THE BOY SCOUTS
OF THE
FIELD HOSPITAL
BY
SCOUT MASTER ROBERT SHALER
AUTHOR OF “BOY SCOUTS OF THE SIGNAL CORPS,” “BOY SCOUTS OF
PIONEER CAMP,” “BOY SCOUTS OF THE GEOLOGICAL SURVEY,” “BOY
SCOUTS OF THE LIFE SAVING CREW,” “BOY SCOUTS ON PICKET
DUTY,” “BOY SCOUTS OF THE FLYING SQUADRON,” “BOY
SCOUTS AND THE PRIZE PENNANT,” “BOY SCOUTS OF
THE NAVAL RESERVE,” “BOY SCOUTS IN THE SADDLE,”
“BOY SCOUTS FOR CITY IMPROVEMENT,” “BOY
SCOUTS IN THE GREAT FLOOD,” “BOY SCOUTS
WITH THE RED CROSS,” “BOY SCOUTS
AS COUNTY FAIR GUIDES,” “BOY
SCOUTS AS FOREST FIRE FIGHTERS,”
ETC.
NEW YORK
HURST & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Sterling Boy Scout Books
BY
Scout Master Robert Shaler
_Bound in cloth_ _Fifteen titles_
1 Boy Scouts of the Signal Corps.
2 Boy Scouts of Pioneer Camp.
3 Boy Scouts of the Geological Survey.
4 Boy Scouts of the Life Saving Crew.
5 Boy Scouts on Picket Duty.
6 Boy Scouts of the Flying Squadron.
7 Boy Scouts and the Prize Pennant.
8 Boy Scouts of the Naval Reserve.
9 Boy Scouts in the Saddle.
10 Boy Scouts for City Improvement.
11 Boy Scouts in the Great Flood.
12 Boy Scouts of the Field Hospital.
13 Boy Scouts with the Red Cross.
14 Boy Scouts as County Fair Guides.
15 Boy Scouts as Forest Fire Fighters.
_You can purchase any of the above books at the price you paid for this
one, or the publishers will send any book, postpaid, upon receipt of
25c._
HURST & CO., Publishers
432 Fourth Avenue, New York
Copyright, 1915, by Hurst & Company
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. The Camp on the Hurricane 5
II. A Close Call in the Rapids 16
III. Returning Good for Evil 27
IV. Turning Back the Clock of Time 41
V. Signs of Brooding Trouble 52
VI. Everybody Busy 62
VII. The Frog Hunter Trapped 76
VIII. Scouts Heed the Call to Duty 87
IX. The Helping Hand 96
X. The Field Hospital 108
XI. A Tragedy of the Strike 119
XII. A Call for the Red Cross 131
XIII. Hard at Work 142
XIV. The Welcome Sight—Conclusion 150
The Boy Scouts of the Field Hospital.
CHAPTER I.
THE CAMP ON THE HURRICANE.
“The same old hard luck seems to follow our scout master wherever we go,
Hugh!”
“It surely looks that way, Billy, for a fact.”
“After taking all the trouble to hunt around the country for a new
camping place where the Oakvale Troop could open their summer campaign,
here the scout master has to be called back home with his mother coming
down sick.”
“It was too bad, Billy, and Lieutenant Denmead looked as if he had met
with a bitter disappointment. Having his old mother ill would be bad
enough at any time, but to have it happen just now seemed doubly hard. I
know he looked forward to a week or so of rest and recreation up here.”
“Well, all my sympathy is with the lieutenant; I’m not wasting any on
the bunch of scouts gathered here around these tents, let me tell you,
Hugh. They’ll be just as well looked after by our efficient assistant
scout master.”
“It’s nice of you to say that, Billy, even if not true. I’ll try my
level best to please you, but if I succeed it will only be because I’ve
got such a splendid lot of fellows to work with.”
“What d’ye think of the place our scout master picked out for us, Hugh?”
“Couldn’t be much better, it seems to me, Billy. We’ve got mountain
scenery and running water. We can take long hikes to the top of the
range there; and at the same time get to a town inside of an hour if we
want to. The combination is pretty nearly perfect I should say in so far
as that goes.”
