“I saw Mayor Strunk, Hugh, and he issued a proclamation which I’ve had rushed into print in English and Italian. Three men are busy pasting it around town, and a dozen women are seeing that it goes into every home. Perhaps you would like to have a copy, Chief, as it concerns your department, I imagine.”
When the head of the local police force had read the message of the mayor, calling upon all citizens to avoid littering the streets or their dooryards with anything in the shape of waste, and promising to let the heavy hand of the police drop on all offenders, his eyes opened very wide.
“I’ll take this over to the office and study it, if you don’t mind, Mrs. Marsh,” he remarked soberly. “But of course you understand that the police will be found ready to do whatever they are told by the mayor and the city council. If the _people_ want a clean town, they can have it. That’s up to them.”
“But these fine boys have one favor to ask of you, Chief,” said the lady. “There is a certain element in the city that is bent on spoiling whatever work the scouts accomplish. Last night these unruly young ruffians came here after the scouts had worked hard to clean up the park, and scattered all the refuse around again, and with police headquarters only a block away. I hope such a thing will not be permitted again. You must know that these bad boys are the ones that have become a menace to the good name of our town. They are called the Corbley crowd, because their recognized leader is Lige Corbley.”
The big Chief turned red in the face, and Hugh could give a pretty good guess why, since Andy Wallis, the right bower of Lige Corbley, happened to be a nephew of the policeman.
“We’ll all try to do our sworn duty, ma’am,” was all the big man said, as he turned and strode away, the manifesto clutched rigidly in his hand. It was evident that the Chief already saw the handwriting on the wall which was destined to bring more or less trouble his way.
Throughout pretty much that livelong afternoon, Hugh, Alec, Billy, and a few others went on with their self-imposed task. The red paint was so primed that it would dry quickly, so that there was little likelihood of their labor going for naught because of mischievous boys smearing it with sticks or dirt while still wet.