CHAPTER LI_The Wolf Patrol: A Tale of Baden-Powell's Boy Scouts

THE WELCOME HOME

It was about half-past four when they gained a point where the country

began to wear a familiar look.

'Shotford Corner!' cried Chippy. 'We'll see Bardon from the cob.'

The cob, as Chippy called it, was a small knoll on which stood a finger

post, with many arms to guide wayfarers along the roads which met at

Shotford Corner. The boys gained the knoll by the smallest of the

side-roads which ran in at that point.

They paused beneath the finger-post, and looked ahead. There was their

old familiar heath spreading away to the distant spires of Bardon, and

from this point on they knew every step of the way. 'Six miles to

Bardon' was on the arm above their heads.

'We'll be home in less than a couple of hours now,' said Dick. 'We'll

put this journey to our credit easily enough, Chippy.'

Suddenly behind them a wild honk-honk--h-o-n-k of a motor-horn broke

out. The boys looked along the road, and saw a car coming towards them

at full speed with two figures in it. The driver was performing a

fantasia on his horn; the passenger was waving his cap.

'Why,' cried Dick, 'it's my father out in his car with Uncle Jim.'

'Well, here you are,' shouted Mr. Elliott, as the car sped up to them.

'We've been scouring these roads all the afternoon in search of you.

How have you got on?'

'Oh, splendid, father--splendid,' cried Dick. 'We should like to start

again on Monday, shouldn't we, Chippy?'

'It 'ud suit me fust rate,' said the Raven, respectfully saluting his

employers.

'Well,' laughed Mr. Elliott, 'I don't know about that. I'm afraid

there'd be trouble with your headmaster and with Mr. Malins, who has

rather missed Slynn.'

The Raven saluted again, blushing with pleasure to find that the

manager had missed his services.

'You look uncommonly fit, the pair of you,' said Mr. Jim Elliott,

marking the brown faces, the lean, lithe look of the hardy, toughened

scouts.

'Yes, uncle, we feel up to the work all round, and we've had a grand

time.'

'Have you had plenty to eat?' asked Dick's father.

'Plenty, father,' cried Dick;' and we've had the jolliest times

sleeping. Three nights we camped, one we slept in a hayloft, and one

in the cabin of a barge.'

'Lodgings have been cheap, then?' chuckled Mr. Elliott; 'but how much

of the second half-sovereign have you spent for food?'

Dick laughed in triumph, and fetched out the bit of gold.

'Not a stiver,' he said; 'and there's the best part of the other

half-sovereign too.' And he laid a heap of silver and copper in his

father's hand.

Mr. Elliott counted it in surprise. 'Why, there's seventeen and

fourpence farthing here,' he said. 'Do you mean to say you two have

been out for a week, and only spent two and sevenpence three-farthings

all told?'

'We do,' cried Dick. 'We've won and earned fairly all the rest of our

food. I'll tell you everything, and you shall judge for yourself,

father. But it's too long a tale to go into now.'

Mr. Elliott stared through his goggles in wonder at the money. 'Well,

Jim,' he said at last to his brother, 'these scouts of yours can look

after themselves, it seems.'

'That's the chief thing that Baden-Powell's scouts are expected to

learn,' said the instructor, smiling; 'it is quite clear that Dick and

Slynn have picked up the art in great form.'

'Done the whole thing on two and sevenpence three-farthings!' repeated

Mr. Elliott, his wonder growing as he thought it over. 'Dick, you'd

better come into the business straight away. You'd be able, I should

say, to give your uncle and myself most valuable advice on the subject

of cutting down expenses.'

Dick laughed, for his father's surprise filled him with the utmost

delight. Chippy, too, was on the broad grin.

'Here,' said Mr. Elliott suddenly, 'take it; it's yours. Share it up

between you.' He poured gold, silver, and copper into the hat which

Dick promptly held out for the money.

'I'm not going to say "no" to that offer, father,' said Dick; 'for I've

a use for my half of the money.'

'Same here,' murmured Chippy; 'the party's name is Joseph Thatcher,

Little Eston.'

