THE FIELD TESTS.
On the day of the field tests between the selected members of each
patrol among the scouts, there was a large attendance of friends to
witness the fun. While every boy and girl in town seemed to have come
out to the baseball green, there were also many grown-ups on hand,
curious to see what the scouts would do in their ambition to win certain
“points.”
Mr. Perkins, the aeronaut, still lingered in town. That his arm was in a
sling did not prevent his taking the liveliest kind of interest in the
outcome of the prize banner contest. He had made certain that his rescue
was known in influential circles, and was quite satisfied that Hugh and
his fellows of the Wolf patrol were sure to win the prize,
notwithstanding the field tests yet to be tried.
Besides, his interest had been so thoroughly aroused that he was more
determined than ever to devote time and attention to scout matters. And
with this resolution, where could he find a better field to learn facts
than right among those lads with whom he had become acquainted in such a
remarkable fashion?
The committee, consisting of several of the ministers and others who had
the best interests of the boys at heart, was early on hand to make final
arrangements in conjunction with Hugh. It happened, unfortunately, that
the regular Scout Master had been called away from town on important
business. Hugh had to act in his stead, which made it rather hard for
him, as he had his share in the various contests as well.
The program of events covered about all the activities of scouts in
general, as practiced in the open.
There were competitions in tent-raising and taking down, with points for
rapidity and general cleverness in carrying through this important
feature of camping.
Then came the equally interesting water-boiling tests, where the
contestants were each supplied with just the same number of good
matches, three, in fact, apiece, and at a given signal were supposed to
hasten to some point near at hand, where dead wood could be secured
under the trees, start a fire, and have a pint of cold water brought to
a boil ahead of all the others.
That was a very exciting scene, with nervous boys hurrying to the brook,
filling their little stewpans, and getting back to make a fire, without
being allowed a shred of paper for a starter.
One managed to knock over his supply of water and had to go all the way
back to replenish it; and then the feeble little blaze he had coaxed to
burn had fluttered out, calling for new exertions and more anxiety.
Another used up his supply of matches, and then had to sit there
watching some of the rest getting right along with their work.
When the victory in this contest came to the Wolf boys, it must have
been a popular decision, to judge from the cheers that rang out.
There were athletic rivalries, too, more in the way of running than any
other thing, because that savored of the old time Indian life, and after
all many of the pursuits encouraged by the scout movement hinge on just
those things primitive man must have occupied himself with doing, long
years ago, when only the red race occupied this broad land.
The signaling tests were very fine, and excited much comment among all
who witnessed them. Some of the boys showed a remarkable skill in
transmitting messages that had been arranged by the committee, and which
were, of course, utterly unknown to any of the contestants until given,
a new one every time, to each patrol.
It was a close race in this affair. Bud Morgan had once worked with a
surveying party, and Blake Merton was a good second to him in relaying;
but Sam Winter of the Otters proved himself a marvel for speed and
accuracy, and in the end gained the victory for Alec Sands and his
fellows.
When it came to camp cookery, there were some queer things done that
must have greatly amused the many girls present. They crowded around the
amateur cooks and seemed to be enjoying it very much, if their merry
peals of laughter stood for anything. And yet, after all, the flapjacks
that took the prize were pretty fair pancakes, not _very_ heavy, and
just suited to a hungry boy’s appetite—when out in camp, not at home.
Other contests there were, lots of them, and one of the most comical was
the human fish game. They had to have plenty of water for this, because
a good strong swimmer of a rival patrol was always chosen to play the
part of the fish, the end of the line being made fast around his chest.
The game, of course, was for the one who held the stout rod to tire the
swimmer out through superior tactics, until he could reel him to a
certain point, from which the other would do all he could to escape.
Well were the Otters named, it seemed, for they certainly carried off
more than their share of the water games. Alec Sands appeared to be very
well pleased with the way things were turning out. He went around from
time to time with a broad grin on his face, and had a knowing wink for
all of his friends whenever he chanced to meet them. It was as much as
saying that the whole affair was a walkover for the Otters, who were far
superior to any other patrol in the troop.
Whenever Hugh had to exercise his authority as acting scout master,
Alec’s face took on a sneering look. Billy observed this several times,
and he was fully convinced that the smart leader of the Otter patrol had
once more allowed the spirit of envy to eat into his heart.
“He’s sore because we elected Hugh to fill the place of the assistant
scout master instead of him,” he told Bud, as they prepared for the
tracking game, in which they felt sure the Wolf boys would come out
ahead, thanks to the knowledge Hugh had along these lines.
“I wouldn’t be much surprised if what you say turns out to be so,
Billy,” was the other’s reply; “and it’s a burning shame, too, because
he’s a really clever scout, only for that failing.”
Billy heaved a sigh.
“It seems as though we all have a failing of some kind,” he lamented.
