Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan, and the Project
Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
The Banner Boy Scouts Afloat
OR
The Secret of Cedar Island
By GEORGE A. WARREN
1913
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I THE MYSTERIOUS BOXES
II GLORIOUS NEWS
III FOR CEDAR ISLAND--GHOST OR NO GHOST
IV LAYING IN THE STORES
V JUST AFTER THE CLOCK STRUCK TEN
VI THE GREAT CRUISE OF THE SCOUTS BEGUN
VII STUCK FAST IN THE MUD
VIII WHAT THE WATER GAUGE SHOWED
IX ON THE SWIFT RADWAY
X DODGING THE SNAGS AND THE SNARES
XI THE CAMP ON CEDAR ISLAND
XII WAS IT A BURSTING METEOR?
XIII THE FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND
XIV TRYING TO FIGURE IT ALL OUT
XV ORDERED OFF
XVI UNDER COVER OF DARKNESS
XVII PITCHING TENTS IN THE "SINK"
XVIII WHAT LAY IN THE BRUSH
XIX LAYING PLANS
XX THE EXPLORING PARTY
XXI A MYSTERY OF THE OPEN GLADE
XXII THE WIGWAG MESSAGE
XXIII STILL FLOUNDERING IN THE MIRE
XXIV THE DISCOVERY
XXV TIME TO GO BACK
XXVI HONORABLE SCARS
XXVII ANOTHER THREATENING PERIL
XXVIII PREPARED FOR THE WORST
XXIX LIFTING THE LID
XXX GOOD-BYE TO CEDAR ISLAND
XXXI A SCOUT'S DUTY
XXXII CONCLUSION
PREFACE
Dear Boys:--
It is with the greatest pleasure that I present you with the third volume
of the "Banner Boy Scouts Series." This is a complete story in itself;
and yet most of the leading characters you, who have already read the
first and second volumes, will easily remember. I trust you will heartily
welcome the appearance once more on the stage of Paul, Jack, Bobolink and
all the other good fellows belonging to Stanhope Troop of Boy Scouts.
Those of you who are old friends will recollect that while the Red Fox
Patrol was forming, the boys had a most strenuous time, what with a deep
mystery in their midst, and the bitter strife resulting from their
competition with rival troops belonging to neighboring towns. How the
beautiful banner was cleverly won by Stanhope, I related in the first
volume, called: "The Banner Boy Scouts."
In the succeeding story the Stanhope Scouts went on their first long
hike, to camp in the open. The remarkable adventures they met with
while enjoying this experience; as well as the stirring account of how
they recovered a box of valuable papers that had been stolen from the
office of Joe Clausin's father, form the main theme of "The Banner Boy
Scouts on a Tour."
And now, in this third book, I have endeavored to interest you in another
series of happenings that befell these wide-awake boys before their
summer vacation was over. I hope you will, after reading this story
through to the last line, agree with me that what the young assistant
scout master, Paul Morrison, and his chums of Stanhope Troop endured
while afloat all went to make them better and truer scouts in every sense
of the word.
Cordially yours
GEORGE A. WARREN.
CHAPTER I
THE MYSTERIOUS BOXES
"What are you limping for, Bobolink?"
"Oh! shucks! I see there's no use trying to hide anything from your sharp
eyes, Jack Stormways. Guess I just about walked my feet off today, goin'
fishin' with our patrol leader, away over to the Radway River, and about
six miles up."
"Have any luck, Bobolink?" instantly demanded the third member of the
group of three half-grown boys, who were passing after nightfall through
some of the partly deserted streets on the outskirts of the thriving town
of Stanhope; and whose name it might be stated was Tom Betts.
"Well, I should say, yes. Between us we got seven fine bass, and a
pickerel. By the way, I caught that pickerel; Paul, he looked after the
bass end of the string, and like the bully chap he is divided with me;"
and the boy who limped chuckled as he said this, showing that he could
appreciate a joke, even when it was on himself.
About everybody in town called him Bobolink; and what boy could do
otherwise, seeing that his real name was Robert O. Link?
As the trio of lads were all dressed in the khaki suits known all over
the world nowadays as typifying Boy Scouts, it could be readily taken for
granted that they belonged to the Stanhope Troop.
Already were there three full patrols enlisted, and wearing uniforms;
while a fourth was in process of forming. The ones already in the field
were known as, first, the Red Fox, to which these three lads belonged;
then the Gray Fox, and finally the Black Fox. But as they had about
exhausted the color roster of the fox family, the chances were that the
next patrol would have to start on a new line when casting about for a
name that would stamp their identity, and serve as a totem.
An efficient scout master had been secured in the person of a young man
by the name of Mr. Gordon, who cheerfully accompanied the lads on their
outings, and attended many of their meetings. But being a traveling
salesman, Mr. Gordon often had to be away from home for weeks at a time.