'Now, Chippy,' cried Dick, 'how in the world did you know what was in

my mind?'

The Raven chuckled. 'I knowed,' he murmured, and would say no more.

Dick explained who Joseph Thatcher was, and what misfortune had

befallen him.

'He gave twenty-eight shillings for the donkey,' concluded Dick, 'and

this will go a long step towards setting him up again. The poor old

chap's horribly frightened of the workhouse at present.'

'Ah,' said his father, 'the road-hog is the curse of decent

motor-drivers. One black sheep can cover the whole flock with

discredit. Well, now, boys, jump in, and I'll run you into Bardon in

triumph.'

'Oh no, no, father,' cried Dick; 'thank you very much, but that would

spoil the whole thing. We must finish it out to the last step on foot.'

'What Spartans!' said Mr. Elliott; 'still ready to face six miles of

hot, dusty road after a week's tramping.'

'Yes, father, we must do it,' replied Dick. 'To finish up in a

motor-car would take the shine off the whole affair.'

'Well, well, as you please,' laughed Mr. Elliott; 'then, you can hand

that money back. Your uncle and I are out for a spin, and we'll slip

over as far as Eston, and see Mr. Joseph Thatcher, and console him for

his loss with your offering. If one motorist upset him, it's only

right for another to do the friendly.'

Dick hailed this proposal with delight, and handed back the seventeen

shillings and four-pence farthing. 'I'll be bound the poor old chap

will get enough to buy a new donkey before all's done,' chuckled Dick.

'Can't say,' said Mr. Elliott, preparing to back and fill till he had

his car round; 'depends on whether your uncle's got any loose silver to

throw away. Well, we shall catch you up again long before you reach

Bardon.'

The car sped away, and the boy scouts watched it for a moment, then

marched on down the Bardon road.

'Bit of a temptation, worn't it, to tumble into the car?' said Chippy.

'Oh, Chippy, that would have spoilt it all!' cried Dick. 'My foot's

giving me beans rather, but I'm not going to chuck it for a six-mile

tramp.'

'I know just how ye feel,' replied the Raven; ''twould ha' seemed to

tek' the polish off, but I was thinkin' o' yer foot.'

'That will be all right after a day or two's rest,' said Dick; 'but

with the end of the journey in sight I mean to stump it out.'

A couple of miles on he was stumping it out steadily, when all thoughts

of lameness and soreness were put to flight by a joyous vision; for

just as they gained the heath two files of marching figures came into

sight in the distance. The familiar uniforms at once caught the eye of

the two patrol-leaders.

'Scouts!' cried Chippy.

'Our own patrols!' yelled Dick. 'Look, Chippy; our patrols have come

out to meet us!'

At this instant the two marching figures were seen by the advancing

patrols, and on dashed Wolves and Ravens, eager to greet their leaders.

Dick and Chippy hurried to meet them, and at the next moment the two

leaders and their comrades met, and there was such an outburst of

cheering, questioning, shaking hands, and chanting of the scouts'

war-song and chorus--a general merry babel of welcome and greeting!

The first to recover were the corporals, who had been in charge while

the leaders were absent.

They gave orders for the patrols to line up, and the Scouts obeyed

instantly. Wolves on the right of the way, Ravens on the left, they

formed up shoulder to shoulder to be inspected by their leaders. Dick

and Chippy each went along his own line, and saw that the men were

turned out in proper style, and the inspection was careful and

thorough. Everything was found correct, and the corporals were

congratulated on the manner in which they had handled the patrols

during the absence of the leaders. Then review order was broken up,

and the patrols gathered in cheerful, laughing, chattering groups to

discuss the week's march with the heroes of the day. The Wolf Patrol

was a member short. No. 6 had left the town during the week, and his

place was vacant among Dick's followers.

'I say, Dick,' said Billy Seton, corporal of the Wolves, 'there's a

fellow been following us from the town. He's kept at a distance,

dodging behind bushes and gorse on the heath, but I'm sure he was after

us. I've looked back a dozen times, and seen him making ground when he

thought he wouldn't be observed.'

