WHAT THE EYES OF A SCOUT MAY SEE
"What damage was done last night?" asked Jack, as he and Paul walked
around the camp, while the cooks of the several patrols were engaged in
getting breakfast over fires built after that clever fashion, partly in
holes in the ground.
"Well," replied his chum, "outside of Jud's bruised arm that will
handicap him a bit in his work; and one hole through the fly that serves
as our mess tent; I haven't been able to find anything. But I picked up
several stones that must have come down, and they were big enough to
hurt if they had hit any of us."
"What ought we to do?" asked Jack.
"For one I think we've just got to change our way of handling those
fellows. The more we try to argue, and hold out the olive branch, the
worse they get. I hate to tell the boys we've reached the end of the
rope; but what else is left?" and Paul, as he spoke, shook his head, and
drew a long breath.
"Oh! nothing but give tit for tat," returned Jack, without a pause, as
if his mind had long been made up. "Why, even a Quaker will fight if
forced to defend his honor; or some bully attacks his family. They say a
worm will turn; which you mustn't take to mean that we are grubs."
"Well," declared Paul, "to-night we'll have a watch set, and if they try
that sort of thing again, perhaps they'll find two can play at a
bombardment."
The welcome call to breakfast broke in on their dialogue; and being
possessed of the ordinary boy's appetite, both Paul and his chum were
not at all backward about dropping into their places around the rude
table.
Of course pretty much all the talk during the meal was about the
unprovoked and cowardly attack of the preceding night. Every time a boy
cast his eyes upward, and saw the sky through the ragged hole in the
canvas cover, he was noticed to grit his teeth, and look angry.
But Paul assured them that he had a plan ready whereby they could put a
stop to this rough treatment. Knowing him as they did, the scouts felt
sure he had been driven to the limit of his forbearance. Having gone as
far as their code called for in the effort to keep the peace, they would
certainly be justified in taking the law into their own hands from this
time forth.
"Forget it all until night comes, fellows," said Paul, finally, when
they had talked the subject threadbare. "Meanwhile don't think you're
going to get any sort of a nap to-day. There will be something doing
every minute of the time from now up to supper call. And to begin with,
let the dishwashers get busy right away, so as to clear the decks for
action."
As every one had satisfied his appetite, and just then cared little
whether there was ever such a thing as eating again, they were not sorry
to leave the mess tent.
The camp was quickly a scene of animation. Some fellows were busy with
cameras, seeking enticing subjects for views that would do them credit
when the results of the great hike were examined by a committee later
on. Others set about making preparations for the various duties to which
they had been assigned. Paul kept his finger on the pulse of everything
that took place.
He sent one squad along the shore of the lake to try the fishing.
Another was engaged in forming a rude raft so that they could have
something on which to paddle around from time to time. Still another
group followed Paul and Wallace to hunt for signs of the raccoons they
had heard during the preceding night.
Each boy of the bunch was expected to jot down in his note-book the
various interesting things they came across as they tramped. Paul gave
a few hints; but he wanted them to think it out for themselves.
The most observing would make mention of dozens of things that might
never attract the eye of the novice in woodcraft. He would state the
species of trees he noticed on either hand; the formation of the rocks,
the result perhaps of a former hurricane that leveled many old trees,
and the direction which it must have passed along over this country; he
would find a multitude of things to mention in the sap-sucker that
tapped the dead limb of a tree; the wise crow that cawed at them from a
distance; the flashing bluejay that kept just ahead of them; the red
squirrel and the little chipmunks that scurried over the ground, to
watch with bright eyes from the shelter of some tree, or hummock of
up-tilted stones.
There was absolutely no limit to the list of interesting subjects that
an observing lad could find to fill pages upon pages in his memorandum
book. After he had returned home again how pleasant it would be to read
anew these notes, and realize that he could not be termed blind when he
passed along the trail.
And then the tracks of the little woods animals, how interesting it was
to hunt for them close to the border of the water, where they could be
plainly seen in the soft mud.
At first one seemed pretty much like another to the greenhorns; but
either Paul or Wallace, who had studied these things before, pointed out
the difference; and after that lesson the other fellows could easily
tell the tracks of a raccoon from those of a mink or a 'possum, for they
found them all.
After that Paul took pains to explain just how differently the imprint
of a dog's or a cat's foot looked when compared with those of the wild
woods folks. These two were so much alike that Bobolink remarked upon
the fact.
"How can you tell them apart, Paul?" he asked, looking at the prints
made by the scout leader in the mud.
"That's easy," replied Paul, "if you notice that the dog leaves the
track of his nails every time; while puss, well, she sheathes her claws
while she walks, keeping them sharp for business when she sights a
sparrow or a young rabbit."
"But look here, what's this funny track here? Some baby must have put
its hand down in the mud; but that's silly, of course. Whatever made
these, Paul?" asked Philip Towne, pointing ahead to a spot they had as
yet not visited.
Paul took one look, and smiled. He turned to Wallace, who nodded
instantly.
"A muskrat made those tracks, boys," observed Paul; "you see he leaves
marks entirely unlike any others we've seen. And here is where our
friend, Mr. Crow, came down from his perch where he's been scolding us
so long. He wanted a drink perhaps; or expected to pick up a breakfast
along the edge of the water, from insects that have been washed ashore."
All these things were very attractive to the boys.
"This thing gets better and better the deeper you climb into it,"
declared Bobolink, as he wrote away for dear life, jotting down all he
could remember of what he had heard.
Some of the boys even made rude but effective diagrams of the various
tracks, so that they would have the proof to show if ever a dispute
arose concerning the difference between the several species.