The stout boy in khaki, Billy Worth, looked quickly up at the face of
his companion, Hugh Hardin. Evidently there must have been some little
intonation connected with the last part of the other’s remark that
aroused a sudden suspicion in his mind.
“Something you don’t appear to like about it, Hugh,” he remarked. “Has
it anything to do with this rapid river, which might be dangerous to a
fellow not knowing how to swim, or take care of himself?”
“I wasn’t thinking about that just then, Billy; and besides, all the
boys, so far as I know, are good swimmers—unless it’s that new recruit,
Harold Tremaine; and we’ve got to find out considerable about him on
this trip.”
“Then perhaps you happen to know something about the farmers of this
section, and that they’ll raise a kick against scouts crossing their
fields; how about that guess, Mr. Scout Master?”
“Still shy more or less, Billy,” the other told him. “To relieve your
mind, since I see you’re bound to get the truth, I’ll tell you what it
is. I understand that a couple of miles away toward the west of this
place, there’s a big establishment or cement works where they employ a
couple of hundred workmen.”
“Why, yes, I believe that’s so,” interrupted Billy. “It’s called the
Samson Cement Company, seems to me. But what’s that got to do with us
scouts, Hugh?”
“I hope it isn’t going to have anything to do with us,” came the reply,
as something like a slight frown appeared on Hugh’s forehead. “But it
happens that there’s some sort of trouble going on at the works.”
“A strike, do you mean?” ejaculated Billy, becoming deeply interested at
once, for he was a boy who delighted in action and adventure of all
kinds.
“Yes, and they say that it’s developing into a bitter struggle, too. The
men are mostly foreigners, and their wives are worse than the workers.
If strike-breakers are brought up from Boston, as there was talk of the
company doing, there might possibly be a pitched battle between the
strikers and the guards who act as deputies.”
“Whew! You don’t say!” cried Billy, with a whistle that marked his
interest in the news. “But, Hugh, if we make it a point to keep away
from that section of country in our hikes there’s no reason why we
should get mixed up in any of this ugly business, that I can see.”
“Perhaps not,” the scout master continued, “but if these ignorant
foreigners begin to feel the pinch of hunger pretty soon, they may take
to raiding orchards and fields of the farmers, and then there will be
the mischief to pay. They don’t bother much about the rights of property
when they can see no sign of officers around. And if they happen to
discover some of our troop, they may think from our uniforms we’re
members of the State Militia, sent secretly to camp here so as to arrest
them when they get to acting vicious.”
“Hugh, I can see now where we _might_ get into trouble. If Lieutenant
Denmead had dreamed of anything like this, the chances are he would
never have selected a camp so near the cement works. It’s too late to
make a change of base now, I reckon.”
“Yes, we’ve got things all nicely fixed for a stay, Billy, and we’ll
have to try and not get mixed up in any of this strike business.”
“That reminds me that I saw three men walking up that country road a
while back when I was taking a look around; and, Hugh, they were
foreigners, as sure as anything. We may have to keep watch nights so as
not to suffer from a raid on our stores.”
“Oh! I don’t think that would happen,” said Hugh, immediately. “These
men are ignorant and foreigners but we mustn’t believe them to be a nest
of thieves. Only when they see their women and children suffering from
lack of proper food they might be tempted to resort to violence. In one
way you could hardly blame the men for taking what don’t belong to them
in order to save the lives so precious to them.”
From where the two boys reclined at their ease, they could look at the
tents of waterproofed canvas that had been pitched with such skill as
scouts learn to show after they have had frequent practice. Several lads
were bustling around, tidying up the camp, looking after the fires and
apparently making ready for rather a lengthy and enjoyable stay.
Close by ran the river, a brawling stream of quite some size, and also
deep in places. It was said to contain plenty of fish, so that the
scouts anticipated enjoying more than one chowder during their stay on
its high bank. While they had no boat with them, that was not going to
debar them from making frequent use of the stream for bathing purposes.
Hugh and Billy belonged to the Wolf Patrol of the Oakvale Troop. They
were among the charter members or “early settlers” as Billy called them,
having helped organize the initial patrol.
