THE HOME TRAIL
Walter stood on the pier at Upper Lake looking down the long stretch
of water. A mist gathered before his eyes and blurred his vision. For
the moment he was alone. His father and Mr. Harrison were over by
"Woodcraft Girl," which was made fast farther down the pier, and were
talking earnestly with Louis Woodhull. How beautiful it was, and how
hard to leave. What a glorious summer it had been!
His thoughts ran back to the morning when he had stood in this same
place with Big Jim and felt for the first time the mystery of the
great wilderness. Was it possible that that was only eight weeks
before? What a lot had happened in that short time! What a tenderfoot
he had been! How much he had thought he knew of woodcraft, and how
little it had been compared with what he knew now.
And yet even now he had learned little more than the elementary
lessons. Big Jim had been right; "Woodcraft never yet was larned out
o' books." And still how much he owed to those same books. In the
light of the knowledge obtained from them how much better he had been
able to apply the lessons learned from his practical experiences. Even
the big guide had come to see this, and had grudgingly admitted that
there might be some good in the despised books, after all.
Walter stretched his arms out toward the lake and the mountains. "How
I hate to leave it all," he said, unconsciously speaking aloud.
"Same here," said Hal Harrison, who had come up behind him unobserved.
"And a few weeks ago I would have given anything I possessed to get
away. Now I can't wait for next summer to come, so that I can get back
here. You'll be back, of course?"
"I don't know. I want to. Seems as if I'd simply got to. It's all a
matter of whether Dad can afford to let me," replied Walter frankly.
Just then there was a warning toot from the engine attached to the
single coach which was to take them over to Upper Chain to connect
with the New York express. Woodhull came up to say good-bye. He, with
some of the older boys, would remain in camp for the opening of the
hunting season. "I shall look for you back next year, Upton," he said
extending his left hand for the Scout grip. "The Delawares need him,"
he added, as he shook hands with Mr. Upton.
Then turning to Hal with his winning smile he said, "Hal, if we didn't
have so much regard for Avery the Delawares would certainly annex you
too."
At Upper Chain there was a half hour wait, and the boys started out
for a final look at the sawmill village. Suddenly Walter caught sight
of a familiar figure. "Jim! Oh, you Jim!" he whooped in delight.
At the sound the big guide turned and his face lighted with pleasure
as he strode over to the boys. "I was afraid I was goin' t' miss yer,
son," he drawled. "Jest got back from th' county seat, whar I've been
t' see th' last o' a friend o' yourn, leastwise fer some time, I
reckon."
"Red Pete?" exclaimed both boys together.
The guide grinned. "You've sure hit th' right trail," he said. "Pete's
on his way to whar he won't hev t' lock th' doors t' keep folks from
takin' a look at his shakedown. He'll be in a sort o' permanent camp
'fore sundown--ten years at hard labor. When thet picter o' yourn,
son, was sprung on him he broke down an' owned up t' a lot more
mischief than jest th' killin' o' th' King o' Lonesome. Th' warden got
him thet day o' the fire on Old Scraggy. When th' warden an' deputy
got t' the hanted cabin they found Pete wasn't ter hum. So they made
themselves comfortable an' waited. Long 'bout four o'clock in th'
afternoon Pete walked right into their arms, an' didn't seem none
pleased t' see 'em.
"I hed a suspicion thet Pete knew somethin' 'bout thet fire on
Scraggy, an' when they charged him with it he owned up thet he hed set
it t' git even with Dr. Merriam fer puttin' the warden on his trail. I
reckon, son, thet if Pete had knowed what thet leetle picter box o'
yourn was goin' t' do t' him he'd 'a' smashed it plumb t' pieces th'
mornin' yer met up with him an' me over thar in th' deepo. Well," he
sniffed the sawdust-scented air, "seems t' me th' air in these old
woods will smell some sweeter now thet he ain't a-taintin' it no
more."
When they returned to the railway station they found another familiar
face awaiting them. It was Pat Malone. A broad grin overspread his
freckled face as they approached. Walter was delighted. He had seen
nothing of Pat for the last week, and it was with real regret that he
had left Woodcraft without an opportunity to say good-bye.
Pat came forward and rather sheepishly shook hands with Hal. The
latter blushed, and then manfully he apologized to the Irish lad for
his fault in the fish buying episode of the summer. The other's eyes
twinkled.
"Sure, 'tis more than mesilf has larned how ter shpell honor, Oi be
thinkin'," he said. "Yez can buy no more fish av Pat Malone, but if ye
coom in nixt summer 'tis mesilf will show ye where ter catch thim."
Turning to Walter he thrust into his hands a pair of snow-shoes. "Will
ye take these ter show Noo Yorrk th' latest shtoile in shoes?" he
asked hurriedly. "Oi made thim for ye mesilf so ye will remimber th'
bye in the woods ye licked--but thot ye can't lick now," he added, the
twinkle reappearing in his eyes.
"An' say," he concluded as the heavy express drew in to the station,
"Oi be goin' ter shtart a Scout patrol av th' Upper Chain byes thot'll
make yez hustle fer honors when ye coom back nixt summer."
