LOST
The test of manhood is the ability to meet an emergency squarely, to
put fear one side, think clearly and act sanely. The man who does not
know fear may make no claim to bravery. Courage he may possess,
courage that may lead to mighty deeds, but the spirit of true heroism
is not his until he has tasted of the bitterness of fear and conquered
it.
Of the two boys sitting with blanched faces under the first shock of
realization that they were indeed lost in the great forest, with night
fast closing in, Spud was some two years the older, stocky in build,
well muscled, apparently fitted in every way to be the leader. Billy,
on the other hand, was rather under size, wiry, quick moving, with the
activity of nervous energy, and highly imaginative. The sudden fear
that whitened Spud's sun-browned face clutched at Billy's heart as
well and prompted him to leap to his feet and plunge after Spud in
response to the latter's panic shaken, "Come on! We better keep
going, and maybe we'll come out somewhere!"
For a few minutes they tore along in frantic haste. Then Billy showed
the stuff of which he was made. "Stop, Spud!" he yelled sharply.
It was the voice of authority. It cut through the terror of the
fleeing boy in front and brought him up short. Billy had taken
command. He began to speak rapidly.
"We're a couple of idiots. This ain't goin' to get us nowhere unless
it's into more trouble, maybe. We're doin' just what always gets lost
people into trouble and gets 'em more lost. The thing to do is to sit
down and talk it over and try to decide just what we ought to do.
Pretty Scouts we are, running like a couple of silly hens at the first
scare! Wonder what the big chief would say if he could see us, after
all the lectures he's given on what to do when you get lost. Here we
are, and the question is, What are we going to do about it? What do
you say?"
"I--I don't know," confessed Spud miserably. He was shaking a bit.
"They'll send out searching parties when we fail to show up to-night.
Do you s'pose they'll come over this way?"
Billy made a wry face that instantly resolved into a grimace of pain
because of his swollen features. "No, I don't," he replied. "You see I
let some of the fellers think that we was goin' over toward Old Baldy,
and you know some of 'em saw us start out on the Baldy trail. They'll
go huntin' over that way. Spud, we might just as well make up our
minds right now that we've got to spend the night in the woods. In the
mornin' we can shin up a tall tree and p'raps get our bearings. What
we want to do now is to make ourselves as comfortable as we can, and
the first thing I'm goin' to do is to get some mud."
"Mud! What for?" asked Spud in surprise.
"To plaster on these blamed stings," replied Billy. "Jerusalem, how my
face aches! Just a little bit back there we came across a swampy
place. Come on and see if we can find it."
Retracing their steps in the direction from which they had made their
last mad flight they soon found the place Billy had noticed. With
hasty fingers he dug up the wet black muck and plastered it thick over
his swollen face and on his hands and legs. Somewhat gingerly Spud
followed his example. The cool, moist plasters brought almost instant
relief, and with the easing of the smarting wounds a measure of
steadiness returned to the shaken nerves. Spud even so far forgot his
fears as to grin as he looked at Billy.
"Gee, you are a sight! Say, the fellows wouldn't do a thing if they
could see you now! The wild man of Borneo would be a beaut 'side of
you."
"Can't have much on you," replied Billy. "That eye of yours looks as
if it was about closed up, and mud ain't becoming to your style of
beauty. Now let's make camp before it gets so dark we can't see
nothin'."
"Where'll we make it, right here?" asked Spud.
"No," replied Billy decidedly. "It's too wet. We've got to get on
higher ground."
He stooped and began to make a big ball of mud.
"What's that for?" demanded the puzzled Spud.
"First aid for the injured. These beauty plasters are goin' to dry
out pretty quick and we'll want some fresh ones. You'd better bring
along some too," replied Billy briefly.
The advice seemed good, and Spud followed Billy's example. Then they
pushed on for drier ground, Billy in the lead. Already his active
imagination had seized upon their predicament as savoring of real
adventure. He pictured their return to camp the next day as heroes
rather than culprits who had disobeyed one of the most stringent rules
of the camp. He saw himself the center of admiring groups of his
fellows because of his superior scoutcraft in knowing just what to do
and how to do it in so severe a test as spending a night lost in the
woods. The anxiety which would be caused by their absence never
entered his head, or if it did was dismissed as of little consequence.
He would show them that he was a real Scout, able to take care of
himself under any conditions.
Presently they became aware that the ground was gradually sloping up.
