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CAMP FIRES OF THE WOLF PATROL
* * * * *
Primrose Edition
[Illustration: THE HICKORY RIDGE BOY SCOUTS]
A SERIES OF BOYS' BOOKS
By CAPTAIN ALAN DOUGLAS
Scout Master
I. The Camp Fires of the Wolf Patrol
Their first camping experience affords the scouts
splendid opportunities to use their recently acquired
knowledge in a practical way. Elmer Chenowith, a lad
from the north-west woods, astonishes everyone with
his familiarity with camp life. A clean, wholesome
story every boy should read.
II. Woodcraft; or, How a Patrol Leader Made Good
This tale presents many stirring situations in which
some of the boys are called upon to exercise all their
ingenuity and unselfishness. A story filled with
healthful excitement.
III. Pathfinder; or, The Missing Tenderfoot
Some mysteries are cleared up in a most unexpected
way, greatly to the credit of our young friends. A
variety of incidents follow fast, one after the other.
IV. Fast Nine; or, a Challenge From Fairfield
They show the same team-work here as when in camp. The
description of the final game with the team of a rival
town, and the outcome thereof, form a stirring
narrative. One of the best baseball stories of recent
years.
V. Great Hike; or, The Pride of The Khaki Troop
After weeks of preparation the scouts start out on
their greatest undertaking. Their march takes them far
from home, and the good-natured rivalry of the
different patrols furnishes many interesting and
amusing situations.
VI. Endurance Test; or, How Clear Grit Won the Day
Few stories "get" us more than illustrations of pluck
in the face of apparent failure. Our heroes show the
stuff they are made of and surprise their most ardent
admirers. One of the best stories Captain Douglas has
written.
_Cloth Binding_ _Cover Illustrations in Four Colors_
THE NEW YORK BOOK COMPANY
147 FOURTH AVENUE (near 14th St.) NEW YORK
* * * * *
CAMP FIRES OF THE WOLF PATROL
COMPLETE ROSTER, WHEN THE PATROLS WERE FILLED, OF
THE HICKORY RIDGE TROOP OF BOY SCOUTS
MR. RODERIC GARRABRANT, SCOUT MASTER
* * * * *
THE WOLF PATROL
ELMER CHENOWITH, Patrol Leader, and also Assistant Scout Master
MARK CUMMINGS
TED (THEODORE) BURGOYNE
TOBY (TOBIAS) ELLSWORTH JONES
"LIL ARTHA" (ARTHUR) STANSBURY
CHATZ (CHARLES) MAXFIELD
PHIL (PHILIP) DALE
GEORGE ROBBINS
THE BEAVER PATROL
MATTY (MATTHEW) EGGLESTON, Patrol Leader
"RED" (OSCAR) HUGGINS
TY (TYRUS) COLLINS
JASPER MERRIWEATHER
TOM CROPSEY
LARRY (LAWRENCE) BILLINGS
HEN (HENRY) CONDIT
LANDY (PHILANDER) SMITH
THE EAGLE PATROL
JACK ARMITAGE, Patrol Leader
NAT (NATHAN) SCOTT
(OTHERS TO BE ENLISTED UNTIL THIS PATROL HAS REACHED ITS LEGITIMATE
NUMBER)
* * * * *
[Illustration: It proved to be interesting work.]
The Hickory Ridge Boy Scouts
[Illustration Border]
Number One
CAMP FIRES OF THE WOLF PATROL
by
CAPTAIN ALAN DOUGLAS SCOUT MASTER
[Illustration]
The New York Book Company
New York
Copyright, 1912, by
The New York Book Company
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I.--IN CAMP ON THE SWEETWATER 17
II.--THE SUDDEN PERIL 26
III.--GINGER PLAYS WITH FIRE 33
IV.--A NEVER-TO-BE-FORGOTTEN SUPPER 41
V.--WHAT WAS IT? 49
VI.--THE BOY SCOUTS' WATER-BOILING TEST 57
VII.--THE LOST SKY TRAVELER 65
VIII.--A BLAZED TRAIL 73
IX.--WHAT THE LONE CABIN CONTAINED 81
X.--WIGWAGGING FROM THE MOUNTAIN PEAK 89
XI.--THE HAIRY THIEF THAT WALKED ON TWO LEGS 97
XII.--LAYING A GHOST 105
XIII.--TAKEN BY SURPRISE 113
XIV.--THE THINGS THAT MAKE BOYS MANLY 121
XV.--HOW THE TRAP WORKED 129
XVI.--THE LAST FLICKERING CAMP FIRE DIES OUT 137
CAMP FIRES OF THE WOLF PATROL
THE HICKORY RIDGE BOY SCOUTS
CAMP FIRES OF THE WOLF PATROL.
