THE BLACK FOX IS SOLD
The day in the lumber camp was all too short for all of the boys, but
especially for Sparrer, to whom the cutting of the great trees and the
hauling of the logs and piling of them on the rollways on the banks of
the river ready for breaking out on the high water of the spring was of
absorbing interest. Hal and Upton were familiar with logging operations,
having visited logging camps many times during their summers in the
woods. The only novelty to them lay in the changed setting of the scenes
produced by the snow.
Sparrer was of just the type to win immediate favor with the rough,
big-hearted lumber-jacks, and they made him feel at home at once. They
vied with one another in showing him things of interest, and his
comments, colored with the slang of the city streets, afforded them no
end of amusement. So it was with regret on all sides that at break of
the following day the boys put their duffle on the big sled used for
hauling in supplies and followed it themselves. Pat went with them to
see them off at the train.
With the last glimpse of the lumber camp as the sled entered the forest
a silence broken only by the tinkle of the bell on one of the horses,
the muffled sound of their feet and the slithering slide of the broad
runners over the snow, fell on the little group. None felt in the mood
for talking save the driver, and he soon subsided, failing to elicit
more than monosyllabic responses. Pat was busy with thoughts of what his
share from the sale of the black fox skin would mean to him in the
furtherance of his ambitions for an education. But on his three guests
the unfathomable mystery of the wilderness had once more fallen and
wrapped them in its spell. It was the deeper for the knowledge that they
were so soon to break it with no certainty of when they might again
surrender their spirits to it. They were going back to another world.
Oddly enough it was Sparrer who finally voiced the feeling of which both
Upton and Hal were conscious, yet found no words to express.
"It makes a feller feel little," said he, "like he ain't nothin' at all,
and yet dat inside av him is somethin' bigger'n this." He swung one hand
around in an all inclusive sweep. "An' it makes him feel clean inside,
just like it is outside, an' like he'd got to do big things an' little
mean things hadn't got no place. An'--an'"--Sparrer was groping for
words to make his meaning clear--"it gives a feller a funny feelin' dat
he ain't much and yet dat some way he's bigger'n de mount'ns, an' if dey
is a million years old like people say, he's goin' ter last a lot
longer. Bein' out here makes me feel just like Oi do when Oi go into de
church an' de sun comes trew dem colored winders and de organ plays an'
lifts a feller right up 'til he feels like he had wings an' could fly if
he only knew how ter use 'em."
Sparrer stopped abruptly and gazed with unseeing eyes off through the
forest aisles. Pat looked over at the youngster with the light of
understanding in his eyes.
"Right, son," said he. "I know the feeling. This is the great cathedral
that God has built for Himself and the littleness we feel is because of
His own presence, and the sense of being greater than all this, the
mountains, the lakes and the rivers, is, I reckon, because He makes us
feel that if He made all these things to last through millions of years
He isn't going to let His greatest work, man, perish in the little bit
of time that makes a man's lifetime."
The bell on the horse tinkled, the runners slithered over the snow and
no further word was spoken until the driver cried, "Yonder's the
clearin'. I reckon you fellers hev got just about time enough to look
the town over before the train comes."
An hour later farewells were said, and the three boys stood on the rear
platform of the Pullman waving to Pat as the train pulled out. For some
time after the straight form of the brawny young trapper and the dingy
depot of the little village had faded from view the boys stood watching
the panorama of frozen wilderness. Then, reluctantly it must be
confessed, they turned to the warmth and luxury of the car.
"Say, hasn't it been great?" exclaimed Hal as he dropped into his seat.
"Great doesn't express it at all," declared Upton. "It beats even the
hunt for Lost Trail."
As for Sparrer, he said nothing at all, but glued his face to the window
that he might drink in as long as he could the beauty of this land of
enchantment, where the test of a man was his ability to contend
successfully with the forces of nature and to live within the law when
beyond the watchful eyes of the law; this land where a man was gauged by
his moral strength no less than by his physical strength. These two
weeks in the heart of the wilderness had wrought a change in the lad's
whole attitude toward life. His inherent love of battle for battle's
sake had been given a new turn. His old ambitions to be a soldier or a
prize-fighter were forgotten in a new ambition--to be a woodsman; to pit
his strength and courage and skill against the elemental forces of
Nature instead of against his fellows. In short, Sparrer had resolved
that some day he would shake the dust of the city from his feet forever.
