ON THE WAY AT LAST
FOLKS in our town think that white streaks down the face of Greylock do
not improve his looks any, but to us boys they seem like scars won in
battle. We feel like cheering some mornings, when we see him fighting to
break away from storm clouds which wrap him around.
At first we can see nothing but clouds from where we stand on Bob's
Hill. Then, the clouds begin to lift a little and Peck's Falls woods
gradually come into view. A little later the very tiptop of the mountain
begins to show, floating like an island in an ocean of mist. While we
look, the clouds fall away still more, making the island larger and
larger, and the bottom mists roll up the wooded sides of the hill.
In a few minutes old Greylock throws them off altogether and stands
there, with his scars showing, except that across his face a narrow
cloud sometimes hangs like a billowy screen, giving him, Ma says, a look
of majesty as if God was living there.
Anyhow, we boys can't help cheering when the mountain shakes off his
bonds and stands forth like a giant Scout, telling us to be cheerful and
brave and reverent and all that.
The great rains did more than scar the face of Greylock. They kept us
from starting on our trip at the time we had planned to go.
"Wait until the woods dry out," Mr. Norton told us. "The roads are too
muddy now to think of starting, and you couldn't have any fun if the
woods were wet. A week of sunshine will fix things all right."
We hated to wait, but there was plenty to do getting ready, so that the
time did not seem long.
"We'll carry no firearms," he went on. "Guns seemed necessary when this
was a wilderness, but we are going over a fairly well traveled road.
Scouts do not believe in wanton killing, anyway."
"How about bears?" asked Skinny, anxiously.
"I have made careful inquiries and have not found anybody who has seen a
bear along that road in years. I know you found one near the Savoy road,
or he found you, but that cub was as badly frightened as you were.
Should any of us see a bear, which is not at all likely, I don't believe
there is anything in Scout law to keep us from running one way while the
bear is running another."
"I don't know about a Scout's running," Skinny told him. "Of course I
ran, but I didn't run far, only to the nearest tree, so that I could
lasso him better."
"Well, that's all right. Run to the nearest tree and then give the Scout
signal. Some of the noises which you boys make, especially William,
would scare a whole drove of bears."
"Anyhow, I'm going to carry my rope."
"I'll tell you what we can do. We'll put in the week making bows and
arrows. Every boy should carry with him a good bow, made of hickory,
hemlock, or mountain ash, and a quiver full of arrows. You never will
have a better chance to become experts in archery."
We thought that we would make them of hemlock, because there are plenty
of hemlock trees up above Peck's Falls and in Plunkett's woods, but Mr.
Norton told us that we ought to make them of seasoned wood. The next day
he sent some seasoned hickory over to our barn and we made the bows and
arrows of that.
We took a lot of pains with them, and a carpenter that Hank knew helped
us some. Before the week was over we had some weapons which Skinny said
he knew we could scare a bear with, anyhow. Each Scout's bow was about
as long as himself and an inch thick in the center. The ends were shaved
down until they bent evenly. For string, we used strong, unbleached
linen threads, twisted together. Benny made his bow so stiff at first
that he couldn't bend it, but Hank showed him how to shave it down,
until he could draw the string back twenty-three inches, like the book
says.
The arrows gave us the most trouble because they had to be so straight
and round. We made them twenty-five inches long and about three-eighths
of an inch thick, and we glued turkey feathers on near the notched end.
The other end we fitted into a brass ferrule, to keep the wood from
splitting. The arrows looked fine, when we had them made and painted.
Each boy painted his a different way, so that we could tell which one
killed the bear.
Mr. Norton showed us how to make guards for the left wrist, to keep the
bow cord from striking it. To protect the fingers of the right hand, we
used an old leather glove, with the thumb and little finger cut away.
I'll never forget the morning we started. After breakfast the boys, all
in uniform, came over to my house. Pretty soon Mr. Norton drove up in a
light wagon, loaded with tents, camp outfit, and things to eat.
We greeted him with cheers, and when he had come close gave him the
Scout salute.
"Come on, boys. Let's get started, if you are ready," he said. "We have
a long walk ahead of us, if we expect to camp on Florida Mountain
to-night."
"Great snakes!" said Bill. "That listens good to little Willie!" And he
gave a yell that brought people out of their houses, all up and down
Park Street.
"Boys," said Pa, just as we were starting, "remember that your folks are
trusting you and, as we understand it, a Scout's honor is to be trusted.
