, as usual. Bob fussed around the yard
awhile, managed to open a box of crockery out on the back
steps for Mother, and soon rambled off to see what new adventures
he could find in the name of Safety First.</p>
<p>Betty spent most of the morning in the kitchen, helping
Mother. As soon as Bob was off again after lunch, she
began to roam about the yard, eyeing everything like a
hawk. Soon Mother saw her picking up the boards Bob
had pried loose from the box and scowling at the ugly nails
that stuck up where little feet might so easily be stabbed
by their rusty points. These she carefully bent down with
a big stone.</p>
<p>"That's one on Bob, anyway," said Betty to herself, and
went on looking around the yard.</p>
<p>Her eye roved upward to the bright geraniums on the
sill of Mother's window upstairs. "Mother," she called,
"have you ever read <i>Ben Hur?</i>"</p>
<p>"Why, yes, Betty—a long time ago. Why?"</p>
<p>"Don't you remember how that loose tile from Ben Hur's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>
roof—the one he tried to snatch back as he saw it fall—struck
the Roman soldier on the head, and how Ben Hur
went to prison for it? Well, what about those flower pots
up there?"</p>
<p>"Why, Betty!" cried her mother, more puzzled than
ever. "Ben Hur—flower pots—what is the dear child
talking about?"</p>
<p>Betty laughed. "I read in the paper last night that one of
the big hotels has put up signs in every room, and they say:</p>
<div class="center"><b>PATRONS—ATTENTION</b></div>
<div class='blockquot'><b>Please do not place articles of any kind ON
WINDOW SILL (bottles and chinaware most
dangerous). They may fall or be blown into
the street, causing serious if not fatal accidents.</b></div>
<p>"That's because a flower pot fell from an upper window
on a woman's head. Baby's sand pile is right below your
window, and one of the flower pots might fall while she was
out there playing. A sudden draft could do it, or a door
slammed hard. Do you mind if I fasten them on with
wire so they can't fall? Then I'll do it right now before
anything happens!"</p>
<p>She had just finished the job to her satisfaction, and was
looking about for something else, when Mother called
softly: "Betty, if you'll keep a lookout and let me know
if anybody comes, or if Baby wakes up, I'll take a nap."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p>
<p>Betty was pleased. Here was a fine chance to play housekeeper.
Mother left a soup bone simmering over one
burner of the gas stove, and a steam pudding bubbling
away over another, and went upstairs for her nap.</p>
<p>Betty tiptoed to the little sewing-room, next to the
kitchen, and looked in. Baby was sleeping. Then she softly
shut the kitchen door and sat down in the dining-room to
read. Suddenly a shower came up, and out she ran to
close the windows in the kitchen and the sewing-room,
where the rain was pouring in.</p>
<p>She had hardly begun reading again when she heard Bob
clatter up the back steps, tear through the kitchen in
search of his raincoat, and hurry out again. The wind
was blowing hard and swept through the open kitchen,
banging the dustpan against the wall like a fire alarm gong.</p>
<p>Betty read on. Presently she looked at the clock and
sprang to her feet. "Why, how long Baby is sleeping
today! 'Most three hours and never a peep. I wonder—"</p>
<p>A faint whiff of gas from the kitchen made her turn pale
with dread. Then it flashed into her mind what must
have happened—that sudden gust of wind had blown out
the gas! As she ran to the kitchen, she realized that she
had caught the same faint smell several times before.
"Oh!" she sobbed, "what if Baby—"</p>
<p>Mother, sound asleep upstairs, was roused by a crash
from the kitchen, a shriek from Betty, and the sound of a
shattered window-pane; for Betty, finding that the outside<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>
door stuck fast, had hurled a frying-pan through the window.
Then she ran to the sewing-room as the life-giving breeze
poured in through the broken pane.</p>
<p>Startled, bewildered, still only half awake, Mother stumbled
to the kitchen and found Betty, with the unconscious
baby in her arms, groping her way toward the dining-room.
Snatching them both up and rushing toward the open air,
Mother landed in a heap on the front porch, Betty and the
baby on top of her. And then—oh, glorious sound!—came
a feeble little cry from Baby, and they knew she was
safe after all! There Father and Bob found them a few
minutes later, laughing and crying and hugging each other
by turns. Betty's quick wits had saved the day.</p>
<p>Mother was telling the whole story that evening, not forgetting
the rusty nails and the flower pots—two risks which
neither Father nor Mother had ever thought of before—when
a sturdy little figure in a Safety Scout uniform paused
at the door and listened with a shrewd twinkle in his eye.</p>
<p>It was Sure Pop, who had looked in to say good night
to the twins. He caught Betty's eye, beckoned her into
the hall—and when she came back to the supper table,
Bob's sharp eye caught the gleam of a Safety First button
over <i>her</i> heart, too.</p>
<p>Betty had evened the score!</p>
<div class='center'>
<i>Safety scouting begins at home.</i>—<span class="smcap">Sure Pop</span><br /><br /></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/i014.jpg" width="450" height="280" alt="LITTLE SCHNEIDER'S FIRE ALARM" title="" />
</div>
<h2>ADVENTURE NUMBER EIGHT</h2>
<h3>LITTLE SCHNEIDER'S FIRE ALARM</h3>
<p>Ever since the twins had earned their Safety First buttons,
they had been looking forward to the Fourth of July,
and on the eve of the Fourth came an adventure far more
exciting than any they had expected.</p>
<p>The lights were out in Bob's and Betty's rooms, and Bob
had just dropped off to sleep when the clang of the fire bell
brought him out of bed in a hurry.</p>
<p>As his feet struck the floor, his ear caught the rattle of
gravel on the window. The room was half lighted by a
ruddy glow, and looking out he saw Sure Pop standing below
his window.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p>
<p>"Come on to the fire!" the Safety Scout called up to
him. "Perhaps we can do somebody a good turn. Bring
Betty along, if your mother doesn't mind."</p>
<p>Bob got dressed first and hurried in to help Betty. Her
teeth were chattering with excitement, and she could hardly
button her clothes. "Where is the fire, Bob?"</p>
<p>"I don't know exactly—a mile or two north of here, I
think. Come on—Mother says you may go, if you'll
stick close to me."</p>
<p>The two clattered down the back stairs and joined Sure
Pop.</p>
<p>"Bother that shoe string, anyhow!" panted Bob as they
scampered off to the fire.</p>
<p>"Better stop and tie it up," advised the Safety Scout.
"It'll trip you the first thing you know."</p>
<p>Bob thought otherwise. A couple of blocks farther
on, however, he stepped on the dragging string, caught his
toe on a loose board in the sidewalk, and sprawled headlong.
But Bob was game. Up he jumped, gave Sure Pop the
Scout salute, and said, with a grin, "Sir, I stand corrected."
Then he tied the shoe string by the light of a street lamp,
winked at Betty, and the three ran on.</p>
<p>The fire was farther away than it looked, and not till
they had reached the hilltop did the size of the blaze fully
show itself. "Goodness!" cried Betty. "The German
church is gone, and Turner Hall will be next. And look at
all those little houses in a row—they won't last long at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>
that rate!" Then she stopped and coughed, for the air was
full of smoke and soot, both from the burning buildings and
from the fire engines.</p>
<p>Everywhere was noise and confusion. Half-dressed men
and women stumbled over the fire hose as they hurried along
with their arms full of household articles, trying to save
everything they could.</p>
<p>A frightened sob fell on Betty's ears. She turned to see
a chubby little baby boy, toddling along barefooted in his
nightie, the tears rolling down his fat cheeks. "Mama!"
he sobbed. "I want my Mama!"</p>
<p>"Oh, poor little thing!" cried Betty. "He's lost!"
She caught the scared little fellow up in her arms and
wrapped him snugly in the folds of her loose cloak.
"Don't cry, honey. Betty'll find Mama for you!" And
she cuddled and petted him till he stopped crying and lay
still in her arms, peering out at the spreading flames with
wondering eyes.</p>
<p>"I'm going to find his mother for him," said Betty.
"He's scared half to death!"</p>
<p>But Sure Pop caught her arm as she started away.
"Wait, she'll find him."</p>
<p>Sure enough, before long a young woman came running
wildly from house to house calling out, "Karlchen! My
little Karlchen! Where are you?"</p>
<p>The little fellow popped his head out from under Betty's
cloak with a squeal of delight. "Mama!" he cried in his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>
soft baby voice. "Mama!"—just that one happy word,
over and over, as his mother pressed him to her breast.</p>
<p>The look on her face was thanks enough for Betty. Somehow
the fire did not seem so dreadful to her after that.</p>
<p>"How'd it start?" Bob asked a fireman who was binding
up a split in the bulging canvas hose.</p>
<p>"Fellow dropped a lighted match in a coat closet—house
next to the church," puffed the fireman, who was
breathing as if he had run a mile. He gave the hose a
parting kick and hurried to join his comrades down the
street, where the flames were fiercest.</p>
<p>"The same old story," said Sure Pop, soberly. "Hold
on! What's that?"</p>
<p>Bob and Betty looked up at the little old-fashioned window
in the cottage across the street. A small black-and-tan
dog was standing on his hind legs inside the room, pawing
and scratching at the window pane.</p>
<p>Sure Pop put two fingers to his lips and gave a piercing
whistle. The dog answered him, barking wildly and running
back into the smoke-filled room, then to the window
again, as if trying to call their attention to something or
somebody in the room with him.</p>
<p>"There's somebody in there!" cried Bob. "Come on,
Sure Pop—wait here for us, Betty!"</p>
<p>As they ran, the two splashed into a pool of water in a
hollow of the sidewalk. Sure Pop dipped his handkerchief
in this and tied it over his nose and mouth. Bob did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>
the same. Then the smoke of the burning cottage swallowed
them up.</p>
<p>Remembering the dangers of a draft, Sure Pop carefully
closed the door after them, and stopped Bob from kicking
a hole in the window at the head of the stairs. They
knew which room it was—the farthest window from the
front door—and flung themselves against the door so hard
that it burst open and they fell headlong into the room.
The little black-and-tan dog, barking more wildly than
ever, had heard them coming and was dragging with all
his might at something on the bed.</p>
<p>Bob and Sure Pop, half choked with smoke, ran to the
bedside. There lay a little girl only five or six years old.
Yes, she was breathing!</p>
<p>Just then the hungry flames burst in through the flimsy
closet door and came licking along the ceiling. Bob's eyes
smarted and burned, and his lungs felt as if they would
burst. He remembered his Boy Scout studies in First Aid,
though, and threw himself beside Sure Pop on the floor,
where the smoke was not so thick. Together they dragged
the little girl to the window.</p>
<p>Bob put his lips close to Sure Pop's ear. "Shall we
jump?"</p>
<p>Sure Pop shook his head. "Too risky. We'll try the
stairs."</p>
<p>With the little girl held close between them, their bodies
shielding her from the flames, the two groped and stumbled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>
down the short flight of stairs, fairly falling through the
whirlwind of flame that swirled upward from the first floor.
Scorched, singed, with their clothing afire in places, they
fought their way back to the street—safe!</p>
<p>Betty ran forward with a glad cry and flung her arms
around her twin. "Bob! Oh, Bob, I thought you were
<i>gone!</i>"</p>
<p>Just then they heard a shout as a frightened little family
group came running up, and a roughly dressed laborer
snatched the little girl and kissed her till her eyes opened
and she smiled.</p>
<p>"Good Schneider! Nice Schneider!" said her small
brother, patting the dog, who was wagging his tail almost
off for joy.</p>
<p>"Nice little Schneider—he took—care—of—me!"
exclaimed the little girl between kisses. And the father
gathered up the little dog in his arms and kissed him, too!</p>
<p>As the tired Safety Scouts opened the front gate half an
hour later, the boom of a cannon roared out, somewhere
on the other side of town, and the twelve o'clock bells and
whistles joined in an echoing chorus.</p>
<p>Sure Pop raised his hand with a tired smile. "Midnight!"
he cried. "Hurrah for the glorious Fourth!"</p>
<div class='center'>
<i>Don't let a careless match cost a dozen homes.</i>
—<span class="smcap">Sure Pop</span><br /></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/i015.jpg" width="450" height="291" alt=""CHANCE CARTER'S WAY"" title="" />
</div>
<h2>ADVENTURE NUMBER NINE</h2>
<h3>"CHANCE CARTER'S WAY"</h3>
<p>BOOM! It was the distant roar of some Fourth of July
cannon which had escaped the watchful eye of the police.</p>
<p>Bob Dalton stirred uneasily and flopped over in bed.
The morning sun was shining straight into his eyes.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"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?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>Betty was fingering the Safety Button in Sure Pop's
lapel. "What are you doing, Betty?" asked the Safety
Scout, with a twinkle.</p>
<p>"Turning your button right side up," Betty told him.</p>
<p>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."</p>
<p>"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?"</p>
<p>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 classed alongside
the greatest Scouts the world has ever known. Bring
me your <i>Handbook of Scout-Craft</i> a moment, please, Bob.
Listen to this from page 7, now:</p>
<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<p>"'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 glass, dangerous to automobile or bicycle tires'—to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>
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?"</p>
<p>Bob and Betty saw the point. They turned their Safety
buttons upside down as Sure Pop waved them goodby,
resolving to get them right side up at the very first chance
that offered.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>The German church still raised its steepled head toward
the sky, but its roof had fallen in, and Turner Hall was a
mass 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.</p>
<p>The four stood and looked. "Just think!" said Betty
softly. "All that from just one little careless match!
