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BOY SCOUTS IN GLACIER PARK
Books by
WALTER P. EATON
The Boy Scouts of Berkshire--A story
of how the Chipmunk Patrol was started,
what they did and how they did it.
_Colored frontispiece._ 313 _pages_.
Boy Scouts in the Dismal Swamp--A
story of Boy Scouting in the Dismal Swamp.
_Colored frontispiece._ 304 _pages_.
Boy Scouts in the White Mountains--A
story of a hike over the Franconia and
Presidential Ranges.
_Colored frontispiece._ 308 _pages_.
Boy Scouts of the Wildcat Patrol.--A
Story of Boy Scouting.
_Colored frontispiece._ 315 _pages_.
Peanut--Cub Reporter--A Boy Scout's
life and adventures on a newspaper.
_Colored frontispiece._ 320 _pages_.
Boy Scouts in Glacier Park. 336 _pages_.
_Cloth bound. Price_, $1.75 _net each_
[Illustration: The Great Continental Divide and the Game Trail Along
the Top]
Boy Scouts in Glacier Park
The Adventures of Two Young Easterners
in the Heart of the High Rockies
By
WALTER PRICHARD EATON
Illustrated with Photographs by
FRED H. KISER
W. A. WILDE COMPANY
BOSTON CHICAGO
Copyrighted, 1918,
BY W. A. WILDE COMPANY
All rights reserved
BOY SCOUTS IN GLACIER PARK
To
FRED H. KISER
who photographs mountains so well
because he loves them so much
Best of companions on the high trails
and around the evening camp-fire
FOREWORD
Glacier Park is one of the newest, as well as one of the most beautiful,
of our National Parks. It is peculiarly fitted to be a summer
playground, both for men and women who prefer to travel on horseback and
"rough it" by putting up at a hotel at night, and for the true mountain
lovers, who delight to use their own legs in climbing, and to sleep
under the stars. This book has been written primarily to show Young
America just how interesting, exciting, full of outdoor adventure, and
full, too, of real education, life in this National park can be. We can
promise our boy readers, and their parents, too, that there isn't any
"faking" in this story. The trips we tell about are all real trips, and
if you go to Glacier Park you can take them all--all, that is, except,
perhaps, the climb up the head wall of Iceberg Lake. You have to have a
real mountaineer as a guide, with a real Alpine rope, in order to make
that trip. It was fortunate for Tom that one came along. Then, too,
unless you stay in the Park over the winter, you haven't much chance of
riding down a mountain on a snowslide. Possibly you wouldn't want to. I
never knew anybody who took that trip intentionally! Tom and Joe and the
Ranger were unlucky enough to take it, and lucky enough to live to tell
the tale.
This book isn't written just to use the Rocky Mountains as a background
for adventures which never really could happen to ordinary boys. It is
written, on the contrary, to show what fine adventures can happen to
ordinary boys, in one of the finest and most healthful and beautiful
spots in this great country of ours, if only the boys have pluck, and
have been good Scouts enough to learn how to take care of themselves in
the open.
And it is written, too, in order to tell about Glacier Park, to make you
want to go there and see it for yourself, to make you glad and proud
that the United States has set aside for the use of all the public such
a splendid playground, and to make you, if possible, more determined
than ever to protect this, and all our other parks and State and
National forests, from the attacks of the men who are always trying to
get laws passed to let them spoil the meadows and the wildflowers with
their sheep, or cut the forests for timber, putting their selfish gain
above the welfare of the whole people.
