THE BOY SCOUTS
AT THE
PANAMA-PACIFIC EXPOSITION
BY
LIEUT. HOWARD PAYSON
AUTHOR OF “THE MOTOR CYCLE SERIES,”
“THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE EAGLE PATROL,”
“THE BOY SCOUTS ON THE RANGE,”
“THE BOY SCOUTS AND THE ARMY AIRSHIP,”
“THE BOY SCOUTS’ MOUNTAIN CAMP,”
“THE BOY SCOUTS FOR UNCLE SAM,”
“THE BOY SCOUTS AT THE PANAMA CANAL,”
“THE BOY SCOUTS UNDER FIRE IN MEXICO,”
“THE BOY SCOUTS ON BELGIAN BATTLEFIELDS,”
“THE BOY SCOUTS WITH THE ALLIES IN FRANCE,” ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED BY
CHARLES L. WRENN_
NEW YORK
HURST & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1915,
BY
HURST & COMPANY
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Two Scouts on a Motorboat 5
II. Prompt Work and a Rescue 17
III. When Luck Came Their Way 29
IV. A Stunning Surprise 41
V. Headed West 53
VI. A False Alarm 65
VII. Across the Continent 77
VIII. A Shock at Los Angeles 89
IX. Turning the Tables on Two Rogues 101
X. Within the Gates of the Fair 113
XI. Rob Delivers the Goods 125
XII. The People of the “Zone” 137
XIII. A Strange Meeting in the Air 149
XIV. Four Scouts in the Whirl 161
XV. Tubby Is Out of His Element 173
XVI. The Illuminated Fairyland 185
XVII. Prying Fingers 197
XVIII. The Thief Under the Bed 209
XIX. An Enemy of the Past 221
XX. Lots of Excitement 233
XXI. The Mad Dog Panic 247
XXII. Taking in the Sights of the Fair 257
XXIII. Hiram Faces the Music 269
XXIV. A Boy Scout’s Triumph 282
XXV. Homeward Bound 293
The Boy Scouts at the
Panama-Pacific Exposition.
CHAPTER I.
TWO SCOUTS ON A MOTORBOAT.
“Seems to me, Rob, I ought to know that old tub of a motorboat we’re
overhauling.”
“Why, yes, Andy, it’s Captain Jerry Martin’s _Sea Gull_. Time was when
she had a reputation for speed, but her engine is a back number now.”
“Huh! that must have been away in Noah’s time, I reckon, Rob. Why, we
could make circles around her, if we chose to drive our little _Tramp_ to
the limit.”
“As we happen to be in no hurry to-day, there’s no use making the old
skipper feel that his boat is down and out. With vacation opening up
before us, I’ve been trying to settle on some scheme for the scouts of
the Eagle Patrol to have a rousing good time this summer.”
“Well, I know where I’d be if I had the cold cash to pay my expenses;
and, Rob, chances are you feel the same way about it.”
“Now, I suppose you’re thinking of Tubby Hopkins’ great good luck in
having his uncle, Dr. Mark Matthews, the famous globe-trotter, carry him
off three days ago for an extended trip to the big show out in
California?”
“Just what was on my mind, Rob. I don’t believe I ever wished so much for
anything as a chance to hike away out to the Pacific. Nothing comes my
way any more, seems like. Some of us scouts were lucky enough to have our
turn down in Mexico that time Tubby’s uncle was taken sick, and couldn’t
get there to meet his old friend, General Villa, so as to dispose of the
cattle on his ranch before they were stolen by the raiding Mexican rival
armies. How the rest of the boys envied us that glorious trip, Rob!”
“I admit it was a rare streak of good fortune to have things come our way
as they did,” the boy named Rob remarked, as he gave a slight turn to the
wheel of the bustling little motorboat, aboard which he and Andy were the
sole passengers. “We ran up against quite an interesting bunch of
experiences, you remember, Andy, that none of us will ever be apt to
forget.”