Guess <i>that</i> man won't light a match in a coat closet again."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p>
<p>"Pshaw!" scoffed Chance Carter. "That wouldn't
happen once in a thousand times."</p>
<p>"How many matches do you suppose are scratched in
the United States every second?" asked Bob, shortly.</p>
<p>"Oh, a couple of hundred, I suppose."</p>
<p>"Ten thousand, Chance, <i>every second</i>. 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."</p>
<p>"Whew!" Even reckless Chance looked impressed.</p>
<p>"When you get into the Boy Scouts," Bob reminded
him, "you'll find out what <i>they</i> 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."</p>
<p>"Well, I don't care; there's such a thing as being too
careful. I wish we had the old-fashioned Fourth of July
back again. This sane Fourth business is too tame for me!"
Chance strolled off to the far corner of the smoking ruins
and began climbing around in the half-filled basement.</p>
<p>George winked at Betty. "Can't teach <i>him</i> anything,"
he chuckled. "He was born careless and he'll die careless,
I guess. Look at him, now—poking around where those<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>
loose bricks may cave in on him any minute. We can't say
anything, though, or he'll get mad. Chance Carter always
has to have his own way."</p>
<p>"It's a wonder the police aren't guarding this place,"
said Bob, anxiously. "Guess they've got their hands full
elsewhere." He scowled as he watched his reckless friend
jumping from one charred timber to another, never noticing
how the crumbling walls tottered with each jump.</p>
<p>"Whether he likes it or not," he said finally, "I'm going
to get him out of there. It's too risky. Hey, Chance!
Look out—that wall's coming over!" His voice rose in
a startled shout.</p>
<p>"Aw, I guess not—" Chance got no further. The
overhanging wall, swaying on its wobbly base and loosened
by his sudden backward jump, toppled over on him in a
shower of bricks and mortar. "Chance Carter's way"
had come to grief again!</p>
<p>"Too late—again!" muttered Bob, grimly, diving into
the cloud of dust that hung over the spot where Chance
had disappeared. For a picture had flashed into his mind—the
memory of how he had failed to warn the wrestlers
in time only a few days before, the picture of Joe's terrified
face as his head crashed on the cement sidewalk. Why
hadn't he warned Chance in time?</p>
<p>A groan from the wreckage told where the boy lay half
buried under the fallen wall. "Got me that time!" he
muttered, through his set teeth. "Guess my leg's broken."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p>
<p>A shadow fell on the two and Bob looked up to see George's
white face gazing down at him. "What can I do, Bob?"</p>
<p>"Have Betty run for a doctor, or telephone. Chance
is badly hurt. Help me lift this rubbish from on top
of him." The boys worked fast but carefully, lifting one
brick at a time, till Chance was free. To their dismay he
could not move.</p>
<p>"It's this leg." He touched his left, just below the knee.
"I felt something break when the wall hit me. Perhaps
the other's broken, too—I don't know."</p>
<p>Very carefully Bob ripped the clothing from the injured
leg. Then he put one hand gently on the spot Chance
touched, and the other hand just below it, and lifted the
leg slightly. There was enough movement at the broken
point so that there could be no doubt. The other leg
proved to be badly bruised, but not broken.</p>
<p>Bob carefully moved the broken leg back into the same
position as the right one and piled his coat and George's
around it so it would stay in shape. He brought the suffering
boy some water in his hat, and the three waited for the
doctor.</p>
<p>"He said he'd come right away," reported Betty, hurrying
back from the telephone. "But, Bob, it isn't safe to
stay down there—no telling when that other chunk of the
wall may fall on all three of you. Shall I try to push it
over from the inside?"</p>
<p>"Goodness, no, Betty! Keep as far away from it as you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>
can. Well, we'll have to get him out of here, some way.
You run back to that first store, please, and get half a dozen
good strong strips of cloth about a foot wide and two or
three feet long—anything that will do to tie his leg up to
the splints. George, you bring over a few of those pieces
of flooring that are not too badly charred to use for splints.
There!"</p>
<p>He laid a long piece of flooring along Chance's left side,
from below his foot clear to his armpit, and chose a shorter
board for the inside splint. He arranged the two coats
so that they would pad the broken leg where the boards
came up against it, and tied the splints firmly, but not
tightly, in place. Then Bob slowly gathered his groaning
friend in his arms.</p>
<p>"Sorry to hurt you, old fellow, but we've got to get you
out of here. You take his legs, George,—gently, now.
So! We can climb out along that cave-in on the street
side if we take it easy. Up we go!"</p>
<div class='center'>
<i>Better be safe than sorry.</i>—<span class="smcap">Sure Pop</span><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/i016.jpg" width="450" height="127" alt="Sure Pop and his scouts" title="" />
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/i017.jpg" width="450" height="281" alt="THE TWINS MEET BRUCE" title="" />
</div>
<h2>ADVENTURE NUMBER TEN</h2>
<h3>THE TWINS MEET BRUCE</h3>
<p>Chance Carter, lying helpless on the stone steps of Turner
Hall, was wondering if the doctor would ever come. Bob
and George did their best to ease his pain, while Betty gazed
anxiously down the street.</p>
<p>"Why doesn't that doctor come?"</p>
<p>"Surely he knows where we are, Betty?"</p>
<p>"Yes, I told him Turner Hall, and he said, 'Why, Turner
Hall burned down last night, little girl.' And I told him
I knew it, and that we were waiting right beside what was
left of it."</p>
<p>"Hm-m-m! Something must have happened to him
then; he could have walked it in less time than this.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>
If he doesn't come pretty soon, we'd better call up the
police department and have them send the ambulance.
We can't wait here much longer."</p>
<p>While they waited, an idea popped into Bob's head.</p>
<p>"Look here," he said, "somebody else is likely enough
to get hurt here, just the way Chance did. I believe we'd
better put up a sign. I'll get some paper from that store."</p>
<p>So Bob hurried around to the store and got some wrapping
paper and nails and borrowed a pencil and hammer.
He worked fast, the shopkeeper looking curiously over his
shoulder while he lettered this sign:</p>
<div class='center'>
DANGER!<br />
<br />
These walls may fall on you any moment.<br />
One leg already broken here today. Keep out.<br />
<br />
SAFETY FIRST!</div>
<p>Bob had just finished the lettering when a big automobile
came purring along in front of the ruined building. The
chauffeur was in uniform. The big man inside looked almost
lost among the cushions, so roomy was the machine.
At a word from him, the car slowed down, and he scanned
the ruins sharply. Bob knew him in a moment for Bruce,
the great mill owner, one of the richest men in the city.</p>
<p>"Hello, what's this? What's this?" Bruce stood up in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>
the car when the little group on the steps caught his eye.
In a twinkling he was out of the automobile and bending
over the groaning boy, while Bob and George and Betty
told him what had happened.</p>
<p>"Tut, tut!" snapped the great man whose mills gave
work to thousands of men, the twins' father among them.
"This won't do at all! If the doctor won't come to him, we
must get him to the doctor." Pushing aside the chauffeur, he
lifted Chance into the car and on to the deep, comfortable
cushions as easily as if he had been a child of two instead of
a lad of twelve and big for his age.</p>
<p>"Now, jump in, the rest of you," he said, "and we'll
take him over to Doctor MacArthur's."</p>
<p>Betty climbed in and George followed. The chauffeur
took his seat and looked around at Bob, waiting. "What's
the matter now?" asked Bruce, impatiently, as Bob lingered
on the step.</p>
<p>"It's those walls," answered the boy. "I hate to leave
them in that shape—somebody else will be getting hurt
just as Chance did. I'd better put up the sign. You folks
go on, please, and I'll follow on foot."</p>
<p>The mill owner shook his head. "Put up your sign and
come along. We'll wait."</p>
<p>Bruce looked sharply at Bob's sign as the boy nailed it
up in place, but said nothing. Bob climbed into the waiting
automobile, and the big machine rolled smoothly, silently
to the doctor's office.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p>
<p>Doctor MacArthur, surgeon's case in hand, came out.
He was a little gray man—gray-haired, dressed in a gray
suit, with keen gray eyes that seemed to take in everything
at once.</p>
<p>"Who put those splints on?" He jerked out the words
like a pistol shot.</p>
<p>"I did," said Bob, reddening; for the doctor's tone made
him feel that he must have bungled his work.</p>
<p>Swiftly the doctor bared the leg and laid a deft finger
on the exact spot of the break. "Simple fracture," was
his verdict. "Bone badly splintered, though—would
have come through the skin in short order if you hadn't
got the splints on when you did. Where does he live?"</p>
<p>He took George's seat and George climbed over beside the
chauffeur. On the way to Chance's house, he insisted on
knowing how Bob had learned to give First Aid to the injured.</p>
<p>"So you're a Boy Scout, eh?" Another keen glance
from those sharp gray eyes.</p>
<p>"N-no, sir—but I'm going to be."</p>
<p>"Eh? How's that?"</p>
<p>"He isn't quite old enough yet," explained George.
"You have to be twelve or over to join the Boy Scouts.
I'm one—but Bob knows a heap more about it already
than I do," he added frankly.</p>
<p>"Ha! Well, I'll have to change my opinion of the Boy
Scouts, young man. I always took it for granted they
were a sort of feeder to our regular army—playing soldier,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>
you know. But if this is the kind of work they turn out,
I don't know but I'll join myself."</p>
<p>George got out when they reached Chance's house, and
helped the doctor carry the injured lad up the steps. "You
needn't wait for me," he told the twins, "I'm going to
stay a while."</p>
<p>"Come in and see me some time," Doctor MacArthur
called back to Bob. "I want you to tell me more about
your First Aid work! See you later, Mr. Bruce."</p>
<p>"Home, Jennings," said Bruce. "And be quick about
it—I'm late."</p>
<p>Bob leaned back against the cushions and studied the
grim, square-jawed face of the great man whom everybody
was so anxious to please. So this was the way he looked
at close range, this self-made, stubborn man of millions
who always managed to bend every other man in his line
of business to his own iron will! As he looked, Bob felt it
was no wonder they all feared him—feared and followed.</p>
<p>For Bruce was the man who, more than all the others
put together, was responsible for keeping Safety First
work out of the mills in his line of business. Hundreds
of men were killed and thousands injured every year in
the great string of mills of which Bruce's was the head.
Over and over it had been pointed out to him that the
same Safety First work which had saved thousands of lives
in other lines would save them in his line as well. But
he was stubborn, iron-willed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p>
<p>"You're wasting your time," was all he would say.
"No theories or new-fangled notions in <i>my</i> mills."</p>
<p>Because Bruce said this, all the other mills hung back,
too. There were reasons. They knew Bruce.</p>
<p>All this Bob knew from talks he had had with his father
about the risks of working in Bruce's mills. He understood
it better, now that he was face to face with Bruce himself.</p>
<p>All too soon, to the twins' way of thinking, the automobile
drew up in front of Bruce's big stone house. The mill
owner wasted no words. Jumping out, he waved his hand
to the three, said to Jennings, "Take them wherever they
want to go," and hurried up the walk.</p>
<p>The eager face pressed against the big bay window disappeared,
the front door flew open, and a sweet little fair-haired
girl threw herself into Bruce's outstretched arms.
"Daddy! What made you so late? Here I've been waiting
and waiting—"</p>
<p>"Bonnie!" That was all the twins heard as the big
automobile bore them away toward home. But the way
he said it, and the way he caught his little daughter to his
big, broad chest, told Bob and Betty all they needed to
know about the soft spot in the millionaire's heart.</p>
<p>What did his great house and his mills and all his
money amount to, after all? He would gladly have thrown
them all aside rather than have the slightest harm come to
his Bonnie; for her mother had died when Bonnie was only
a baby, and the little girl was all Bruce had left in the world.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/i018.jpg" width="450" height="282" alt=""JUST FOR FUN"" title="" />
</div>
<h2>ADVENTURE NUMBER ELEVEN</h2>
<h3>"JUST FOR FUN"</h3>
<p>The twins missed Chance Carter during the next few
weeks. The boy had been a regular nuisance in some ways,
for he was always getting into scrapes; but he was a clever
lad and had a way of making up games that nobody else
seemed able to think of.</p>
<p>"It does seem lonesome without Chance," Bob told
Sure Pop when the broken leg had kept their friend tied
up indoors for a week or more. "And yet we don't get into
half as much trouble when he isn't round."</p>
<p>Sure Pop looked wise. "Perhaps it's because Chance
hasn't learned that he must play according to the rules,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>
he said. "The fellow who is always taking chances isn't
playing up to the rules of the game."</p>
<p>"Anyhow," said Betty, "Chance has had his lesson now.
By the time he's able to run around again, he will be ready
to quit taking chances."</p>
<p>Sure Pop changed the subject, though a shrewd twinkle
seemed to say that it would take more than one lesson to
teach Chance how to play life's game according to the rules.
"How'd you like to take a trip with me today?"</p>
<p>"Fine!" exclaimed Bob and Betty. "Where?"</p>
<p>"To a kind of moving picture show," answered Colonel
Sure Pop. "Let's start right away, then. And be sure
you wear your Safety First buttons."</p>
<p>The twins couldn't help smiling at the idea of going anywhere
without their magic buttons. They boarded the
crowded street car with Sure Pop and stood beside the motorman
all the way to the railroad yards. It seemed as if
somebody tried to get run over every block or two, and the
way people crossed the crowded streets in the middle of
blocks was enough to turn a motorman's hair gray.</p>
<p>"How'd you like to be the motorman, Bob?"</p>
<p>"Well, I tell <i>you</i>, Sure Pop, I don't believe it's as much
fun as it looks from the outside. If fellows like Chance
and George would ride beside the motorman for just one
day, seeing what he has to see right along, they'd be Safety
workers forever after. Look at that, now! Those chaps
have no business to cross in the middle of the block."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p>
<p>"Nobody has," agreed Sure Pop, with a keen glance at
Bob. The boy flushed as he remembered what he himself
had been doing when he first felt the warning touch
of the Safety Scout's hand.</p>
<p>He and Betty noticed, too, how carefully Sure Pop looked
all around him before leaving the car, and they did likewise.