W. P. E.
Twin Fires
Sheffield, Massachusetts
1918
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Joe Gets Bad News About His Lungs--His "Pipes," as Spider
Called Them 13
II. Joe Learns How Many Friends He Has, and Achieves a Tent
to Sleep In 21
III. Spider Finds a Way to Get to the Rocky Mountains,
to "Pump Joe's Pipes Full of Ozone" 32
IV. Tom and Joe Cross the Continent with Their Faces Glued
to the Car Window and Reach the Rocky Mountains 43
V. The Scouts Learn Why the Rocky Mountains Have No Foot-Hills
and Arrive at Many Glacier 54
VI. Tom Becomes Boss of the Tepee Camp, and the Scouts
Pitch Their Tents in the Evergreens 63
VII. Joe Gets Acquainted with Porcupines, the Diamond Hitch,
and Switchback Trails 73
VIII. Joe Gets a Chance at Last to Go out on a Trip As Camp
Cook 93
IX. Over Piegan Pass to St. Mary Lake, Underneath the
Precipices 100
X. The Ranger Tells a Grizzly Bear Story Before the
Camp-Fire 123
XI. To Gunsight Lake, and Joe Falls Into a Crevasse on
Blackfeet Glacier 129
XII. Over Gunsight to Lake McDonald, and Joe and Bob See
a Grizzly at Close Range 144
XIII. In Avalanche Basin, Where Bob Learns That the Story
of the Englishman's Walk Before Breakfast Was No Joke 168
XIV. Up the Divide in a Rain, with a Lost Horse on the
Way, and a Howling Snow-Storm at the Top 177
XV. Tom's Chance for Adventure Comes Unexpectedly, Wearing
Hobnail Shoes and Carrying a Rope 189
XVI. Tom Goes up a Two Thousand Foot Wall, with an Alpine
Rope, and Learns the Proper Way to Climb 203
XVII. Tom Sees Both Mountain Sheep and Goats Do Their Wild
Leaps Down Dizzy Ledges 218
XVIII. Joe Gets Good News from the Doctor, and the Scouts
Name Their Camp, "Camp Kent" 232
XIX. The Indian Pow-Wow--Tom and Joe Get Into the Squaw
Dance 240
XX. The Scouts Start on a Trip Together at Last, to Climb
Chief Mountain 250
XXI. The Climb up the Tower of Chief Mountain, the Indian
Relic on the Summit and an Eagle's Nest 257
XXII. A Blizzard on Flat Top--The Camp is Christened "Valley
Forge" 268
XXIII. Up to Chaney Glacier and the Discovery of a Three
Thousand Foot Precipice 276
XXIV. The Boys Prepare for Winter in the Park, and Learn
Why the Timber-Line Trees Are Only Three Feet Tall 283
XXV. Protecting the Deer Yards--the Scouts Wait in the
Moonlight and Bag a Mountain Lion 291
XXVI. A Hundred Miles in Four Days, Over the Snow, Which
Is a Long Trip to Get Your Mail 302
XXVII. The Ranger and the Boys Get a Ride Down the Mountain
on a Snow Avalanche, and Don't Look for Another 312
XXVIII. Tom Starts on a Long Hike in the Deep Snow, over the
Divide, Risking Snow-Slides, to Save the Ranger's Life 318
XXIX. Tom Tramps Down McDonald Creek in a Chinook Wind,
and Reaches Shelter Almost Exhausted 322
XXX. Tom Gets Back with the Doctor, and Mills Pulls
Through--then the Scouts Have to Leave for Home 327
XXXI. Home Again--Joe's Christmas Present to His Mother Is
Sound Health Again, and Tom Rejoices 334
CHAPTER I--Joe Gets Bad News About His Lungs--His "Pipes," as Spider
Called Them
"What's the matter, Joe, lost all your pep?" asked Tom Seymour, as he
slowed his pace down so that his tired companion could keep up with him.
It was a Saturday morning in May, and the two boys, in their scout
suits, with heavy shoes on, were tramping through the woods, where the
spring flowers were beginning to appear and the little leaf buds were
bursting out on the trees. Both Tom Seymour and his chum, Joe Clark,
loved the woods, and especially in early spring they got into them
whenever they could, to see how the birds and animals had come through
the winter, and then a little later to watch for the flowers and see the
foliage come.
But this day Joe seemed to be getting tired. They were tramping up a
hillside, through mould softened by a recent rain, that made the footing
difficult, and though Joe was trying to keep up, Tom realized that
something was the matter.
"Say, Joe, old scout, what ails you, anyhow?" he asked again.
"Oh, it's nothing," Joe answered. "I've had a cold for a month, you
know, and it's pulled me down, that's all. Ma's giving me some tonic.
I'll be all right. But I do get awful tired lately."
He stopped just then and began to cough.
