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STORM-BOUND
Or
A Vacation Among the Snow Drifts
* * * * *
THE HICKORY RIDGE BOY SCOUTS
A SERIES OF BOOKS FOR BOYS
By Capt. Alan Douglas, Scout-master
The Campfires of the Wolf Patrol
Their first camping experience affords the scouts
splendid opportunities to use their recently acquired
knowledge in a practical way. Elmer Chenowith, a lad
from the northwest woods, astonishes everyone by his
familiarity with camp life. A clean, wholesome story
every boy should read.
Woodcraft; or, How a Patrol Leader Made Good
This tale presents many stirring situations in which
the boys are called upon to exercise ingenuity and
unselfishness. A story filled with healthful
excitement.
Pathfinder; or, The Missing Tenderfoot
Some mysteries are cleared up in a most unexpected
way, greatly to the credit of our young friends. A
variety of incidents follow fast, one after the other.
Fast Nine; or, a Challenge from Fairfield
They show the same team-work here as when in camp. The
description of the final game with the team of a rival
town, and the outcome thereof, form a stirring
narrative. One of the best baseball stories of recent
years.
Great Hike; or, The Pride of The Khaki Troop
After weeks of preparation the scouts start out on
their greatest undertaking. Their march takes them far
from home, and the good-natured rivalry of the
different patrols furnishes many interesting and
amusing situations.
Endurance Test; or, How Clear Grit Won the Day
Few stories "get" us more than illustrations of pluck
in the face of apparent failure. Our heroes show the
stuff they are made of and surprise their most ardent
admirers. One of the best stories Captain Douglas has
written.
Under Canvas; or, The Hunt for the Cartaret Ghost
It was hard to disbelieve the evidence of their eyes
but the boys by the exercise of common-sense solved a
mystery which had long puzzled older heads.
Storm-bound; or, a Vacation Among the Snow Drifts
The boys start out on the wrong track, but their scout
training comes to the rescue and their experience
proves beneficial to all concerned.
Boy Scout Nature Lore to be Found in The Hickory Ridge Boy
Scout Series, all illustrated:--
Wild Animals of the United States--Tracking--Trees and
Wild Flowers of the United States--Reptiles of the
United States--Fishes of the United States--Insects of
the United States and Birds of the United States.
_Cloth Binding_ _Cover Illustrations in Four Colors_
_40c. Per Volume_
THE NEW YORK BOOK COMPANY
147 FOURTH AVENUE (near 14th St.) NEW YORK
* * * * *
[Illustration: IT SEEMED AN IDEAL SNUG RETREAT]
The Hickory Ridge Boy Scouts
STORM-BOUND
Or
A Vacation Among the Snow Drifts
by
CAPTAIN ALAN DOUGLAS
Scout Master
[Illustration]
The New York Book Company
New York
Copyright, 1915, by
The New York Book Company
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I ON THE WRONG TRACK 13
II A STRANGE PLACE TO CAMP 23
III THE LONG NIGHT 34
IV SNOW-BOUND 45
V WANDERING THROUGH THE DRIFTS 58
VI IN THE FROZEN MARSH 67
VII LIL ARTHA SAVES THE DAY 78
VIII A PRIZE IN THE TRAP 89
IX THE COMING OF UNCLE CALEB 102
X POSSESSION NINE POINTS OF THE LAW 111
XI THE CHIMNEY JUMPER 122
XII SCOUTS IN CLOVER 133
XIII THE OBJECT LESSON 146
XIV THE QUEER ACTIONS OF ZACK ARNOLD 154
XV A SCOUT'S EDUCATION 165
XVI GOOD-BY TO THE SNOW FOREST 176
STORM-BOUND
OR A VACATION AMONG THE SNOW DRIFTS
CHAPTER I
ON THE WRONG TRACK
"ELMER, do you believe we're really on the right track, or have we lost
our bearings in this everlasting snow forest?"
"Ask me something easy, please, Lil Artha!"
"Well, I didn't like the looks of that sassy kid who was so eager to
have you make a map from what he told us."
"Struck me he grinned too much, boys, as sure as my name's George
Robbins. I'm beginning to smell a rat, and think he played a low-down
trick on us."
"That is, George, you mean he purposely gave us the wrong directions,
and that instead of heading straight for the winter cabin of Toby's
jolly Uncle Caleb we're away off our base?"
"Looks like it to me, that's all I've got to say," muttered the boy who
had called himself George, at the same time glancing apprehensively at
the snow-clad woods surrounding them on all sides.
"Me too!" added the fourth member of the little heavily-laden party, and
whose good-natured face usually screwed itself up in an odd series of
wrinkles whenever he spoke with such an effort.
"Well," remarked the boy called Elmer, whose last name was Chenowith,
and upon whose decisions the others seemed to depend considerably, as
though he might be a leader among them; "let's rest up a bit here, and
look the matter squarely in the face. Perhaps we can figure out where
we've gone wrong, and start on a new course."
These four well-grown lads were all dressed in the well-known khaki
suits that designate Boy Scouts the wide world over. Of course they wore
heavy woolen sweaters in addition, for the time was just after
Christmas, and Old Winter had taken a notion to set in unusually early
that year.