The farewells were over. Lolling back in the luxury of a Pullman seat
Walter and Hal were rushing down through the mountains, back to the
busy world, a world of brick and stone and steel, of clang and roar,
of dust and dirt and smoke, of never ending struggle, the world to
which they had been accustomed, of which they had been a part all
their lives. Yet now it seemed a very dim and distant world, an unreal
world.
They sat in silence, gazing out at the darkening forest, each buried
in his own thoughts, each vaguely conscious that he was not the same
boy who had taken this same iron trail into the wilderness a few short
weeks before; that there had been a change, a subtle metamorphosis
for which the mere passage of so brief a space of time could not be
accountable. Hal was the first to come out of the revery.
"I guess," he said slowly and thoughtfully, "that I've just begun to
learn what life is. They really live it back there."
In the seat in front of them the fathers of the two boys were in
earnest conversation, and Mr. Harrison was voicing almost the same
thought. "I tell you, Upton, that is real, genuine life up there!
Merriam's idea is right. It's great! That isn't a camp up there--it's
a 'man factory.' Why, look at that boy of mine! I sent him up there to
get him out of the way and keep him out of mischief. Sent him up there
a helpless infant in all but years. Been petted and coddled and
toadied to all his life. My fault, I admit it. And yet less my fault
than the fault of the unnatural and artificial conditions that wealth
produces. On the impulse of a moment I run up there to have a look at
him, and what do I find? A man, sir!
"I tell you I never in my life put through a big financial deal with
one-half the pride that I watched that boy push his canoe over the
line yesterday! And when they told me about that fire exploit of his I
was happier than I'd be if I cornered the market to-day. I'm proud of
him, sir, just as you're proud of your boy! You've got to strip a man
down bare to know whether he can stand on his own feet or not. He's
got to, then, or go under. And Merriam is showing them how to do it.
Now I've been thinking of a plan for next summer for these two
youngsters, and perhaps a couple more from the camp, and the expense,
you understand, is to be wholly mine."
He leaned forward and for half an hour the two men were absorbed in
earnest discussion. Finally Mr. Upton turned to the seat behind.
"Walter," said he, "how should you like to spend next summer at
Woodcraft?"
"Like it!" cried Walter. "There's nothing in all the world I'd like so
much!"
Mr. Upton smiled. "Unless," said he, "you like equally well the plan
that Mr. Harrison has just proposed, which is a canoe cruise."
"A canoe cruise!"
"Yes, for you and Hal, and one of the older Woodcraft boys, and one
other, if you can get them to go with you. How should you like that
for the last two or three weeks of your vacation?"
"Hurrah!" shouted Hal, throwing himself at his father, and giving him
a bear hug. "That's the bulliest plan you ever made! We'll get Louis
Woodhull to go with us, won't we, Walt?"
"The very one I had in mind," said Mr. Harrison.
The train rushed on through the gathering night. It roared over
bridges and rumbled through tunnels. It shrieked at lone crossings and
slowed to a jolting halt at busy stations. But unheeding, oblivious to
it all two happy boys sat in the Pullman section and excitedly
discussed who should be invited and where they should go when the next
summer should bring to them the promised opportunity to launch their
canoes on strange waters.
The Stories in this Series are:
THE BOY SCOUTS OF WOODCRAFT CAMP
THE BOY SCOUTS ON SWIFT RIVER
THE BOY SCOUTS ON LOST TRAIL
THE BOY SCOUTS IN A TRAPPER'S CAMP
THORNTON W. BURGESS
THORNTON W. BURGESS was born in Sandwich, Massachusetts, January 14,
1874. He graduated from the Sandwich High School in 1891, afterward
taking a course in Comer's Commercial College, Boston. After a few
years in business life he entered the editorial field as one of the
editors of the Phelps Publishing and Orange Judd Companies and was for
several years one of the editors of Good Housekeeping Magazine, for
which he wrote extensively.
[Illustration]
For some years he has been a contributor to many of the leading
magazines. Over the name of W. B. Thornton he won recognition as a
writer on out-door life and nature topics. He is an ardent lover of
nature and since boyhood has spent his spare time in the woods and
fields. His vacations have been spent with rod, gun and camera,
camping and canoe cruising.
Among his books are:
The Boy Scouts of Woodcraft Camp
The Boy Scouts on Swift River
The Boy Scouts on Lost Trail
The Boy Scouts in a Trapper's Camp
Transcriber's Note
Minor punctuation errors have been repaired.
Hyphenation has been made consistent.
Page 39 has a reference to Mt. Sewell. Based on the rest of the book,
this should probably read Mt. Seward, but it is preserved as printed.
The following amendments have been made:
Page 150--wonered amended to wondered--He wondered if it could
be possible ...
Caption to the illustration facing page 306--'WIGWAG SIGNALLING'
amended to 'WIG-WAG SIGNALING' for consistency with the rest of
the book.
The frontispiece illustration has been moved to follow the title page.
Other illustrations have been moved where necessary so that they are
not in the middle of a paragraph.