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THE BOY SCOUTS ALONG THE SUSQUEHANNA
Or
The Silver Fox Patrol Caught in a Flood
by
HERBERT CARTER
Author of
"The Boy Scouts' First Campfire," "The Boy Scouts In the Blue Ridge,"
"The Boy Scouts On the Trail," "The Boy Scouts In the Maine Woods,"
"The Boy Scouts Through the Big Timber," "The Boy Scouts In the
Rockies," Etc. Etc.
Copyright, 1915
By A. L. Burt Company
[Illustration: "CLOSE IN ON ALL SIDES AND KEEP THEM WELL COVERED,
BOYS!" SAID THAD. _Page 20_
_The Boy Scouts Along the Susquehanna._]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. The Tramp Chase. 3
II. Sighing for Trouble. 15
III. When Bumpus Climbed Over the Fence. 24
IV. Giraffe Admits That the Shoe Fits. 35
V. The Camp in the Haymow. 47
VI. Scouts to the Rescue. 58
VII. On the River Road. 67
VIII. Useful Knowledge. 77
IX. Any Port in a Storm. 88
X. The Deserted Shanty Boat. 96
XI. Adrift on the Flood. 105
XII. Hearts Courageous. 113
XIII. The Island of Hope. 122
XIV. Still Surrounded by Perils. 130
XV. The Return of Giraffe. 138
XVI. What Davy Heard. 147
XVII. Looking for Signs. 156
XVIII. More Serious News. 164
XIX. The Trail of the Marauder. 172
XX. Solving a Mystery. 181
XXI. An Empty Larder. 189
XXII. Drawing the Net. 197
XXIII. The Smoke Clew. 206
XXIV. The Capture. 214
XXV. Forced to Tell. 222
XXVI. The Keepers of the Camp. 231
XXVII. Headed for Home--Conclusion. 239
THE BOY SCOUTS
ALONG THE SUSQUEHANNA.
CHAPTER I.
THE TRAMP CHASE.
"I'm no weather sharp, boys; but all the same I want to remark that it's
going to rain like cats and dogs before a great while. Put a pin in that
to remember it, will you?"
"What makes you say so, Davy?"
"Yes, just when we're getting along splendidly, with the old Susquehanna
not a great ways off, you have to go and put a damper on everything. Tell
us how you know all that, won't you, Davy Jones?"
"Sure I will, Giraffe, with the greatest of pleasure, while we're sitting
here on this log, resting up. In the first place just notice how gray the
sky's gotten since we had that snack at the farm house about noon!"
"Oh! shucks! that's no positive sign; it often clouds up, and never a
drop falls."
"There's going to be quite some drops come _this_ time, and don't you
forget it, Step Hen. Why, can't you feel the dampness in the air?"
"That brings it a little closer home, Davy; any more reasons?" demanded
the boy answering to the singular name of "Step Hen," but who, under
other conditions, would have come just as quickly if someone had shouted
"Steve!"
"Well, I was smart enough to look up the weather predictions before we
left Cranford yesterday," replied the active boy whom they called Davy,
as he laughed softly to himself; "and they said heavy rains coming all
along the line from out West; and that they ought to hit us here by
to-night, unless held up on the road."
"Whee! is that so? I guess you've made out your case, then, Davy,"
admitted the boy called "Giraffe," possibly on account of his unusually
long neck, which he had a habit of stretching on occasion to abnormal
dimensions.
"Mebbe Thad knew about what was in the air when he told us to fetch our
rubber ponchos along this trip," suggested Step Hen, whose last name was
Bingham.
There were just eight boys in khaki sprawled along that log in various
favorite positions suggestive of comfort. They constituted the full
membership of the Silver Fox Patrol connected with the Cranford Troop of
Boy Scouts, and the one designated as Thad Brewster had been the leader
ever since the start of the organization.
Those of our readers who have been fortunate enough to possess any of the
previous volumes in this Series need not be told just who these
enterprising lads are; but for the purpose of introducing them to
newcomers, a few words may be deemed necessary in the start.