They belonged to the Hickory Ridge Troop of Boy Scouts, which lively
town was situated many miles to the south of the place where we discover
the quartette up against a puzzling question.
Toby Jones had an old uncle who was not only a scientific man, but who
loved the Great Outdoors so much that of late he had come to spend most
of his time at his lonely cabin in the forest. Here in the summer he
studied, and experimented to his heart's content; while during the
winter he set traps, and took wonderful photographs of the snowbound
woods, as well as of the fur-bearing little animals that made their
homes there.
The idea had struck Toby that with some of his best chums he surprise
this jolly Uncle Caleb, who was a well-known professor among
scientists. Many times the boy had received a warm invitation to run up
and visit the old gentleman, as well as fetch a friend or two along, but
until this winter Toby had somehow never entertained the idea of doing
so.
Once it took hold of him, and he became wildly enthusiastic over it.
When he mentioned the scheme to Elmer, as well as two other scouts, they
fell in with it so quickly that the plans were soon arranged.
Accordingly, immediately after Christmas the four lads had taken a train
for the north, and about noon dropped off at a lonely station, where the
operator was a new hand, and had never even heard of Uncle Caleb, so
that the boys hardly knew which way to turn. Just then they happened to
run across a lanky boy with a grinning face, whom Elmer "pumped," with
the result that they were directed to follow certain landmarks, turn
ever so many times until they came to a frozen creek, up which if they
headed a mile they would discover the cabin they sought.
They had been following that same frozen stream more than two hours, and
there was not the slightest sign of anything in the way of a shack or
cabin. In fact, it looked as though they had managed to tramp into the
very heart of what seemed to be a trackless forest. In every direction
stretched that never ending array of tall and little trees, each snow
splashed; for there were several inches of the white feathery covering
on the ground, what Elmer called fine "tracking snow;" if only they had
been hunting game instead of a shelter.
Though all of the scouts kept constantly on the alert they had failed to
detect the first sign of human presence. Not a shout or a gunshot had
they heard; in vain had they searched the snowy ground for the welcome
trail of a trapper going to or coming home after visiting his line of
snares.
No wonder then that some of the boys had begun to believe they were
tricked by that glib-tongued native lad, who had chuckled so
disagreeably as he accepted the silver quarter Elmer thrust in his grimy
palm.
All of them bore heavy loads. For the most part these consisted of extra
clothes of course for use in case of extreme cold weather; but two of
them also carried guns; and Toby had strapped on his pack a pair of
snow-shoes his uncle had once presented to him, but which the boy had
never found a good chance to use, though he hoped the time had now
arrived for putting them to some service.
"I've been trying to figure things out," Elmer told them, as they sat
down on a log to rest, while trying to decide which way they should
turn; "and while I'm liable to be mistaken just as much as anybody else,
I really think we'd have a better chance to find that cabin, or run
across some sign of Toby's uncle, if we quit following this creek bed,
and turned sharply to the right."
Now Elmer was not only the leader of the Wolf Patrol when at home, but
had long ago qualified for the position of assistant scout master of the
troop. When the regular scout master, a young man named Mr. Roderic
Garrabrant, chanced to be absent, which frequently happened, the boys
looked to Elmer to guide and direct them.
Consequently the three who were now in his company had come to look for
great things from their chum; and Elmer often found it a difficult task
to satisfy their expectations. And so it was he had in the start given
them to understand that he could make mistakes as well as the next one,
and they must not think him infallible.
As usual everybody seemed ready to fall in with his suggestion but
George, who had a contrary streak in his make-up, and was always ready
with objections and questions and serious shakings of the head. They
called him "Doubting George," but grown people would long ago have
dubbed him a pessimist, because he was always seeing the gloomy side of
things, and wanting to be doubly convinced.
"But it seems to me," he started to say, "that we may be jumping out of
the fryingpan into the fire if we do that. How do we know the cabin lies
to the right?"
"We don't," replied Elmer, without manifesting any feeling over his
opinion being questioned, for he knew George of old, and in fact would
have been considerably surprised if the other had not put up what Toby
called a "kick."
"Would you like to direct us, George?" asked the tall scout, whose name
was Arthur Stansbury, but whom his schoolmates had in a spirit of fun
long ago dubbed "Lil Artha," which ridiculous nick-name clung to him
like a leech to this day, although he was fully a head above any of the
other fellows.
"Oh! excuse me from taking that responsibility on my shoulders," George
hastened to say, looking almost alarmed; "if I did, and happened to
guess wrong, I'd never hear the end of it."
"So you admit that it'd have to be a _guess_, do you?" pursued Lil Artha
mercilessly; "well, on the part of Elmer he's tried to reason the old
thing out, and both Toby'n me feel that we can't do better than try what
he says. I only hope the walking's better than it's been along this
frozen creek, where the ice is too slippery for us to make use of the
same. Why didn't we think to fetch our skates along?"
