CHAPTER I

OUT FOR A ROYAL GOOD TIME

"Will you do me a favor, Bumpus?"

"Sure I will, Giraffe; what is it you want now?"

"Then tell me who that is talking to our scoutmaster, Dr. Philander

Hobbs; because, you know, I've just come in after a scout ahead, and

first thing saw was a stranger among the patrol boys."

"Oh! You mean that thin chap who came along in his buggy a bit ago,

chasing after us all the way from that town where we had a bite of

lunch? Why, I understand he's the son of the telegraph operator there.

You know we made arrangements with him to try and get a message to us,

if one came along."

"Whew! then I hope he ain't fetched a message that'll spoil all our fun,

just when we've got to the last leg of the journey, with the boat only a

few miles further on! That'd be the limit Bumpus. You don't know

anything about it, I reckon?"

"Well, our scout-master looks kinder down in the mouth, and I'm afraid

it must be some sort of a recall to duty for him," remarked a third lad,

also wearing the khaki garments of a Boy Scout, as he joined the pair

who were talking.

"I'm afraid you're right, Davy," said the tall, angular fellow who

seemed to own the queer name of Giraffe, though his long neck plainly

proved why it had been given to him by his mates. "But don't it beat

the Dutch how many times Doe Hobbs has had to give up a jolly trip, and

hurry back home, just when the fun was going to begin, because the old

doctor he works with needed him the worst kind?"

"But say," spoke up the fat boy who answered to the designation of

Bumpus, "mebbe the Cranford Troop, and the Silver Fox Patrol in

particular, ain't lucky to have such a wide-awake, efficient assistant

scout-master as our Thad Brewster, who knows more in a day about

out-of-door things than Dr. Hobbs would in a year."

"Yes, that's right," replied Giraffe; "but we're going to know what's in

the wind now, because here's the scout-master heading this way, with

several of the other boys tagging at his heels, and sure as you live

they're grinning too. Looks to me like Stephen and Allan thought it a

good joke, though they look solemn enough when Doc turns their way.

He's just got to leave us, you mark my words, fellows."

It turned out that very way. An urgent message had come that

necessitated the immediate return of the scout-master. The old doctor

with whom he practiced had been unlucky enough to fall, and break a leg;

so it was absolutely essential that his assistant come back to look

after the sick people of Cranford, hundreds of miles away.

While the scout-master is getting his personal belongings together, and

the six boys gathered around are trying to look terribly disappointed,

it might be well to introduce the little party to such of our readers

who have not had the pleasure of making their acquaintance in previous

volumes of this series.

The Cranford Troop of Boy Scouts now consisted of two full patrols, and

a third was in process of forming. The original patrol was known as the

Silver Fox, and the six scouts who were with Doctor Hobbs, away up here

on the border of Lake Superior, bent on a cruise on the great fresh

water sea, all belonged to that division of the troop, so that they are

old friends to those who have perused any of the earlier books.

Thad Brewster, whom Bumpus had spoken of so highly, was a bright,

energetic lad, who had always delighted in investigating things

connected with outdoor life. He had belonged to a troop before

organizing the one at Cranford, and was well qualified for being made

the assistant scoutmaster, having received his credentials from the New

York Headquarters long ago.

Allan Hollister, who would assume the responsibility should Thad be

absent, was a boy who had spent quite a time in the Adirondacks before

joining the scouts, and his knowledge was along practical lines.

Then there was another fellow, rather a melancholy chap, who had a queer

way of showing the whites of his eyes, and looking scared, at the least

opportunity, only to make his chums laugh; for he would immediately

afterwards grin--in school as a little fellow he had insisted that his

name of Stephen should be pronounced as though it consisted of two

syllables; and from that day to this he had come to be known as Step Hen

Bingham.

The other three boys were the ones who engaged in the little talk with

which this story opens. Bumpus really had another name, though few

people ever thought to call him by it; yet in the register at school he

was marked down as Cornelius Jasper Hawtree; while the fellow who had

that strange "rubber-neck" that he was so fond of stretching to its

limit, was Conrad Stedman.

Davy Jones, too, wag a remarkable character, as may be made evident

before the last word is said in this story. He seemed to be as nimble

as they make boys; and was forever doing what he called "stunts," daring

any of his comrades to hang by their toes from the limb of a tree twenty

feet from the ground; walking a tight-rope which he stretched across

deep gully, and all sorts of other dangerous enterprises of that nature.

Often he was called "Monkey," and no nick-name ever given by boy

playmates fitted better than his.

Once Davy had been a victim to fits, and on this account gained great

consideration from his teachers at school, as well as from his comrades.

But latterly there had arisen a suspicion that these "fits" that doubled

him up so suddenly always seemed to come just when there was some hard

work to be done; and once the suspicion that Davy was shamming broke in

upon the rest, they shamed him into declaring himself radically cured.

It was either that, or take a ducking every time he felt one of those

spells coming on; so Davy always declared the camp air had effected a

miracle in his case, and that he owed a great deal to his having joined

the scouts.

"Too bad, boys," said Dr. Hobbs, who was a mighty fine young man, and

well liked by all the scouts in Cranford Troop, although they saw so

little of him because his pressing duties called him away so often; "but

I've got to go home on the first train. Doctor Green has a broken leg,

and there's nobody to make the rounds among our sick people in Cranford.

