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[Illustration: "Can we make the pond, Jim?" asked Thad. "Not the big
pond," Jim called back; "but there's a little one about half way."
_The Boy Scouts in the Maine Woods_ _Page 241_]
THE BOY SCOUTS IN THE MAINE WOODS
OR
THE NEW TEST FOR THE SILVER FOX PATROL
By HERBERT CARTER
Author of "The Boy Scouts First Camp Fire," "The Boy Scouts in the
Blue Ridge," "The Boy Scouts on the Trail," "The Boy Scouts Through
the Big Timber," "The Boy Scouts In the Rockies"
A. L. BURT COMPANY
NEW YORK
Copyright, 1913
By A. L. Burt Company
THE BOY SCOUTS IN THE MAINE WOODS.
THE BOY SCOUTS IN THE MAINE WOODS
CHAPTER I.
AFLOAT ON THE WINDING AROOSTOOK.
"I tell you, Bumpus Hawtree, I can do it as easy as turn my hand over,
once I get the hang of the thing!"
"Oh! you don't say so, Giraffe? Here you've been trying for these three
days past, with your silly old bow and stick, twirling away like an
organ grinder; and never so much as struck a single spark of fire yet."
"Well, you see, there are a whole lot of things about the thing I don't
know."
"Sure there are. You can do everything but the right thing. You spin
that stick with the point that fits in the hole you made in that block
of wood, like fun; but your fine tinder don't even smoke, as far as I
can see."
"Huh! you'll see it do more than that, and before the end of this Maine
trip, I'll give you to understand, Bumpus."
"Oh! will I? How kind of you, Giraffe."
"You needn't say that like you didn't believe I'd ever beat it out. I've
made fires ten different ways, and you know that. And listen to me--I'm
just bound to get one going in that South Sea Island method we've read
about, 'or give up trying!' You hear me, Bumpus?"
"No trouble about that, Giraffe. Tell you what I'll do, though, in the
generosity of my heart--make a wager with you about that fire business;
and it's a treat of ice-cream for the crowd, for the loser."
"I take you on that," quickly snapped back the long-legged Boy Scout who
was curled up in the stern of the canvas canoe that was being pushed
along by the energetic arms of a sturdy guide, as straight as his name
was the opposite, it being Eli Crooks.
"Then let's have a clear understanding," observed the fat lad, squatting
rather awkwardly in the bow of the same craft; "say, you other fellows,
d'ye hear what we're talking about?" and he raised his voice a trifle,
so that the occupants of the two other boats that were close by, might
listen; just as if they had not been keeping their ears wide open; for
when Bumpus and Giraffe got into a hot argument, there was generally
plenty of fun in the air.
One of the other canoes contained three scouts, as could be told from
various parts of their khaki uniforms that they wore, even when off on a
hunting trip. The clear-eyed fellow who seemed to be in charge of the
party was Thad Brewster; one of his companions was known as Step Hen
Bingham, because, as a little chap he had insisted at school that was
the way his name should be spelled, while the third was an exceedingly
wiry boy, Davy Jones by name, and who had always been a human monkey
when it came to athletics, climbing trees, and doing all sorts of queer
stunts.
In the third boat was a shorter Maine guide, a sort of slow chap who
came by the name of Jim Hasty just as the other did that of Crooks; and
the scout with him was Allan Hollister, a lad born in the very State
they were now exploring; and who assisted the scoutmaster in his duties.
All these six boys belonged to the Silver Fox Patrol connected with a
troop of scouts located in a New York town called Cranford. Two more had
been unable to take the Maine trip, which had already carried the bunch
through some adventurous times in another part of the State, whither
they had first gone in order to overtake a gentleman just then moose
hunting, and with whom Thad had to get in touch for certain business
reasons.
Now they were on the Aroostook River, the three boats, as well as the
party, having been transported from Grindstone by rail, and launched at
the junction of the Masardis with the first mentioned stream.
One of the guides having been brought up in this region, had promised
the boys rare sport, if only they would trust to his judgment in the
matter. The trip was of indefinite length, the only stipulation being
that they should not go outside the United States, when approaching the
New Brunswick border along the great St. Johns River.
All of them seemed to be just bubbling over with enthusiasm and spirits.
With a new voyage before them, plenty to eat aboard the canoes, guns
with which to secure game, tents provided by Jim Hasty at his home town;
and "everything lovely, while the goose hung high," as Bumpus had put
it, really there was no excuse for any of the scouts to feel downcast.
In their former trip around the Penobscot region the boys had had the
good fortune to be chiefly instrumental in causing the arrest of a
couple of fleeing yeggmen, who had broken into several banks, and for
whose arrest quite a decent reward was offered. Not only that, but they
had recovered valuable bonds and papers, that would undoubtedly cause
the bank officials to back up the offer they had made, which was to the
effect that two thousand dollars would be paid to the parties returning
the said bonds, and no questions asked.
Bumpus had been the one who seemed chiefly concerned over this money
matter; for it happened that the fat scout wanted dearly to visit the
Far West, and was always talking of California, together with the game
to be met with in the famous Rock Mountains. And with this windfall
coming to their almost exhausted treasure box, it now seemed as though
the Silver Fox Patrol might get away when the next vacation came around.
Giraffe, the boy with the long neck, which he could twist around in a
way his comrades despaired of ever imitating, had one particular
weakness. He was a regular fire worshipper. They depended on Giraffe to
start the fires, whether a cooking blaze or the big camp-fire around
which they loved to sit or lie, after supper was over.
Many times did Thad have to caution him about his recklessness in this
regard; and his vigilance increased, now that they were in a State where
forest preservation was of such moment that a special fire warden, with
many assistants, was employed, to see that the laws were strictly
enforced; and intending hunters were not allowed to go forth without
being accompanied by a licensed guide, to make sure that all fires were
utterly extinguished before breaking camp.