Many other things did Paul and Wallace bring to their attention. Why, it
seemed as though one had only to turn around up on the side of
Rattlesnake Mountain to discover new and wonderful facts that these boys
never dreamed of before.
"Where do you suppose this old pile of rocks ever got its name, Paul?"
asked one of the scouts, as he looked up at the frowning crest far
above.
"I really don't know," replied Paul; "I took the trouble to ask a number
of people too, who have lived around Stanhope for scores of years, and
they couldn't tell me; they said it had always gone by that name, and
supposed that once it was a regular rattlesnake den."
"Why, yes," interrupted Jud Elderkin; "one man told me he remembered
when there was a queer chap lived up here, a cripple too, who in those
days used to put in all his time hunting rattlesnakes for their skins,
which were used to make pocketbooks and slippers and belts out of; and
he sold the oil, too."
"Oil?" exclaimed Bobolink, "now, what do you mean by that? Do they use
it for lamps, or watches, like they do porpoise oil?"
"How about that, Wallace?" asked Paul, seeing that the reader of the
Carberry Twins gave evidence of possessing knowledge along those lines.
"Good for rheumatism, they say," observed Wallace; "athletes also use it
to limber up their limbs. It has a commercial value. Some men make a
business of hunting rattlesnakes pretty much all the year."
"Excuse me from the job then," said Bobolink, making a wry face. "Ugh! I
hate the sight of a snake! Say, you don't think there might be a little
bunch of the nasty scaly monsters left over from the old cripple's hunt,
do you, Paul?"
"I hope we won't run across any," returned the patrol leader, soberly;
"for it's no fun getting struck by the fangs of a rattlesnake. I've
never had that bad luck, and I give you my word I'm not hankering after
an experience, either."
"But then it might happen to one of us," retorted Bobolink; "and as a
wise general I hope you've thought of bringing a gallon or two of strong
drink along. That seems to be the only thing that can save a poor fellow
when he's been jabbed by one of these twisters; anyhow, that's what I've
read about it."
"You're away off then, Bobolink," laughed Paul; "for we haven't a drop
of liquor in camp. There's a better way to counteract a snake bite; and
I intend telling the whole troop when we gather at lunch to-day, as well
as distribute some little packets I made up, under my father's
directions."
"But go on," demanded Jud, "now that you've said so much. If a
rattlesnake jumped out of those bushes there, and gave me a jab on the
leg, how ought I go about it to keep from keeling over? I want to know,
and I ain't from Missouri, either!"
"Well," Paul started to say, "in the first place you ought to know that
no rattlesnake ever jumps out at anybody. At the slightest sign of
danger he coils up, and sounds his policeman's rattle, which is just as
near like the buzzing of a big locust as you can get it."
"Say, that's why they call a policeman's club his locust, ain't it?"
interrupted Bobolink; at which Paul smiled and nodded.
"If you should get excited on hearing this warning, and rush straight at
the snake, not seeing him, why he'd get you. The first thing to do is to
free your leg from all clothing, if he struck you, and tie a bandage
tight above the mark where his fangs hit. Then get down yourself, or if
you have a chum along, and you always will up here, according to the
orders to hunt in pairs, have him suck the wound as hard as he can,
spitting out the poison."
"Good gracious!" cried Bobolink, "but won't he get the dope instead of
you, then?"
"It would never hurt him," answered Paul, quickly, "unless he happens to
have a cut about his mouth. If that is the case he must never try to
suck a snake bite. Hot water will help nearly as well as sucking. Then
use some of the strong ammonia that is in a little bottle, to burn the
wound. Never mind the pain, for your life is in danger. Another bottle
holds some aromatic spirits of ammonia, which can be taken inwardly, as
it is useful to keep up the strength and nerve of the wounded fellow."
"Is that all?" asked the interested Jud.
"Pretty much all," Paul went on. "Don't keep on the tight cord or
bandage more than an hour, for it stops circulation, and might bring on
mortification, father says. Ease up on it for a bit. The arm will sting
like fun, but stand it. If the patient shows signs of collapse, tighten
the cord again for a time. Do this several times until you can take the
cord off for good."
"Oh! I see," said Bobolink; "by that time the poor chap will either be
recovered or else have kicked the bucket. But I do hope none of us get
mixed up with one of that old cripple hunter's left-overs. I'm going to
keep my eyes about all the while."
"That's a good idea," declared Paul, laughing; "and every fellow ought
to follow suit. But let's go back to the camp now, boys. We've had about
as much as anybody can cram into their head at one time."
"Here, Paul, please take a look at these marks, and tell me what sort of
an animal made 'em!" called out Jud, who had been bending over, half on
his knees, as if deeply interested in what he had found.
All of them hurried to the spot.
"Perhaps he's found the spoor of a runaway elephant!" suggested
Bobolink, wickedly, with that passing circus in mind.
"More'n likely," observed Philip Towne; "it's a wildcat that's been
prowling around the camp. Once, when I crawled out to take my watch, I
thought I saw a pair of yellow eyes staring at me over the edge of that
little cliff back of the tents."
Paul made no remark. He was himself bending over now, and looking at the
ground just where Jud pointed. Those who were watching him saw Paul
start, and look closer.
"It must be a lynx; or perhaps a regular old panther has come down here
from the North Woods," said Bobolink, really beginning to believe such a
thing might be so.
"Hardly," remarked Paul; "but all the same it may mean trouble for us.
You can see that these tracks were made by a man, for he had a foot much
longer than any of the scouts; and boys, I'm afraid he's been hanging
around our camp for some purpose!"