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[Illustration: In It a Single Man Was Seated]
The Boy Patrol Series
THE BOY PATROL AROUND THE COUNCIL FIRE
by
EDWARD S. ELLIS
Author of “The Flying Boys Series,” “The
Launch Boys Series,” “The Deer-foot
Series,” etc., etc.
Illustrated by Edwin J. Prittie
The John C. Winston Company
Philadelphia
Copyright, 1913, by
The John C. Winston Company
Printed in U.S.A.
CONTENTS
I — “He and I Must Never Meet”
II — A Slight Miscalculation
III — A Strange Occurrence
IV — Curious Sights And Doings
V — Concerning Certain American Trees
VI — A Patriot Martyr
VII — Concerning Certain New England Birds
VIII — A Council of War
IX — An Unwelcome Guest
X — A Sudden Separation
XI — An Unsatisfactory Interview
XII — Groping After the Truth
XIII — The Committee of Investigation
XIV — The Men Who Laughed
XV — The True Story of a Famous Sea Serpent
XVI — Zip
XVII — Wonderful Work
XVIII — A Match of Wits
XIX — The Final Test
XX — Speed the Parting Guest
XXI — Call For Help
XXII — Groping In the Dark
XXIII — A Fortunate Meeting
XXIV — “The Latchstring Was Inside!”
XXV — And the Last
The Boy Patrol Around the Council Fire
CHAPTER I — “He and I Must Never Meet”
You will recall that one day in a recent August, Jack Crandall, a member
of the Stag Patrol of Boy Scouts, who with the Blazing Arrow and Eagle
Patrols was spending the summer vacation on the shore of Gosling Lake,
in Southern Maine, met with a serious accident. In climbing a tall pine
to inspect a bird’s nest, he fell to the ground and broke his leg. His
companions, Gerald Hume and Arthur Mitchell, belonging to the same
Patrol, made a litter upon which he was carried to the clubhouse. Dr.
Spellman, staying with his wife and little daughter Ruth, christened
“Sunbeam” by Mike Murphy, in answer to a signal, paddled across the lake
in his canoe, set the fractured limb and did all that was necessary.
Jack was an athlete, in rugged health and with no bad habits. He,
therefore, recovered rapidly. After spending a few days on his couch, he
was carried to the front porch, where in the cool shade and reposing
upon an invalid chair, especially fashioned for the occasion, he feasted
his eyes upon the delightful scenery and enjoyed the pleasures of his
friends although he could not take part. He insisted that they should
pay no special attention to him, though there was not a boy who would
not have gladly kept him company all the time. A reunion of the troop
took place in the evening, when he was carried inside, listened to the
reports and took part in the conversation which you may be sure was of a
lively nature.
Thus the days passed until the arrival of the silver mounted maple wood
crutches, a gift from the other Scouts, and Jack swung carefully out on
the porch and walked the length of it several times before sinking down
in the waiting chair. This, of course, did not take place until the
month was well by and the time for going home near. I thought it best to
close my previous story with this glimpse of things, but it now becomes
my duty to turn back and relate some incidents that occurred during the
first days of the patient’s convalescence, since they have to do with
what follows.
Dr. Spellman and his wife returned to the bungalow on the day succeeding
Jack’s mishap.
Scout Master Hall and several of the lads expressed their surprise that
no call had been made by Uncle Elk, the Hermit of the Woods, who showed
so much fondness for the Boy Scouts that they expected to see him every
day, provided the weather was favorable.
“I am sure he would have been here last night or this morning, had he
known of Jack’s misfortune,” said Mr. Hall.
“If ye have no ’bjection I’ll drop in on him and let him know,” replied
Mike Murphy, whose heart was as sympathetic as that of a young child.
“Please do so.”
Mike glanced around for his chums, Alvin Landon and Chester Haynes, but
they were not in sight. It did not matter and he decided to make the
trip alone, using one of the canoes to take him to the end of the lake,
where he would follow the path that led to the cabin through the woods.
“On me way back,” remarked Mike to the Scout Master, who walked with him
to the water’s edge, “I’ll drop in to larn how Sunbeam is getting on.”
The Scout Master smiled.
“That will take you considerably out of your way.”
“It’s not worth the mintion, as Ball O’Flaherty said whin he fell off
the church steeple and broke his neck. Then ye know it’s a long time
since I saw Sunbeam.”
“Yes,—less than a day.”
So the Irish youth seated himself in the stern of the graceful craft,
and swung the paddle with creditable skill. No task could have been
easier, and he grinned with satisfaction, as keeping close to shore, he
watched the trees with their exuberant foliage glide silently backward.
“A canoe is a blissed boon to byes that can’t walk; we might set Jack in
one of ’em, and he could paddle wherever he wished. I’m going to suggist
to me friends that whin they go back home, each of ’em has a canoe
mounted on wheels, so he can roam round the country, the same as if he’s
skimming over the water as I’m doing this minute. I’d try it mesilf whin
I get back, but dad would objict and there’s so much water there I don’t
naad anything of the kind.”
Far over to the left, he saw the other canoe handled by several of the
Scouts, while somewhat nearer and a little way back from the water, a
thin, feathery finger of smoke filtering through the tree tops showed
where Dr. Spellman’s house stood.
“Sunbeam has been gone so long that I’m worrit less something may have
happened to her; I won’t tarry at Uncle Elk’s, but make haste to relave
me mind as regards the Quaan.”
Uncle Elk’s canoe was drawn up the bank and turned over. Landing near
it, Mike followed the winding path to the door from which the latch
string hung, pulled it and stepped across the threshold.
“Good afternoon, Uncle Elk,” was his greeting as he closed the door
behind him.