CHAPTER I.
IN CAMP ON THE SWEETWATER.
A TROOP of khaki-clad boys had been marching, rather wearily perhaps,
along a road that, judging from all indications, was not very much used
by the natives.
The afternoon was waning, so that a summer's night would soon begin to
close in around them. Dense woods lay in all directions, the foliage of
which had afforded very pleasant shelter from the fierce rays of the
August sun. "Halt!" came the loud order.
"Hurrah! we're going into our first camp, fellows!"
"Is that so, Mr. Garrabrant?"
"Pull off your lids, boys, and give a salute!"
"What a dandy old place for a camp. How d'ye suppose he came to pick
this out, Elmer?"
"That's as easy to tell as falling off a log, Toby. We have to use water
to cook with; and just notice this fine stream running past us,"
returned the boy addressed, who seemed to be the second in command of
the detachment of scouts. "Besides," he added, "you forget that we aimed
to reach the Sweetwater River by evening, so that we could start up the
current in our boats to-morrow morning. And this, I reckon, is the
stream that we're looking for."
"Hurrah again, fellows! The day's hike is done. Now for a bully rest!"
"Stand at attention, all! Call the roll, secretary, to see if there are
any stragglers!" the scout master commanded, as the small troop ranged
up before him.
This young man was Mr. Roderic Garrabrant, who had only too gladly
assumed the role he occupied, being greatly interested in the boy
problem; and possessing a few fads and fancies he wished to work out by
actual experience. His knowledge of woodcraft was not so very extensive;
but the moral effect of his presence was expected to exert considerable
benefit in connection with the dozen or more members of the Hickory
Ridge troop of Boy Scouts.
The small town of Hickory Ridge lay about seven miles due south of the
place where they had struck the winding Sweetwater; and the party had
tramped this distance since noon. While it might not seem very far to
those who are accustomed to long walks, there were a number among the
scouts who had undoubtedly exceeded their record on this same afternoon.
An exceedingly tall and ungainly lad, with long legs that seemed to just
delight getting in the way at times, threatening to twist him in a knot,
drew out a little pocket volume, and in a sing-song tone started to call
off numerous names.
Each boy answered promptly when he heard his own name mentioned; and as
they will very likely figure largely in our story, it might be just as
well to take note of the manner in which Arthur Stansbury called them
off:
"Members of the Wolf Patrol: Elmer Chenowith, Mark Cummings, Ted
Burgoyne, Toby Ellsworth Jones, Arthur Stansbury, and Chatz Maxfield.
"Members of the Beaver Patrol: Matty Eggleston, Oscar Huggins, Tyrus
Collins, Jasper Merriweather, Tom Cropsey, Lawrence Billings.
"Unattached, but to form Numbers One and Two of the new Eagle Patrol:
Jack Armitage and Nathan Scott."
"We seem to be just two shy," observed Mr. Garrabrant, with a twinkle in
his eye, as he turned toward Elmer Chenowith, who had recently received
his certificate as assistant scout master from the National Council, and
was really qualified to take the place of the leader whenever the latter
chanced to be absent.
Elmer raised his hand promptly in salute, as he made reply:
"Yes, sir; Nat Scott and Jasper Merriweather. They pegged out a mile or
so back; and after examining their feet, and finding that they were
really sore from walking, I gave them permission to ride on the
commissary wagon, sir."
Now, of course Mr. Garrabrant knew all this perfectly well. He had
actually watched the pair of tenderfeet only too gladly clamber aboard
the wagon that bore the tents, food, extra clothing, and cooking outfit
for the camp. But thus far did military tactics rule the Boy Scouts,
that he was supposed to know nothing about such incidents until they had
been reported to him in the proper manner, as provided for in the
system.
"Suppose then you notify them, Mr. Bugler," said the scout master,
turning to Mark Cummings, who, besides being the especial chum of Elmer,
was really a fine musician, and naturally had been unanimously chosen as
bugler for the new troop of scouts recently organized in Hickory Ridge.
When the clear, penetrating notes of the bugle sounded through the
neighboring woods, there came a faint but enthusiastic cheer from some
point along the back trail. In addition, the waiting scouts could catch
the plain creaking of a wagon, accompanied by encouraging words, spoken
undeniably by a "gentleman of color."