"I wish you'd shake that old cold," Tom said. "I'm getting sick of
hearing you bark in school--you always tune up just as Pap Forbes is
calling on me to translate Caesar. And if you don't shake it, you'll be
no good for the team, and how's the Southmead High School going to trim
Mercerville without you on second bag?"
Joe stopped coughing as soon as he could, and demanded, "Well, you don't
think I keep the old thing around because I like it, do you? I'll give
it to anybody who'll cart it off. Come on--let's forget it!"
They started up the hill again, which grew steeper as they advanced, and
presently Tom realized once more that Joe couldn't keep up. As he had to
breathe harder with the increased steepness, too, he began to cough
again.
"Say, have you been to see a doctor?" Tom demanded.
"Oh, sure," said Joe, sitting down on a rock to rest "Ma had old Doc
Jones in first week I was sick, and he gave me some stuff--tasted like a
mixture of kerosene and skunk cabbage, too."
"Doc Jones is no good," Tom declared. "My father says he wouldn't have
him for a sick cat. He doesn't even know there are germs. Mr. Rogers
told me the Doc thought it was foolish to make us scouts boil the water
from strange brooks before we drank it. Haven't you been to anybody else
since, when you didn't get better?"
"Say, what do you think I am, a millionaire?" said Joe. "I can't be
spending money on fancy doctors, and get through high school, too. Ma's
got all she can handle now, with food and everything costing so much."
"I know all that, old scout," Tom answered, putting his hand on Joe's
shoulder. "But I guess it would cost your mother more if you were laid
up, wouldn't it? Now, I've got a hunch you need some good doc to give
you the once over. Are you tired all the time like this?"
"Oh, no," Joe replied. "Or only at night, mostly," he added. "I get kind
of hot and tired at night, and I can't do much work. That's why I've
been flunking Caesar. Old Pap thinks I'm lying down on the job, but I
really ain't. I try every evening, but the words get all mixed together
on the page."
Tom sprang to his feet with the quick, almost catlike agility which, in
combination with his thin, rather tall and very wiry frame, had earned
for him the nickname of Spider.
"You come along with me," he said.
"Depends on where you're going," Joe laughed.
"Say, I'm patrol leader, ain't I?"
"You are, but this isn't the patrol. We aren't under scout discipline
to-day."
"_You_ are," laughed Tom. "You're going to do just what I tell you. Come
on, now!"
He grabbed Joe by the wrist and brought him to his feet. Joe didn't
resist, either, though Tom expected a scrap. He came along meekly down
the hill, through the wet, fragrant woods. Once on the village street,
Spider led the way directly to Mr. Rogers' house, and 'round the house
to the studio, and knocked on the door.
The scout master opened it. He was wearing his long artist's apron, and
had his big palette, covered with all the colors of the rainbow, thrust
over the thumb of his left hand.
"Hello, Spider; hello, Joe," he said. "What's the trouble? Has the
tenderfoot patrol mutinied?"
The boys came in.
"No, sir, but Joe's windpipes have," said Tom. He quickly told about his
chum's cold, and how he got tired now all the time.
"Now, cough for the gentleman, Joe," he added with a laugh.
Joe laughed, too, which actually did set him to coughing.
But Mr. Rogers didn't laugh. He looked very grave, and began to take off
his apron. He washed his hands, put on his coat, and with a short,
"Come, boys," started down the path.
There was a famous doctor in Southmead who didn't practice in the town
at all. His patients came from various parts of the country, to be
treated for special diseases, and they lived while there in a sort of
hotel-sanitorium. It was said that this doctor, whose name was Meyer,
charged twenty dollars a visit. The boys soon realized that Mr. Rogers
was headed for his house.
"Say, who does he think I am, John D. Rockefeller?" Joe whispered to
Tom.
"Don't you worry," Tom whispered back. "He's a friend of old Doc
Meyer's, all right. He'll fix it. You trot along."
They had to wait in the doctor's anteroom some time, as he had a patient
in the office. Finally he came out and greeted Mr. Rogers warmly. He was
not a native of Southmead, but had come there only two or three years
ago from New York, to have his sanitorium in the country, and he had
always been so busy that most of the townspeople scarcely knew him. Tom
and Joe, while they had seen him, had never spoken with him before. He
was a middle-aged Jew, with gold spectacles on his big nose, and large,
kindly brown eyes, which grew very keen as he looked at the boys, and
seemed to pierce right through them.