“As if that wasn’t enough fun for Tubby and Merritt and you,” continued
the boy called Andy at the wheelsman, “it came about that you all got a
chance to go across the water to England and Belgium late last summer on
an important mission for Merritt’s family, and saw a heap of what was
going on in the fighting zone where the Germans are up against the armies
of France, Belgium and Great Britain.”[1]
“We’ve shaken hands with ourselves dozens of times since, I give you my
word, Andy, on account of that fine streak of luck. Yes, we did encounter
a whole lot of remarkable adventures over there, and saw sights we’ll
never forget. Some of them I wish I could put out of my mind, because
they were mighty unpleasant. But that page is turned down, Andy; and now
the next thing to consider is what we are going to do this summer to make
the time pass happily.”
“Oh! I suppose I shouldn’t complain,” Andy Bowles continued, trying to
smile away the discontented frown that had settled across his forehead.
“Here, in this good old Long Island town of Hampton, there are lots of
ways a pack of lively up-to-date Boy Scouts can have good times during
vacation. With the big bay at our doors, and a bully little motorboat
like this to go fishing or cruising in, there’s no reason for us not to
be hustling most of our spare time.”
“Yes,” Rob Blake went on to add, wishing to soothe the ruffled spirit of
his comrade, “and you know what glorious camping trips we can have with a
lot of the boys, just as we used to in other summers. There is the full
Eagle Patrol, except our fat chum, Tubby, who’s gone to see the sights of
the Panama-Pacific Exposition, and Merritt Crawford, who expects to be
away for a month and more with his folks.”
“Besides,” continued Andy Bowles, as though the fact gave him more or
less solid satisfaction, “all the other patrols are full—eight each in
the Hawk, the Black Fox and the Badger, with a new one forming in the
bargain. Boy Scout activities are at flood-tide around Hampton these
days.”
“One reason for that, I take it,” mused the skipper of the little
_Tramp_, “is the fact that through our activities in the past we have
managed to keep our troop in the public eye, more or less. People know
what the Eagles have done, and on the whole they favor their boys joining
the newer patrols. There’s been a big change in the young fellows of
Hampton, I’m told, since this Boy Scout movement first came to town.”
When the young leader of the Eagle Patrol made this modest assertion, he
certainly hit the truth squarely on the head. During the last two years
the members of the Eagle Patrol had made a name for themselves in Boy
Scout annals—as the new reader will find out for himself if he cares to
read the earlier books of this fascinating series.
Among other things they had, through a happy chance, become associated
with certain scientific gentlemen connected with the United States
Government, who were experimenting with a new and secret model for a big
airship patterned somewhat after the famous Zeppelins of the Germans.
On another occasion they had been enabled to assist in saving the design
of a wonderful submarine, also intended for the use of the Government,
and the secret of which it appeared was coveted by emissaries of a nation
supposed to be hostile to the United States, and desirous of learning all
about such an important discovery that was apt to play an important part
in future ocean warfare.
Some of the scouts later on were given a chance to pay a visit to the
wonderful canal that was then being dug across the Isthmus—at Panama; and
the record of how they made themselves exceedingly useful while down
there will always be a bright page in the history of the Hampton Troop.
Mention has already been made by Andy Bowles, the bugler of the troop, of
the trip to Mexico, with its attendant adventures; and also of the
foreign tour undertaken by several of the Eagles on the previous summer,
just when hostilities had broken out between the nations of Europe; and
Belgium, where they were compelled to visit, was torn from end to end
with the mad struggles of warring factions.
Yes, surely the Eagles could rest upon their laurels from this time on,
and history would accord them the laurel wreath as the most enterprising
patrol known to the Boy Scouts of America.
Still, what boy is ever satisfied with what has happened in the past? The
present and the near future is what engages his attention and excites his
interest. Even sensible Rob Blake secretly sighed when he contemplated
having to put in the whole summer around the home town while Tubby
Hopkins was having such a glorious time out there on the Coast; and his
other chum, Merritt Crawford, was up in Canada with his folks at a camp.