Two short blocks more and they were in sight of the railroad
roundhouse. The Safety Scout stuck his head inside
the great doorway and peered around at the smoking engines
that impatiently awaited their turn. "There she is!"
he exclaimed. "There's old Seven-Double-Seven!" And
he waved his hand at the engineer up in the cab.</p>
<p>The three climbed into the engine cab, where the fireman
stood waiting with his eye on the steam gauge. From the
way the engineer shook hands with Sure Pop, the twins
decided they must be old friends.</p>
<p>"Got my orders?" asked the engineer. He ripped open
the envelope Sure Pop handed him, glanced at the message,
nodded to the fireman, and gently pulled open the throttle.
The big, powerful engine answered his touch like a race horse.
With a warning clang of the bell, they slipped down the shining
track, through the crowded yards, and toward the city limits.</p>
<p>"Bob, what are you looking for?" asked Sure Pop.</p>
<p>Bob went on looking in all the corners of the cab as if
greatly puzzled. "Looking for the moving picture machine,"
he said with a grin. "I thought I heard you
promise us a moving picture show."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p>
<p>"You just wait. Be ready to rub your magic buttons
when I say the word, both of you, and you'll see some
moving pictures you'll never forget—pictures of what
<i>might</i> happen to boys and girls like yourselves. The pity
of it is, it does happen, every day of the year."</p>
<p>Sure Pop paused to call their attention to some little
blurry patches of blue scattered along the track. "Wild
flowers," he said. "Pretty things, aren't they? If we
weren't going so fast, we'd stop and get some."</p>
<p>The engineer scowled. "Pretty? They don't look
pretty to me any more. Look there, now!"</p>
<p>The brakes jarred as he spoke, and the shriek of the
whistle scattered a group ahead. Several young couples,
going home from town by way of the railroad track, had
stopped to gather wild flowers. One couple were walking
hand in hand over the railroad bridge, deaf at first to whistle
and bell and everything else. Suddenly they heard, looked
up, and turned first one way and then another, uncertain
whether to jump off the bridge or stand their ground.</p>
<p>"Is it any wonder that I don't like the flower season?"
grunted the engineer in disgust. "It's the worst time of all,
seems to me. Now you'd think those young fellows and girls
were old enough and would have sense enough to keep off the
railroad's right of way, wouldn't you? But look at 'em!"</p>
<p>He mopped his forehead and glared ahead at the frightened
couple, holding the panting engine at a standstill
till they could scramble off the bridge.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p>
<p>"They act as if we had nothing to do but just watch out
for 'em," he went on, getting under way again. "They got
off scot-free this time, but imagine what old Seven-Double-Seven
would have done to 'em if this had been my regular
run! Forty miles an hour on schedule—and where would
they be now?</p>
<p>"It's the same old story, day after day—boys riding bicycles
down the tracks, when the road's ten times smoother
and a million times as safe! Boys playing on the turntables
and getting crippled for life, one by one!</p>
<p>"They'll run like mad to get across the track ahead of
a fast train—and then stand and watch it go through! I
ought to know—I did it myself when I was a boy, but
little I knew then of the way it wrecks an engineer's nerves!</p>
<p>"They flip the cars and try to imitate the brakemen
without the least idea of how many thousands of brakemen
have lost their lives just that way. They crawl under
cars, instead of waiting or going around. Why, Colonel,
the railroads kill thousands and thousands of people every
year—you know the figures—dozens every day, week
in and week out. And somebody's badly hurt on the
railroads every three minutes or less—<i>and a third of them
are boys and girls and little children!</i> That's what I can't
stand—the little folks getting hurt and getting killed, when
just a bit of common sense would save them! Oh, if their
fathers and mothers had any idea—"</p>
<p>The big engineer choked up for a moment. "Even on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>
the trains," he added, "when they're safe inside the cars,
they get hurt. I'm not the only one that worries on my
run—ask the conductor. He'll tell you how they run up
and down the aisle, till a sudden jar of the brakes throws
'em against a seat iron or into the other passengers. They
get out into the vestibules, which is against the rules, and
when the train takes a sudden curve they get smashed up."</p>
<p>Three minutes later he slowed down for the twins to
watch the fast mail thunder past. It was near a village
crossing, and a little group of boys stood waiting. As
No. 777 came to a stop, the twins saw that most of the boys
had stones in their hands.</p>
<p>On came the fast mail, tearing past the little village as if
it were not even on the map. The mail cars—the smoker—the
long rows of glass windows, a head beside each—</p>
<p>Smash! The flying splinters of glass told of one stone
that had found its mark. The boys ran like scared cats
around the corner into a lumber yard.</p>
<p>"Little cowards!" The fireman glared angrily after
them. "They may have killed somebody on that train—<i>they</i>
don't know!"</p>
<p>"Rub your buttons!" whispered Sure Pop, whose eyes
were still fixed on the fast mail, now disappearing in a cloud
of smoke and dust.</p>
<p>Bob and Betty rubbed. At their first touch of the magic
buttons the disappearing train took on a queer, unreal
look, like a film at the "movies."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p>
<p>They seemed to be inside one of the cars. They seemed
to be watching a sweet-faced old lady—somebody's grandmother—snowy
haired, kind, gentle, not used to traveling,
as even the twins could see. She kept looking first at the
time-table and then at an old key-winding silver watch
she wore on a quaint little chain around her neck.</p>
<p>Her lips were moving, smiling. "Only two stops more,"
she seemed to be saying, "and then I shall see little Jim."
She took a kodak picture out of her handbag and looked at
it long and lovingly. She glanced out of the window and
saw a group of boys standing by the village crossing "to
watch the fast mail go through." She liked boys. She
smiled at them—she did not see the stones in their hands.</p>
<p>Smash! The other passengers sprang to their feet as
one of the stones, thrown at random, shivered the car window
into bits and struck the kind old face, full between
the eyes. A quick, startled cry—a pitiful fumbling of
kind old hands before shattered spectacles and eyes suddenly
blinded—and the moving picture seemed to fade away.
The twins were left with the sickening fear that perhaps
little Jim's grandmother might never see him after all.</p>
<p>"Oh! oh!" gasped Betty, rubbing her eyes. "How
terrible!" Bob caught Sure Pop by the arm.</p>
<p>"Did we imagine it, Sure Pop—or was it true?"</p>
<p>"Too true," said Sure Pop, sadly. "It happens almost
every day somewhere—where boys throw stones at the
cars 'just for fun'!"</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/i019.jpg" width="450" height="280" alt="GETTING DOWN TO BUSINESS" title="" />
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2>ADVENTURE NUMBER TWELVE</h2>
<h3>GETTING DOWN TO BUSINESS</h3>
<p>"And just to think," said Bob, as the three sat on the
home steps talking over their exciting trip on old No. 777,
"just to think of how many boys and girls are killed on the
railroad tracks every day!"</p>
<p>"Every day," echoed the little Safety Scout, "and all
over the world. Go into any village graveyard along any
railroad, and you'll find the grave of some boy or girl who
has been killed trespassing on the railroad tracks. No way
to save them, I'm afraid, till folks wake up to the fact that
it's not so much the tramps who are being killed this way—it's
the children!"</p>
<p>"It's just awful," said Betty, puckering up her brow in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>
thoughtful scowl. "I think we ought to do something
about it."</p>
<p>"What, for instance?" Sure Pop was watching her
sharply.</p>
<p>"Well, something to put a stop to it. Surely we could
find <i>some</i> way of teaching the boys and girls how to play
safely; and then when they grew up they'd be in the habit
of <i>thinking</i> Safety. Then they'd teach <i>their</i> boys and
girls—and all this awful killing and crippling, or most
of it, would be ended."</p>
<p>"The trouble is," said Bob, "in going at the thing in
too much of a hit-or-miss style. We could do some good
by talking to the few boys and girls we could reach, but
not enough. Why can't we organize?"</p>
<p>Sure Pop's eager face lighted up, overjoyed at the turn
Bob's thoughts were taking. "You can," he said quietly.</p>
<p>"Why, sure!" went on Bob, getting more and more
excited as the idea took hold. "Let's get busy and organize
an army of Safety Scouts right here. We've already
got the biggest thing in the Safety Scout Law at work—don't
you see?—our 'One Boost for Safety' every day.
We can get some more Safety Scout buttons made, and as
fast as a boy earns his—"</p>
<p>"—Or a girl earns hers!"—interrupted Betty, so
seriously that Bob couldn't help smiling.</p>
<p>"Yes, of course—girls too—why, as fast as boys and
girls earn the right to wear Safety Scout buttons, we can<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>
form them into patrols. It wouldn't be long before we
could have several troops hard at it. I tell you, Sure Pop,
if we go at it that way we can do big things for Safety
just as sure as you're a foot high!"</p>
<p>Sure Pop gave Betty a droll little wink. "It's a go,
then," he said cheerfully. "Well, where are you going to
begin?"</p>
<p>Bob looked up at him with a sudden idea shining in his
eyes. "Why not begin by organizing in patrols and then
in troops, just about like the Boy Scouts? First, we can
get a few of our friends interested, and let each one of them
get eleven others interested—that will make a patrol of
twelve, commanded by the one who got them together."</p>
<p>"Spoken like a Scout and a gentleman!" cried the little
Colonel, giving him a sounding thump on the shoulder.
"Go on, Bob—what next?"</p>
<p>"Well, just as fast as we get four new patrols, we can form
them into a troop, with a Scout Master for their leader."</p>
<p>"Good," said Sure Pop. "It will take some lively work
to pick your Scout Masters and get them trained in time,
but the difference in their efficiency will be worth your
while."</p>
<p>"I suppose," said Betty, "we'll have to choose only boys
and girls who have good records for Safety?"</p>
<p>Bob looked doubtful. "What do you think about that,
Sure Pop?"</p>
<p>"I think it would be a mistake, Bob. You'll find too<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>
few who have even learned to think Safety. A better
plan will be to take in those who seem most in earnest
over the idea, especially those who have been taught a
hard lesson through accidents which care would have
avoided."</p>
<p>"Go on, please. Tell us more—how would you work
out the details?"</p>
<p>"Bob, I would—but I believe I've told you enough.
You and Betty go ahead in your own way and work
out the details yourselves. Let me see you get your
Safety Scouts together, if you really do mean business,
and I'll show you about the work that's already been
done among the factory hands and mill-workers of
America.</p>
<p>"Let me tell you this much, though: you'll find, when
you get your Safety Scouts of America organized, that the
good work will go ahead by leaps and bounds. All this
talk about 'efficiency' is really part of the same movement,
though very few realize it; it's nothing more or less than
cutting out guess work and waste—and what else, after
all, is our Safety work?"</p>
<p>"That's so. It really is all working in the same direction,
isn't it?" agreed Bob. "Chance Carter's oldest brother is
studying to be an efficiency engineer—perhaps he can
give us some ideas."</p>
<p>"Then—you really do mean to get busy and organize
the Safety Scouts of America?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p>
<p>"Mean it!" Bob and Betty fairly shouted the words in
their eagerness to get to work. And as Sure Pop said good
night to them, there was a joyous light in his eye which
showed his plan was working out just as he had thought it
would.</p>
<p>He smiled a satisfied smile as the door closed on the
excited Dalton twins. "And now," said Colonel Sure
Pop to himself, "<i>now</i>, we're getting down to business!"</p>
<div class='center'>
<i>Enlist now! We fight to save life, not
to take it.</i>—<span class="smcap">Sure Pop</span><br /><br />
</div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/i020.jpg" width="450" height="104" alt="Sure Pop Watching" title="" />
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/i021.jpg" width="450" height="281" alt="DALTON PATROL" title="" />
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2>ADVENTURE NUMBER THIRTEEN</h2>
<h3>DALTON PATROL</h3>
<p>The next few weeks were busy ones for Bob and Betty
Dalton. The plan was a big one—the Safety Scouts of
America. Growing out of an idea planted by Colonel Sure
Pop, it sprouted and grew surprisingly fast. Already the
news was spreading like wildfire among the boys and girls
all over the city.</p>
<p>Joe Schmidt was out again, his head as good as ever.
George Gibson, always brim full of energy and enthusiasm,
had set his heart on becoming a Safety Scout Master and
heading a troop of his own. Even Chance Carter, hobbling
about on crutches, had caught the fever of Safety Scouting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>
and was making all sorts of plans as to what he would do
when his broken leg got well.</p>
<p>Chance really had changed, somehow. The twins supposed
it was all due to his accident, but the real reason was
Colonel Sure Pop. Chance seemed almost magnetized by
the little Colonel and never lost a chance to be near him.</p>
<p>"Honestly now, Colonel," he owned up to Sure Pop one
day, "I'd read so many stories about reckless heroes and
all that, I got in the habit of thinking I had to be reckless.
