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Updated: July 24, 2025
The first scout to show real signs of recovery was a thin, lanky, freckled-faced hero of unheroic appearance, who spoke in a jerky fashion peculiarly his own. "Help!" he cried. "Help! Mother! Why'd my pa let me come to this wild place? Injuns! Robbers! Help!" "Oh, shut up, Chick-chick," cried a small boy. "You'll have 'em coming back."
His father liked Henry so well for a surname that he had him christened Henry, too. We began by calling him Hen Hen, but that didn't go very well so we call him Chick-chick." "I don't mind s'long as y' don't call me Biddy chick," explained Chick-chick, who had just come up. "Now what kind o' Mason are you Stonemason, Brickmason or Mason Fruit Jar." "Brick's the best," declared Apple.
The two boys managed to slip away from the crowd and Chick-chick mysteriously led the way down the road in the direction of the heavy woods that marked the location of Vinegar Creek. "While back I heard a car chuggin' along. Funny for car be down here, don't ye know. Then there's somethin' 'bout an engine's voice every engine got voice of its own and you 'member it after you get 'quainted.
The sunny-faced, open-hearted boy won the love of everyone, but in Glen Mason he had stirred a real worship. "We'll have to call you something, Glen," he said. "Your name's all right, but the boys are sure to name you over so we may as well do it now. Let's ask Chick-chick. He's good at names." "What's his real name?" asked Glen. "His real name is Henry Henry.
And I don't know why you came, Matt, but since you're here you might as well help, too." "I came to see what you were doing," said Matt. "I knew you didn't go out of camp in your bathing suits just for nothing and anyway I wanted to see if I could track you." "Didn't bring your bread-box 'long, did ye, Matt?" asked Chick-chick innocently.
A pailful of cold water was being carried to the scene by Chick-chick, but the victim of the fight was mercifully spared its revivifying shock, for just as Mr. Newton came up he opened his eyes and murmured, "Where am I?" "All scouts are excused excepting Glen and Matt," announced Mr. Newton, taking in the situation the more readily because of his previous knowledge of Burton's baiting tendencies.
Why ain't this good place as any for bee make her happy cupboard?" "Show it to us, Chick-chick. You're hiding it. We know what you are trying to do. You want to keep all that honey for yourself." "Chick-chick wants all the honey for himself," chimed the chorus. "Lead us to your bee tree, Chick-chick. Don't be selfish." "A'right, boys. There's bee tree in these woods.
"But don't you think we ought let scoutmaster see it? Let him have say about it. Don't you think?" "Perhaps we ought," agreed Glen, who saw clearly that Chick-chick longed for the honor of driving his captured car proudly into camp an exciting honor which he was not reluctant to share. "It certainly would be fine if we could make it." But it was not to be.
"Maybe I can remember enough about it to tell you or Apple how to put it on paper." "Here's Apple coming now," said Chick-chick. "He's the boy to draw. Draws better 'n flax seed poultice. You'll draw him all maps he wants when we get to camp, won't ye, Apple?" "If we ever get back," said Apple. "It's getting dark. Father will be anxious. Why are you leaving the car?"
"Ever see tire-tracks look like that, did you?" Glen looked at the tracks. They were exactly like those he had smoothed away when concealing the departure of the J. Jervice car at the ford. "Verdict of Jury 'Guilty as charged'!" exclaimed Chick-chick, looking into his eyes. "Come on, Brick, let's follow 'long this old cow-path till we see our beloved car once more."
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