It was firm and dry under foot. By this time it was so dark that it
was with difficulty they could make out their surroundings. In front
of two trees standing some ten feet apart Billy stopped.
"We'll camp here," he said.
Carefully putting his precious ball of mud at the foot of one of the
trees he singled out a tall two-inch sapling. "Here, Spud, you bend
this over as far as you can," he commanded.
"What for?" asked Spud.
"Never you mind; just get busy!" replied Billy.
By this time Spud had accepted Billy's leadership without question and
he meekly obeyed. With his stout scout knife Billy made a straight cut
across the sapling at the point where the strain was greatest. The
strained fibers of the wood yielded to the first pressure of the keen
blade and in less than half a minute he had the tree in his hands with
a clean square cut base.
"You can cut down a big tree with a penknife if you can only bend the
tree over far enough," said he as he trimmed the sapling. When he had
finished he had a pole perhaps twelve feet long. Fishing some stout
twine from one of his capacious pockets he lashed the pole firmly to
the two trees about six feet from the ground.
"Now hustle and get a lot of sticks 'bout ten feet long," he
commanded.
These were not so easily obtained, but by dint of much feeling around
and effort on the part of the two boys enough sticks and young
saplings were secured to answer Billy's purpose. These were arranged
with butts on the ground and other ends supported on the cross-bar
between the two trees, all slanting evenly in the same direction.
"Now heap up all the brush and leaves you can scrape up," commanded
the young architect, bringing up an armful of spruce boughs he had
obtained from a nearby windfall. Thatched in this way the rude lean-to
was soon completed. It was a rough but effective shelter, and with a
few balsam boughs spread on the ground beneath it Billy felt that they
could spend the night with a reasonable degree of comfort.
"Now if we only had a fire this wouldn't be half bad," he muttered.
"Got any matches, Spud?"
"What do you take me for? You know the rules," growled Spud.
Billy knew. Matches were absolutely tabooed in Woodcraft Camp, that
there might be no chance of a forest fire from the carelessness of
just such reckless youngsters as Billy.
"Wish I'd brought my fire stick," grumbled Billy.
"I've got mine," said Spud.
"What! You blink-eyed owl! Why didn't you say so before?" whooped
Billy. "Trot it out!"
The cautious Spud demurred. "You know the rules, Billy, and that
building a fire without permission means expulsion," he protested.
"Expulsion nothin'!" replied Billy. "Do you s'pose the big chief's
goin' to fire us for keepin' from freezin' to death? We'll be 'bout
frozen by morning without blankets nor nothin'. Here, you give it to
me. You needn't have anything to do with makin' the fire. I'll make
it, and tell the doctor so when we get in. There ain't any danger,
'cause one of us will be on watch all the time."
[Illustration: BILLY'S APPARATUS FOR MAKING FIRE
FIRE-DRILL
DRILL-SOCKET
FIRE-BOARD OR BLOCK
LEATHER THONG
BOW
PUT TOGETHER IN USE]
Reluctantly Spud produced from an inner pocket a little block of
wood having in the middle a shallow pit, already charred with use.
From this pit a V shape groove extended to the edge. From around his
neck under his coat he unslung a small bow having a slack leather
thong for a string. With this was a straight stick pointed at both
ends. Lastly he brought forth a small oval piece of wood having a
shallow pit in the center, and a little bag of finely ground cedar
bark.
All of these things he turned over to Billy. The latter first
carefully cleared the ground of all leaves and rubbish for a
considerable space in front of the shelter. He then felt around until
he had gathered a little bundle of dry twigs and some shreds of bark
from a fallen birch nearby.
Resting the block of wood or fire-board on a piece of bark he ordered
Spud to hold it steady. Taking up the straight stick already mentioned
he rested one pointed end in the hollow of the fire-board, looped the
bow thong around it and, fitting the oval piece to the upper end of
the straight stick by means of the hollow in the center, he was ready
for business. Holding the oval piece in his left hand he bore down
lightly, at the same time grasping the bow in his right hand and
moving it rapidly back and forth. This caused the straight stick or
drill, as Scouts call it, to revolve rapidly.
It was too dark to see, but almost at once the boys smelled smoke, and
a few seconds later a tiny coal glowed on the piece of bark on the
edge of which the fire-board rested. Dropping his tools Billy picked
up the piece of bark, and covered the coal with cedar bark from Spud's
bag, while he gently blew upon it. The bark was really tinder,
prepared as the Indians prepared it before ever the white man brought
his own first crude fire-making methods to startle the Red Men. The
smoke increased in volume. A tiny flame flickered, disappeared,
flickered again, then hungrily licked at the edge of a strip of birch
bark that Billy held to it.