Story books seem to make out that it's a brave thing to
risk your life—and wasn't that exactly what Bob did
when he found that live wire?"</p>
<p>Sure Pop laid an understanding hand on Chance's
shoulder.</p>
<p>"Listen, Chance! You've caught only half the point,
that's your main trouble. It <i>is</i> a manly thing to take a
risk—<i>when it's necessary</i>. When somebody's life is in
danger, it's the manliest thing on earth to take a risk for
the sake of saving it. That's why Bob's act in patrolling
the live wire earned him a Safety Scout button—the lives
of those smaller boys were in danger, to say nothing of anybody
else who might blunder across the wire just then—that's
where the difference comes in."</p>
<p>"That's so. I never thought of it in just that way."</p>
<p>"I know you haven't. When you stop to think it over,
you see it's a fellow's plain duty to take a chance when it's
necessary, but it's downright foolish to do it on a dare.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>
One thing about Bob's live-wire adventure I don't believe
even he realizes," added Sure Pop. "It was that hurry-up
patrol of small boys that he threw out around the live wire
which really gave him the idea of how to organize the
Safety Scouts of America. I knew the idea would strike
him and Betty sooner or later."</p>
<p>Chance looked admiringly at the little Colonel. What
a wise Scout he was, sure enough, as keen and clever at
reading signs of the trail as any Indian fighter that ever
stepped in deerskin!</p>
<p>The boy looked longingly after the Safety Scout Patrol,
which was just starting off on an "observation hike," as
Bob called it. Part of the training Bob had laid out for
his men was an hour's brisk walk, after which each Safety
Scout wrote out a list of the unsafe things he had noticed
while "on the trail."</p>
<p>"There's one thing that stumps me, though," said Chance.
"How did Bob <i>know</i> that was a live wire?"</p>
<p>"He didn't. He simply had sense enough to treat <i>all</i>
fallen wires as if they <i>were</i> alive. See? Better safe than
sorry. Just the same in turning on an electric light: it
<i>may</i> not harm you to touch an iron bedstead with one
hand while you turn the light on with the other—but it's
taking a chance. Same's the fellow who turns an electric
bulb on or off while standing in a bathtub: he <i>may</i> go on
with his bath in safety—and then again he may drop lifeless
in the water.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p>
<p>"It's a good deal like the gun that isn't loaded, Chauncey.
There <i>was</i> a lad, you know, who found a gun was dangerous
without lock, stock, or barrel—his father whipped him with
the ramrod! A real Scout knows how to take care of himself—and
of others. And that's especially true of Safety
Scouts."</p>
<p>"Well, Colonel," said Chance, reaching for his crutches
and rising painfully to his feet, "I'm <i>for</i> it! Perhaps if
I make good, the fellows will quit calling me Chance and
call me either Chauncey or Carter, I don't care which—but
Chance makes me sick!"</p>
<p>"Here's <i>to</i> you, Carter!" said Sure Pop, with a hearty
handshake. Again came that smile of satisfaction as he
watched the boy hobble off on a slow "observation hike"
of his own. In Carter's mind, too, the big idea was taking
root.</p>
<p>Ten days later, Colonel Sure Pop was reviewing Dalton
Patrol.</p>
<p>"Safety Scouts," he said, saluting the even ranks drawn
up before him, "your Colonel is proud of the work you're
doing. These 'observation hikes,' as your Scout Master
calls them, show better than anything else how much
more alert you are to danger signs than you were a month
ago.</p>
<p>"Now, I've been sizing up these risks as covered by
your patrol reports. They seem to be of three kinds—home,
street, and railroad risks.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p>
<p>"Nobody can study these reports without seeing that
our work is plainly cut out for us for the next few months.
Charity and every other good work begin at home—though
they end there only with the weak-minded! So our work
in Safety patrolling will naturally begin in our homes and
with ourselves, and will begin with the risks which these
reports show to be most common. Let me read you a few
of the common risks reported by the Scouts of this patrol:</p>
<div class="hang2">Matches: left on floor where they may be stepped
on; or where mice may nibble them; or next the
stovepipe or chimney; or thrown down before
the last spark is out.</div>
<div class="hang2">Celluloid things: brushes and combs handled
near the gas jet, where they may burst into flame.</div>
<div class="hang2">Kerosene: poured on the fire to make it burn
faster (three bad cases of burns reported from this
cause alone).</div>
<div class="hang2">Gasoline: left near a flame, or anywhere except
clear outside the house.</div>
<div class="hang2">Gas: lighting oven of gas stove without first opening
oven door; leaving gas jet burning near
window, where breeze may blow curtains across
(five fires started that way during last month).</div>
<div class="hang2">Electric wires: loose wires crossing, which often
cause fires.</div>
<div class="hang2">Bathers: venturing too far out in deep water. In<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>
nearly every case, it is the rescuer who drowns.
Never take a chance that may cost another's
life.</div>
<div class="hang2">Safety pins: left open within baby's reach. You
all know what happened to Mrs. Fuller's baby
girl two weeks ago, all through an open safety pin.</div>
<div class="hang2">Hot water and grease: left standing where children
may get into them.</div>
<div class="hang2">Dogs: left unmuzzled and running loose.</div>
<p>"These are only a few of the common dangers shown in
your scouting reports. So far, our work has been hunting
out these risks and listing them. From now on, we'll fall
to with a will and set them right as fast as we can, in our
own homes first and next among our neighbors.</p>
<p>"Just one word of caution before we take up this new
patrol duty. Let's be careful how we go about setting
these things right. Remember, we can catch more flies
with honey than with vinegar, so let's not give people
the idea we are criticizing them—just suggesting.</p>
<p>"For instance: if a Safety Scout sees a mop and a pail
of scalding water on Mrs. Muldoon's back steps and one of
her babies in danger of pitching into it headfirst, he'd better
not walk up and begin to scold about it. Mrs. Muldoon
may have done that for years without scalding any one yet.
More likely than not she'd just order you off the place—and
go right on as before. But if, instead, a Scout steps up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>
and begins playing with the baby, he can first get baby
out of harm's way and <i>then</i> watch his chance to say, 'Baby
seems to have his eyes on that pail of hot water, Mrs. Muldoon.
Two babies over on the west side were scalded
to death last week; did you hear about it?' Chances are
Mrs. Muldoon will be around warning all her neighbors
before you've been gone ten minutes. Get the idea?—honey
instead of vinegar."</p>
<p>"Honey works better down in South America, anyhow!"
said a deep voice, and a tall, handsome man stepped forward,
saluted, and shook hands cordially with Colonel
Sure Pop. He was brown as a berry from the tropical sun
and he carried his left arm in a sling.</p>
<p>"Uncle—Uncle Jack!" The Dalton twins forgot that
the troop was on review, forgot Mrs. Muldoon's babies,
forgot everything and everybody but Uncle Jack. What
a surprise! And he knew Sure Pop, too!</p>
<p>"Sure pop, I do!" laughed the explorer, kissing Betty
warmly before the whole admiring troop. "Here, look
out for that lame arm, you rascals! Our surgeon told me
it would be well in a month, but he was too optimistic, for
once!" For Bob and Betty were fairly swarming over
their favorite uncle, home at last from the jungle.</p>
<p>"Nellie," said Uncle Jack to Mrs. Dalton that night,
when the Safety Scouts were off to bed at last, "those twins
of yours are making history—do you realize that?"</p>
<p>"Well," said his sister, "they have their faults, like all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>
the rest, but they're pretty fine youngsters at that. But,
oh, Jack, they're growing up so fast!"</p>
<p>"They are, sure enough, like weeds; but their harvest
isn't going to be any weed crop, now mark my words. I
heard most of what was said at their patrol review this
afternoon before anybody saw me; and on my word, Nell,
those youngsters have started something bigger than they
have any idea of, something that no power on earth is
going to be able to stop. After all, I'm just as pleased that
the old chief's spear thrust sent me home in time to see
the Safety Scouts of America in the making!"</p>
<div class='center'>
<i>A real Scout knows how to take care of himself—and
of others.</i>—<span class="smcap">Sure Pop</span><br /><br />
</div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/i022.jpg" width="450" height="108" alt="Crossing the street" title="" />
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/i023.jpg" width="450" height="319" alt="SIX TIMELY TIPS" title="" />
</div>
<h2>ADVENTURE NUMBER FOURTEEN</h2>
<h3>SIX TIMELY TIPS</h3>
<p>Sure Pop and Uncle Jack were sprawled out side by side
on the green river bank, talking over old times. Bob and
Betty were hanging on every word.</p>
<p>"My first few months of Safety work among American
factories and mills," Sure Pop was saying, "was largely
planting. I planted the Safety First idea and gave it
time to grow. I began with the steel mills; then I turned
to the railroads, then to the wood-working shops, and so
on."</p>
<p>Uncle Jack gazed thoughtfully at the sparkling river.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>
"Well," he said at last to Sure Pop, "what results and
how?"</p>
<p>"How?" repeated the little Colonel. "First, by putting
the idea, Safety First, into the mind of every workman
we met. Second, by whispering in his ear new ways of
cutting out accidents—<i>after</i> the Safety First idea had
had a chance to sink in. Results? Three fourths of the
deaths and injuries in the steel mills were cut out entirely
in six years' time; in the railroads, the number of accidents
was cut squarely in two in three years' time; in other
kinds of work—all except one—big reductions all along
the line."</p>
<p>"Great!" There was no mistaking the admiration in
Uncle Jack's voice. "What about the one exception—what
line was that?"</p>
<p>"It's a certain class of mills that is practically controlled
by one man, a very able man, but exceedingly self-willed
and stubborn. He owns a chain of mills from coast to
coast, and the rest of the manufacturers in his line follow
his lead in everything. He has fought the Safety First
idea from the start—calls it 'one of these new-fangled
notions'—will have nothing at all to do with it—and he
has held back the Safety movement in his whole line of
work."</p>
<p>"Hm-m-m! Hard nut to crack, eh? What's the old
codger's name?"</p>
<p>"Bruce. He's done more to handicap Safety work than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>
any other man in the country—and I do believe he's
proud of it," said Sure Pop, grimly.</p>
<p>"Bruce—isn't that the man your father works for,
Bob?"</p>
<p>Bob nodded. "He has a heart, though"—and he told
them how the mill owner had come to Chance Carter's
aid, and how like a different man he had seemed when little
Bonnie threw her happy arms around him.</p>
<p>"Queer mixture, isn't he?" said Uncle Jack.</p>
<p>"Yes, he is. But don't you suppose our patrol could
do something to change his mind?"</p>
<p>Uncle Jack waved the idea aside. "Forget it, Bob,
forget it! Don't lose sight of what the Colonel told you
Scouts yesterday about the right way to go at things. Well,
the right way to go at Bruce is to leave him alone for a
while. If he's as prejudiced as all that, interfering would
only make him worse. He'll come around by and by, won't
he, Colonel?"</p>
<p>"All in good time," said Sure Pop. "Your work is cut
out for you, Bob, as I told you yesterday. Get the Safety
First idea well rooted in the homes, and then we'll begin
on the streets, and get folks in the habit of thinking Safety
every time they cross the street."</p>
<p>Uncle Jack yawned and stretched himself.</p>
<p>"Can you spare these twins of ours for the day, Colonel?
I've a frolic of my own I want to borrow them for, if I may."</p>
<p>"Sure pop! Go ahead, sir."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p>
<p>Uncle Jack stepped across the street to a telephone, and
the first thing Bob and Betty knew, a big red automobile
drew up beside them. "Jump in, folks—look out for my
arm, please. Now—we're off! Goodby, Colonel."</p>
<p>"My, but isn't this glorious!" Betty nestled closer
to her uncle as they sped along toward the shopping district.
"Is this your car, Uncle Jack?"</p>
<p>"For today it is," laughed her uncle. "Today we'll just
make believe I own the mint. Careful there, driver!"</p>
<p>Forgetful of his lame arm, he jumped to his feet and
waved his hand in warning. They had been running
smoothly along the car tracks, and another automobile
had cut in ahead of them from around the corner. A tow-headed
lad of about Bob's age, who was stealing a ride on
it, holding himself on by main strength as the automobile
jounced along over the crossing, had just made up his mind
he would ride no farther and was getting ready to jump.
Down he came, kerflop, in the street, stubbing his toe as
he tried to catch his balance.</p>
<p>Uncle Jack's chauffeur, warned by his shout, gave the
steering wheel a quick turn—and cleared the boy by a
hand's breadth! Uncle Jack sank back on the cushions,
his eyes flashing.</p>
<p>"Reckless young rascal! Trying to make murderers
of us, is he? What are you Safety Scouts going to do about
the boys' hitching on like that, Bob?"</p>
<p>Bob pulled a notebook out of his pocket. "Here's how<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>
Sure Pop has summed up our patrol reports on street
accidents. He calls it—</p>
<div class='center'><span class="smcap">Six Timely Tips on Street Safety</span></div>
<div class='hang2'>Tip 1: Make the street car stop before you step
on or off—the car can wait. But step lively!</div>
<div class='hang2'>Tip 2: Face forward in getting off. Hold the
grip iron with your left hand—it's a friend
in need. Left foot to the step, right foot to the
ground, eyes front!</div>
<div class='hang2'>Tip 3: Before leaving the car, look both ways for
automobiles, wagons, and motor cycles.</div>
<div class='hang2'>Tip 4: In passing behind a car, first peek around
to see what's coming. When carrying an umbrella,
peek around that, too.</div>
<div class='hang2'>Tip 5: Before you hitch on or steal rides on street
cars, automobiles, or wagons, better make your
will.</div>
<div class='hang2'>Tip 6: Keep wide awake in getting on and off
cars and in crossing streets. Walk fast, <i>but don't
run</i>. Use all the sense you have; you're likely to
need it and to need it quick!</div>
<p>"Those six tips are not guess work either, Uncle Jack.
They're boiled down from weeks of street scouting by every
boy and girl in our patrol."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p>
<p>"Those are good, sensible tips," said his uncle. "What
use are you going to make of them?"</p>
<p>"Well, by the time vacation's over, we will have a special
School Safety Patrol drilled and ready to get down to business
on this particular work among the youngsters—to
get them out of the habit of hitching on, and that sort of
thing. Our idea is to begin with the smaller school children;
there have been a good many bad accidents to them,
you see, going to and from school. Most of them have to
cross the tracks; it's altogether too easy for them to get
confused and run down by a street car or engine or auto."</p>
<p>"That's right, Bob. How are you going to stop it?"</p>
<p>"Why, each Scout in the School Patrol takes charge of
the school children in his block for one month. It's his
job to get them together at a convenient corner in the morning,
then herd them across the tracks and through the
crowded streets to school; to do the same thing on their
way home; and to keep an eye on their games during recess,
reporting any risky condition to their teachers.