The scout master spoke to him a moment, in a low voice, and then he led
all three into his office. It wasn't like any doctor's office the scouts
had ever been in. It looked more like some sort of a mysterious
laboratory, except for the flat-top office desk in the middle, and the
strange chair, with wheels and joints, which could evidently be tipped
at any angle, or made into a flat surface like an elevated sofa. There
was a great X-ray machine, and many other strange devices, and rows of
test tubes on a white enameled table, and sinks and sterilizers.
The doctor patted Joe on the head as if he'd been a little boy instead
of a first class scout sixteen years old, going on seventeen, and large
for his age. He sat Joe down in a chair and asked him a lot of questions
first, making some notes on a card which he took out of a small filing
cabinet that was like a library catalogue case. Then he told him to
undress.
Joe stripped to the waist, and stood up while the doctor tapped his
shoulders, his chest, his back, and then listened with his ear down both
on his chest and back, and finally he took a stethoscope and went over
every square inch of surface, front and back, covering his lungs, while
he made the patient cough, say "Ah," draw in a deep breath, and expel it
slowly. Finally he took his temperature, and a sample of sputum.
Meanwhile Tom looked on with a rapidly increasing alarm. He knew a
little something about tuberculosis, and realized it was for that he was
examining his chum. He knew what a deadly disease it is, too, if it is
not caught in time, and he began to feel sick in the pit of his stomach.
He wanted to cry out to the doctor and demand that he tell him at once
that old Joe did not have this terrible disease--that he was all right,
that it was nothing but a cold. But, of course, he said not a word.
The doctor was putting Joe on the scales now, and weighing him.
"A hundred and fifteen," he said. "How's that? About your regular
weight?"
"Guess there's something wrong with your scales," Joe answered, looking
at the marker. "I ought to be a hundred and thirty. 'Course, I had more
clothes on in the winter, last time I was weighed."
"Yes, and you ought to have grown some since," said the doctor. "Well,
you will yet. You go home and rest now--sit in the sun this afternoon,
and go to bed early, with your window open. Come back here to-morrow
morning at ten o'clock, and I'll know more about you."
"But I can't sit in the sun to-day," Joe cried. "Why, we've got a game
this after', and I _got_ to play second."
The doctor looked at him with his kindly, fatherly smile, but his voice
was like a general's giving a command. "No more baseball for you for the
present, my boy," he said. "You've got to keep quiet and rest, if you
want to get well quickly."
"How soon can he play?" Tom put in, excitedly. After he had said it, he
thought it sounded as if he were more interested in the team than in
Joe, and he was going to explain, but the doctor replied before he had a
chance.
"That will all depend on how quiet you make him keep," said he. "You can
come back with him to-morrow if you want, and I'll tell you some more."
The doctor spoke softly to Mr. Rogers while Joe was dressing, and then
the three went out.
"Say, he doesn't leave much of you unexplored, does he?" said Joe.
"What's the damage, Mr. Rogers? Gee, I never thought I'd be swell enough
to go to Doc Meyer!"
"I guess he doesn't charge for scouts, when they really need him," Mr.
Rogers answered. "Now, Joe, you go home and do what he told you. I'll be
over to see your mother later, and tell her to keep an eye on you."
Tom went with the scout master in the opposite direction, his face very
grave.
"Is--is--has old Joey got consumption?" he managed to ask, his lips dry
and a lump coming up in his chest.
The scout master looked at his young patrol leader, and then put a hand
over his shoulder.
"The doctor won't say for certain till he's examined the sputum," Mr.
Rogers replied, "but I'm afraid he's got the beginnings of it. Now,
don't take it hard, and don't say a word to Joe or his mother or anybody
else. He's young, and it's just beginning, and we'll pull him through in
good shape, and make a well man of him again. But you must make him do
just what the doctor says, and stand by him."
"Stand by him!" cried Tom, two tears coming into his eyes in spite of
himself. "Say, he's my best friend, isn't he? What do you take me for?"
"I take you for a good scout," said Mr. Rogers.