"HIT THE KNOT AND HIT IT HARD!"
"HOW are you coming on, Rufus?" asked Elmer, pleasantly, as he dropped
down on the log alongside the perspiring chopper.
Rufus laughed, a little unpleasantly, Elmer thought.
"Oh! I guess I was never cut out for a hewer of firewood, Elmer," he
remarked indifferently. "Some fellows may take to that sort of thing,
but I incline in the direction of less strenuous employment. I can
fiddle with a surveyor's outfit all day long, tramp through the woods
and the brush, cut a path, and enjoy it all; but swinging an ax doesn't
seem to be my forte."
"Then if I were you, Rufus," the other told him, quietly, "I'd shut my
teeth together and make it my forte. I never would let a little thing
like that get the better of me. Why, I couldn't sleep easy at night if I
did."
Rufus moved a little uneasily at that. He undoubtedly must have guessed
that the scout-master meant to reprove him for giving up so soon. Then
he shook his head and frowned.
"Oh! there'll be heaps of other things I _can_ tackle around the camp,
besides playing wood-chopper, Elmer, that's sure. I've given it a fair
trial, and don't seem to get the hang of the old thing. Why, it's lucky,
I reckon, I didn't smash my foot. My hands don't seem to tackle the ax
properly. Alec may be better suited to it."
"It isn't hard, once you learn," said Elmer.
"Well, I've given it a try, and I'm ready to call it off, though I know
you don't like to hear that kind of talk," grumbled Rufus, actually
turning redder than ever with confusion as he felt the eyes of the other
fastened upon his face.
"That's not the spirit in which a scout who has any respect for himself
should act," Elmer told him, slowly and with a friendly slap on the
shoulder. "Deep down in your heart, Rufus, you just know that you _can_
master such a little job as learning how to handle an ax, if only you
keep persistently at it, and never give up. A scout on being baffled
once or twice just sets his teeth together, takes a fresh grip on
himself, and says he's going to do that thing, no matter if it means
trying sixty-seven times. It's the old maxim of 'Pike's Peak, or Bust,'
which the emigrants across the great plains years ago used to paint on
their wagon-tops. And generally they got there, too, remember, Rufus."
Then Elmer got up and took hold of the offending ax.
"Now, if you watch me you'll see just how I swing it, and bring it down
in the exact spot I want to strike," he went on to say, after which he
made several strokes and the stubborn piece of oak that had resisted all
the efforts of Rufus to split it fell into two slabs.
"Well, that was certainly fine," admitted the boy, wonderingly; "but
you're an old hand at it, Elmer. I'd never be able to do that sort of
work."
"Get that notion out of your head in the beginning, Rufus," he was told,
sharply. "There's no reason in the wide world why you shouldn't make a
good axman, perhaps even better than any of us. You're strongly built,
and can put a heap of muscle in the work. At first you'll strike poorly,
until you grow accustomed to landing on a given spot. Practice makes
perfect in that particular. And now, there's one great lesson for you in
chopping wood, just as there is for every beginner. Take a look at the
stick, see which way it will split easiest; and then if there's a nasty
knot in it, as there was in the one you tackled, strike the blade of
your ax straight into the centre of that knot _again and again_, until
you succeed in making it give up the ghost. Hit the knot, Rufus, and hit
hard! That ought to be a maxim you'd find ringing in your ears every
time you feel tempted to be a quitter!"
That last word stung, just as Elmer meant it should. Rufus flushed, and
jumped to his feet almost half angrily.
"Here, give me that ax again, Elmer," he said between his set teeth;
"and pick out for me the toughest old chunk of oak you can find. We'll
see if I'm a _quitter_. I'll hit the knot, and hit her hard, to boot;
you watch me!"
Elmer hastened to accommodate him. He was secretly congratulating
himself on his success so early in the game. It chanced that a second
fragment of oak lay near by, and offered a fairly good test, as it, too,
had a difficult knot in its heart. He showed Rufus just how to take the
right sort of grip on the ax, and several times corrected him when he
struck violently. Of course the blows lacked much of the accuracy that
long practice gives, and thus considerable energy was wasted; but after
he had been working away for five minutes, a lucky stroke caused the
thick bit of oak to fall apart. It had been done by keeping up a
constant pounding at the centre of resistance, which in this case was
that tough knot.
Rufus was perspiring, and short of breath after his exertion, but there
was a look of extreme pride on his flushed face, and his eyes kindled
also. Indeed, there was good reason for his self-congratulation; he had
proven to himself that "where there is a will there is a way"; and
possibly for the first time in his life Rufus realized the power that
one may command when determined not to give in.
"Well, I did do it, didn't I, Elmer?" he chuckled, visibly pleased. "And
next time I won't be so ready to throw up the sponge. I was a little bit
huffed because you spoke the way you did, Elmer, but now I thank you. I
wouldn't be surprised but that I'd have caught that big fly last summer
instead of muffing it, and losing the game for our side, if only I'd
made up my mind I _could_ hold it, and must."
