OFF FOR WOODCRAFT
Edward Muldoon, otherwise Sparrer, surreptitiously pinched himself to
make sure that he was not dreaming. He, newsboy from the lower East Side
of New York, who had never been farther from it than Coney Island,
riding in a brilliantly lighted Pullman coach on his way into the great
woods of which he had dreamed so much since he became a Scout, and of
which he had only the vaguest idea! It couldn't be.
And yet it was. The roar of the wheels told him that it was. The very
feel of the luxurious seat in which he was sitting told him that it was.
And to clinch the fact and at the same time make it harder to believe
there were his three companions, Upton, his patrol leader, Harrison and
Pat Malone, whom he had secretly made his hero. Yes, it was all true,
and yet he couldn't get rid of the idea that sooner or later he would
wake up and find it all a beautiful dream.
The fact is, this trip was in the nature of a Christmas present. From
their first meeting Pat had taken a great fancy to the street gamin. He
recognized a kindred spirit. Instinctively he realized that the
difference between Sparrer and himself at the same age was mainly one of
environment. The youngster's sturdy independence and self-reliance, his
quick wit, even his impudence, struck responsive chords in the young
woodsman. Sparrer was what he himself would have been had his nursery
been a New York East Side tenement instead of the log cabin of a mill
settlement in the lumber district of the North Woods.
The night after the motor accident the three older boys had been
discussing Sparrer and his prompt resourcefulness. Pat dropped a remark
that he wished with all his heart that he could have the youngster in
the woods with him for a couple of weeks.
"Let's take him with us! It would be no end of fun," cried Hal on the
spur of an inspiration.
Upton shook his head. "It would be bully if we could, but I'm afraid we
can't," said he.
"Why not?" demanded Hal. "I can get a pass for him, and between us I
guess we can take care of him. It won't cost him a cent."
"That's just it," declared Upton. "There is nothing on two legs in New
York more independent than Eddie Muldoon. He'll scrap for his rights as
long as he can swing a fist, but the minute you try to hand him anything
for nothing he'll turn you down hard and cold. Sparrer pays his way, or
he don't go, and wild horses couldn't drag him. He would stand for the
pass, all right, because he would be on the same footing as the rest of
us, but if we tried to give him anything in the way of an outfit, and it
goes without saying that he hasn't anything suitable for the weather we
are likely to have up there, he would kick like Barnum's trick mule.
That's one thing I like about the little beggar. And when you come right
down to it, independence is one of the fundamental principles of
scouting."
Once more Hal was inspired. "I have it, fellows!" he cried. "We'll make
him a Christmas present of the trip. He can't refuse a Christmas gift,
if it is put to him right. I'll get the passes and chip in toward
whatever he needs in the way of outfit. You two can make up the rest.
He'll be Pat's guest when he gets there, the same as Walt and myself, so
he can't kick on that. You're all my guests on the train anyway, so I
don't see how Sparrer's independence is going to be hurt a little bit."
"That will be great, if we can put it across," declared Upton, "and I
for my part would like nothing better than to have the youngster along.
It would be the event of a lifetime for him."
So it was decided that Upton should use all his diplomatic powers to
persuade Sparrer that he was needed for the largest success of the
party. His success was the result of a great deal of argument, helped
out by the boy's own longing to know what the woods life of which he so
often dreamed really was like. So now here they were actually on their
way, four as happy boys as ever set forth in quest of pleasure.
The week had been a busy one. Pat had spent a good part of it at Bronx
Park and the American Museum of Natural History, where his letters of
introduction and his own ready wit and evident thirst for knowledge had
made him a welcome visitor. During the rest of the time there had been
something doing every minute. Hal had seen to that. Upton had dug at his
books as if that scholarship hung on that one week's work. As for
Sparrer, he had worked early and late that he might leave a few extra
coins to make Christmas for the brother and two sisters at home.
"Did you telephone the hospital before we left?" asked Hal, turning to
Upton as they waited for their berths to be made up.
Walter nodded. "Did it the last thing before I left the house," he
replied. "The young lady is practically all right now, and has gone
home. Her father is getting along nicely and it is only a matter of time
when he will be right as ever. By the way, their story is exactly as
Sparrer had it. Looks like a sure case against the owner of that other
car. I understand that they are going to bring suit for damages. I
suppose that means that we'll have to go on the witness stand when the
thing comes off."
"Lucky they caught those fellows at the ferry."
"Do you suppose there's any truth in that claim by the owner of the car
that it was a joy ride by unknown parties who had taken the car without
his consent or knowledge?" Hal asked.