When these lapses occurred, his duties fell upon the shoulders of Paul
Morrison, who not only filled the position of leader to the Red Fox
Patrol, but being a first-class scout, had received his commission from
Headquarters that entitled him to act as assistant scout master to the
whole troop during the absence of Mr. Gordon.
"How did you like it up on the Radway?" continued the one who had made
the first inquiry, Jack Stormways, whose father owned a lumber yard and
planing mill just outside the limits of the town, which was really the
goal of their present after-supper walk.
"Great place, all right," replied Bobolink. "Paul kept calling my
attention to all the things worth seeing. He seems to think a heap of the
old Radway. For my part, I rather fancy our own tight little river, the
Bushkill."
"Well, d'ye know, that's one reason I asked how you liked it," Jack went
on. "Paul seemed so much taken with that region over there, I've begun to
get a notion in my head he's fixing a big surprise, and that perhaps at
the meeting to-night he may spring it on us."
"Tell me about that, will you?" exclaimed Bobolink, who was given to
certain harmless slang ways whenever he became in the least excited, as
at present. "Now that you've been and gone and given me a pointer, I c'n
just begin to get a line on a few of the questions he asked me. Well,
I'm willing to leave it to Paul. He always thinks of the whole shooting
match when trying to give the troop a bully good time. Just remember
what we went through with when we camped out up on Rattlesnake Mountain,
will you?"
"That's right," declared Tom Betts, eagerly; "say, didn't we have the
time of our lives, though?"
"And yet Paul said only today that as we had so long a time before
vacation ends this year, a chance might pop up for another trip,"
Bobolink remarked, significantly.
"Did, eh? Well, don't that go to prove what I said; and you just wait
till we get back to the meeting room in the church. Paul's just bursting
with some sort of secret, and I reckon he'll just have to tell us
to-night," and Jack laughed good-naturedly as he still led his two
comrades on toward the retired lane, where his father's big mill adjoined
the storage place for lumber; convenient to the river, and at the same
time near the railroad, so that a spur track could enter the yard.
Besides these three boys five others constituted the Red Fox Patrol of
Stanhope Troop. In the first story of this series, which appeared under
the name of "The Banner Boy Scouts; Or, The Struggle for Leadership,"
the reader was told about the formation of the Red Fox Patrol, and how
some of the boys learned a lesson in scout methods of returning good for
evil; also how a cross old farmer was taught that he owed a duty to the
community in which he lived, as well as to himself. In that story it was
also disclosed how a resident of the town offered a beautiful banner to
that troop which excelled in an open tournament also participated in by
two other troops of Boy Scouts from the towns of Aldine and Manchester;
the former on the east bank of the Bushkill, about six miles up-stream,
and the latter a bustling manufacturing place about seven miles down, and
also on the same bank as Aldine.
In this competition, after a lively duel between the three wide awake
troops, Stanhope won handsomely; and had therefore been given the banner,
which Wallace Carberry proudly carried at the head of the procession
whenever they paraded.
The second book, "The Banner Boy Scouts on a Tour; Or, The Mystery of
Rattlesnake Mountain," was given over almost exclusively to descriptions
of the wonderful things that came to pass when Stanhope Troop spent a
part of their vacation camping out in order that those who were backward
in their knowledge of how to take care of themselves when in the open
should have a good chance to learn many of the secrets of Nature.
So many strange things happened to the boys when up on Rattlesnake
Mountain that it would be utterly impossible to even mention them here;
but if you wish to know all about the mystery they solved, and the
numerous other exciting events that befell them, you must get the
second volume.
There was to be a special meeting, which the acting scout master had
called for this evening; and Bobolink, Jack, and Tom Betts expected to
be back from their errand in time to answer to their names when the roll
was called.
It was only to oblige Jack that the other two had left home half an hour
earlier than was really necessary. Jack had asked them, over the
telephone, to drop around, as he had to go out to his father's mill
before he could attend the meeting in the church, where a room in the
basement had been kindly loaned to them by the trustees.
"What's all this mean about you going to the mill at this queer old
hour?" Bobolink was saying, as the three boys continued to walk on
abreast, the speaker carrying the silver-plated bugle which he knew how
to manipulate so well when the occasion allowed its use.
"Why, you see it's this way," Jack went on to explain. "My father knows a
man of the name of Professor Hackett, though what he's a professor of
you needn't ask me, because I don't know. But he's a bright little
gentleman, all right; and somehow or other he looks like he's just cram
full of some secret that's trying to break out all over him."
Bobolink laughed aloud.
"Well, that's a funny description you give of the gentleman, I must say,
Jack; but go on--what's he got to do with our making this trip to the big
mill tonight?"