'That's odd,' said Dick. 'Why should anyone want to follow you?'

'To see where we were going, I suppose,' replied Billy; 'and though

I've never had a fair look at him, there seemed to me something

familiar about the chap. I can't make it out.'

'Where is he now?' asked Dick.

'Haven't seen him for quite a bit,' replied Billy; 'but I've an idea

he's watching us from somewhere.'

The words had scarcely fallen from Billy's lips when a boy in civilian

dress stepped from the shelter of a clump of hollies and walked swiftly

towards the patrol.

'Why, it's Arthur Graydon!' cried Dick in surprise.

'So it is,' said Billy; 'no wonder I thought I knew him.'

Yes, it was the lost leader of the Wolves who now came striding up to

his old friends, as the latter stared at him in wonder.

Arthur's face was pale, and his teeth were clenching his under-lip; but

he had made up his mind, and he said what he had to say like a man.

He walked up amid a perfect silence, and saluted the two leaders, who

now stood side by side.

'Look here, Dick,' he began--and his voice shook a little--'I heard, by

accident, of this march to meet you, and I took the chance of coming

when the patrols were together. I'm awfully sorry I made such an ass

of myself in the beginning. I've been miserable every day since I left

the patrol, and I should like, above everything, to get back to it. I

know I behaved badly to Slynn, and insulted him, when he had given me

no cause at all. I'm sorry, Slynn. Will you shake hands?'

'Won't I?' roared Chippy, his honest face ablaze with pleasure and

friendship. 'An' proud to--prouder 'n I can tell yer.' And the two

lads clasped each other's hands in a hearty grip, while both patrols

gave vent to their excitement in a tremendous outburst of the scouts'

chorus, stamping their feet and clashing their staves together in

joyous uproar.

Every boy had been touched deeply by Arthur's speech. His pale face

and shining eyes had told of the effort it had cost him to make it, and

now everybody set up as much noise as he could to celebrate the

reconciliation, and to work off the constraint of the moment.

When Chippy dropped Arthur's hand, Dick seized it.

'I'm jolly glad to see you back, Arthur, old chap,' he cried. 'We

shall be delighted to have you in the patrol once more.'

'Thanks awfully, Dick,' said Arthur. 'I heard No. 8 had gone. If I

can only get his place, that's what I should like.'

'It's yours, old fellow,' said Dick, 'and long may you wave!'

'H-o-n-k!' A long blast of the motor-horn warned the patrol that Mr.

Elliott's car was close upon them. The scouts recognised their

instructor seated beside the driver, and formed up to receive him with

the full salute.

'I see you've got a guard of honour back to town,' laughed Dick's

father, as he brought the car up between the two lines of scouts.

'Yes, father,' cried Dick; 'we think it was immensely good of them to

come out to meet us.'

The instructor leaned over the side of the car towards the line of the

Wolves.

'Arthur!' he cried, 'this is splendid to see you among the Wolves

again.'

'Yes, Mr. Elliott,' said Arthur Graydon, saluting. 'Dick has given me

a place there was to spare, and I'm glad to get it.'

The driver blew a long toot on his horn to call attention to something

he had to say.

'Wolves and Ravens,' he called out, 'I beg to invite you all to

conclude your march this afternoon at my house. With your permission,

your instructor and I will now go ahead to announce your arrival, and

to see that preparations are made to welcome you in a fitting manner.'

And at the next moment the car sped away amid the ringing cheers of the

scouts, who now felt certain that the day was to close with a noble

feed.

The march was at once resumed, and the scouts tramped over the heath to

Bardon chanting the Ingonyama chorus in honour of their leaders. The

corporals sang the opening phrase, and then the patrols swept in with a

joyous roar of 'Invooboo!' and struck the ground with their staves in

time to the long-drawn notes. And at their head marched the brother

scouts, their journey nearly ended--the journey which they had made in

true scouting style--helpful and courteous to all, hardy, resolute, and

enduring, staunch to their oath and their badge, bearing themselves at

all points as true knights in the chivalry of Baden-Powell's Boy Scouts.

THE END