Besides the patrol leader there were Allan Hollister, a boy whose former
experiences in the woods of Maine and the Adirondacks made him an
authority on subjects connected with outdoor life; a Southern boy, Robert
Quail White, called "Bob White" by all his chums; Conrad Stedman,
otherwise the "Giraffe," previously mentioned; "Step Hen" Bingham; Davy
Jones, an uneasy fellow, whose great specialty seemed to lie in the way
of wonderful gymnastic feats, such as walking on his hands, hanging by
his toes from a lofty limb, and kindred remarkable reckless habits;
Cornelius Hawtree, a very red-faced, stout youth, with fiery hair and a
mild disposition, and known as "Bumpus" among his set; and last though
not least "Smithy," whose real name was Edmund Maurice Travers Smith, and
who had never fully overcome his dainty habits that at first had made him
a subject of ridicule among the more rough-and-ready members of the
Silver Fox Patrol.
There they were, as active a lot of scouts as could have been found from
the Atlantic to the Pacific. They had been through considerable in the
way of seeing life; and yet their experiences had not spoiled them in the
least.
At the time we discover them seated on that big log they were a good many
miles away from their home town; and seemed to be bent upon some object
that might make their Easter holidays a season to be long remembered.
When Step Hen so naively hinted that the patrol leader may have suspected
a spell of bad weather was due, when he ordered them to be sure and fetch
along their rubber ponchos, there was a craning of necks, as everybody
tried to set eyes on the face of Thad. Of course Giraffe had the
advantage here, on account of that long neck of his, which he often
thrust out something after the style of a tortoise when the land seems
clear.
"How about that, Mr. Scout Master?" asked Bumpus.
Thad Brewster had a right to be called after that fashion, for he had
duly qualified for the position, and received his commission from scout
headquarters, empowering him to take the place of the regular scout
master, when the latter could not be present. As Dr. Philander Hobbs, the
young man who gave of his time and energies to help the cause along,
found himself unable to accompany the scouts on many of their outings,
the necessity of assuming command frequently fell wholly on Thad, who had
always acquitted himself very well indeed.
Thad laughed as he noted their eagerness to hear his admission.
"I'll have to own up, fellows," he went on to say frankly, "that I did
read the paper, just as Davy Jones says happened with him; and when I saw
the chances there were of a storm coming down on us, I made up my mind we
ought to go prepared. But even if we didn't have a rubber poncho along I
wouldn't be afraid to wager we'd get through in pretty decent shape."
"That's right, Thad," commented Giraffe; "after scouts have gone the
limit, like we did down South last winter, when the schoolhouse burned,
and we had a fine vacation before the new brick one was completed, they
ought to be able to buck up against nearly anything, and come out of the
big end of the horn."
"Horn!" echoed Bumpus, involuntarily letting his hand fall upon the
silver-plated bugle he carried so proudly, and the possession of which
told that he must be the bugler of the troop--"Horn! that reminds me I
haven't had a chance to use my dandy instrument only at reveille and taps
for quite some time now."
"Well, don't start in now, Bumpus, whatever you do," remonstrated Step
Hen. "To my mind a horn's a good thing only on certain occasions. Now,
when I'm just gettin' the best sleep after sun-up it's sure a shame to
hear you tooting away to beat the band."
"But none of us make any sort of a row when he blows the assembly at meal
times, I notice," Smithy remarked sagely; and not a protest was raised,
showing that in this particular the members of the patrol were
unanimously agreed.
The last exploit of the scouts had taken them into the Far South, in fact
among the lagoons and swamps of Louisiana; and although some months had
since passed, it would seem as though the events of that thrilling
experience were still being threshed out whenever the eight boys came
together.
Thad was an orphan, living with an uncle, a quaint old man whom everyone
knew as "Daddy." Acting from information that had been received in a
round-about way, the leader of the scout patrol had organized an
expedition to go South during the unexpected vacation, to look for a
certain man who had once worked for his widowed mother, and was suspected
of having been concerned in the mysterious disappearance of Thad's little
sister, Pauline, some years back.
The boys had carried this enterprise through to a successful termination;
and after meeting with many thrilling, likewise comical adventures, had
actually traced this man, and managed to recover the child; who was now a
happy inmate of the Brewster home, the pride of old Daddy's heart.