We've planned it so this team work will not only keep the
youngsters from being run over and all that, but will also
be training them to take care of themselves and keep out
of danger just like any Safety Scout. How does the idea
strike you?"</p>
<p>"Fine! It's a good, practical plan! Makes me wish I
were a boy again myself. Hello, here we are—out we go!"</p>
<p>"Why, where are we?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p>
<p>"I'll soon show you." Uncle Jack led the way to the
elevator and they shot up, up, clear to the roof.</p>
<p>"Hungry?" he asked, as a white-clad waiter showed
them to a table. He enjoyed the surprise of Bob and Betty;
they had never had luncheon downtown before. Mr.
Dalton's hard-earned wages left no room for such celebrations
as this. And a roof garden—! No wonder it seemed
very strange and very grand to the Dalton twins.</p>
<p>They must have spent a good half-hour ordering that
meal: it was fun to study the big bill of fare and pick out
delicious things which they "never had at home." Uncle
Jack seemed to find it just as much fun as they did, and he
understood pretty well how they felt as they ate and ate,
while they gazed out on the roofs of the city spread out
below them. It wasn't so <i>very</i> many years, you see, since
he had been a youngster himself!</p>
<div class='center'>
<i>Plant the Safety First idea and watch it grow.</i>
—<span class="smcap">Sure Pop</span><br /></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/i024.jpg" width="450" height="280" alt="TWIN UNIFORMS" title="" />
</div>
<h2>ADVENTURE NUMBER FIFTEEN</h2>
<h3>TWIN UNIFORMS</h3>
<p>"How nice and cool it is up here!"</p>
<p>Betty, looking very grown-up and quite as if she were
used to taking luncheon in a roof garden every day, smiled
contentedly at Uncle Jack over her glass of lemonade.</p>
<p>"Cool as a cucumber," said her uncle. "Hard to realize
how sweltering hot it is down there in the street, isn't it?
Betty, what's <i>your</i> Safety work going to be when school
begins?"</p>
<p>Betty glanced at Bob; she had not yet told even him
about her plan. "First, I suppose, I'll serve my month
on the School Safety Patrol; and then—then, I'm going<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>
to talk to my teacher about starting Safety Games in the
lower grades."</p>
<p>"Safety Games!" Bob's tone showed his surprise.</p>
<p>"Yes, Bob. Funny sounding idea, isn't it? But I've
thought out a lot of games that the kindergarten children
can play, games that will be brand new to them, and lots
of fun, and at the same time will get them into the habit
of thinking Safety and looking out for themselves on the
street."</p>
<p>"Tell us one," demanded Bob.</p>
<p>"Well," said Betty, "one of them I call 'Little Safety
Scout.' We can begin by asking the little folks in one
grade what things they ought to keep in mind when crossing
a busy street. The one that gives the best answer is made
'Little Safety Scout.' One of the biggest boys plays he's
the crossing policeman, other children play street cars,
others make believe they're automobiles, and so on. The
rest are just people trying to get across the street, and they
have trouble trying to understand what the policeman's
whistle signals mean, and some get run over, and some are
saved by the 'Little Safety Scout,' and others show the right
way to get on and off a car, and all that."</p>
<p>"Well, Betty Dalton," cried Uncle Jack, "you're a
regular little witch! Why, that's a dandy plan. The
first thing you know, you'll have the little folks able to take
care of themselves on the streets better than the grown-ups
do!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p>
<p>"Fine!" chimed in Bob. "And we can give them Sure
Pop buttons, too!"</p>
<p>"That's right, we can," said Betty. "We can give
buttons to the children who pass an easy little Safety First
examination after we've played the Safety Games a few
weeks. And perhaps we might make some Safety posters
to hang on the schoolroom walls; just big posters in colored
crayons, with a picture of Sure Pop and one of his Safety
mottoes below it in big letters,—like, 'Folks that have no
wings must use their wits,'—something that would make
the children remember the point of the story longer. Don't
you think that would help along?"</p>
<p>Thus the three friends went on planning, till the jolly
head waiter asked them for the ninth time if they wouldn't
have something more, and Uncle Jack looked at his
watch with a start of surprise.</p>
<p>"Four o'clock! Whew! We must get out of this.
We have lots to do yet before we go home, and I told the
chauffeur to be back here at five. Let's stop in the cold-storage
room below."</p>
<p>"Is that what makes the roof so cool?" asked Betty,
as they looked around on the floor below.</p>
<p>"Ha, ha! Not a bad idea—perhaps it does have
something to do with it. No, this is where the store keeps
its furs during the summer months. Moths can't stand
the cold, you know. Come on, we'll go on down now."</p>
<p>The elevator car was nearly full of people from the roof<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>
garden. Betty started to step in, hesitated, then turned
back. Uncle Jack motioned her and Bob in, stepped in after
them, and carefully turned so that he faced the elevator
door.</p>
<p>"That was a risky thing you did just then," he whispered
to Betty. "Three quarters of all the elevator accidents
are due to stepping in or out in the wrong way. Never
do the thing halfway, you know. Always wait till the
elevator man stops the car at the floor level and throws the
door wide open."</p>
<p>Next to them in the elevator stood two boys—cash
boys in the store—who were fooling and scuffling so close
to the door that the elevator man cautioned them twice
as the car dropped swiftly downward. Finally one of them
brought his heel down on the other's foot so hard that the
other jumped backward, forgetting everything else for the
pain. Forward went his head—bang went his face
against the iron grating of the door they were just
passing.</p>
<p>The elevator stopped with a jerk. They carried the boy
out and sent for the store doctor. Bob and Betty never
had to be reminded, in all the years to come, to look
sharp when riding in elevators. The memory of that
bruised and battered face was warning enough.</p>
<p>"It's a dangerous machine," said Uncle Jack as they
left the store. "A fellow who will scuffle in an elevator is
foolish enough for almost anything. Here's our next stop,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>
and he showed them into a shop with a big sign over the
double door:</p>
<div class='center'>
UNIFORMS—READY MADE OR TO ORDER<br />
</div>
<p>"Uncle Jack must be going to have a new uniform,"
whispered Betty to her twin as the tailor came up with
his tape over his shoulders. But it was not around their
uncle that the tape measure went, it was around Bob!</p>
<p>"Yes, the regulation khaki," Uncle Jack was saying.
"Cut and finish it just like this one," and he handed the
tailor a photograph of Sure Pop.</p>
<p>"Your turn next, Betty," said Uncle Jack, and to Betty's
great delight and the tailor's surprise, <i>she</i> was measured for
a special Safety Scout uniform too!</p>
<p>Uncle Jack did not stop there. He bought the twins
Safety Scout hats of fine, light felt, made for hard service,
and he was on the point of buying them leather puttees
or leggings, but Bob stopped him.</p>
<p>"Canvas leggings are plenty good enough," he said.
"The fellows couldn't afford leather, most of them, and we
want them all to match."</p>
<p>"Canvas it is, then," nodded his uncle, and went on making
up the outfits. Betty sighed happily as they followed him
into another store. It all seemed too good to be true! The
first thing she knew, they were sitting at a glass-topped table.</p>
<p>Uncle Jack mopped his steaming forehead again.
"That tailor shop beats the jungle all hollow for heat!" he
exclaimed. "What kind of ice cream do you want, Scouts?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p>
<p>Betty thought it was time to object. "Oh, Uncle Jack,
we've had enough! You've done too much for us already!"
All the same, she enjoyed the ice cream just as much as the
others did, and when Uncle Jack tucked a box of chocolates
under her arm, her cup of joy was full.</p>
<p>"What are you thinking about, Betty?" asked Uncle
Jack as the big red automobile bore them merrily homeward;
for Betty had not said a word for blocks and blocks.</p>
<p>She patted Uncle Jack's arm—the well one—with a
grateful smile. "I was thinking what a perfectly, perfectly
<i>lovely</i> day we've had! And wishing," she murmured,
wistfully, "that Mother had been along too."</p>
<p>"Now that part's all taken care of," said Uncle Jack.
"Your mother's going out for a spin with me tonight after
Baby's asleep; she couldn't leave today, she said. She
and I will have a good long ride down the river front in
the moonlight. Be sure you get a good sleep tonight, now,
you two; I want you to be in good trim for a little exploring
party I'm planning for tomorrow."</p>
<p>"We'll be up bright and early, ready for anything,"
Bob told him. "Whew! but this has been a whirlwind
of a day! Glad you're going to take Mother out—that's
the only way she'd get a cool breeze tonight, all right!"</p>
<p>"But it can't be as nice as the roof garden, even then!"
cried his happy twin, as she lifted out her big box of candy
and skipped up the front steps two at a time.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/i025.jpg" width="450" height="292" alt="WHERE SAFETY WAS A STRANGER" title="" />
</div>
<h2>ADVENTURE NUMBER SIXTEEN</h2>
<h3>WHERE SAFETY WAS A STRANGER</h3>
<p>True to their word, Bob and Betty were up bright and
early, ready for Uncle Jack's exploring trip.</p>
<p>"We're going to visit one of the big wood-working mills,"
he explained as they left the house after breakfast. "I'm
curious to see the result of Colonel Sure Pop's Safety
patrolling, and it seems to me that will be about as interesting
a shop as we can begin on. It will be fun to see what
they're doing to make it safer for the men—perhaps we can
get some ideas for your outside patrols, Bob."</p>
<p>The twins looked around them sharply as they went into
the mill by way of its lumber yard. "I don't see anything
here that looks dangerous," was Bob's first remark. "Hold<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>
on, though—what about those piles of lumber? Don't
you think they're piled too high to be safe?"</p>
<p>"I can tell you this much," said Uncle Jack, who had
been reading up on the year's long list of accidents. "The
danger of being hit by falling or flying objects in mills and
factories is the biggest risk in the whole country today."</p>
<p>He walked around to the laborers who were piling
lumber and began talking with the foreman. The twins
stepped nearer so that they could hear what he was saying.</p>
<p>"They're getting that pile rather high," said Uncle
Jack, as if he had only just noticed it. "It's beginning to
look a bit wobbly on its pins. Isn't there danger of its
toppling over and hurting somebody?"</p>
<p>"Oh, I don't know," was the foreman's answer. "We
do have a few men smashed up that way, off and on; it's
all in the day's work, though."</p>
<p>Hardly were the words out of his mouth when a heavily
loaded wagon in passing beside the lumber piles swayed
and came squarely up against the one the men were
working on. With a crash and a clatter the whole thing
went over. One man jumped clear of the wreck, another
slid down with the lumber, bruised but not much hurt—and
two disappeared under the huge mass of falling boards.</p>
<p>The three Safety Scouts stood watching the ambulance,
fifteen minutes later, as it carried off the two men to the
hospital, one with a broken arm and a gash over one eye,
the other hurt inside so badly that he died that night.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>
Both of them had boys and girls of their own—families
whose living depended on their daily wages at the mill!</p>
<p>"Hard luck for their folks," said Uncle Jack, as the ambulance
rumbled away. "The Colonel told me yesterday
his men had done a lot of successful Safety scouting among
the wood-working mills. I can't understand it. By the
way, Bob, that ambulance reminds me: what drill are you
giving your Safety Scouts on how to call the fire department,
and the police and the ambulance and so on?"</p>
<p>"We've got that well covered in our Saturday reports,
Uncle Jack. Once a week each Scout adds to his report
the telephone number of the police and the fire department—it's
usually a number that's easy to remember, like
'Main 0' for fire and 'Main 13' for police—as well as the
street address of the nearest station."</p>
<p>"Bob, how did they happen to choose those numbers?"
wondered Betty.</p>
<p>Her brother grinned. "I suppose because after a bad
fire there's nothing left, and because it's unlucky to fall into
the hands of the police!" and he cleverly ducked the box
Betty aimed at his ear.</p>
<p>Uncle Jack's twinkle didn't last long, though. He was
too much puzzled over the carelessness he was noticing in
this mill, carelessness where he had expected to find up-to-date
Safety methods. He poked with his foot at a board
with several ugly nails sticking up in it and jammed them
carefully down into the ground.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p>
<p>"That's the fourth bad case of upturned nails I've found
here already," he said quietly. "There's no end of broken
bottles and such trash under foot, and just look at that
overloaded truck, will you? One sharp curve in the track
and that load will spill all over the place. Why, these
chaps don't realize the first thing about Safety, Bob."</p>
<p>They moved on into the engine room. One of the engineer's
helpers, a boy who looked hardly older than Bob,
stood beside a swiftly moving belt, pouring something on it
out of a tin can. His sleeve was dangling, and every time
the belt lacing whirled past, it flipped the sleeve like a
clutching finger trying to jerk his arm into the cruel wheel.</p>
<p>Uncle Jack walked over for a word with the engineer,
a fat, jolly looking man who seemed well satisfied with life.