He would become a guide and lumber boss like Big Jim. And so he watched
the flying landscape and dreamed dreams, and they were wholesome.
It had been agreed that Pat and Alec should attend to the marketing of
the fox skin, Sparrer's share to be forwarded to him when the sale was
made. The day after they reached New York the operator at Upper Chain
received a message over which he puzzled long. It was addressed to Pat
Malone, and was as follows:
"Wire best price you can get for skin, but do not sell until you hear
from me. Hal."
It was two weeks before Pat's reply was received. Hal was back at
school, but Mr. Harrison opened the message and smiled as he read it. It
was brief and to the point:
"Two thousand dollars. What's up? Pat."
Mr. Harrison rang for his private secretary. "Take this message and get
it off at once," he said crisply. "Pat Malone, Upper Chain: Will give
twenty-four hundred dollars for skin. Ship at once by express. My check
by next mail."
Then he dictated a letter to Hal telling him of the success of their
conspiracy, for the two had hatched the plan together. Hal's description
of the events in Smugglers' Hollow had so delighted Mr. Harrison that he
had at once exclaimed: "We've got to have that skin, my boy. As a piece
of fur it is worth as much to me as it is to any one else. For
sentimental reasons it is worth more to me than it is to any one else. I
don't believe in mixing sentiment with business, my boy, but there are
exceptions to all rules. This is one. Besides, I owe that young Irishman
up there in the woods more than money can repay for what he has done in
helping to make you what you are to-day. You have him wire the best
price he can get, and I'll go it one better. And by the way, you might
suggest to that youngster who shot the beast that when he gets his share
of the money I'll be glad to invest it for him where it will earn more
than it will in a bank."
And this is how it happened that Pat, Alec and Sparrer with eight
hundred dollars apiece experienced for the first time that sense of
independence, and power which comes with the possession of wealth, for
not even Mr. Harrison with his millions felt richer than they. To Alec
it meant the realization of a cherished dream which included the
ownership of a certain tiny farm. To Pat it meant the education he had
set his heart upon. While to Sparrer it meant a better home, a lifting
of some of the load from his mother's shoulders, and a further
stimulating of an already awakened ambition to gain for himself a share
in the higher and better things of life.
Of course when the story was told to the Blue Tortoise Patrol Sparrer
was more popular than ever. He was little short of a hero in the eyes of
his companions, the more so because Upton was at pains to point out that
the boy's good fortune was really due to his adherence to the Scout
principles which he had embraced, and to the moral victory which he had
gained through loyalty to the Scout oath in the face of the hardest kind
of temptation--the temptation when there is none to see either victory
or defeat.
A few weeks later the damage suit growing out of the automobile accident
in Bronx Park was tried and the Blue Tortoises were called as witnesses.
Once more Sparrer distinguished himself, unhesitatingly picking out from
a group of men the one whose face he had seen for just a fleeting moment
in the big car racing away from the scene of the accident. So positive
was his identification that the defense, which was based on the claim
that the car had been taken without the owner's knowledge, crumbled then
and there, for the man who Sparrer identified was none other than the
owner himself.
As for Upton, he returned to his studies with renewed vim and
determination which in due time brought its reward--the scholarship on
which he had set his heart.
"On my honor I will do my best--
To do my duty to God and my country and to obey the Scout law;
To help other people at all times;
To keep myself physically strong, mentally awake, and morally
straight."
Well might the men of to-day as well as the men of to-morrow subscribe
to this oath of the Boy Scouts of America, whether their lot in life be
cast in the turmoil of the great city or the loneliness of a trapper's
camp.
The Stories in this Series are:
THE BOY SCOUTS OF WOODCRAFT CAMP
THE BOY SCOUTS ON SWIFT RIVER
THE BOY SCOUTS ON LOST TRAIL
THE BOY SCOUTS IN A TRAPPER'S CAMP