Of course, when Giraffe took it upon himself to find out if he could not
make a fire after every known method, there was more or less fun for the
crowd. But he had proved that his studies in this direction were worth
while; for he had used flint and steel, matches, a burning glass for the
sun to do the business, and various other methods with stunning success.
But he had thus far been "stumped" as he himself expressed it, when it
came to starting a blaze after the formula of the South Sea Islanders.
His little bow was made according to directions, and would whirl the
pointed stick with tremendous force in the basin that had the hole in
the bottom; but thus far, just as Bumpus so exultantly declared, the
aspiring Giraffe had failed to accomplish the object he had in view.
"Well, now," remarked Giraffe, "since you've got all the bears and moose
in the Aroostook country to listen, suppose you go and explain what
we're driving at, Bumpus," when the other boys had declared that they
heard the whole argument.
"The wager is cream for the crowd at the first chance," the fat boy went
on, with pointed emphasis. "Giraffe says he can start a fire with that
bunty little bow of his, and the twirling stick that heats things up,
and makes the fine tinder take fire--when you've got the hang of things.
He's got to do it before we wind up this particular trip; and at a time
when one or more of us are on deck to act as witnesses. Hear that,
fellows?"
"What he says are the exact conditions," added the confident Giraffe.
"And just make up your minds I'm going to do that same stunt yet. Why,
half a dozen times already I've been pretty close to getting fire; but
something always seemed to happen just at the last minute. Once my
bowstring sawed through. Another time the plaguey stick burst. Then
Bumpus had to fall all over me just when I felt sure the spark was going
to come in the tinder. And the last time, you may remember, when I sang
out that I had it, why, down came that heavy rain, and put me out of
business."
A general laugh followed these complaining remarks from the tall scout.
"Looks like you might be hoodooed, Giraffe," said Davy Jones.
"All right, no matter what's the matter, if grit and perseverance can
accomplish the business, you'll see it done in great style sooner or
later!" cried Giraffe, who could be quite determined when he chose.
"Then let's hope it will be sooner," remarked Step Hen; "because you
know him well enough to understand that we'll have no peace of our lives
till he either gets his little fire started, or else makes a failure of
the game."
"Anyhow," broke in Allan from the rear, "no matter how it comes out, the
rest of us stand to have a free feast later on. It's 'heads I win, tails
you lose,' for the balance of the Silver Fox Patrol. And in advance, we
hand our united thanks to Bumpus; or will it be Giraffe?"
"And," Bumpus went on, calmly; "while Giraffe is worrying his poor old
head over that puzzle every time we get settled in camp, I'll be
improving each shining hour like the busy little bee, trying out my new
gun. Told you fellows, I was going to invest the first chance I got; and
here's my brand new double barrel; that's guaranteed, the man said, to
knock the spots out of any big game that I hold it on."
"Huh!" grunted Giraffe, who seemed a trifle grumpy on account of having
his fire-making abilities made fun of, for he was quite touchy on that
score; "chances are, it'll knock spots out of you, first of all, or give
you a few to remember it by, if you go and get excited, and pull both
triggers at once, as you're likely to do, if I know you at all, Bumpus."
"What in the wide world did you go and get a big ten bore for, when
you're such a short fellow?" asked Thad, who had often wanted to find
out about this particular subject.
Bumpus, who was fondling his new possession, grinned rather sheepishly.
"Well," he remarked, "you see, Thad's Marlin, and Davy's gun are both
twelve guage, and I thought we ought to have variety in the crowd, so I
got a ducking gun. Besides, I knew it would be better when I came to
shoot buckshot in it, just like I've got in the chambers right now,
ready for any old moose bull that chooses to show up. And in fact,
fellows, it was the only sort of shotgun I could buy, unless I took one
of them pump guns; and I just couldn't think of working all that
machinery when I get so rattled, you know."
"Please keep that blunderbuss pointed the other way, Bumpus," said Step
Hen.
"Yes, for goodness' sake don't you turn it around here!" called out
Giraffe. "If ever you blew a hole in the bottom of this canvas canoe,
we'd go down like a stone."
"I'd be sorry for that," remarked Bumpus, still fondling his new
purchase lovingly, although he kept it pointed ahead, as directed;
"because, you see, we've got a lot of good grub aboard this canoe, and
it might get soaked."
"Huh! thinking of the grub before you take me into consideration, are
you?" grunted Giraffe; and perhaps he might have said more, only just at
that instant Eli turned his head and made a remark to him which caused
the long-necked boy to lift his head, and then shout out excitedly:
"A bear! A bear! over there on the bank ahead!"
"Oh! where did I put my gun?" almost shrieked Step Hen, who was forever
misplacing things, and then finding them again in the most unexpected
places.
"Bumpus, knock him over! There's the best chance to try your new gun you
ever saw! Let him have it, you silly!" roared Giraffe.
The fat boy heard all the clamor. He also sighted the lumbering bear,
which, after taking one good look at the approaching canoes, turned to
shuffle back again into the shelter of the protecting brush, as though
he did not much fancy any closer acquaintance with the two-legged
occupants.
Bumpus scrambled to his knees. He was trembling like a leaf shaken in
the gale; but nevertheless managed to clumsily throw the double-barrel
to his shoulder, after pulling back both hammers.
They saw him bend his chubby neck, as though to sight along the barrels.
Then a tremendous explosion occurred, as though a young cannon had been
fired; and the next instant Bumpus went over flat on his back, among the
duffle with which the canoe was loaded, his feet coming into view as he
landed among the blankets, and the packages of food, secured in the
rubber ponchos to keep them from getting wet.