"Do your helpers often put belt dressing on while the belt
is running?" he asked.</p>
<p>The jolly engineer was plainly surprised. "Why, they
never do it any other time!" he exclaimed. "Why do
you ask?"</p>
<p>"Only," said the explorer, dryly, "because there are
several hundred men killed in just that way every year—and
most of them have families. Don't you put guards
around any of your belts in this mill, either?"</p>
<p>Again that puzzled look in the engineer's eyes. "No,
not here," he answered slowly. "There was some talk
about putting them on, but nothing came of it. It wouldn't
be a bad idea, either; every now and then some poor fellow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>
loses a hand or an arm. Last spring a new man from out
in the yards was walking through here, and the wind blew
his sleeve too near the belt. It yanked him clear in between
the belt and pulley—smashed him up so he didn't live
more'n a couple of hours. That certainly was hard luck."</p>
<p>"Luck!" snorted Uncle Jack, when the three were out of
hearing. "A moving belt is almost as dangerous as a can
of gunpowder! Yet these men call it luck when it takes
off an arm or snuffs out a life. It's disgusting."</p>
<p>All through the plant they found the same state of affairs—careless
men, unguarded machinery, guesswork everywhere.
In the machine shop they found men and boys
cleaning machines that were running at top speed. Any
one could see how easily the rags and soft cotton waste they
were using could catch in the moving parts and draw a
hand or an arm into the flying wheels.</p>
<p>"I noticed in the accident reports of one single state,"
Uncle Jack told Betty, "that more than five hundred people
were hurt in that very way, by cleaning machines that
were moving. Half of them lost fingers and many lost
their hands or arms. No sensible workman, these days,
treats his machine as anything but downright dangerous
as long as it's running."</p>
<p>The buzz saws fascinated the twins. They felt as if
they could stand all day long and listen to the drone of
the saw as it ate its way into the clean white boards, snarling
like an angry dog when its teeth struck a knot in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>
wood. There were a good many of these saws in the big,
long room; now and then they would get to singing together
like a music class at school and then they would
drop out of tune again.</p>
<p>"Not a saw guard in the place," shouted Bob in Uncle
Jack's ear, for the saws drowned out his ordinary tone.</p>
<p>But Uncle Jack's keen eyes had already caught sight of
some metal guards hung up on the wall here and there.
"They've got them," he corrected, "but they are not making
any use of them." He stepped up to one of the saws
and spoke to the man who was running it. "Why don't
you keep the guard on your saw?"</p>
<p>"Aw, those things are a nuisance," said the man. "Yes,
we're supposed to keep 'em on, but they'd be in the way—we
couldn't get the work out so fast with them."</p>
<p>"That's queer," said Uncle Jack. "In a good many
mills like this they've found that a man using a good saw
guard turns out more work than ever—because he's so
much more free in using his hands, I suppose."</p>
<p>The man grunted, but did not answer. On their way
to the door, the Safety Scouts spied, clear back in one
corner, a man who really did have his saw guard in use.
"And a rattling lot of work he's turning out, too," said
Bob, after the three had watched him a while from a distance.
The neat metal guard came clear down over the
murderous saw teeth, so that no matter how much his
fingers happened to be in the way, they were safe.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p>
<p>"Let's ask him why he uses his saw guard when the others
won't," said Uncle Jack. He stepped nearer the silent
workman and then—he saw the reason. Turning to Bob
and Betty, he tapped his left hand with his right and jerked
his head toward the man beside the saw. The twins
walked around to where they could get a look at the workman's
left hand. Then they understood. There was nothing
left of the fingers but the stub of one, and the thumb!</p>
<p>"Easy enough to see why that one man was using his
saw guard, eh?" said Uncle Jack to Sure Pop that night.</p>
<p>"Nothing easier," said the little Colonel. "A burnt
child dreads the fire, you know. Not much Safety First
idea noticeable in that mill, was there?"</p>
<p>"Colonel, that's just what I don't understand. I thought
you said yesterday your Safety Scouts had done good work
among the wood-working mills, but if that's a sample—"</p>
<p>"It isn't," was the quiet answer. "Do you happen to
know who's the biggest stockholder in that mill?"</p>
<p>Uncle Jack stared. "Surely not—not Bruce?"</p>
<p>"You've guessed it."</p>
<p>Uncle Jack gave a long, low whistle of surprise. "But
I had no idea he owned wood-working mills too."</p>
<p>"This is the only one. It's out of his line, I'll admit—but
it goes to show his bitter prejudice against the Safety
First movement, doesn't it? He'll come around by and by,
never fear. All in good time, my friend, all in good time."</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/i026.jpg" width="450" height="285" alt="GIVING THE OTHER FELLOW A SQUARE DEAL" title="" />
</div>
<h2>ADVENTURE NUMBER SEVENTEEN</h2>
<h3>GIVING THE OTHER FELLOW A SQUARE DEAL</h3>
<p>The Dalton twins had something on their minds. Mother
felt it. Uncle Jack felt it. Every now and then they
forgot to go on eating their breakfast; and when a Dalton
went that far, as their uncle remarked, things were getting
very bad indeed.</p>
<p>Betty sat and fidgeted. Bob looked as if he would like
to pop one question at his uncle, but he managed to hold it
in. Finally Betty slid down from her chair, went boldly
around to Uncle Jack, and whispered something in his ear.
How he threw back his handsome head and laughed!</p>
<p>"Betty, you're a regular mind reader! Why, we're
going down to try them on this very morning, and I was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>
just going to tell you to get ready, but you were too quick
for me!"</p>
<p>Two hours later Betty, looking very spruce in her new
Safety Scout uniform, was dancing up and down before
the mirrors while Bob's blouse was having the buttons set
over a bit.</p>
<p>"That boy," said the tailor, looking at him with bulging
eyes, "has grown smaller since this uniform was measured!"</p>
<p>"If you'd seen the luncheon he tucked away, just before
we came over that day to be measured," laughed Uncle
Jack, "you'd only wonder that those buttons won't have to
be set back at least a foot! Now, where are the trousers?"</p>
<p>"They are up in the shop. Wait, I'll get them. What?
You'd like to come along? Up this way, then."</p>
<p>On the second floor they found themselves in a big room
that looked like a forest of sewing machines, humming and
clicking so fast that at first the twins were fairly bewildered.
Girls who, it seemed, could hardly be older than Betty
were bending over their machines, sewing away as if for
dear life. Most of them did not even look up from their
work as the visitors came through.</p>
<p>"The young man's trousers are in this next room,"
said the tailor, leading the way to a heavy iron door which
separated the two rooms on that floor.</p>
<p>"What's the idea of this iron door?" asked Uncle Jack.
"To keep a fire from spreading from one department into
the other?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p>
<p>"Exactly so. That big, thick fire wall goes straight
through the building from top to bottom—cuts it in two.
Suppose a fire breaks out here on the piecework side:
the foreman just opens this fire door and shoos the boys and
girls right through, like a lot of chickens. Then he shuts
the fire door tight, and they are safe. That big fire we
had here four years ago taught us something. So when
the owner rebuilt it for us, he built it right."</p>
<p>The big room on the other side of the fire wall was crowded
almost as full of workers as the first one. The main difference
was that there were more boys and men, and that
more sewing was being done by hand. Bob's khaki trousers
were quickly found and tried on—a perfect fit.</p>
<p>"We'll give Bob a Patrol Leader's arm badge—two
white bars of braid below his left shoulder," said Uncle
Jack. "Betty will get one bar for the present, I understand.
There are some badges yet to come, Colonel Sure
Pop says."</p>
<p>Bob and Betty looked at each other, too pleased to talk.</p>
<p>The four were walking downstairs for a look at the other
floors of the big tailor shop when the noon whistle blew.
R-r-rip—slam—bang! A torrent of rattle-brained boys
came tearing pell mell down the stairs like a waterfall over
a dam. Most of them came pelting down three steps at
a jump, but on one of the landings somebody stumbled,
and the yelling boys piled up in a squirming, kicking heap.</p>
<p>"Hey! WAIT!" No one would ever have suspected<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>
the mild-mannered tailor of having such a foghorn of a
voice! The rush from the upper floors slowed up at once,
and Uncle Jack and Bob helped the fallen lads pick themselves
up. But the boy at the bottom, a little fellow with
a thin, pinched face that looked as if he had never had half
enough to eat, nor even enough fresh air, lay there moaning
softly.</p>
<p>Bob knew that queer, unnatural angle of the boy's right
arm, which lay awkwardly stretched out beside him, as if
it had never quite matched his left. The arm was broken.</p>
<p>"Here, here!" roared the tailor, gently picking the little
fellow up and carrying him to the elevator. "Will you
crazy fellows never learn? Only last week, somebody hollered
'Fire!' just to see the other fellows jump up and run,
and broke that poor little Levinski's collar bone! And
now look at this!"</p>
<p>"The old fellow's right on that score," was Uncle Jack's
remark as the twins followed him to the street car, each
hugging tight a big pasteboard box with a brand new Safety
Scout uniform inside it. "Those lads meant no particular
harm, but that certainly was about as far from a square
deal as one fellow can give another. These 'practical
jokers' who will yell 'Fire!' or run over a boy smaller than
themselves—well, if a Boy Scout had no more sense than
that, he'd be drummed out of the service!"</p>
<p>Once on the way home, when the car stopped at the corner,
he pointed up to a fire escape on a big flat building.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>
"There's your flower-pot risk over again, Betty. Even
worse, for this time they're on the fire escape steps where
folks would fall over head first in case of fire. And see
that girl leaning against that rickety old porch railing on
the third floor! Certainly there's plenty in sight for a
Safety Scout to do!"</p>
<p>That afternoon they visited a large machine shop across
the river. To their great delight, Bob and Betty were
allowed to wear their new Safety Scout uniforms, leggings
and all. They stood very straight as they waited for their
companion to get a permit at the Company's office.</p>
<p>"Those new uniforms are going to be about as good an
'ad' for Safety First as anything we could have," remarked
Uncle Jack, leading the way into the big machine
shop. He had caught the admiring glances that had followed
them from the older people and the longing looks
that the boys and girls had sent after them all the way over.</p>
<p>"We haven't done our 'Day's Boost for Safety' yet,
though," said Betty. "I don't know but we ought to do our
good turn every morning before we start out on any trip—I
just hate not to get my button right side up till so late
in the day!"</p>
<p>"Those girls have pretty neat looking uniforms of their
own, haven't they?" said Bob, a little later, as they gazed
down a long row of punch presses which were pouring out
shining streams of aluminum pin trays. "What do they
wear them for—just to look pretty?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p>
<p>"You wouldn't have thought so," laughed the forewoman,
"if you could have seen how they fought the first
caps and aprons we tried to get them to wear. They <i>were</i>
homely things, even if they were life savers. So we kept
at it till we got something so trim and pretty that the girls
would rather wear it than not."</p>
<p>"Life savers?" repeated Betty. "How could caps and
aprons save lives? Oh—by not catching in the machinery?"</p>
<p>"Just so. It's easy for a girl's hair to be blown into the
machines, or for a braid to swing against a whirling shaft,
you see. Oh yes, we had several girls killed that way,
before we tried this uniform. They used to wear dresses
with baggy sleeves,—ragged ones, sometimes. Rings
and bracelets are bad, too; and even these aprons, you'll
notice, are buttoned back so they can't fly out against the
wheels. Yes, the girls all like the idea now. The caps
keep their hair from getting dusty or mussed up. Besides,
we find it saves a good many girls' feelings, too, having them
all dressed so much alike."</p>
<p>The same good sense was shown in the other departments,
in the working clothes worn by the men and boys.</p>
<p>"You won't find a man in this room with a necktie on,"
the foreman told them. "These are the biggest punch
presses in our whole shop. A while ago one of the men got
his necktie caught between the cogwheels and he was drawn
into the machine head first. That was the end of that sort
of thing in <i>this</i> shop!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p>
<p>"Now, as you'll see, long sleeves and ragged or baggy
overalls are things of the past. If a man does wear a
long sleeve, he keeps it rolled up where it can't catch and
cost him a hand or an arm.</p>
<p>"Watch the men and boys, and you'll see how careful
they are not to look around while their machines are running.
Before they start their machines, you'll find them
looking all around to see there's nobody near who might
get caught in the wheels or belt. These workmen are just
as anxious to give the other fellow a square deal as anybody
could be, once they catch the Safety First idea. It took
some of them a long while to learn never to fool with the
other fellow's machine—that's always dangerous, you
know, just like a machine that's out of order. Our pressmen
wouldn't think of starting up a machine which was out
of order, or which they didn't understand—they'd report
it to me at once."</p>
<p>"What has been the result of all this Safety training—has
it got the men to 'thinking Safety,' so you don't have
so many accidents?" asked Uncle Jack.</p>
<p>The foreman's face glowed with pride. "Why, it's got
so now, sir, that even the youngsters are too wise to scuffle
or play jokes on each other here in the shop. They've
come to see how easy it is to fall against dangerous machinery
or down a shaft or stairway. And as for throwing
things at each other, the way they used to during the noon
hour—nothing doing any more in that line.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p>
<p>"Would you believe it, we haven't had a bad accident in
this shop since a year ago last July. That was when one
of the boys on a punch press got the die clogged and tried
to dig it out with his fingers instead of using a hook. That's
about the last set of fingers this shop has lost; yes, sir.
Before that, there was hardly a week went by but we had
several hands crippled, and often somebody killed. Oh,
this Safety First work is wonderful,—it's making things
a lot safer for the working man!"</p>
<p>Uncle Jack told the kindly foreman what the twins were
doing in Safety patrol work. Bob and Betty could see how
proud the man was of the splendid Safety showing his shop
was making. "And it's a fine pair of Scout uniforms you
and the little lady have," he called after them. "More
power to you both—and to the Safety Scouts of America!"</p>
<p>"You seem very much interested in everything in these
shops, Bob," said his uncle, who could hardly drag him
away.</p>
<p>"You'd better believe I am!" cried the boy, warmly.
