A SCOUT’S FIRST DUTY
“My stars! what’s going to happen next, I wonder!” Tubby said half to
himself, as they all made a rush for the outside, Andy leading the way,
as became the first discoverer.
“Now, keep real quiet and listen!” cautioned Andy, after they had
reached the open air.
Their hearts beat doubly fast, and knocked tumultuously against their
prison walls. The boys fairly held their breath, such was their
eagerness to hear, and learn whether Andy could have been mistaken.
A whole anxious minute crept past. To Tubby it seemed an eternity, for
he was trying to do without breathing at all, a rather rash experiment
for any one, and especially for a stout fellow of his build. Something
came floating on the gentle night wind.
“There, didn’t you all hear it?” cried Andy exultantly.
“We certainly did,” said Rob instantly.
“Sounded a little like one of those winnowing whoop owls to me,”
ventured Tubby, but he was immediately squelched by the first
discoverer.
“Owl nothing! Whoever heard an owl call out ‘Help! Oh! Help!’?”
“I felt pretty sure it was that,” replied the scout master. Turning to
the experienced Maine woodsman he added: “How about that, Zeb, owl or a
human cry for assistance?”
“I guess as how it wa’n’t anything that carried feathers as called,
sir,” Zeb quickly answered. His backing Andy up made Tubby display
further signs of uncommon excitement.
“Somebody is in serious trouble, boys,” burst from Tubby’s lips almost
impulsively. “We’ve _got_ to start out and help him, no matter who he
is, or what’s happened to him. That’s scout logic, I take it—save me
first, and scold me afterwards, as the boy said when he was drowning and
a man on the bank began——”
“The rest will keep, Tubby,” said Rob. “You’ll have to stay here, and
keep the fire going for us. Three ought to be enough for the job. Get
the guns, Andy and Zeb. I’ll take that lantern belonging to Mr. Hopkins.
We may need some light in the woods. Be quick about it, everybody.
There, he’s calling again. Perhaps I’d better answer him.”
Rob sent out a loud _hallo_ that could easily have been heard half a
mile away at any time. Without waiting to find out whether the unknown
made any reply, he shot into the bunkhouse and started to apply a match
to the ready lantern which had been discovered during the day hanging
from a peg behind some extra garments.
Tubby did not look very happy. True, he would be saved from quite a
tramp, and that counted for something. He was not at all tired, and
would, had he been given the chance, much prefer accompanying his mates.
Still, Tubby was a good scout, and had long ago learned the value of
unquestioning obedience to authority. Rob was above him in rank as the
leader of the Eagle Patrol, as well as acting scout master of the
Hampton Troop, and what he said in such a decisive manner must go.
So Tubby determined that he would build the fire, and have everything
warm and comfortable against the return of his chums. He could shut and
bar the door; yet, and—Rob evidently did not mean to take his gun along
with him (thinking two would be quite enough), so there would be that to
depend on, if any danger threatened.
It took the trio but a part of a minute to get ready, so eager were they
to be on the move. They hurried out of the door. Tubby watched them
depart, standing in the open doorway. How weird the lantern did look
bobbing along at the side of Rob. Tubby wondered what sort of discovery
they would make. If some one was in trouble, could it be his uncle who,
on attempting to return to the logging camp alone, had fallen and broken
a limb? Or, on the other hand, had some woodsman cut himself severely
with his ax, and weak from loss of blood, fallen on the road to the
camp, able only to weakly call for help?
No matter what it turned out the very thought of some one being in need
of help thrilled honest Tubby, who would have “walked his legs off,” as
he often declared, to render assistance. Further the bobbing lantern
went. The murmur of his chums’ voices, too, died away in the distance.
Suddenly he could no longer glimpse the light, and all was dark and
mysterious beyond. Then only did Tubby deign to go in and close the door
after him, being careful to make use of the handy bar that nested in the
sockets on either side.
He built up a roaring fire, because somehow, the cheery crackle of the
devouring flames felt like company to him. They had an abundant supply
of good firewood, some of which Tubby had himself gathered from around
the former lumber camp.
Tubby picked up Rob’s gun and sat looking into the fire, doubtless
seeing all sorts of queer pictures there, as boys sometimes will.
Evidently his thoughts were on other things, for after a while he
approached the exit, unfastened the bar, and opening the door a little
stood there listening, oh! so eagerly.
That was a real owl crooning to his mate now in the big hemlock over the
way, although at first Tubby thought it might be the same sound they had
heard before. He wondered whether they had been “fooled,” and if it
would turn out to be a fool’s errand that took his chums and Big Zeb
forth on that mercy trip.
Tubby had to chuckle, proudly remembering that it had been himself who
had suggested “owl,” though Andy instantly made fun of him for so doing.