Judging from the numerous burdens with which the eight boys were weighted
down it would seem that they must be in heavy marching order, after the
manner of troops afield. Each fellow carried a blanket, folded so as to
hang from his shoulder, and with the two ends secured under the other
arm. Besides, he had a haversack that looked as though it might contain
more or less food and extra clothing.
Giraffe also sported a frying-pan of generous dimensions; another scout
carried a coffee pot; and doubtless the necessary tin cups, knives,
forks, platters and spoons would be forthcoming whenever needed.
The convenient log which served the boys as a seat lay close to the road
along which they had been tramping for hours that day, making inquiries
whenever a chance offered, and picking up clews after the fashion of real
scouts.
As the reason for their coming to this part of the country has everything
to do with our story, it had better be explained before we follow Thad
and his chums any further along the rather muddy road that led across
country to the Susquehanna River.
Just a couple of days before the coming of the Easter holidays Thad had
been asked over the 'phone to come and see Judge Whittaker, one of the
most respected citizens of Cranford. Wondering what the strange request
could mean, the patrol leader had immediately complied, after school that
same afternoon.
He heard a most remarkable thing, and one that thrilled his nerves as
they had not been stirred for many a day. The Judge first of all told him
that he had long observed the doings of the scouts with growing
admiration, and finding himself in need of assistance of a peculiar
order, made bold to call upon Thad to help him.
Shorn of all unnecessary particulars, it would seem that the Judge,
obeying a whim which he now called the height of foolishness, and while
waiting for a new safe to be delivered from New York to take the place of
the one that had to be opened by an expert because the time-lock had gone
wrong, had actually sewed a very valuable paper in the red lining of an
old faded blue coat which was hanging in his closet, and which he kept as
a memento of the time his only son served in the engineer corps of the
army.
It seemed that as the Judge had married again, his wife was not very fond
of seeing that old blue army overcoat with the red lining hanging around;
and thinking it a useless incumbrance, she had figured that it would be
doing more good shielding some poor tramp from the cold than just
tempting the moths in that closet.
And so it came about that one day, upon looking for the army coat, the
Judge discovered to his utmost dismay that it could not be found. When he
asked his wife, she was compelled to admit that three days before, after
pitying a shivering hobo who came to the door and asked for food, she had
obeyed a sudden generous instinct and given him the warm if faded blue
overcoat.
The Judge was in a great predicament now. His first thought was to start
out in search of "Wandering George" himself, and buy back the coat, which
the hobo could not imagine would be worth more than a dollar or so at the
most. Then, when he remembered his rheumatism, and how unfitted for such
a chase he must be, the Judge gave this plan up.
His next idea was to send to the city and have a detective put on the
track; but he had a horror of doing this, because he fancied that most of
these professional detectives were only too ready to demand blackmail if
given half a chance; and there was something about that paper which Judge
Whittaker did not want known in a public way.
And just about that time he happened to think of Thad and his scouts;
which gave him an inspiration. He felt sure they would be able to follow
the hobo who wore the faded army overcoat, and in due time come up with
him. Then Thad was to offer him a few dollars for the garment, using his
discretion so that the suspicions of the tramp might not be aroused.
It promised to be a pretty chase, and already they had been on the road
for the better part of two days, here and there learning that a man
wearing such a coat had been seen to pass along. Part of the time they
had tramped the ties of the railroad, but latterly the chase had stuck to
the highway.
Now, acting on the suggestion of the sorrowful Judge, Thad had not told
any one of the scouts, saving his close chum Allan, what the real reason
of the hunt for the lost army coat meant. The others simply fancied that
Judge Whittaker valued the old garment highly because his only son, now
in Alaska, had worn it during the Spanish-American war, and was unwilling
to have it come to such a disgraceful end. All they thought about was the
fun of tracking the hobo and eventually bringing back the old engineer
corps overcoat to its late owner. That was glory enough for Step Hen,
Giraffe, Bumpus and the rest. It afforded them a chance to get in the
open, and imagine for a time at least that they were outdoing some of
those dusky warriors who, in the good old days of "Leatherstocking" and
others of Cooper's characters, roamed these very same woods.