"As soon as I get through school, I'm going to get a job
in one of these factories and—well, I'm trying to make up
my mind which shop it shall be!"</p>
<div class="center"><i>One thing you always owe the other fellow—a
square deal.</i>—<span class="smcap">Sure Pop</span></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/i027.jpg" width="450" height="281" alt="AN ADVENTURE IN SAFETY" title="" />
</div>
<h2>ADVENTURE NUMBER EIGHTEEN</h2>
<h3>AN ADVENTURE IN SAFETY</h3>
<p>Betty told Sure Pop what Bob had said about getting a
job in one of the big mills by and by, and the little Colonel
remembered it a few weeks later when he was showing several
of the Safety Scouts through the steel mills.</p>
<p>"Do you think it will be one of these mills you'll pick
out for your first job?"</p>
<p>"Well, I don't know, now. It's a pretty big, lonesome
sort of place for a fellow like me, Sure Pop, and there don't
seem to be so many fellows of my own age here as in some
of the other factories."</p>
<p>Betty and Joe and Chance followed Bob's eyes around
the big steel mill yards. They knew how he felt. It was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>
a lonesome looking place till you got used to it, in spite of
the thousands of men who swarmed around them. The
queer, raw smell of the reddish iron ore added to the feeling,
too.</p>
<p>Away down in the big ore boats along the docks, gangs
of big, brawny workmen strained and sweated, filling the
iron buckets that traveled up the wire cables to the ore
dumps. Others were trucking the ore to the furnaces,
while a swarm of little switch engines panted and puffed
back and forth over the network of steel rails.</p>
<p>The steel works covered many acres of ground, and, shut
off as they were by high fences, seemed almost like another
world. The roar of the furnaces and the din of steel on
steel made Betty and the boys feel rather confused at first.
"I should think all these men just over from the old country
would get mixed up, so many of them not understanding
a single word of English," said Betty to their guide.</p>
<p>"Yes, we have to be mighty careful," said the man, who
was one of the Safety men who gave all his time to making
the steel mills safer for the thousands of workmen. "We
print this little book of Safety Rules in all the different
languages, so that each new man can study it and find out
how to do his day's work without getting into danger."</p>
<p>"Wow! what's that?" Joe's black eyes opened very
wide as he pointed to a great ball of fire that rose from
one of the furnace stacks, floated a little way like a balloon,
and then burst into a sheet of flame.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p>
<p>"Just the gas from the blast furnace—regular Fourth
of July fireworks, isn't it? I remember how queer those
gas bubbles used to look to me when I first came to work
here."</p>
<p>He waited while his visitors stared for a few minutes at
the fiery clouds, then led the way to the blast furnaces.
They went through two or three big buildings, all of them
fairly alive with hurrying, sweating laborers. But in spite
of the seeming confusion all around them, Bob noticed how
carefully the aisles and passageways were kept free and
clear of anything the hurrying men might stumble over.</p>
<p>"We simply have to do it," explained the steel man.
"Before we woke up to the importance of never leaving
anything in the way where it might be stumbled over, we
had more broken arms and legs every month than you could
shake a stick at. Now it's different; it's as much as a man's
job is worth to leave anything lying in the passageways
for his fellow workmen to stumble and fall over."</p>
<p>"I saw some white lines painted on the floor of that last
room we came through, the one where all those castings
were stacked up in rows," said Chance. "Was that what
they were for? Great scheme, isn't it? And as simple
as falling off a log!"</p>
<p>"Simple? Sure—most of these things are simple
enough, once you think of them," agreed their guide. "It
took perhaps an hour of one man's time and a gallon or
two of white paint to paint those dead-lines along the sides<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>—and
many's the man who has been saved weeks in the
hospital by those same white lines."</p>
<p>The five friends followed him into the foundry department.
Hardly had they stepped through the doorway,
when the clang of a big gong overhead scattered a group
of laborers who were piling heavy castings on flat cars.</p>
<p>Five pairs of eyes looked up as the five Safety Scouts
turned to see where the gong was. Away up above them
on a track that went from one end of the long room to the
other, they saw something like an oddly shaped freight
engine running along with a heavy wire cable dangling
toward the floor. The big, strong cable was carrying a
load of several tons of steel castings as easily as a boy carries
in an armful of wood. "And with a whole lot less fuss and
bother!" said Betty, with a sly look at Brother Bob.</p>
<p>"When a man hears that gong overhead," said the guide,
"he knows what it means even before he looks up. That's
what is called a traveling crane. It runs back and forth
on those overhead tracks, wherever the crane driver wants
to pick up or drop his load. He kicks that gong with his
heel, just like the motorman on the street car, and it gives
warning to the workmen below just as plainly as if it yelled
out, 'Look out, below! Here comes a load that might
spill on your heads!'"</p>
<p>"Sounds exactly like a street-car gong," said Betty.</p>
<p>The steel man smiled. "It ought to—it was made for
use on a street car. Watch sharp when the crane comes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>
back this way and you'll see the gong fastened right up
under the cab floor. See? We tried whistles for a while,
and automobile horns, too; but this plain, everyday street-car
gong beats 'em all. A man doesn't have to understand
English to know what <i>that</i> sound means!"</p>
<p>"It must have made a good deal of difference in the
number of accidents," said Sure Pop, "with so many men
working underneath those cranes right along."</p>
<p>"Did it? Well, I should say so! That's another little
thing that's as simple as A B C, but it saves lives and
broken bones just the same. Sometimes I think we get
to thinking too much about the big things, Colonel, and
not enough about these little, everyday ideas that spell
Safety to all these thousands of men who look to us for
a square deal."</p>
<p>Sure Pop reached up to say something in Bob's ear as
they went on to the chipping yard, where long rows of men
were trimming down the rough steel castings with chisels
driven by compressed-air hammers.</p>
<p>"Did you ever see anything like it, Bob, the way this
'square deal' and 'fair play' idea gets into their systems,
once they wake up to the possibilities of Safety First?"</p>
<p>"It certainly does," said Bob. "I thought of that,
too. It's what that tailor told the boys in the clothing
factory, the day we got our uniforms, and it's just what
the foreman in that machine shop told us, too."</p>
<p>"Yes, sir," said Sure Pop, "the spirit of fair play means<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>
everything to a fellow who's any good at all—it's the very
life of the Boy Scout law, you know."</p>
<p>Joe was looking hard at the chippers.</p>
<p>"Every one of those men wear glasses! Isn't that
queer!"</p>
<p>"It's all the difference between a blind man and a wage
earner," was the way the steel man looked at it. "When
those steel chips fly into a man's eyes it's all over but the
sick money." He turned to little Sure Pop again. "There
it is again, Colonel—another of the simplest ideas a man
could imagine—just putting goggles on our chippers and
emery wheel workers—but it has saved hundreds and
hundreds of eyes, and every eye or pair of eyes means
some man's living—and the living of a family."</p>
<p>"Splendid idea," nodded the little Colonel—just as if
he, the Spirit of Safety, had not thought it all out years
before, and put it into the minds of men! "Do you ever
have any trouble getting the men to wear them?"</p>
<p>"Plenty! Most of the men treated it as a joke at first.
Then, gradually, they began to notice that the men who
wore theirs on their <i>hats</i> (the rule is that they must wear
goggles while at this work or lose their jobs), those were the
men who lost their eyes. Several of the first men to be
blinded after the new rule was posted were those very
ones, the chaps that had made the most fun of the goggles.
Then the others began to wake up.</p>
<p>"Over in my office, I've several hundred pairs of goggles<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>
that have had one or both lenses smashed by flying bits
of steel—and every pair has saved an eye, in some cases
both eyes. Seems sort of worth while, eh, Colonel?"</p>
<p>It was an enthusiastic group of Safety Scouts that passed
out through the big steel mill gates and started home in
the mellow September twilight. "Oh, I think it's wonderful,"
cried Betty, as they talked over what they had
seen, "perfectly wonderful, Sure Pop, that such little things
can save so many lives!"</p>
<p>"But I don't see why you call a trip like this 'an adventure,'"
broke in Chance, who had never been along on any
of the twins' Safety Scouting trips before. "We didn't
see an accident or an explosion or anything!"</p>
<p>Colonel Sure Pop gave Chance one of his wise smiles.
"That's the best part of the whole trip, as you'll see when
you've been at it as long as I have. The most delightful
adventure a lover of fair play can possibly have to look
back on, my boy, is one just like what we've had today—a
real, live adventure in Safety!"</p>
<div class="center"><i>The spirit of fair play is the very life of the
Scout Law.</i>—<span class="smcap">Sure Pop</span></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/i028.jpg" width="450" height="280" alt="ONE DAY'S BOOST FOR SAFETY" title="" />
</div>
<h2>ADVENTURE NUMBER NINETEEN</h2>
<h3>ONE DAY'S BOOST FOR SAFETY</h3>
<p>October had come and gone in busy school days and
even busier Safety Scouting trips, all but the last day. For
it was the morning of Hallowe'en,—and the Dalton twins'
birthday.</p>
<p>"Twelve years old, eh?" said Father, at the breakfast
table. "Well, well, how time flies, Nell! Stand up here,
you Safety Scouts, and let's have a look at you. I declare,
no one would suspect Bob of being a day under fifteen, would
he, Jack?"</p>
<p>"I'd hate to have him haul off and hit me with that fist
of his!" laughed Uncle Jack. "How are you going to
celebrate the day, Scouts?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p>
<p>"As if any one need ask!" smiled Mother. "Today's
the day Bob takes his entering test and joins the Boy Scouts,
and Betty joins the Camp Fire Girls. Just think—big
enough for that! Good thing it's Saturday, Betty."</p>
<p>"What are you going to do—start out to capture all
the honor medals?"</p>
<p>"Well, I hope to get a few, by and by," admitted Bob,
modestly, but with a determined gleam in his eye. "I'll
be just a tenderfoot to start with, you know. But I'm
hoping it won't be so terribly long before I can qualify as a
first-class Scout."</p>
<p>"Hm-m-m!" muttered their uncle, winking at Mr.
Dalton over the twins' heads. For he realized what Bob
and Betty did not, that the practical, everyday Safety
scouting the twins had done had already gone far toward
qualifying them, not only for Boy Scout and Camp Fire
Girl honors, but for practical Safety work all the rest of
their lives. There is no age limit in the Safety Scouts of
America.</p>
<p>They were wearing their handsome new uniforms when
Chance Carter came over to get some scouting tips from
Bob. Chance was going around without his crutches now,
for the broken leg seemed to be as strong and well as ever.</p>
<p>Chance had his heart set on a Safety Scout uniform like
Bob's. "Dad says he'll get me one as soon as I do something
to earn it," he told the twins. "I'm going to put in
all day today scouting for something that will earn me that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>
uniform—and I want you two to think up some stunt that
will win it, <i>sure!</i>"</p>
<p>The twins were eager to get ready for their entrance
tests, but it seemed only fair to give their friend his chance,
too. So they sat and thought hard, while the golden minutes
flew past.</p>
<p>"I can't seem to think of anything worth while today,"
said Betty. "Why not hunt for a live wire and report it,
the way Bob did?"</p>
<p>"Not much use on a day like this," objected Bob. "That
was the morning after the big windstorm, when wires were
down all over town. I'll tell you what you might do,
Chance: you might patrol the roads on the edge of town.
You may run across a broken culvert, or a shaky bridge, or
something."</p>
<p>"And you might patrol the river bank and watch for
a chance to fish somebody out of the river," added Betty.
"There are lots of children playing down by the river every
Saturday, you know."</p>
<p>"Now," said Bob, when to their great relief Chance
Carter had hurried off to begin his day's scouting for Safety,
"now, we've got to hustle, or we'll be late for those examinations.
Come along, Betty."</p>
<p>"Wait till I turn my Safety button upside down," was
his sister's answer. "It seems a shame to go to the Boy
Scout and Camp Fire Girls tests with our Safety buttons
wrong side up, doesn't it? I feel almost like waiting till<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>
we've managed to do our 'One Day's Boost for Safety,'
Bob. Don't you suppose we'd better, after all?"</p>
<p>"Oh, now, Betty, come <i>on!</i> If we can't do any better,
we can count our patrolling hints to Chance as our work
for Safety this time—certainly that took enough longer than
our day's boost usually does!"</p>
<p>Though Betty scoffed at the idea of their talk with Chance
being work for Safety, Bob had spoken more truly than they
knew.</p>
<p>All forenoon long Chance Carter patrolled the different
roads leading into town. By noon he was so hot and tired
that he plodded on till he came to Red Bridge, as the boys
all called the old bridge that spanned the river where it
crossed Bruce's Road, the short cut to Bruce's Mills. Here
he managed to find a shady spot on the grassy river bank
and sat down to eat the lunch he had brought along.</p>
<p>"What luck!" he grumbled to himself. "Everything's
so dis-<i>gust</i>-ing-ly safe!" The way he bit off the syllables
showed how tired and disappointed he was.</p>
<p>He threw the crumbs from his luncheon into the water,
hoping the fish would rise for them; but even the fish were
not at all accommodating, this sunny Hallowe'en. For a
while he amused himself by shying stones at the weather-beaten
DANGER sign which was Bruce's only reply to
the City Council's action condemning Red Bridge as unsafe.
The bridge was really on Bruce's land, and nobody knew
it better than the great mill owner himself. So, while<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>
the public wondered why the city did not build a newer
and stronger bridge, Bruce had stubbornly insisted to the
road commissioner, "Oh, that bridge'll hold a while longer,"
and was putting off spending the money for a new bridge
just as long as he could.</p>
<p>Meanwhile the farmers from that part of the country
had kept on using the shaky bridge as a short cut to town
by way of Bruce's Mills. One of them was driving up to
the bridge now. Lying on his elbow by the river's edge,
Chance idly watched the old bridge quiver and quake as
the light horse and buggy dragged lazily across.</p>
<p>Suddenly something went kerflop into the water, like a
big fish jumping. Chance sat bolt upright, staring at the
dark shadows under the bridge. There it was again!