"I did think of it," Toby told him; "but it meant more weight to our
packs; and then from what Uncle Caleb's told me about the lay of the
country up here, I couldn't figure out how we'd find any use for skates
where there was only swamp, marsh, and mebbe a few little crooked creeks
nearly always covered with a foot of snow. So I fetched these bully
snow-shoes instead. Don't I hope I'll have a chance to skim over the
snow on the same, if we're lucky enough to get a heavy fall while up
here."
"Perhaps we may get a storm before we're ready for it," observed Elmer
drily, as he shot a dubious glance up at the gray sky that had such an
ominous look.
Lil Artha jumped to his feet, showing signs of some excitement.
"Hey! let's be on the hike, fellows!" he exclaimed; "if a storm dropped
on top of us right now it wouldn't do a thing to us, p'raps. We haven't
got only enough grub for a single day. I guess matches are about the
only thing we're heavy on, because we expected to eat our meals in Uncle
Caleb's cabin most of the time."
"Well, matches are good things to have up here in the snow woods,"
remarked Elmer, who was an exact contrast to George in that he always
saw the silver lining of the cloud, whereas the other scout could not
get beyond the pall.
"You bet they are," Lil Artha went on to say, as he shouldered his pack,
which he had arranged in regular Adirondack fashion, with a band across
his forehead to assist in sustaining the weight; "though for that
matter, if we went shy of the same I reckon you could depend on me to
get fire by making a little bow, and sawing the same on a pointed stick,
South Sea Islander way. I've done it more'n once, though I never seem
able to depend on my cunning. Something goes wrong so often; or else I'm
in too big a hurry, and spoil everything. But if you're ready lead off,
Elmer. We'll trip along in your tracks, and keep it up for another hour
anyway. That rest did us all a heap of good."
The four scouts kept pushing on steadily. Elmer in the van continued to
maintain a bright lookout for any sign of footprints in the snow that
would give them encouragement, though as time passed, and he failed to
find any such, the rosy hopes with which they had started began to
gradually fade away.
Of course the others also kept their eyes about them, in hopes of
sighting a lone cabin, or discovering smoke rising amidst the trees.
Hope died hard, and only George grumbled when more than half an hour had
crept on without their running upon the first sign that would mean
success.
Once Elmer had pointed out to them the tracks of a fox, and of course
being true scouts, they were all greatly interested in examining the
trail, and speculating on whether it had been of the ordinary red
variety, or a gray animal, perhaps one of those silver-black foxes, the
pelt of which is often valued at as much as fifteen hundred dollars.
Elmer had settled this question by picking up a hair he found caught on
the split end of a branch that grew low down, and which the body of the
fox, as well as his brushy tail, must have scraped as he slipped past.
It was plainly a red hair, and even George could not find any cause for
disputing that evidence, though he was far from happy, and in a fit mood
for argument if the occasion arose.
Several other times Elmer pointed to the unmistakable track of a
bounding rabbit, and had they had more time at their disposal the boys
would have liked nothing better than to follow these, so as to figure
out what was chasing bunny to induce him to take such enormous jumps.
But the fact of their being astray in that unknown forest, with night
not far away, and a heavy snow-storm brooding over them, rather
discouraged them from turning aside from the main thing that engaged
their attention, which of course was the finding of the trapper's cabin.
Nobody paid the least attention to George when they heard him grunting
away in the rear, because George would not have been happy unless he was
miserable, strange though that may sound. There is generally a boy built
after that fashion in every crowd of scouts. As a rule he has some good
qualities that make his friends forgive his bad ones, and finally they
get so accustomed to his grumblings that they pay little attention to
them. In fact George's complainings had little more effect on his boon
companions than so much water poured on a duck's back would. It amused
him to grunt and object, and hurt them very little, so what was the
sense of making any trouble?
Another fifteen minutes crept along. There did not seem to be any
particular change in things, except that the light was showing signs of
failing, and perhaps George stumbled more frequently, for he was not as
spry on his feet when carrying a pack as the other fellows.
"Don't seem to be over this way either, Elmer," suggested Lil Artha,
finally.
"That's right, Uncle Caleb's cabin appears to be as hard to locate as a
needle in a haystack," admitted the leader of the Wolf Patrol, cheerily;
as though it would have to be something more than this to discourage
him, because he had made it his business in life to always look at the
bright side of things; and knew that no matter how gloomy the prospect
might be it could seem much worse.
"That settles it!" came abruptly from George in the rear.
"What's the matter with you back there; stubbed your toe again? We'll
have to make a scout litter and carry you the rest of the way, if you
keep on falling over every old log there is," Lil Artha told him,
severely.
"'Tain't that this time, mind you," the delinquent one answered back,
with a triumphant grin; "but what's the use trying to poke along any
further? Might as well be killed for a sheep as a lamb, any day. This
place looks like it'd make a good camp for to-night."
"Camp?" echoed Toby.
"Sure thing!" snapped George. "We're all tuckered out, and as hungry as
wolves in the dead of winter; night's comin' on right fast; and then if
you take a look you'll see that it's begun to snow!" and as the others
did glance hastily up they discovered the first few big flakes commence
to sail lazily down!