Hastily setting down the piece of bark holding the tiny fire he
arranged the dry twigs over it in a loose pile and had the
satisfaction of seeing the blaze leap up merrily. Larger sticks were
laid over the pile, and in a few minutes the dancing flames were
making a circle of cheerful light that flooded the lean-to with
warmth and cast weird shadows among the trees.
By the light from the fire the boys were able to gather a supply of
wood wherewith to keep it going through the night and under its
cheering influence their spirits rose wonderfully.
"If we only had something to eat----" began Billy.
"Shut up!" interrupted Spud. "I'll be chewin' pine-needles in a few
minutes."
Billy had a sudden inspiration. Fishing the bee box from his coat
pocket he extracted the piece of syrup-soaked bread with which it had
been baited and eyed it critically. "There's just half a bite apiece,
and a swallow of syrup for each of us in the bottle," said he. "Shall
we have it now or wait till morning?"
"I wouldn't trust you with it till mornin'. We'll have it now,"
grunted Spud.
The night had settled down still, and with a chill in the air that
made the warmth of the fire very welcome. Beyond the zone of the
firelight a wall of blackness hemmed them in. Now that camp had been
made and there was nothing to do but wait for daylight the loneliness
of their situation weighed upon their spirits. They drew closer
together on an old log which they had drawn before the fire for a
seat. Suddenly Billy raised a warning hand.
"What is it?" whispered Spud, edging a bit nearer.
"I thought I heard a shot," replied Billy.
With straining ears the boys sat and waited what seemed an
interminable length of time before they caught the faint sound of
three shots fired in quick succession. Spud sprang to his feet.
"They're lookin' for us, Billy. Let's give 'em a yell," he cried.
First one, then the other, then both together they yelled at the top
of their lungs until their throats were strained and raw. Then they
realized the futility of wasting breath in this way.
"'Tain't no use, not a bit. May as well save our breath. We can't hear
those shots plain enough to tell what direction they come from, so of
course nobody can hear us," said Billy, disconsolately resuming his
seat by the fire.
For a while they heard shots from time to time, and somehow they
brought a certain amount of comfort. It seemed less lonely to know
that others were abroad in the forest looking for them, even though
they were miles away. But the shots ceased finally, and the brooding
mystery of the night settled over and took possession of them. They
said little, but sat absorbed each in his own thoughts or listening to
the strange sounds and uncanny voices of the night.
A pathetic picture they presented had any one been there to see,
huddled together on the old log, their swollen, mud-smeared faces
still further distorted by the uncertain flicker of the firelight. A
stick snapping off in the darkness produced an answering jump in
overwrought nerves, and the sudden scurry of a rabbit brought a
startled "What was that?" from Spud.
Presently the physical strain and excitement they had been under began
to tell, and despite their strange surroundings both boys began to
nod, while the fire died down to glowing embers. It was then that some
evil genius prompted a great horned owl to take up his watch on a dead
pine not fifty feet away and startle the woodland with his fierce
hunting call:
"Whooo-hoo-hoo, whoo-hoo!"
The sleepers awoke in a panic, frantically clutching each other.
"D-d-did you hear that?" whispered Spud, his teeth chattering.
As if in reply again the fierce hunting call rang through the woods:
"Whooo-hoo-hoo, whoo-hoo!"
Billy gave vent to a hysterical little laugh of relief. "Nothin' but
an owl," said he as he heaped more wood on the fire. "He certainly got
my goat that first time, though. Say, Spud, we're a couple of ninnies
to both be sittin' out here asleep. What'd we build that lean-to for?
You turn in there and sleep for a couple of hours and then you watch
and I'll sleep. Ain't any need of either of us keepin' watch so far as
any danger is concerned, I s'pose, for there's nothin' in these woods
to harm us, but we ought not to leave the fire burnin' without some
one to watch it."
This was sound advice, and Spud stretched out on the fragrant balsam
boughs in the lean-to and soon was sound asleep. Billy began his
lonely vigil. At first it was easy enough to keep awake. Later an
almost irresistible drowsiness took possession of him, and it was only
by tramping back and forth or hunting fire-wood within the circle of
light from the fire that he managed to keep awake. At the end of two
hours he roused Spud, and wearily threw himself in the latter's place
on the balsam bed.