"Looks pretty fishy to me," replied Upton. "Still, he may get away with
it. Understand that neither of the victims can identify the men in the
other car. You remember that curve is pretty sharp, and they were hit
almost before they saw the other car, let alone who was in it. Sparrer
and Pat seem to be the only ones who even had a glimpse of the
scoundrels, and that a mighty brief one. If there is any identifying
done I guess it is up to you two fellows. Think you can do it?"
"Not I!" declared Pat with emphasis. "I could shwear to the number of
points on a jumping buck in the brush, but nary a thing could I shwear
to about that ingine av destruction."
"How about you, Sparrer?" demanded Hal.
"If Oi was one of them artist guys Oi could draw you a picture of both
of them. Let me put my peepers on them and Oi'll shwear to them in a
tousand," replied the newsboy with such an air of finality that there
was no doubt in the minds of his companions that he could do just what
he said he could.
"Well, you're likely to have a chance if that case goes to court," Upton
remarked. "For my part, I hope you can do it. I'd like to see those
fellows get what's coming to 'em. I move we turn in now, for we've got
to get up at an unearthly hour. It's bad enough to turn out before
daylight in the summer, but it makes me shiver to think what it will be
at this time of year. Br-r-r-r."
Pat laughed. "If you're going out on the trap line you may as well get
broken in to early rising at once. We often have some miles behind us by
the time the sun is up," said he. "However, I guess you're right about
turning in. I'm ready, for one."
It seemed to Sparrer that he had hardly closed his eyes when some one
shook him, and he tumbled out of his berth to find the others in the
dressing room hurriedly getting into their clothes. They had no more
than time to dress and gather up their baggage and various parcels
before the train stopped. They had reached Upper Chain.
As they stepped down into the night, for day had not yet begun to break,
Upton recalled his first arrival there, a rather lonely youngster,
uncertain that this was the right place. It had been summer then, but
everything had been shrouded in a heavy night mist and the chill of the
high altitude had struck clear to the marrow in his bones. He had been a
tenderfoot then, his only knowledge of woodcraft what little he had
gleaned from books. He remembered how the mystery of the great woods had
swept over him and engulfed him even as did the night mist, and how
insignificant he had felt. Even now, after three years of experience in
camp and on the trail he felt something of that same spirit of awe, and
he knew that it would always be thus. It was the tribute exacted by
nature from the true devotee entering her temples.
He glanced curiously at Sparrer, wondering what responsive chords might
be struck in the soul of this waif of the great city, but it was too
dark to see his features clearly, and he could only dimly surmise
something of the younger lad's feeling from Sparrer's quick intake of
breath as the dark, heavy coaches of the train rumbled off into the
night, leaving them standing between two walls of white. Overhead a
myriad of stars burned like jewels. Never had they seemed so near, so
brilliant, so alive. The snow thrown high on either side of the tracks,
for there was a siding at this point, was above their heads. The
stillness was almost oppressive now that the train was beyond hearing.
Pat stretched his arms and drew a long breath of the cold, rarified air,
then expelled it in an audible sigh of supreme content.
"Arrah now, 'tis me foist breath av real air in a week, and the two
lungs av me aching for ut," said he. "Shure 'twill make the likes av ye
grow to a man's size in a week, me bantam, and thot's more than Noo
Yor-r-k will be doing for ye in a loifetoime," giving Sparrer a hearty
slap on the back. "Hal, I thought those passes read to Upper Chain, and
here we be dropped in a snow-bank. I'll be after making complaint to
the management for inconveniencing four gentlemen and reducing them to
the ranks of common laborers."
The others laughed as they followed Pat's example and shouldered their
duffle to tramp the hundred yards up to the station, for they had been
in the rear car. In a few minutes they were in the bare little waiting
room, in the middle of which a big stove was radiating welcome heat, and
exchanging greetings with the night operator, who having wired the
arrival and departure of the train was preparing to go home, for there
would be no more traffic for many hours. He shook hands warmly with
Walter and Hal, whom he recognized at once as Woodcraft Camp boys, was
introduced to Sparrer, and jollied Pat on what he was pleased to term
his "New York airs."
"I reckon your mother is waiting for you, Pat," said he. "I saw a light
over at the house when I came along. You're welcome to stay here until
daylight, but I expect she's looking for you over there."
"I wrote her we'd be there to breakfast, but not to get up any earlier
on that account," replied Pat. His eyes danced. "Shure the ould lady
thinks her son has been in the hands av the inimy and cannot rest aisy
'til she sees for herself that not a hair av his red head has been left
in Noo'Yor-r-k. God bless her. We'll go over there and relieve her
mind."