The joke would be on Andy then, should it eventually turn out that way.
Hearing no further sound from those who had gone away, nor a repetition
of the supposed cry for help, Tubby reluctantly closed the door, put the
bar in place, and taking his seat again before the fire, resumed his
vigil.
Meanwhile the three were making their way through the woods. The
darkness was not intense, and possibly they could have gotten along
quite well without the lantern. Nevertheless, none of them was sorry for
having it; more than one stumble was spared them on account of it.
They had noted well the quarter from which the faint cries had come, and
were now heading in that direction. All was still around them, save for
the rustle of scurrying little feet in the dried pine needles, as
perhaps a fox on the prowl for his supper slipped out of the way; or
possibly it may have been a mink, for there was some sort of stream
close by, which emptied into the river down which the logs had been sent
when the big spring drive was on.
“We’re heading right, don’t you think, Zeb?” asked Rob presently, being
desirous of confirming his own opinion, and knowing that the experienced
guide and woodsman could be depended on to be accurate.
“Straight as a die, younker,” the man told him, and then added: “I’m a
heap s’prised to see how you boys kerry on. ’Tain’t every lad from the
towns that could pick out a sound like you done, and then direct that
way. I guess thar must be a heap o’ sense in this here scout business,
an’ I gotter take off my hat to it, that’s a fack.”
Words like that give a scout a warm feeling in the region of his heart.
Appreciation is always welcome when genuine; to be complimented by an
expert like Big Zeb, the man who had served Uncle George for ten years
as guide and handy man in camp, was thrice pleasant. Still, both Rob and
Andy were used to hearing people say nice things, and it never brought
on a case of “swelled head” with such sensible fellows.
A short time later on Rob spoke again.
“I tried to take into consideration the fact that the wind wasn’t
altogether favorable, and also that the chap called as if he might be
hoarse from weakness or excitement. So I figured that he couldn’t be
more than a quarter of a mile off at the time. How did you make out,
Andy?”
“Oh! I thought he was further than that, say two-thirds of a mile as the
crow flies; but I didn’t count on his being exhausted, as you say, Rob.”
“If you asked me, younkers,” said Zeb, “I’d fix it atween the two o’
you. I should say we’d a’ready gone nearly a quarter o’ a mile from
camp. But we ain’t heard nary a sign o’ him yet. S’pose we let out a
call, and tried fur a raise?”
“A good idea, Zeb,” admitted the scout master. Raising his voice he
called out: “Hello! there, where are you?”
Almost immediately they heard a half-stifled cry that seemed to be full
of partly suppressed joy.
“This way, over here to your left, man! Oh! please hurry up. I’m in a
sair bad fix, and there’s an awfu’ need o’ haste!”
The words thrilled them once more. Now they were sure that it was no
imaginary summons that had lured them from the warm fire; someone _was_
there in the depths of the pine woods, unable to help himself, strange
as that might seem.
“Rob, that sounded more like a boy’s voice than a man’s heavy tones,”
suggested Andy.
“Just what I was thinking,” said the observing scout master. “Do you
know there seemed a little odd twist in his way of speaking that made me
think of Scotch Jock back in Hampton. Whoever this chap turns out to be,
mark my words, he’s got Scotch blood in his veins.”
“There he calls out again, you notice,” exclaimed Andy presently, “and
we’re heading right, it seems. I reckon he sees the light of our
lantern, though we can’t yet get the first glimpse of him.”
“But we will very soon now,” Rob assured him. “The last hail was close
by.”
They were consumed with both curiosity and eagerness to be of
assistance. Neither of them could more than guess at what they were
going to see; and it may be admitted that not even wise Zeb came anyway
near to hitting the mark.
He may have figured that some one had fallen and injured his leg or
ankle; or another sort of accident—a tree falling on him; being cut
through by a misstroke of a keen-edged ax; or having his gun go off,
when drawing it muzzle forward through some dense brush—as greenhorns
often do at peril of their lives; but if they guessed for an hour they
would not have dreamed of the remarkable sight that met their gaze.
“There, I think I can just manage to see him, Rob—over by that clump of
birches that have sprung up where a mother tree was cut down years ago.
Lift your lantern a bit and look.”
Rob hastened to comply, and immediately remarked:
“Yes, I do see something dark on the ground. It moves. See, that must be
his arm waving to us! We’ll be with you, my friend, in a jiffy now. It’s
all right. We’ll soon have you in camp, safe and sound, whatever has
happened to you!”
Rob was saying this out of the kindness of his heart. He realized that
undoubtedly the other must have been in both physical and mental
distress, or he would never have cried out as he had.
A minute later and they had drawn near enough for the strange truth to
break upon them; and certainly it made both Andy and Rob stare as though
they could hardly believe their eyes.