Remember, too, that it is a Scout's duty to obey orders and that the one
to give you orders while you are away is Mr. Norton. And let me add that
he has my full sympathy. If he isn't worn to a frazzle before he gets
back, I'll miss my guess."
In another minute we were off, the folks calling good-bys after us and
shouting for us to remember this and not to forget that and not to do
something else.
Mr. Norton drove the horse at the start because he knew that we would
want to march through town, and away we went, with our bows and arrows
on our backs, and Skinny, with his rope and hatchet, which he called his
tomahawk.
At the Gingham Ground we found the boys of Eagle Patrol drawn up by the
side of the road. They saluted and cheered as we passed.
"If we have good luck this time, we'll take you next year," called Mr.
Norton. "I'm new at the business, myself, and eight youngsters are all I
want to tackle the first time."
"Skinny! Oh, Skinny-y-y!" yelled Jim, when we were almost out of
hearing.
We stopped and waited to find out what was wanted.
"Don't kill all the game-e-e. Save some for seed."
Skinny's only answer was to wave his tomahawk. Then we marched on toward
North Adams, and at nearly every house we passed people came to the door
to see what was going on. It made us feel proud.
We took turns riding, two or three boys in the wagon at a time, because
Mr. Norton said that he didn't want us to get all tired out before we
started and that we shouldn't be really started until we came to the
mountain.
The day was fine and the roads were getting dusty again. We were so
happy that almost before we knew it we came to the foot of a hill, which
led up into the mountain, and there we stopped to eat lunch.
Before leaving home, I asked Pa why they called it Florida Mountain and
why they called a little town on top Florida, and he said because that
was its name. Anyhow, they call 'em that. Before Hoosac Tunnel was built
under the mountain, a stage coach made regular trips over it, along the
road we were going to take. That was the only way people had to get to
Greenfield and the other towns on the east side, without going south to
Pittsfield and from there going over Mount Washington on the Boston &
Albany Railroad. Now, there is a big hole under the mountain, more than
four miles long, and trains go through in a few minutes.
After we had eaten and had a good rest, we started up a road, which we
could see winding up the mountainside, far above us.
"Now, boys," said Mr. Norton, "we don't have to make this trip all in
one day. We are out for fun and to learn something about scouting; if we
climb too far in this hot sun it will get to be work instead of play. I
propose that we climb slowly, taking plenty of time to enjoy the
wonderful views that will unfold before us with every turn of the road.
You boys can stop whenever you feel like it, to rest, or explore, or
shoot. Before we get to the top, we'll pitch our tents near some spring,
in full view of the valley and setting sun. We'll plan it so as to have
several hours of daylight left after we go into camp for the night. What
do you say?"
That suited us all right and away we went, with Benny driving, and the
old horse moving along in good shape.
Say, no tunnels for us, after this! Tunnels are all right when you are
in a hurry. But were we in a hurry? I guess not!
It was just as Mr. Norton had told us. At every turn of the road, and
mountain roads wind around with a lot of turns instead of going straight
up, we stopped to look back over the valley. And every time we stopped
it looked different. It was great. And the higher we climbed, the better
it looked and the farther we could see, until the whole valley lay
before us, all the way to Pittsfield and west toward the Hudson. To the
north, the Green Mountains of Vermont looked blue in the distance.
Across the valley, on the south, old Greylock put his head up above the
other peaks and watched us, wondering, we thought, why we were going up
Florida Mountain instead of climbing over him.
"Hurray!" yelled Skinny. "I'm Captain Clark, exploring the great
Northwest."
"I'm Captain Lewis," shouted Benny, strutting around and waving his bow.
"Me Injun chief," said Bill. "Ugh! Heap pale face get lost. No find
trail. Injun show um way."
Then he gave such a yell that it scared the horse and we hardly could
keep up.
About four o'clock in the afternoon we came to a spring near the top of
the mountain, and a little beyond, through the trees, we could see a
grassy slope, just the place for our camp.
"This looks good to me," said Mr. Norton, driving up to the side of the
road and blocking the wheels of the wagon. "We'll give the horse a
drink after he cools off a little and unload the things which we shall
need to-night."
It looked like an Indian village there, when we had finished setting the
tents up. For beds we went into the woods and cut branches of hemlock,
which we wove into mattresses and covered with blankets.