"Git up dar, youse ol' sleepy-haid, Andy Jackson! Wot youse t'ink we's
gwine tuh do up hyah in dis neck ob de woods, hey? Git a mobe on yuh,
Jawdge Washington! Jes' quit dat peekin' outen de tail end ob yuh eye at
me! We ain't playin' dat ere game ob politics now; dis am real, honest,
sure-nuff work. Altogedder now, bofe ob youse; or de waggin dun stick in
de mud of dis crick!"
Then followed a few whacks, as the energetic driver applied the goad,
some startled snorts, in turn succeeded by another relay of faint cheers
from the two footsore scouts aboard the wagon.
And presently the lumbering vehicle, with its sweating steeds, halted
alongside the site selected by the scout master as the spot for the
first camp of the scouts' outing. An opening was readily found where
Ginger, the ebony driver, might urge his reluctant team to leave the
hard road, and enter among the trees.
Immediately a scene of great bustle, and more or less confusion ensued;
for it must be remembered that while the Hickory Ridge scouts may have
drilled in the work of starting a camp, that was only theory, and the
present was their first actual practice on record.
The contents of the wagon were overhauled, and several tents started to
go up on spots particularly selected by the leaders of the patrols, who
had this duty in their sole charge.
Here Elmer had a great advantage over all his fellows, since he had
spent much of his life up in the Canadian Northwest, where his father
had held a position as manager to extensive lands that were being farmed
on a colossal scale, until a year or so previous, when, being left a
snug little fortune, Mr. Chenowith had decided to return to his native
state, to settle down for the balance of his days.
Of course the boy had picked up a considerable amount of useful
knowledge during his stay in that country of vast distances, which was
likely to prove of use to him in his experiences as a scout.
They had elected him as president of the troop, and he had readily been
given the position of scout leader in the Wolf Patrol because of this
wide range of knowledge pertaining to the secrets of outdoor life. It
had also been mainly instrumental in securing for him the coveted
certificate from Headquarters, recognizing him as a capable assistant to
Mr. Garrabrant.
Elmer could toss a rope, follow a trail, throw a "diamond hitch" in
loading a pack horse, travel on snowshoes, recognize most wild animals
just from their tracks, make a camp properly, and do so many other like
tricks that made him the envy of his mates, and especially Matty
Eggleston, who was the leader of the Beaver Patrol, and had much to
learn concerning his duties.
It was a cheerful scene, as the tents were raised, and fires began to
crackle, one for each patrol, according to custom. Even the two limping
scouts forgot their recent lameness, and began to sniff the air hungrily
when Ginger started to get supper for the crowd.
Ginger had qualified as an expert first-class cook, but the truth might
as well be stated right in the beginning that the boys quickly tired of
the greasy messes the son of Ethiopia flung together, and soon followed
the example of the Wolf Patrol, doing their own cooking, an arrangement
that pleased the good-natured but indolent Ginger perfectly. He was
always on hand, however, when the time for eating came around, being
possessed of an enormous appetite that alarmed Mr. Garrabrant more than
a little.
Night had closed in long before supper was ready, for things somehow
worked at sixes and sevens on the occasion of the getting of the first
meal, since many essential articles had to be hunted for, entailing a
loss of time. But all this would be remedied as soon as they were in
their permanent camp, for both Mr. Garrabrant and Elmer were keen on
system and order.
The boys were almost famished after that seven-mile hike, and could
hardly wait for the signal to "fall to." But there was an abundance for
all, and none of them was much inclined to be what Arthur Stansbury
called "finicky" that night.
Mr. Garrabrant, however, while eating, looked suspiciously toward
Ginger, and shook his head in the direction of Elmer, as if to say that
if this mess were a fair specimen of the cook's best efforts along the
culinary line, the sooner they started in to depend on themselves the
better for their digestion.
After the meal had been finished the boys left Ginger to clean up while
they lay around, enjoying the sparkling blaze, something that most of
them were not very familiar with. For the time being all formality was
thrown aside, and they laughed and chatted, just as normal boys are
prone to do when out upon a holiday jaunt.
Mr. Garrabrant showed the two laggards how they had been unwise not
immediately to dislodge sundry small pebbles that had found a way to get
in their shoes, with the consequence that presently stone bruises had
formed that became painful. He made them easy with some lotion he
carried for just such a purpose.
In this and dozens of other ways the efficient scout master expected to
teach the boys of the troop how to take care of themselves when away
from home. But the lads who had to be told _the same thing twice_ might
expect to forfeit some privilege since they were expected to think for
themselves, after being shown.