“They say that with me it’s a propensity to eat too much,—that’s the
word my father uses to explain it,—so I reckon that is my weak spot; but
let me tell you privately, Bud, I’m not straining myself trying to
reform.”
“But how do you think we’re going to come out of these contests?” asked
Bud. “The Otters had a regular cinch on points this afternoon. They’ve
certainly worked hard enough, and I give them credit for all they’ve
done.”
“Oh! we’ll just walk away with the tracking contests, and that will help
boost our count some,” Billy confidently told him. “Besides, what’s the
use of worrying over things and losing your appetite?”
“It’s a pity they didn’t have an eating contest, Billy,” laughed Bud.
“We all know who can lead the troop there.”
“Those flapjacks did smell mighty good to me, Bud; and I had a couple on
the sly!”
“There’s Hugh calling to us, so come along, Billy. The trackers are
getting busy with their work, I guess.”
Although this part of the competition was of the deepest interest to the
scouts themselves and to many of the men present, the girls cared little
for it. They did not seem to be able to understand what could be so
intensely exciting about a few “scratches” on the ground, a clip of fur,
and other similar things. Then the full story followed of how a rabbit
had ventured out, been chased by some enemy, as was evidenced by its way
of running and dodging, and finally met with a sudden end, marked by
blood spots and fur again. And after all others had given the puzzle up
in despair, it was Hugh who proved to the committee what sort of enemy
it had actually been, through whom poor bunny had come to his untimely
end:
A hungry owl, he said, had been foraging for his supper, and in the
darkness the unlucky rabbit had been readily discovered by the yellow
eyes of the big bird. Then had begun that chase. Hugh easily showed the
committee where he had found a mark of the bird’s wing-tips in the soft
mud at the time it made an unsuccessful swoop down with the intention of
securing its prey with its curved claws.
He also gave them a feather he had picked up near where the tragedy had
happened, which a number of the other scouts admitted had certainly
fallen from the plumage of a Virginia horned owl, such as usually hunts
at night time for its food and destroys many pests like field mice.
By degrees the series of contests simmered down until finally the end
came. The vigilant committee had kept accurate tally, and after summing
up, it was formally announced that the Otters had come out ahead by a
score of points.
Of course there was a tremendous amount of cheering by the adherents of
that lively bunch of fellows, headed by Alec Sands. Don Miller and his
Foxes, as well generous Walter Osborne with the Hawk boys, swung their
hats and joined in the racket, because after all it was a family affair.
And people said that Hugh Hardin, with the members of the Wolf patrol,
which had given the Otters the hardest rub of all, certainly cheered as
loud as anybody could, as they congratulated the winners of the open air
contests.
“But this doesn’t mean that that banner is already yours, remember,
Alec,” warned Billy Worth, as he came upon the excited leader of the
Otters, moving up and down and starting new salvos of cheering, which
was of course sweet music in his ears. “To-night comes the gathering at
the hall, where in the presence of all the scouts, and as many outsiders
as can crowd in, the head of the committee will announce what things the
several patrols have been doing these weeks past to merit points,
according to the schedule laid out.”
“Yes,” added “Spike” Welling, one of the Foxes, “and Blake Merton has
promised to sing several of his best songs between the readings, so as
to sort of break up the monotony.”
“Which is about the only prime thing the poor Hawks will show up in this
trip,” remarked Cooper Fennimore, his chum; “but I hear they’ve
determined to wake up and do better next time. Better bottle up some of
that enthusiasm, Alec, till you hear what the returns to-night tell.
Then if you win you’ll have breath to shout; and if you get left at the
stake, you’ll be glad you didn’t count your chickens before they were
hatched.”
“Oh! I’m not worrying about that,” came the quick answer from the
confident Alec. “We’ve got it all cut and dried long ago. Wait till you
hear how we picked up points by fives and tens here and there, doing
lots of wonderful things that count. You’ll be willing to give me credit
for being a good general; and perhaps you’ll wish a certain election had
gone differently.”
Spike and Cooper, getting the wink from Billy, and seeing how Alec
frowned as he followed Hugh’s form around, seemed to understand how the
matter lay. They knew Alec’s failing of old, and saw that envy was again
torturing him.
“One thing has been settled,” observed Billy just then. “You know that
there’s a chance for eight scouts to be allowed to accompany the members
of the Naval Reserve aboard the vessel that the U. S. Government puts at
their disposal for practice week after next. And one of the rewards
given by the committee is that the highest individual marks, two to each
patrol, are going to entitle those lucky fellows to the great honor of
going to sea with our Coast Guard. If I strike that prize I’ll be the
happiest boy in seven counties, you hear me mention it; but I’ve got
little hope myself even before the individual records are made up.”
Alec walked away with his head held high in the air, looking very
important; but all the same he cast many uneasy glances in the direction
of his rival leader.