"That's the ticket, Rufus," the other told him. "Confidence is half the
battle, and the rest is in doing it. But you've chopped enough for a
while; better change work and give some other set of muscles a chance to
get busy."
"Now, that isn't a bad idea, either, Elmer," Rufus went on to say. "I'd
like to take a little turn out of camp before evening comes on, because
somehow I seem to have a sneaking notion we'll run across one of the
survey lines close by here. You see, they run down from the bluff across
that wide stretch of country toward the setting sun; and by pushing
along the ridge we ought to find a slashing."
"Well, if you can coax George, here, to go with you, Rufus," the patrol
leader remarked, "I've no objections. I can understand how eager you
must be to get your location fixed in the start; and I expect you'll
sleep easier tonight if you learn that our camp happens to be near one
of the survey lines."
George upon being appealed to readily agreed to go with the greenhorn.
He knew why Elmer had made this arrangement; for as Rufus was quite a
novice in most things pertaining to woodcraft, the chances were he would
get lost the first thing. If given an opportunity, George, as a
first-class scout, could begin the education of the tenderfoot thus
placed in his charge; and the first lesson would be upon various methods
of learning how to make his way through the densest forest when caught
without a compass, and unable even to see the sun so as to know east
from the west, the north from the south.
So George took great pride in explaining how the moss on the trees would
serve as an almost infallible guide, all else failing.
"You see, in this section of country nearly all the big storms come from
the southwest," he told Rufus as they walked on. "The moss is almost
always on the north side of the trees, veering just a little toward
northeast. Notice that fact well, Rufus, and never forget it. Some time
it may save you heaps of trouble; I know it has me, and lots of other
scouts in the bargain."
Finding that the tenderfoot seemed to show considerable interest, George
went on to tell of other facts connected with the important subject.
"Now," he observed, soberly, "you may think I'm going to a lot of
trouble telling you all this, Rufus; but if ever you do get lost in the
woods, and keep wandering around for hours, and then have to make a
lonely camp, and sit up most of the night listening to the owls and
foxes and such things, why, you'll understand why it's so important a
thing in the education of a scout."
Meanwhile Lil Artha and Alec were trying their hands at the woodpile;
for as the elongated scout explained to the Scotch lad, they would have
need of considerable fuel during the long evening, as they sat by their
fire and talked.
Alec proved to have enough stamina, at least; there was a stubborn
streak in his Scotch blood that would never allow him to give up easily.
Nevertheless, Lil Artha knew Alec had faults that must be corrected
before he could reach that condition of excellence that all true scouts
aspire to attain.
He had a hasty temper, like most red-haired, impulsive boys, and was,
moreover, a little inclined to be cruel, especially toward dumb animals.
Lil Artha, himself, had once been the same sort of a chap, and could
readily sympathize with Alec; but at that he meant the other should see
the error of his ways, and reform. So the tall member of the Wolf Patrol
took it upon himself to be a mentor; and who so well fitted for the task
as a boy who had had personal experience? No one can preach temperance
so splendidly as the man who, himself, has passed through the fire of
unbridled passions, and learned the folly of giving way to them.
Alec was particularly interested in the subject of the reversal of his
badge. He had, of course, followed the customary habit of all scouts by
fastening this to his coat in the morning in an upside-down position,
until he found some opportunity for doing a good deed toward some one,
which act allowed him to change its position.
"That was easy enough at home, d'ye mind, Lil Artha," he was saying, as
he rested upon his ax, and recovered his breath, "because a fellow would
be a gillie if he couldnae find mony a chance to do something for sae
sweet a bairn as our little Jessie. But it's going to be a harder task
away up here in the wilderness, I trow."
"Oh! I don't know about that, Alec," the other told him, encouragingly.
"All you have to do is to keep your eyes about you. There are four chums
around, and if at any time, for instance, you took a notion to do my
stint of wood-chopping, that ought to entitle you to turn your badge
over, because it would be a good deed, you see."
Alec looked queerly at him, and then laughed.
"But it would be depriving you of your necessary exercise, Lil Artha,"
he hastened to say, "and that I'd hate to do."
"Well, seriously speaking then, Alec, there are endless ways of doing
good. You needn't be confined to lending a helping hand to human
beings; a boy who takes a stone out of the shoe of a limping mule is
just as much a benefactor as the one who helps a poor old woman across a
crowded street, or carries her heavy basket part of the way home from
market. I've bound up the broken wing of a crow; yes, and I knew a scout
who even helped one of those queer little tumble-bugs get his ball up a
little rise, after he'd watched him fall back a dozen times, and then
claim the right to alter his badge. The rest of the troop laughed at
him, but the scout-master hushed them up, and said the boy was right;
and that not only had he done a good deed toward one of the humblest of
created things, but he had learned a practical lesson in pertinacity and
never-give-upitiveness that would be of great value to him all the rest
of his life."
"Nae doot, nae doot," muttered the Scotch lad, reflectively, as though
Lil Artha's interesting words had found a firm lodgment in his heart. "I
can see where it is a verra interesting subject, this scoutcraft, Lil
Artha. And ye ken I'm mair than glad now I took up with it."