There was also a second colored man along, who expected to take the team
back on the morrow, since the scouts would have no further need of it,
once they embarked in the boats that were to meet them here. In these
they expected to ascend the Sweetwater to a small lake called Jupiter;
and from thence by way of Paradise Creek find a passage to Lake Solitude
beyond, where they meant to camp and learn the numerous "stunts" a good
scout should know.
Some of the lads had fair voices, and school songs were sung around the
fire, Mark doing the accompanying with soft notes on his bugle. He had
mastered this instrument, and his mates never wearied of hearing him
play.
Ted Burgoyne was afflicted with a slight lisp that gave him no end of
trouble; though he always insisted that he spoke as correctly as any of
his companions. Ted had a strong leaning toward the profession of a
surgeon, and indeed was forever loudly wishing for a subject upon whom
to operate. The boys had considerable fun over this weakness, but all
the same they must have felt more or less confidence in his ability to
do the right thing; for whenever any slight accident occurred it might
be noticed that every one in camp called upon "Dr. Ted" to take hold;
and he nearly always proved himself equal to the occasion.
Charlie Maxfield, or Chatz as he was universally called, was somewhat of
a queer chap. He believed in ghosts, and was always reading stories of
hobgoblins and haunted houses. Of course, with such a propensity, Chatz
could be depended on to try and frighten his chums from time to time. He
was forever "seeing things" in the dark.
The rest of the boys had plenty of fun with Chatz, which he took in good
part; but although, as a rule, his alarms proved to be false ones
nothing seemed to disturb his deep-rooted convictions. They even said he
carried a rabbit's foot, for good luck, the animal having been killed by
Chatz himself in a graveyard, and in the full of the moon.
Needless to say Chatz Maxfield was a Southern-born lad, as his accent
alone proved. He was a fine fellow, taken as a whole, outside of this
silly belief in ghosts, which he possibly imbibed from the small darkies
with whom he played on his father's Georgia plantation, years back.
"I don't see any boats around here, fellows!" remarked Ty Collins, when
there came a little lull in the conversation, after Mr. Garrabrant had
been explaining some puzzling matter that one of the boys had put up to
him.
"Why, that's a fact!" exclaimed "Lil Artha," as the long-legged
secretary, Arthur Stansbury was called by his mates--he was a devoted
amateur photographer, and even then had been busying himself with some
part of his equipment as he sat by the fire.
Arthur was keenly desirous of learning all the various kinks that a
first class scout must know. He was somewhat of a joker in his way, and
at times a little addicted to the use of current slang; but a
warm-hearted, impulsive lad all the same.
"They are to be on hand in the morning, boys," remarked Mr. Garrabrant.
"And of course we shall not think of leaving here until they come. Make
your minds easy on that score, Nat and Jasper. Your heels will have a
chance to get well, never fear."
"Where's Chatz?" asked one of the other boys, suddenly.
"He asked permission to walk back a bit over our trail," observed Elmer.
"Said he missed a buckle from his coat, which he was carrying over his
arm when he tripped. I let him take a lantern with him to see if he
could find it."
"Lil Artha" began to laugh, and several of the other boys joined in.
"Oh! my! what if he happens to run across one of those ghosts he's
always talking about?" suggested Toby Ellsworth Jones, whose grandfather
had been a veteran, and a soldier under the colonel who died at
Alexandria, Va., in the Civil War; whence the name of Ellsworth--Toby
was just wild on the subject of aeronautics; and while thus far
everything he attempted had proven as flat a failure as the famous
flying machine of Darius Green, still he lived in hopes of accomplishing
something that would make the name of Jones renowned.
Several of the boys struggled to their feet at this, finding themselves
stiff in the legs after their long walk.
"Look! there's a light coming just flying along the road right now!"
cried Larry Billings.
"And that must be Chatz on the full run, though he wouldn't yell out for
anything!" exclaimed Mark.
"Something must be chasing him, fellows!" declared Toby, in great
excitement.
"Perhaps it's a wildcat!" suggested Jasper Merriweather, who was a bit
timid.
"Here he comes, and he can speak for himself. What ails you, Charlie;
what happened to start you running?" asked the scout master, as the boy
came hurrying up, breathing hard, and showing signs of positive alarm.
"Reckon I saw something, suh, that was mighty mysterious!" replied
Chatz; at which the entire group of scouts looked at each other, and
held their breath in awe.