In speaking of his mother as the "ould lady" there was nothing
disrespectful on the part of Pat. In reality it was a term of
endearment. The stars were beginning to pale as the boys made their way
in single file along a narrow path through the snow toward the yellow
gleam of a light set in the window of one of the rough frame houses that
made up the village. Pat led straight for this.
"Hello!" exclaimed Upton in surprise. "Have you deserted the old cabin?"
"Sure," replied Pat, and there was just a suggestion of pride in his
voice. "The mother was a long time between log walls, but now, the
saints be praised, she do be living in one of the illigant mansions of
Upper Chain, and by that token is a member of the aristocracy. Moved in
last fall."
By this time they had reached the house and at the sound of voices the
door was thrown open and Mrs. Malone stood in the doorway looking out
eagerly. It was a warm Irish greeting that the boys received and Hal,
who never had met her before, understood where Pat got his humor and
ready tongue. He at once dropped into his old brogue entirely and while
Mrs. Malone bustled about putting a hot breakfast on the table Pat told
her of his adventures in the great city as only he could. From time to
time she interrupted with comments so like Pat's own ready repartee that
between the two the boys were kept in a gale of laughter.
"Eating breakfast by lamplight is a new experience to me," declared Hal
as they sat down to bacon, corn bread just from the oven, flapjacks with
thick maple syrup, and coffee.
"'Tis pwhat yez will be doing every day for the next week, and lucky if
yez get the breakfast, as good a wan as this, anyway," declared Pat.
They had just finished the meal when Pat's younger brother and two
little sisters shyly joined them. They were neatly dressed, and Walter
was immensely tickled with Pat's manifest pride in them. It had been
decided to spend the day there to prepare for the trip into the woods,
and also to give Pat a day at home. They would take the train the next
morning over to Lower Chain, a twenty minute run, and from there they
would have to depend on their own good legs to take them the twelve
miles on the lake to Woodcraft Camp. One of Pat's first inquiries had
been as to whether there had been any snow during his absence, and great
was his satisfaction to learn that there had not. He explained that that
meant clear ice on the lake, for the heavy snows had come early this
year, before the lake froze, and they would be able to make practically
the whole distance on skates.
While Pat was attending to affairs at home the three visitors went out
to do the village. The sun was well up and as they stepped out into the
clear still air both Hal and Walter paused with a little gasp of
surprise and pleasure. This was not the ugly sawmill village of their
acquaintance. But for the tall stack of the mill and the whine and
scream of the saws there was nothing familiar. It was as if a good fairy
had touched the scene with a magic wand and all the sordid ugliness had
been transformed to beauty. Over everything lay the white mantle of
snow. It half buried the smaller cabins. It hid completely the stumps of
the clearings. It had buried the litter of the mill yard. It glittered
and sparkled in the rays of the sun. Beyond the clearing the evergreens
rose in great pyramids of white. No, Upper Chain was no longer a blot on
the landscape. It was beautiful.
As for Sparrer, he was dumb. While he could not appreciate the wonder of
the transformation he could and did appreciate the wonder of the scene,
and for the time being his tongue was tied. From the mill office they
called up Woodcraft Camp to tell Doctor Merriam of their arrival and
that they would be with him on the following day.
"Gee, didn't it seem good to hear the Big Chief's voice again?" said Hal
as they went out into the mill to show Sparrer how logs are transformed
into boards, timbers and shingles. "Sparrer, to-morrow you are going to
meet one of the finest men in the whole world, bar none. He's a great
old Scout."
Mrs. Malone was naturally disappointed that Pat was not to be home for
Christmas, but she said little and busied herself in helping the boys
prepare for their holiday. Her motherly Irish soul warmed at once to
Sparrer, and she fussed over his outfit and comfort in a way that was
new to the youngster, for his own mother, working from daylight to dark
and often late into the night, had had little time for mothering. The
boys had brought some gifts for the children, and these their mother hid
against the arrival of good St. Nick. A part of Sparrer's outfit as a
Christmas gift from his comrades had been a warm mackinaw, and to this
Mrs. Malone insisted on adding a pair of thick woolen stockings of her
own knitting. Pat's contribution was a pair of snow-shoes, which he
brought out at the last moment as they were starting for the train, and
as he took them a lump rose in the younger lad's throat and cut off
speech. But the shine in his eyes expressed more than his tongue could
have. Such kindness was a new experience in his life, and he hardly knew
how to meet it.