"And as you get to be more intimate with the little animals of the
woods," continued the experienced scout, "you come to like them as
brothers. We usually have a pet squirrel ducking about the camp, picking
up the crumbs; and birds will come, too, if you're kind to them. All
those little things help to make an outing more enjoyable, you'll find,
Alec, the deeper you dip into them."
Alec scratched his head as though he found it just a little difficult to
understand; he had been raised under such vastly different conditions
that it would take some time to change his habits, Lil Artha realized.
Still, he liked the tenderfoot very much, and meant to do all he could
to make him see things through another pair of spectacles than those he
had used in the past.
Already his lessons in handling the ax had borne fruit, and Alec gave
promise of soon becoming an expert at the job. His success also gave the
greenhorn a new-born ambition to excel in other branches of scout
education. Lil Artha did not believe he would have much trouble in
posting Alec; getting him to govern his temper, and be kind to
everything that had life, would be another proposition; but constant
association with such a fellow as Elmer Chenowith was bound to work a
change little short of miraculous, Lil Artha had faith to believe; for
he knew personally what the patrol leader was able to accomplish in his
quiet, persistent way.
"After you've finished with that log, Alec," he told the other, "we'll
start our fire. I want to show you just how to go about that task,
because there are a hundred things connected with making a fire that
you'll find mighty interesting."
"Ye don't say, Lil Artha? I didna ken that there was more than one way
to start a blaze, which was to sticket a match to the paper, and let it
go at that."
The tall scout laughed delightedly. Really, he would find great pleasure
in showing this greenhorn how many curious ways there were of starting a
fire. Lil Artha had made this a sort of fad for some time past; and
while several tricks were still beyond his comprehension, he had
mastered a number of others; so that he could start into the woods minus
a single match, or even a burning sun glass, and make a fire in any one
of five different ways.
"Oh! I can see where you've got a whole lot to learn, Alec," he told the
other. "I'll promise to show you some interesting things while we're up
here in the Raccoon Bluff camp. For instance, I'll make a blaze by
rubbing flint and steel together, like the old Indians used to do
centuries back on this continent. Then I've a little trick with a couple
of sticks and some dry tinder to catch the spark."
"Ye maun show me that, for a certainty!" cried the other, "because I've
read of it in Robinson Crusoe, or some ither book of travel and
adventure amang the islands of the sea."
"Oh! there are lots of other ways for doing it in the bargain," pursued
Lil Artha, now upon his most favored subject. "You'll think it a most
fascinating thing, Alec, I promise you. And once you wake up to the
fact that a scout can learn a thousand facts, if only he uses his eyes
and his head, you'll be more than glad you joined the troop. Why, we
live in a world of our own, and the poor ninnies outside don't have
one-tenth of the fun that falls to us."
"There come Rufus and George," remarked Alec. "They look unco' pleased,
as if they had discovered the slashing they went to look for. I'm a
little interested in survey work mysel'. Rufus is clean crazy over it,
too, and sometimes his fash is all aboot theodolites and chains and
compasses and the like. They told me he was lazy, but if ye seed him
workin' at the business he loved, ye'd know they leed, they leed."
Alec turned back to his work of splitting the log he had attacked.
Already he had a wedge well driven into its heart. A few more lusty
blows of the ax and he had opened another cleft further along, into
which he was able, with Lil Artha's directions, to place a second wedge.
After that it was easy to continue lengthening the split until with a
doleful crack the log fell apart, having been cleft in twain.
"That will do for now, Alec," said Lil Artha. "You have done splendidly
for your first real lesson in wood-chopping, and I can see with half an
eye that you bid fair to beat us all at the game, given a little time,
and more experience. You've got a great swing, and seem able to hit a
space the size of a dime, every time you let fall. That's half of the
battle in chopping, to be able to drive true to the mark; because
there's energy wasted in false blows."
Alec looked pleased. A little praise judiciously bestowed is always a
great accelerator in coaxing reluctant boys to take up their tasks
cheerfully; and wise Lil Artha knew it.
Just then Alec happened to catch a glimpse of something moving amidst
the branches of the tree over his head. Lil Artha had turned aside, and
did not chance to notice what the other was doing, as the Scotch lad,
stooping down, snatched up a stout cudgel, and hastily threw it aloft.
His aim must have been excellent, judging from the immediate results.
Lil Artha heard him give a satisfied cry, which, however, almost
immediately changed to a howl of alarm. Whirling around, the tall scout
saw something that might have amused him at another time, for it
possessed the elements of comedy rather than tragedy.
Alec in hurling that stick aloft must have succeeded in dislodging some
animal from its hold on the limb. The beast in falling had alighted
fairly and squarely on the shoulders of the astonished Scotch boy, and
given him a severe case of fright. Lil Artha saw that it possessed a
long ringed tail, and hence he knew instantly that it was only a
harmless raccoon, and not a fierce wildcat, as he had at first feared.