And this time he saw it was no fish, but a second brick which
had rotted away from the bridge supports underneath the
farther end.</p>
<p>"Phew!" whistled Chance to himself, now fully aroused.
"If a light rig like that shakes the bricks loose, the old thing
must be rottener than it looks! What would a loaded
wagon do, I wonder?"</p>
<p>He carefully climbed up under the bridge to see just how
bad it really was, and then climbed out again in a hurry.
The whole middle support had crumbled away. Red Bridge
was barely hanging on the weakened brickwork at the far
end, ready to plunge into the river with the next heavy
load that came along!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p>
<p>Bruce, in the meanwhile, was getting impatient. He sat
at his desk in the little office, signing papers as fast as he
could shove his pen across the pages. He glanced again
at his watch and gave his call button a savage punch with
his big, blunt forefinger. A buzzer snarled in the outer
office, and a nervous looking secretary jumped for the private
office as suddenly as if the buzzer had stung him.</p>
<p>"Why isn't that car here?" snapped the great man.</p>
<p>"I—I don't understand it, sir. It should have been
here half an hour ago. Jennings is always so punctual,"
stammered the clerk.</p>
<p>"Humph! Call up the house and see if they've gone
back for any reason. Bonnie told me she'd call for me with
the car at five o'clock."</p>
<p>The clerk hurried to the telephone, while Bruce paced
his office. "If that chauffeur has let anything happen to
Bonnie, I'll—"</p>
<p>If Bruce had not cared more for his little golden-haired
daughter than for anything else in the world, he never
would have thought such a thing, much less said it; for he
had had Jennings for years, and knew him for the safest,
steadiest of drivers. But he scowled when the clerk hurried
back to report that Jennings, with Bonnie in the
biggest automobile, had left for the office almost an hour
before.</p>
<p>Throwing his light coat over his arm, the big mill owner
slammed down his rolltop desk and dashed out to the sidewalk,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>
straining his eyes for a glimpse of the big automobile
and Bonnie's flying curls. As he stood waiting on the curb,
fuming at the delay, suddenly he heard a voice that sent his
heart up into his throat.</p>
<p>"Daddy! Oh, Daddy, here we are!" The big automobile
swept swiftly up to him—from the opposite
direction!</p>
<p>"My Bonnie!" The big man snatched the dimpled,
smiling girl into his strong arms and held her there.</p>
<p>In the excitement of the moment, Jennings interrupted
his employer as the mill owner started to question him
sternly as to the cause of the delay. Bonnie, too, broke
in with her version of the story, and together they told him
how a punctured tire had held them up fifteen minutes
just as they were leaving the house in plenty of time.</p>
<p>They told him how, to avoid being late at the office, Jennings
had taken the old short cut across to the mills, by the
way of Red Bridge, only to be halted by a lad of fourteen who
waved a red handkerchief at them and barred the way
across the bridge in spite of the chauffeur's argument and
threats.</p>
<p>They told him how a heavy lumber wagon, in which three
farm hands were rattling home from the city, had come
bouncing along to the other side of the river and how the
men had howled down the boy's wild warnings and entreaties
as they bowled on to Red Bridge as fast as their horses
could go.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p>
<p>Bruce's stern face went white as his little daughter, shuddering
at the awful memory of it, told how the bridge had
gone crashing down into the river—men, horses, and all;
how the boy who had tried so hard to warn them had
almost given his own life trying to drag the drunken farm
hands from the swift-running current; how two of the men
had never come up again; and how the third, towed to shore
by the half-drowned boy a quarter mile below, had been laid
face down on the river bank as soon as the boy could catch
his own breath long enough to get the water out of the man's
lungs and start him to breathing again.</p>
<p>Still clasping Bonnie tightly to him, her father got into
the automobile. "Home, Jennings. Why, what makes
these cushions so wet?"</p>
<p>"Oh," said Bonnie, "that's where that nice boy sat while
we were taking the almost drowned man to the doctor's.
Then we took the nice boy home—he was so wet and
shivery."</p>
<p>"Take us there first, Jennings, then home."</p>
<p>The big car whirled swiftly back to Chance Carter's house.
Bruce found Chance with his hair still wet, but triumphant.
He was telling his father exactly how he wanted his new
Safety Scout uniform made, patch pockets and all!</p>
<p>From him Bruce got the whole story, clear down to the
scouting hints from Bob and Betty that had started him
off that morning. The mill owner took Mr. Carter aside
and made him promise to send the bill for that uniform to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>
Bruce's Mills. "Where do this other boy and the girl live?"
he asked, as he and Bonnie got back into the machine.
"All right, Jennings, we'll stop there next."</p>
<p>"I think, sir," suggested Jennings, "that must be the
same boy and girl we took home from Turner Hall last
Fourth—the boy who put the splint on this other lad's
broken leg, sir. It's the same house, anyway."</p>
<p>Sure enough, when they drew up at the curb, there were
Bob and Betty in their Safety Scout uniforms, just going
in to their birthday supper. They were going to have a
big double cake, with lots of frosting and with twenty-four
green candles on it—green for Safety, Betty explained—and
they were so excited over having passed their examinations
with such high marks, that it was some time before the big
man could make them understand what he was getting at.</p>
<p>"What I want to know," persisted Bruce, "is how you
ever came to put that Carter boy up to such a stunt as that.
What difference did it make to <i>you?</i>"</p>
<p>"Why," Betty told him, "we simply had to help him
get a start for his uniform and his Safety First button.
But we couldn't do much because we didn't have time.
You see this is our birthday, and we had to go for our examinations."
Before Bruce left they had given him <i>their</i>
whole story, too, and a good deal more than they had intended
telling him, forgetting what Colonel Sure Pop had
told Uncle Jack about the way Bruce had been holding back
the Safety First work from Maine to California.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p>
<p>Bruce said little as he listened to their story, but he did
some quick thinking. So this was the sort of thing he had
fought so long and so stubbornly—this "Boost for Safety"
talk which he had called "new-fangled theory," but to which
he owed the life of his own little girl!</p>
<p>As they talked, two Scouts came into the front hall to
remind the twins that their birthday supper was waiting,
but Bruce was too interested to see them. Quick at reading
signs, as all good Scouts are, Colonel Sure Pop and Uncle
Jack watched and listened for a moment, then smilingly went
back to the supper table.</p>
<p>"You were right, Colonel, as usual," said Uncle Jack,
heartily. "Bruce is coming around. He'll be the biggest
Safety Booster in the whole United States before morning!"</p>
<p>"Sure pop!" exulted the dapper little Colonel. "I'll
have to wire my King about this day's work!"</p>
<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<p>It was long after Bonnie's bedtime, and the nurse waiting
in the hallway was beginning to wonder if her little mistress
was never coming upstairs. On the avenue outside,
in the soft, mellow Hallowe'en breeze, jack o' lanterns and
soot bags were still being paraded up and down, horns
blowing, rattles clattering. Two street urchins, bolder than
the rest, crept up to the great iron gate in front of the Bruce
mansion and vainly struggled to lift it off its hinges. Still
the mill owner sat before the fire, Bonnie on his knee.
He could not bear to let her go tonight, even to bed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p>
<p>In the flames dancing on the hearth, the big man was
seeing visions—visions of the Safety First work that
would be started tomorrow morning in every mill in the
whole Bruce chain. "I'll telegraph every manager to get
busy on Safety work at once if he wants to hold his job,"
he thought to himself. "I won't lose another day!"
For after hearing from the Dalton twins and from Chance
Carter the way <i>their</i> spare time was spent, his own work
in the world seemed suddenly very small and mean. Here
he—Bruce the rich, Bruce the powerful, with the safety
of thousands of lives in the hollow of his hand—had been
holding back the great work which these striplings had been
steadily, patiently—yes, and successfully—building up!</p>
<p>"I'll send those three youngsters each a copy of my
telegram in the morning," he muttered, looking more eager
and enthusiastic than he had looked for many a day.
"I'll write across the bottom of each telegram, '<i>The Safety
Scouts of America did this!</i>' And the wonderful part of it
is," he added, "that it's only what any boy and girl could
do, every day of their lives. I wonder why somebody didn't
start this Safety Scout idea long, long ago!"</p>
<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<p>Over in the Dalton cottage, only a few blocks away, Bob
and Betty were going upstairs to bed.</p>
<p>"Many, many happy returns of the day!" whispered
Betty to her brother as she kissed him good night.</p>
<p>"Same to you, and many of 'em! But our 'One Day's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>
Boost for Safety' didn't amount to much today, did it,
Betty?" For Bob and Betty had yet to hear of Chance
Carter's adventures, and Bruce had given them no hint.</p>
<p>"No, it didn't—not unless what we told Chance gave
him a start toward a Safety Scout uniform," said Betty,
sleepily. "Never mind, though, Bob," she added. "We'll
try to do better tomorrow, if we didn't get much done
today."</p>
<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<p>But over in the big stone house on the avenue, the
silent man with the little golden-haired girl in his arms
thought differently of their day's work.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 164px;">
<img src="images/i029.jpg" width="164" height="300" alt="Sure Pop with his flag" title="" />
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p>
<h2>HOW CAN YOU TELL A GOOD SCOUT?</h2>
<div class='unindent'><i>In school</i></div>
<div class="hang2"><i>He keeps to the right on walks, in halls, going
up and down stairs.</i></div>
<div class="hang2"><i>He goes up and down stairs one step at a time.</i></div>
<div class="hang2"><i>He looks where he runs.</i></div>
<div class="hang2"><i>He doesn't jostle in a crowd.</i></div>
<div class="hang2"><i>He doesn't bully the little fellows.</i></div>
<div class="hang2"><i>He sees that the little chaps have a fair chance
on the playground and that they don't get
hurt.</i></div>
<div class="unindent"><br /><i>Out of school</i></div>
<div class="hang2"><i>He does not walk on railroad bridges or tracks.</i></div>
<div class="hang2"><i>He does not walk around lowered gates or crawl
under them.</i></div>
<div class="hang2"><i>He does not jump off moving trains, cars, or
engines.</i></div>
<div class="hang2"><i>He does not crawl over, under, or between cars.</i></div>
<div class="hang2"><i>He does not loiter around railroad stations or
cars or play on or around turn tables.</i></div>
<div class="hang2"><i>He does not cross tracks without remembering
to stop, look, and listen.</i></div>
<div class="hang2"><i>He looks where he goes and keeps to the right.</i></div>
<div class="hang2"><i>He crosses at regular crossings, not in the
middle of the block.</i></div>
<div class="hang2"><i>He looks out for automobiles turning corners.</i></div>
<div class="hang2"><i>He looks and listens for danger signals and
heeds them.</i></div>
<div class="hang2"><i>He plays safe, as much for the other fellow's
sake as his own.</i></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p>
<h2>THE BEST OF GIFTS—A BOOK</h2>
<div class='unindent'>For the many occasions when a present is to be given, there is nothing
of more permanent value than an interesting book. It may also be an
inexpensive gift. Read the following selected list of World Book Company
books which make acceptable gifts, and note the range of prices.
All these books are well suited for gifts. They are interesting; the
pictures are the work of excellent illustrators; the type is large and plain;
the paper is good; the printing is clear; the binding is both strong and
attractive.</div>
<h3>FOR YOUNGER CHILDREN</h3>
<div class='hang1'><span class="smcap">Chadwick-Freeman</span>: Chain Stories and Playlets. 1. The Cat that
was Lonesome. 2. The Woman and Her Pig. 3. The Mouse
that Lost her Tail. Each, 18 cents.</div>
<div class='hang1'><span class="smcap">Chancellor</span>: Easy Road to Reading. 1. A Book of Animals. 2. A
Book of Children. 3. A Book of Fun and Fancy. 4. A Book of
Letters and Numbers. Each, 18 cents.</div>
<div class='hang1'><span class="smcap">Thompson-Cooper</span>: Making Faces with Pencil and Brush. Book I.
Book II. Each, 18 cents.</div>
<h3>FOR BOYS AND GIRLS</h3>
<div class='hang1'><span class="smcap">Bailey</span>: Sure Pop and the Safety Scouts. 42 cents.</div>
<div class='hang1'><span class="smcap">Burks</span>: Barbara's Philippine Journey. 72 cents.</div>
<div class='hang1'><span class="smcap">Brown</span>: Nature and Industry Readers. 1. Stories of Woods and
Fields. 2. Stories of Childhood and Nature. 3. When the World
was Young. Each, 48 cents.</div>
<div class='hang1'><span class="smcap">Curtis</span>: Indian Days of the Long Ago. Gift edition, $1.20.</div>
<div class='hang1'><span class="smcap">Curtis</span>: In the Land of the Head-Hunters. Gift edition, $1.20.</div>
<div class='hang1'><span class="smcap">McGovney</span>: Stories of Long Ago in the Philippines. 48 cents.</div>
<div class='hang1'><span class="smcap">Sims-Harry</span>: Dramatic Myths and Legends. Book One: Norse
Legends. Book Two: Greek and Roman Legends. Each, 30 cents.</div>
<div class='unindent'>A post card to the publishers will bring you more detailed information
with regard to any or all of these books. The books will be
sent postpaid at the prices given above. It is requested that payment
in stamps, by registered letter, or by money order accompany all orders.</div>
<hr style="width: 25%;" />
<div class='center'>
WORLD BOOK COMPANY<br />
<small>YONKERS-ON-HUDSON, NEW YORK</small><br />
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Note:</h3>
<p>Both "tiptoe" and "tip-toe" were used in this text. This text also uses Pellmell and pell mell.</p>
</div>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<hr class="full" />
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