The hermit was sitting in his rocking chair, reading “The Truth of
Religion,” by Rudolf Eucken, Professor of Philosophy in the University
of Jena and winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1908. The old
man laid aside the heavy volume, still open, face downward.
“Michael, I’m glad to see you.”
He leaned forward, shook hands and motioned the youth to the chair
opposite. Mike obeyed with the remark:
“We have been expecting a call from ye, Uncle Elk.”
“You don’t wish me to bore you with too much of my presence,” said the
hermit, with a twinkle of his bright eyes.
“That’s something that can’t be done, if ye tried it till ye were an old
man,” replied Mike warmly. And then told of the mishap that had befallen
Jack Crandall. Uncle Elk listened sympathetically.
“That’s bad, but it might have been much worse.”
“Which Jack himself has obsarved,—for instance, ’spose it had been
_mesilf_.”
“That surely would have been worse for _you_, but better for him. You
say that Dr. Spellman set his injured leg?”
“That he did, and I couldn’t have done it better mesilf. He called this
morning and said the spalpeen was doing splendid.”
“When will the doctor call again?”
“I’m not sartin,—but likely tomorrer.”
“Forenoon or afternoon?”
“I couldn’t say.”
Uncle Elk withdrew his gaze from the face of the lad and looked into the
fireplace, where only a few dying embers showed. He was silent for a few
moments and then addressed his caller.
“Michael,” he said in low tones, “I shall call upon Jack at the earliest
opportunity, but my call must be timed so there will be no possibility
of meeting Dr. Spellman.”
Mike was amazed by the words and at a loss what to say. Therefore he
said what after all was perhaps the best thing.
“I’ll see that the doctor doesn’t try any expirimints on ye.”
The old man actually laughed, but only for an instant. With a shake of
his head he said:
“It isn’t that, Michael, but he and I must never meet.”
The youth was astounded, but his sense of propriety forbade any
questioning. If Uncle Elk did not choose to make known the cause of his
strange enmity, Mike had no right to object.
A strained silence followed for a minute or two, when the hermit again
looked meditatively into the smouldering embers.
“It can be easily arranged: let Dr. Spellman make his calls at such
times as suit his convenience and I will adjust mine accordingly.”
“That should be aisy. I hev it!”
“Let me hear your plan.”
“’Spose the doctor makes it a rule to call ivery other day and ye can
fit yer visits in betwaan, though we should like it to be oftener.”
“That would hardly answer, for he might be needed every day. A better
plan will be that he should never call at the bungalow during the
evening. If he agrees to that, everything will be right.”
“That’ll doot! He wouldn’t come anyway unless we signalled him, and if
ye happen to be at the clubhouse, ye’ll have plinty of time to run.”
“How am I to know that he consents to it?”
“If he objicts, I’ll come back and tell ye; if he agraas, I won’t show
up here agin till after ye have visited us.”
“That settles the matter. I suppose, Michael, you are wondering why I
make such a strange request?”
“I am, but I’m not asking any quistions, as ye’ll obsarve.”
“Well, you will never learn from me.”
Mike was slightly nettled.
“Why thin did ye think it worth while to raise me hopes, whin I hadn’t
made any inquiries?”
“I beg your pardon, Michael; I shouldn’t have done it. Let neither of us
refer to it again.”
“Do ye wish me to till Docther Spellman what ye said?”
“I do.”
“Then consider that I’ve told him.”
“It would be hard for him to understand my request unless he knew my
feelings. You may as well stay to supper and over night with me.”
“I thank ye, Uncle Elk, but I much fear that if I don’t return to the
byes they’ll think I’ve tumbled out of a tree the same as Jack, and have
broke me neck. I’ll bid ye good afternoon and make me way to Docther
Spelhnan. Onless ye hear from me to the contrary, ye’ll understand that
he’ll not visit the bungalow on any avening onless he is sent fur, so
the way will be open to yersilf.”
The hermit rose from his chair and stood in the door as Mike walked down
the path to the side of the lake. He looked round just before passing
out of sight and waved his hand to the old man, who nodded.
“It’s mighty qu’ar,” mused the lad, as he shoved off in his canoe; “the
docther has niver said a word as far as I’ve heerd about any throuble
between ’em, and I couldn’t guess what it is to save me life.”
The bright, sunshiny afternoon was well advanced when Mike paddled a
little way from shore and turned in the direction of the thin wisp of
smoke which revealed the location of the physician’s summer home. Almost
beyond sight could be made out the second canoe, which some of the
Scouts had used in making an excursion over the sheet of water. The
craft was close in shore and seemed to be motionless, as if the boys
were fishing. The distance was too far for him to tell the number of
occupants, but he judged they were three or four.
“And I belave Alvin and Chester are among ’em,” he added, after a
scrutiny of the boat; “I mind me now that they said something about
going off to-day on a cruise. Hello!”
The exclamation was caused by an unexpected discovery. Between him and
the home of the physician he saw a second spiral of vapor climbing up
among the treetops. Like that of the former, it was so far back from the
water that nothing could be seen of the party that had kindled it.
Mike held his paddle motionless while he looked and thought.
“They must be strangers to the rist of us. If this thing kaaps up, bime
by we sha’n’t have elbow room and will have to camp farther inland. I
wonder now if they could be some other Boy Patrols that have strayed in
here. They may have heerd of us and desire to make me acquaintance, as
do most people.”
Mike had his natural share of curiosity, and decided to learn who the
strangers were. He had enough time at command to permit a diversion of
this nature, and he headed his craft toward the bank at a point opposite
the dim wavering column of vapor which showed that a fire kindled
beneath was the cause.