"Let's play 'Hunt the Deer,'" said Skinny, when all was ready for the
night and Mr. Norton had sat down to rest on a rock, overlooking the
valley.
"All right, boys," he told us. "I want you to have the time of your
lives on this trip and I know that even a view like this will not long
satisfy a boy. But don't go far and remember your Scout training. You
will usually find moss on the north side of tree trunks."
"We know that," said Skinny. "We tried it once on Greylock, when we were
lost, and it worked all right."
"You can't get lost. I believe I could hear William call anywhere on the
mountain. The sun is shining and your shadows will point east. Come
back in time for supper. I'll be cook to-night, but after this you boys
will have to take turns."
"We'll get back in time, never fear," Skinny told him. "We are hungry
enough now to gnaw the bark off the trees."
Then he grabbed a bag which was stuffed with hay, put an ear of corn in
his pocket, and started.
"Give me ten minutes," he said.
It was a game which we had read about in the book. The stuffed bag was
the deer and the corn was for the trail. The game was for Skinny to
scatter corn along, making a crooked trail for us to follow, and then to
hide the deer somewhere for us to find.
After Skinny had made a good start, we scattered, looking for the
trail--corn, footprints, and other signs.
It was great fun and not easy for beginners like we were. Sometimes we
lost the trail altogether. Then one of us would pick it up again, where
Skinny maybe had doubled back toward the camp.
Finally Bill caught sight of the bag in some bushes and yelled:
"Deer!"
Hank hurried up and called, "Second!" I saw it third and all the boys
soon after except Benny. He had lost the trail and was beating around in
the woods somewhere, out of sight and hearing.
It was Bill's first shot and he had to stand where he was when he first
saw the deer. He took out an arrow, aimed carefully, and fired. The
arrow went so fast that I believe it almost would have killed a real
deer if it had hit him, but he aimed too high and it went over.
Then Hank stepped five paces toward the deer and shot. He missed. I
stepped up five paces more and I missed. Harry went five paces closer
and was the first to hit it. After that we all shot from where he had
stood, until we all had hit it.
Skinny had come up and I was just asking him if he had seen Benny, when
we heard a great crashing through the bushes and in a minute he came in
sight, running like sixty.
He was almost tuckered out when he reached us and had only breath enough
left to say:
"Run! It's a bear!"
We ran, all right, but after a little I looked back and could see that
there was nothing following.
"Hold up--a minute," I panted. "It--ain't a-comin'."
"Where was it, Benny?" I asked, when they had come back. "Where did you
see it?"
"I didn't see it. I only heard it. It was stepping around in the bushes
and I heard it grunt. I didn't wait to see it."
"I wish I had my rope," said Skinny. "I left it in the wagon. Come on,
anyhow. We'll surround the critter and shoot him."
Skinny scared us when he said that. I could feel cold chills chasing up
and down my back bone, when I thought of surrounding a live bear.
"Great snakes!" said Bill. "I hope it's a big one, so Skinny can hit it.
He couldn't hit a little one."
"I couldn't, couldn't I?" said he. "I'll show you whether I can hit it
or not. Come on. I'll dare you to."
That settled it. We weren't going to take a dare, but I was hoping all
the time that the bear had run away. So, with Benny keeping close to me
and pointing the way, we crept through the woods, not making any noise,
and each boy held his bow and arrow ready to shoot.
It was scary but it was fun. Finally, with an excited pinch of my arm,
Benny stopped and pointed.
My heart throbbed like a trip-hammer, and I hardly could hold my arrow
on the cord, for, looking through some bushes, I caught sight of
something black and heard the bear tramping around.
I heard Skinny muttering something about a rope; then he whispered:
"Get ready, and run as soon as you shoot."
"Aim."
We stood there, trembling, wanting to run first and shoot afterward, but
too proud to. Each boy pointed his arrow toward where we could see the
bear standing still behind some bushes and only a part, of him showing.
[Illustration: AS WE RAN, WE HEARD A YELL OF PAIN, OR FRIGHT, AND IT WAS
NOT A BEAR'S VOICE AT ALL.]
"Fire!"
I don't know when I fired. I only knew that my arrow was gone and I was
running for the camp like the wind, with the other Scouts chasing after
me.
As we ran, we heard a yell of pain, or fright, and it was not a bear's
voice at all. It was a woman's! Then we heard the voice say:
"For the love of Mike! The woods is full of Injuns and I've got an arrow
in the pit of my stummick."