"If you feel rested enough, fellows," Thad now told them, "perhaps we'd
better get a move on again. The last information we managed to pick up
told us this Wandering George, as he likes to call himself, can't be a
great distance ahead of us now. In fact, I'm in hopes that we may run
across him before night comes and forces us to go into camp somewhere
along the river."
Accordingly, the other scouts sprang to their feet, everyone trying to
make out that he was as "fresh as a daisy," though poor fat Bumpus gave
an audible groan when he pried himself loose from that comfortable log.
He was not built for long hikes, though possessed of a stubborn nature
that made it hard for him to give up any object upon which he had set his
heart.
"Yes, we've rested long enough," admitted Giraffe, who, being tall and
slim, was known as a fine runner, and long distance pedestrian. "Sorry to
say there won't be any wagon following us to pick up stragglers; so if
you fall down, Bumpus, better stop at the first farmhouse you strike, and
wait till we come back."
This little slur only caused the fat scout to look at the speaker
contemptuously; but from an unexpected quarter help came.
"Huh! you certainly do like to rub it into Bumpus, Giraffe, because he's
built on the heavy order," Step Hen went on to say; "but go slow, my boy.
Don't you know the battle isn't always to the swift or the strong? Have
you forgotten all about the race between the hare and the tortoise; and
didn't the old slow-moving chap come in ahead, after all? I've known
Bumpus to beat you out before this. You may have to use a crow-bar to get
him started sometimes; but once he does move he don't let little things
balk him. Besides, it ain't nice of you nagging him because he happens to
weigh twice as much as you do. Bumpus is all right!"
"Thank you, Step Hen; I'll remember that," observed the freckled-face
scout, as he gave his defender an appreciative grin.
Down the road they went, straggling along without any particular order,
because Thad knew from past experiences he could get better work out of
his followers when they relaxed. Still, they kept pretty well bunched,
for whenever the conversation started up none of them wished to lose a
word of what was said.
On the previous night they had been forced to make a temporary shelter
with all manner of fence rails, boughs from trees, and such brush as they
could find. Having their blankets along, and being cheered with a camp
fire during the night, the experience had been rather delightful on the
whole.
These energetic boys had been through so much during the time they
belonged to the Cranford Scouts that nothing along ordinary lines seemed
to daunt them. They were well equipped for meeting and overcoming such
difficulties as might arise to confront them on a trip like the present
one; in fact, they took keen delight in matching their wits against all
comers, and a victory only served to whet their appetite for more
problems to be solved along the line of woodcraft knowledge.
For something like half an hour they pushed steadily along. Bumpus, in
order to positively prove to the sneering Giraffe that he was in the best
of condition, had actually pushed ahead with the leaders. If he limped
occasionally he did his best to conceal the fact by mumbling something
about the nuisance of stepping on pebbles and being nearly thrown off his
balance; a ruse that caused the said wily Giraffe to smile broadly, and
wink toward Step Hen knowingly.
However, this disposition of their forces enabled Bumpus to make a
discovery of apparently vast importance, which he suddenly communicated
to the rest in what he intended to be a stage whisper:
"Hey! hold on here, what's this I see ahead of us, boys? Unless my eyes
have gone back on me, which I don't believe they have, there's the smoke
of a fire rising over yonder alongside the road; and Thad, tell me, ain't
there a couple of trampy looking fellows sitting on stones cooking their
grub? Bully for us, fellows, I wouldn't be surprised a bit now if we'd
gone and ketched up with our quarry right here and now!"
Every scout stared as Bumpus was saying all of this. They saw that smoke
was undoubtedly rising close to the road, showing the presence of a fire;
while their keen, practiced eyes, used to observing things at long
distances, told them that in all probability the two men who occupied the
roadside camp belonged to the order of hoboes; for their clothing showed
signs of much wear and tear, and moreover they were heating their coffee
in old tomato cans, after the time-tried custom of the tramp tribe the
country over.
Naturally, under the circumstances, this discovery caused their hearts to
beat with additional rapidity as they contemplated an early closing of
their campaign.