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Updated: June 24, 2025
A wild turkey called to its mate in the distance, and small creatures of the air fluttered about, as if determined to know what human beings were doing there, in their ordinarily safe retreat. The boys had visited Washington the day following the incidents at the clubroom of the Black Bear Patrol, but had learned nothing of importance there.
The Amusement Room and Clubroom. On the ground floor, easily reached from the office and from the rim pathway, is the amusement room, fitted with billiard, pool, and card tables, and shuffle-boards. Adjacent is the clubroom. Water Supply.
"Then ask him to come in here," Ned suggested, "and you, boys," he added, turning to the wondering faces at the other side of the apartment, "you get as close as you wish while this man is talking, but don't interrupt. It may be that we shall have to do something right soon. I reckon our hunt for the prince starts right here, in the Black Bear Patrol clubroom, in the heart of little old New York."
The handsome clubroom of the Black Bear Patrol, Boy Scouts of America, in the City of New York, was ablaze with light, and as noisy as healthy, happy boys could well make it. "Over in the Chinese Sea!" shouted Jimmie McGraw from a table which stood by an open window overlooking the brilliantly illuminated city. "Do we go to the washee-washee land this time?" "Only to the tub!"
I tell you I'm afraid of him." "Pshaw! He hasn't got any backing," said McKenty. "How?" "Well, he hasn't got any grease, and you can't make anything go without grease." McKenty spoke out of considerable experience. "That's all right as an ordinary thing, but the doctor has grease of another kind. This library and clubroom business is catching the boys all round."
He made the trip, all right, and landed broke, but in three years he was captain of the precinct, as they say in Manhattan, and on his way to the Pacific. He looked out on the big ocean for the first time on the 26th of September, 1513. Some say it was the 25th. I don't know which is right." The door of the clubroom now opened and Lieutenant Gordon entered.
Foils, gloves, ball bats, paddles and many other athletic aids were scattered about the large room. This clubroom, that of the Black Bear Patrol, as has been said, was the handsomest in New York, the members of the Patrol being sons of very wealthy men. The father of Frank Shaw was editor and owner of one of the important daily newspapers of the metropolis.
"Do to me," roared the bully, "what did I do to them, you mean." "Well what did you do to them then?" asked Bill Bender, as they entered the clubroom before referred to and he produced some cigarettes, which all three had been strictly forbidden to smoke. "Chased them off my land," rejoined the other, lighting a paper roll and blowing out a cloud of smoke, "you should have seen them run.
The visitor might have sensed the hostility, for he hastened to take from a pocket a sheaf of papers and place them on the table. The next moment the boys all saw that they had not gained a correct estimate of the Secret Service man. The instant he began talking of the matter which had brought him to the clubroom his manner changed.
You'll let me go to the bad to-morrow rather than bend your pride to save me; you live like a Duke, and don't care if I should die in a debtor's prison! You only brag about 'honor' when you want to get out of helping a fellow; and if I were to cut my throat to-night you would only shrug your shoulders, and sneer at my death in the clubroom, with a jest picked out of your cursed French novels!"
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