I never was more disappointed in my life, because we've fixed things for

a glorious cruise up here on Old Superior."

The boys assured him that they deeply sympathized with him, because they

knew it would break their hearts to be deprived of their outing, now

that they had come so far.

"Fortunately," continued Dr. Hobbs, with a twinkle in his kindly eyes,

"that isn't at all necessary; because all arrangements have been made,

the boat is waiting only a few miles away, and you have an efficient

assistant scout-master in this fine chap here, Thad Brewster, who will

take charge while I'm away, as he has done on numerous other sad

occasions."

"Hurrah!" burst from Bumpus; "that's the kind of stuff we like to hear.

Not that we won't miss you, Doctor, because you know boys from the

ground up, and we all feel like you're an older brother to us; but we've

been out with Thad so much, we're kinder used to his ways."

"Well," continued the scout-master, with a long sigh, "I've got to hurry

off if I expect to catch that afternoon train, and there's no other

until morning; so good-bye, boys. Take good care of yourselves, and

write to me as often as you can. I'll try and picture the jolly

happenings of this Lake Superior cruise as I read your accounts of it."

He squeezed the hand of every one of the six lively lads; and there was

a huskiness in his voice as he bade them a last good-bye that told

better than words how sorry he was to leave the merry bunch, just when

they were almost, as Bumpus put it, "in sight of the Promised Water."

So the vehicle passed from sight, and the last they saw of Doctor Hobbs

was a hand waving his campaign hat to them just before a bend in the

country road was reached.

All of them now turned to Thad to see what his plan of campaign would

be.

"If it's just this way, fellows," he remarked, with one of his smiles

that had made him the most popular boy in all Cranford, barring none;

"we've got about three miles to hit it up before we reach the lake

shore. Then we'll make camp and spend another night, which I hope will

be our last ashore for some little time. Because, unless there's a

hitch to the program, we ought to come on the landing where our boat is

going to be in waiting, by ten o'clock to-morrow."

"Hurrah!" cried Bumpus, who was already weary of "hiking" because his

build made him less active than some of the other scouts, notably Davy

and Giraffe.

"Let's get a move on, then," suggested Step Hen. "I can see that poor

old Giraffe here is nearly perishing for a little bite of supper."

A rippling laugh ran around at this, for every one knew the failing of

the long-legged scout, whose stowage capacity when it came time to eat

had never as yet within the memory of any comrade been fully tested; for

they always declared that his legs must be hollow, for otherwise it was

a mystery where all the food he devoured went to, since he never seemed

to get any stouter after a meal than he was before.

The march was accordingly resumed, with Tad and Allan leading the van.

The boys were going light, because they did not intend to do much

camping on this trip, as it was expected that the boat would accommodate

all of them with sleeping quarters.

Each one had a blanket strapped to his back, and with this were a few

necessities in the line cooking utensils and food. Most of their

luggage had been sent on by another route, as had also their supplies.

Doctor Hobbs had wished them to go to the landing where their boat was

to meet them, by following this roundabout course, having had some

reason of his own for visiting the country. His folks in Cranford owned

considerable land in this vicinity, and it was said that there were

out-croppings of valuable copper to be found upon it; which accounted for

the young man's desire to make inquiries while up in this region.

Joking and laughing, and even singing snatches of school songs, the boys

of the Silver Fox Patrol tramped along the road that was to bring them

to the shore of the lake by and by.

It was about half-past four when they obtained their first glimpse of

the apparently boundless body of water, said to be the largest fresh

water sea in the whole world. Shortly afterwards they reached the shore

and were looking almost in awe out upon the vast expanse of water, upon

the bosom of which they anticipated making their home for some weeks

during vacation time.

"Here's the finest camp site you ever struck in your born days,

fellers!" called out Giraffe, as he waved his arm around at the trees

that grew close to the edge of the inland sea; and every one of the

other five scouts agreed with him.

They had made many camps in the last two years, for they had wandered

far from the home town, down in Tennessee, up in Maine, and away out to

the Rockies on one memorable occasion; but no better place to spend a

night had ever greeted their eyes.

It was soon a bustling scene, with a fire being started, and

arrangements made to build a sort of lean-to shelter that would even

shed rain in a pinch should a storm come upon them during the night they

expected to spend here.

Davy, as usual, was climbing trees, and spying into every hole he could

find. When Monkey Jones had a chance to exercise his peculiar gifts

like this present opportunity afforded him it was utterly out of the

question to hold him in. And so he swung daringly from one limb to

another, just for all the world like a squirrel, chattering at times in

a way that Giraffe always declared left no doubt in his mind concerning

Davy's having descended from the original tree-climbing tribe that

sported tails.

There was one very large tree close by, that is, large considering that

in this section there were few that could boast a girth of more than a

foot; but this one was really what Bumpus called a "whopper;" and Davy

sported among the higher branches with all the delight of a child with a

new toy; giving the others more than one thrill as he swooped this way

and that with reckless abandon.

But suddenly he sent out a shout that caused every fellow to take

notice; and Bumpus actually turned pale with apprehension, as he vainly

looked around for some sort of weapon with which to defend himself;

because he always believed he must be a shining mark for any hungry wild

beast, on account of his plumpness.

"Oh!" shouted the boy in the tree, "a panther, fellers, a really true

panther!"

The Boy Scouts on Sturgeon Island; or, Marooned Among the Game-fish Poachers · 第 1 / 28 章