By degrees there had come other patrols, known as the Hawks, the Otters,
the Fox, and the Owls, and the members of all of these were now in camp
on the Hurricane River. The first mentioned patrol had for leader Walter
Osborne; Alec Sands had charge of the lively Otters; while Don Miller
was looked up to as the head of the Fox adjunct.
A retired army officer had taken charge of the troop, and devoted much
of his time to building up the organization, having the development of
boy character as his impetus. On this particular occasion, as we have
learned from the conversation between Hugh and Billy, Lieutenant Denmead
had been called away, which he had undoubtedly regretted very much, just
after their camp was started.
In other seasons some of these enterprising scouts had managed to enjoy
certain outings which have been described at length in the earlier
volumes of this series. For the full particulars of these happenings,
the reader will have to be referred to those books, every one of which
will be found teeming with adventure, useful information, accounts of
scout activities, and all such things as boys with red blood in their
veins love to read about.
Some of them had seen service with the genuine army signal corps; on
another occasion they had been enabled to work in conjunction with the
maneuvers of the State Militia on their annual training trip, when a
mock battle was fought in which the scouts took a prominent part.
A few of the boys on a visit to Florida had a chance to assist the
life-savers of the coast in rescuing survivors from a wreck; then there
was another time when some of them accompanied the Naval Reserve Corps
aboard a war vessel placed at their disposal by the National Government,
which gave the lads a splendid opportunity to pick up much valuable
information connected with naval affairs.
Under the energetic leadership of Hugh Hardin, the scouts had undertaken
to clean up their town in order to assist the Women’s Civic
Organization, which alone and unaided had found the task beyond their
power. That triumph alone would have been enough to make the scouts
respected in the community, even if they had not in numerous other ways
proved their efficiency.
The latest exploit in which some of the Wolf Patrol members were
concerned had taken place at some distance away from the home town. They
chanced to be sent to Lawrence on business early in the spring at just
the time when there came a terrible rain, and a flood that put the whole
country under water. Being kept from returning home by a break in the
railroad embankment, Hugh and his chums proved themselves energetic
workers, and by enthusing the local troop of scouts to work like beavers
in rescuing imperiled persons, they not only did a vast amount of good
but revived the flagging interest of the organization, so that from that
day Lawrence Boy Scout stock boomed.
With all these successful doings scattered along the pages of their
short history, the scouts of Oakvale had reason to feel proud of the
badges some of them wore. From scout headquarters in New York City had
come medals such as are only given to those who save human life at peril
to themselves; for the enthusiastic Lawrence people had seen to it that
a record of the achievements of the wide-awake visitors to their town on
that momentous occasion was forwarded to the proper officials, with a
request that their efforts be duly recognized in the proper way.
“Hello! Sounds to me like some of the boys have started to bathe, even
if the sun is burning hot for a June day!” remarked Billy Worth, as
sounds of splashing, accompanied by boisterous sounds, came to their
ears.
Hugh sat up and looked a trifle anxious.
“I’m sorry they were in such a rushing hurry,” he remarked. “I meant to
give them one more caution about risking that fierce current out there.
The river is unusually high for early summer, on account of recent
rains, and I would hate to get caught in that swirl myself, stout
swimmer that I am.”
“Same here, Hugh!” declared Billy Worth, as he started to get on his
feet. “Let’s walk over there, and you can tell the fellows what you
think about it. I’m more concerned about that new tenderfoot, Tremaine,
than any of the old members. He seems to be a bundle of nerves, and
inclined to be rash. That’s just the kind of chap to take chances, so as
to make the rest think him some punkins.”
“All right! Come on, Billy. I’ll feel easier in my mind——”
Hugh stopped short in what he was saying. A sudden chorus of excited
cries rang out, coming from the river where the scouts were bathing.
“Scoot for it, Hugh!” barked Billy, often called “Billy the Wolf” by his
chums. “I reckon what we were just talking about has happened. I heard
someone shriek that Tremaine was drowning! I’m at your heels, Hugh, all
right!”