It was a beautiful and warm day in the early summer. The sun shone from
an unclouded sky, but there was enough sea breeze to fan their heated
brows, and to make them think that there could be few things equal to
being in a speedy little motorboat, spinning over the surface of that
lovely land-locked bay, with the ocean booming on the outer edge of the
sandy strip to the south.
They could have quite an extended view from far out in the bay, with the
houses scattered along the shore, and the white sails of pleasure craft
or fishing and clamming boats dotting the water far and near.
Just ahead of them the old launch that had seen better days was churning
up the water with its noisy propeller, though not making remarkable
headway at that. As the two scouts gradually drew up on the _Sea Gull_,
they made out that besides the ancient skipper there was just one
passenger aboard.
“Why,” said Andy Bowles presently, as this person chanced to turn his
face toward them by accident, “that must be the old gent I saw drop off
the nine-thirty train from New York this morning when I was heading for
your house. Yes, and now I think of it, I heard him ask Dan Trotter at
the station where Judge Collins lived, and how he could get to his house
at the Point.”
“Some friend of the Judge, then,” suggested Rob; “and I guess he has a
host of them here and abroad; for he’s wealthy, and interested in all
sorts of scientific matters. They say that at his city house in the
winter he entertains, at times, all the big guns from the different
colleges of the world.”
“Which reminds me, Rob. There was an odd twang in this old fellow’s
manner of speech that made me think of Sandy Ferguson, the Scotchman who
has the bagpipes, you remember, and always insists in marching in all the
parades in Hampton.”
“Then, perhaps, he’s some famous Scotch professor,” observed the skipper
of the _Tramp_, “who wants to see the judge so much that he’s chased away
out here to his summer home on invitation.”
“He has a red face, wears big glasses, and is scrawny enough for a
Scotchman, anyway,” chuckled Andy, “but do you know I always like to
listen to one of the Highland folks talk. It was the ‘burr’ in his speech
that made me stop and listen as far as I did. He’s got it down pat, Rob.”
“Don’t say anything more now, Andy; we’re drawing up pretty close, and he
might not like it if he thought we were talking about him. That old motor
does make lots of noise, but sometimes it misses, and then there’s a
lapse, you know.”
“But they’re heading straight for the Point where the Collins Castle is
located, you notice, Rob, so I guess Cap. Jerry is ferrying him across. I
only hope the old tub doesn’t take a notion to founder before it gets to
the dock a mile away from here.”
“Oh! it’s stood lots of pounding, and only has to be bailed out
frequently on account of leaking like a sieve,” Rob said in a low tone.
“Jerry has all that down to a fine point, and just once in so often he
gets busy and lowers the bilge water with the pump he keeps rigged
handy.”
“Excuse me from running around in such a trap,” muttered Andy, who was
rather inclined to be “fussy” with regard to everything he handled, and
tried to have his possessions kept up to top-notch condition—what he
himself called “apple-pie shape.”
“The professor is like most Englishmen, for he loves his pipe,” remarked
Rob, as he watched the passenger aboard the old launch filling his little
black pipe with tobacco taken from a rubber pouch. “I hope, when he
strikes that match, and then throws it away after lighting up, he knows
enough about motorboats to see that it goes overboard, and not into the
bottom of the craft. Sometimes a leak will spread a film of gasolene over
the bilge water, and there’s always more or less danger of an explosion.”
“Yes,” added Andy seriously, “there have been a number on the bay the
last three seasons, and two people that I can remember were so badly
burned that they died after being rescued.”
Both of the boys watched with more or less interest, and possibly with
suspended breath, while the red-faced passenger in Captain Jerry’s old
launch puffed several times at his pipe, then tossed the match aside.
“Oh! it didn’t go overboard, for a fact, Rob!” gasped Andy; but there was
no time to say another word, for suddenly they saw a flash of flame
spring up aboard the old _Sea Gull_, and in an instant it seemed as
though the launch was aflame from stem to stern!
Suddenly they saw a flash of flame spring up aboard the old _Sea Gull_.