"I just guess it's got everything to do with it," replied the other. "You
see, the professor had a number of big cases sent up here on the train,
and they came today, and were taken to the mill; for my father promised
to keep them there a couple of days until the owner could take them away.
What under the sun's in those big boxes I couldn't tell you from Adam;
all I know is that he seems to be mighty much afraid somebody's going to
steal them."
"Wow! and are we going there to stand guard over the blooming old
things?" exclaimed Bobolink in dismay; for he would not want to miss that
special meeting for anything.
"Oh! not quite so bad as that," answered Jack, with a laugh. "But you
see, that professor wrote my father that he wanted him to hire a trusty
man who would stay in the mill over night until he could get up here
from New York and take the boxes away, somewhere or other."
"Oh, that's it, eh? And where do we find the guardian of the treasure? Is
he going to bob up on the road to the mill?" Tom Betts demanded.
"He promised father to be on deck at seven-thirty, and it'll be close on
that by the time we get there, I reckon," Jack continued.
"And what have you got to do about it?" asked Bobolink.
"Let him in, and lock the door after he's on duty," replied Jack,
promptly. "You see, ever since that attempt was made to burn the mill,
when those hoboes, or yeggs, thought they'd find money in the safe, and
had their trouble for their pains, my father has been mighty careful how
he leaves the office unfastened. He couldn't see this man, Hans Waggoner,
who used to work for us, but talked with him over the 'phone, and told
him I'd be there to meet him, and let him in. That's all there is to it,
boys, believe me."
"Only, you don't know what's in those boxes, and you'd give a cookie to
find out?" suggested Bobolink.
"It isn't so bad as that," replied the other. "Of course I'm a little
curious about what they might hold, that they have to be specially
guarded; but I guess it's none of my business, and I'm not going to
monkey around, trying to find out."
"Say, d'ye suppose your dad knows?" asked Tom.
"Sure he must," came from Jack, instantly. "He'd be silly to let anybody
store a lot of cases that might hold dynamite, or any other old
explosive, in his planing mill, without knowing all about 'em; wouldn't
he? But my father don't think it's any of my affair, you see. And
besides, I wouldn't be surprised if that funny little professor had bound
him not to tell anybody about it. They got the boxes in on the sly, and
that's a fact, boys."
"Oh! splash! now you've got me worked up with guessing, and I'll never be
able to sleep till I know all about it," grumbled Bobolink.
"You're just as curious as any old woman I ever heard of," declared Jack.
"He always was," said Tom Betts, with a chuckle, "and I could string off
more'n a few times when that same curiosity hauled Bobolink into a peck
of trouble. But p'raps your father might let out the secret to you, after
the old boxes have been taken away, and then you can ease his mind.
Because it's just like he says, and he'll keep on dreamin' the most
wonderful things about those cases you ever heard tell about. That
imagination of Bobolink is something awful."
"Huh!" grunted the one under discussion, "not much worse than some
others I know about right now; only they c'n keep a tight grip on
theirs, and I'm that simple I just have to blurt everything out. Both of
you fellers'd like to know nearly as much as I would, what that
mysterious little old man has got hid away in those big cases. Of course
you would. But you jump on the lid, and hold it down. It gets away with
me; that's all."
"All the same, it's mighty good of you fellows, coming all the way out
here with me tonight; and even when Bobolink's got a stone bruise on his
heel, or something like that," Jack went on to say, with a vein of
sincere affection in his voice; for the boys making up the Red Fox Patrol
of Stanhope Troop were very fond of each other.
"Oh! rats! what's the good of being a scout if you can't do a comrade a
little favor once in a while?" asked Bobolink, impetuously. "But there's
the mill looming up ahead, Jack, in the dark. Half a moon don't give a
whole lot of light, now, does it; and especially when it's a cloudy night
in the bargain?"
"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Jack.
"What is it; did you see anything?" demanded Tom Betts, hastily.
"I'm not dead sure," admitted Jack; "you see, just as Bobolink said, the
light's mighty poor, and a fellow could easily be mistaken; but I
thought I saw something that looked like a tall man scuttle away around
that corner of the mill, and dodge behind that pile of lumber!"
"Whew!" ejaculated Bobolink, showing the utmost interest, for excitement
appealed to him.
"Say, perhaps Hans has arrived ahead of the half hour," suggested
Tom Betts.
"No, it wasn't Hans, because I know him well, and he's a little runt of a
Dutchman, but a fighter from the word go; and my father knows nobody's
going to get away with those boxes of the professor while Hans and his
musket, that was used in the Civil War, are on guard. That was a tall
man, and he ran like he'd just heard us coming, and wanted to hide. I
guess somebody else is curious about those boxes, besides Bobolink."