It seemed to him that he had hardly closed his eyes when he felt Spud
shaking him. "Go 'way," he murmured sleepily. "What you waking me up
now for?"
"It's your turn again to watch," Spud growled, unceremoniously hauling
Billy off the boughs.
If it had been hard and lonely work before it was doubly so now. It
was past midnight, at the hour when vital forces and courage are at
their lowest ebb. Billy was stiff and sore. Every movement was
painful. He had never felt so utterly miserable in all his life. As he
afterward expressed it, every bit of sand had run out.
He piled fuel on the fire, and then sat down on the log and gave
himself over to his misery. How long he had sat there he could not
tell when he was brought out of a semi-drowse by a slight noise back
of the lean-to. In an instant he was wide awake, straining his ears
for a repetition of the sound.
The fire had burned low and the circle of light had narrowed to a
faint glow of but a few feet in diameter. Billy held his breath. Had
he imagined it? No, there was a rustle of leaves back of the lean-to.
Something was moving there. Then there followed a decided and
pronounced sniff! Billy felt his scalp prickle as if each individual
hair was rising on end. With a wild yell he grabbed a glowing ember
from the fire and hurled it in the direction of the sound. There was a
startled "whoof," and the sound of a heavy animal lumbering off
through the brush.
Spud came tumbling out of the lean-to white and shaky. "For heaven's
sake, Billy, what's the matter?" he gasped.
Billy's teeth were chattering so that he could hardly speak. "I--I--I
th-think it wa-was a bear," he finally managed to get out.
"Go on, what you givin' us!" said Spud.
Billy had by now so far recovered himself that he could give a
connected account of what he had heard, and both agreed that their
visitor could have been nothing less than bruin. Needless to say there
was no more sleep for either that night. They piled fresh fuel on the
fire and kept watch together, starting nervously at the smallest
sound.
It was with a sigh of profound relief that they noted the gray of dawn
stealing through the trees, and with the coming of the light their
spirits rose perceptibly.
"What shall we do now, make a break out of here?" asked Spud when day
had fairly broken.
"Not on your tintype!" replied Billy. "I'm lost all I'm goin' to be.
You get busy and build another fire over there about fifty feet. When
it gets goin' good heap on a lot of green leaves and rotten wood to
make a smoke. I'll do the same thing with this fire. There ain't a
breath of wind; those two smokes will go straight up, and you know two
smokes means 'lost.' Some one will be up at the lookout on the top of
Old Scraggy the first thing this morning, and he'll see the smokes.
Then he'll get word to camp and a party will come out and find us."
Wise Billy. He had decided upon just the right course of action. After
the return of the unsuccessful searching parties Dr. Merriam had spent
an anxious night. Before daybreak he had dispatched Seaforth with one
of the guides to the top of Old Scraggy. They had seen the signal
smokes at once and heliographed the location of them to camp. A party
led by Big Jim and Louis Woodhull had started immediately, and as soon
as they reached the clearing where the boys had begun their bee hunt
they saw the smoke lazily curling above the tree tops about a mile
beyond.
Firing signal shots and stopping every few minutes to send a whoop
ringing through the woods they pushed on and presently, guided by
answering whoops from the two victims, found the camp.
"Mother of saints!" exclaimed Big Jim as he caught a glimpse of the
swollen and mud-stained faces of the two boys.
Billy smiled feebly, for the effort was painful. "We found a bee
tree," he said.
"Found a bee tree! Found a bee tree!" echoed the guide. "'Pears to me
thet them bees did some findin' on their own account."
Then seeing what really pitiful condition the two youngsters were in
he called an abrupt halt to all jollying by the rescuers and at once
prepared for the return to camp. One of the party was sent on ahead to
relieve the doctor of his worry, and the rest slowly worked their way
out, for Billy was too stiff and sore to hurry much.
At the first brook a halt was made and the faces of the two victims
were tenderly bathed and made a little more presentable to enter camp.
Billy's volatile spirits were already back to normal. He was full of
the bee tree and the bear and already laying plans for getting the
honey.
At mention of the bear Big Jim smiled. "Folks thet git lost in th'
woods most generally meet up with a bar," he remarked dryly. "Didn't
give yer a lock o' his hair fer a soovineer, did he, son?"
Billy tried to make a face at the guide, but winced with pain. "I tell
you there _was_ a bear, and he came right up to our lean-to," he
sputtered indignantly.
And so they came into camp where in front of the office Dr. Merriam
stood gravely awaiting them.