The short run by train to Lower Chain was quickly made, and the boys
piled out, eager to be on their way. Pat had provided a stout toboggan
which showed the effects of long use, and on this he deftly loaded their
duffle and supplies, lashing them securely into place. Sparrer watched
him with troubled face. Ever since the mention of skates the day before
he had worried over that twelve mile trip down the lake. He knew that
Upton and Harrison had brought skates, but he had none, and if he had
had he couldn't have used them. He had never been on a pair in his life.
Skating is not an accomplishment of the lower East Side of New York.
So Sparrer had worried. If it had been merely a matter of a twelve mile
hike he would have been on edge to show the others that he could keep
up, but he knew that with the others on skates for him to try to keep up
was as absurd as for a truck to try to keep pace with a racing car, and
it hurt his pride to feel that he would be a drag on the others. Hal and
Walter already had their skates on and were cutting circles, figure
eights and grape-vine twists on the smooth ice. With the fastening of
the last lash Pat put on his own skates.
"Now, me bantam, get up on that load," he ordered.
Sparrer demurred, but the young giant picked him up bodily and plumped
him down on a roll of blankets, wrapped him up in a blanket left out for
the purpose, ordered him to sit still, with dire threats of what would
happen to him if he did not, called to the others to get on to their
jobs, and they were off, Hal and Walter with the rope of the toboggan
between them pulling, and Pat pushing behind with his hands on Sparrer's
shoulders.
Before them stretched the gray-white expanse of the lake, and on either
side the glistening white shores, now receding as they passed a deep
bay, again creeping out in a long point. There was no sound save the
sharp ring of the skates and the soft grate of the smoothly slipping
toboggan. Past two big summer hotels with blank staring windows, past
shuttered and deserted summer camps they sped until all sign of man's
handiwork disappeared. The keen air was like wine in their veins and it
was hard to believe that the thermometer had registered eighteen below
zero that morning, for the air was dry and did not penetrate as would
the moisture laden air at home at a temperature many degrees above the
zero mark.
"I just can't believe that thermometer was on its job," protested Hal,
as they stopped for a breathing spell half-way down the lake. "Why, I'm
so warm I wish I was rid of this mackinaw."
"Me too," added Walter.
Pat suddenly whirled Hal around and looked keenly at his left ear. The
rim was a dead white. "If you can't believe the thermometer perhaps you
can believe this," said he drily as he touched the ear. "What did I tell
you about keeping your cap down over your ears? Shure, 'tis a tenderfoot
and not a first class Scout at all, at all, thot ye be."
"What do you mean?" demanded Hal as he slipped a glove off to feel of
the ear. At the look of blank astonishment that swept across his face as
he discovered that the edge of his ear was stiff and wholly without
feeling the others roared with laughter.
"I mean that you're frost-bitten already," replied Pat, "and I hope that
this will be a lesson to the whole bunch of you. You may not feel him,
but old Jack Frost is right on the job just the same, and it don't do up
here to needlessly expose yourself. It is because the air is so dry that
you don't feel the frost, but you freeze just the same. We'll run over
to that point and thaw you out, and then I guess you'll keep your cap
down where it belongs."
At the point Pat rubbed the frosted ear vigorously with a handful of
snow until the frost was out and for a few minutes Hal danced with the
ache of it, while the others grinned. "That's one on me, all right, and
you're welcome to laugh, but little Hal Harrison has learned his lesson.
No more frost-bites for me, thank you," he growled. "I don't wish you
fellows any hard luck, but I hope you'll get a taste of it yourselves
just to know what it feels like."
Walter and Sparrer took warning from Hal's experience and saw to it that
their ears were well covered before they started on. As they drew near
the end of the lake Old Baldy and Mount Seward loomed up with a grandeur
and forbidding austerity that was almost menacing, and which was yet
grandly heroic. The long pier of Woodcraft Camp jutting out into the
lake was now clearly visible and on the end of it were two figures
waving greetings.
"It's the Big Chief and Mother Merriam! Let's give them the old yell!"
cried Upton.
They stopped and with Upton to lead sent the old Woodcraft yell ringing
down the lake--"Whoop-yi-yi-yi! Whoop-yi-yi-yi! Whoop-yi-yi-yi!
Woodcraft!" And even as the echoes flung it back from Old Baldy it was
returned to them in the mingled voices of a man and a woman. The doctor
and Mrs. Merriam were sending them welcome.
A few minutes later they reached the pier and were exchanging warm
greetings. Sparrer had felt a natural diffidence at the thought of
meeting the man of whom he had heard so much, but it vanished in the
first hand-clasp and by the time he had reached the snug cabin he felt
as if he had always known this great-hearted, kindly man and the
sweet-faced woman whom the others called "Mother." In a dim way he
understood the loyalty and affection of his comrades for these two who
were devoting their lives to the making of strong men from weak boys.