AN UNINVITED GUEST.
What a truly glorious hour that was, as those eight lads sat around the
splendid camp-fire, chatting, asking questions, and giving information,
as it happened they were able.
Of course Thad and Allan were usually called upon to explain the
thousand and one things connected with woods life, as yet sealed
mysteries to those of the patrol who were experiencing their very first
camping out.
Some of the other six had doubtless made fires in the woods after a
fashion, and possibly tried to cook fish over the same, with poor
success. Bob White admitted that he had often been in the mountains with
some of the men who worked on his father's place, and had spent lots of
nights afoot in the Blue Ridge; so that he could not really be called a
"tenderfoot scout."
But Bumpus and Smithy were very green; Davy Jones knew but little more;
and as for Step-hen and Giraffe, they would not commit themselves,
watching every move the leaders made, as though hoping to pick up
information in this way that could be used at another time, and which
would stamp them as real woodsmen.
To all appearances Bumpus had entirely forgotten all about his
suspicions toward Step-hen. Malice he could not harbor any great length
of time toward any one, his nature being too broad and forgiving.
But in the midst of an earnest discussion between several of the scouts
on the subject of Indian picture writing, which it is recommended all
scouts should learn as a very useful and interesting means for
communicating with companions who may be late on the road, Bumpus gave
out a roar.
"Hey! guess you think my eyes got closed up by that swelling, didn't
you, Step-hen Bingham? Now, whatever are you sneaking my knapsack off
like that, for? Want to search it, perhaps, to see if that old compass
you left behind could a got in there? Well, you put it back right away;
and keep your hands off my property, or I'll complain to the
scout-master, see if I don't. What would I want your compass for, tell
me that?"
"I thought you might have hid it just to tease me, Bumpus," grumbled the
detected one, as he hastened to hang the bag back where he had found it.
"All right," returned Bumpus, falling back lazily, again; "you don't
choose to accept my word for it when I say I ain't got it; and so you
can take it out any old way you want. But don't you bother me again
about that compass, hear?"
Some of the boys began in due time to yawn, at first slily; and then as
they saw others openly gaping, they forgot to hide it behind their hand.
"Pretty near time we thought of making up our beds, ain't it?" inquired
Giraffe; who secretly wondered how he was ever going to tear himself
away from sitting there, his hands clasped around his shins, and
admiring that magnificent sight of the fire eating up the dry fuel that
was fed to it in liberal doses.
"Yes, after I've gone the rounds, to see how well our stock of
provisions has been protected," replied the scout-master, getting upon
his feet.
"We've got it stowed pretty much in the two tents, suh," remarked Bob
White, to whom this particular duty had been detailed.
"Think any wild animal might try and raid the camp, and get away with
some of our grub?" asked Bumpus, a little uneasily.
"Oh! hardly that," laughed Thad; "but one of the duties of a scout is
never to just take things for granted. He must be wise enough to make
provision against any ordinary happening that might come about. In other
words he insures his stock of provisions like a sensible merchant does
his goods. He doesn't expect to have a fire, you know; but he wants to
be sure he won't be ruined if one does come."
"Huh! he'd have to pay a pretty big premium on insurance if it was known
that Step-hen Bingham was around, then," remarked Davy, meaningly.
"I'm going to tell you more about that picture writing another time,
fellows," Allan remarked, as he proceeded to get his blanket out of the
pile, and fold it double, just as he wanted it. "You'll say it's a fine
thing too. Perhaps we can get a chance to try it out at the time we send
a good swimmer over to the island in the lake, to signal with the flags
and looking-glass."
The rest of the boys immediately busied themselves with their blankets
too; for when in camp they are pretty much like a flock of sheep, and
will follow their leader, or bell-wether, without questioning.
Presently a cry arose, and it came from Davy Jones.
"Say, look at that Smithy, would you; bless me if he ain't got some
_white sheets_, and a regular nightgown. Now, what dye think of that,
fellows? Are we going to allow such sissy goings-on in this, our first
camp? He'd hoodoo the whole business, sure. No luck with such baby play.
Use the sheets for towels when we go in swimming; I've got an extra pair
of pajamas along, that I'll lend him, if he promises to be a true scout,
ready to rough and ready it in camp. Next thing he'll be pulling out a
nightcap to keep from getting cold!"
All of them were laughing by now. As for Smithy, he looked as if he
could not understand what all the fuss was about.
"Why, I always sleep this way at home," he stammered, as he glanced
around at his hilarious comrades.
"Perhaps you do," jeered Davy Jones, who could take hard knocks without
any whimper; "but mother's darling boy ain't home right now. A true
scout must learn to sleep in his blanket alone. An old boot will do for
a pillow; and he won't ever want to be rocked to sleep either. The
breeze will be his lullaby, and the blue canopy of heaven his coverlet."
"Hurrah for you, Davy; that's as good a definition of what a Boy Scout
should accustom himself to, as I ever heard. I didn't know you had it in
you to talk like that," said Thad, warmly.
"Oh! I got that out of a book," declared Davy, frankly.
"And Thad, do I have to give up these nice clean sheets; and crawl in
between the folds of a nasty, rough, tickly blanket?" asked Smithy,
pleadingly.
"It will be just as well for you to begin right, Number Five," said the
scout-master, pleasantly but firmly. "Sooner or later, if you stick by
the Silver Fox Patrol, you've got to learn how to rough it. And if you
think enough of your fellow scouts to make this sacrifice, all the
better."
Without a word then, Smithy tossed the offending sheets across to Thad;
and followed with his usual night apparel.
"I'll take those pajamas, Davy; and thank you kindly for offering to
loan them to me;" he said, bravely; but when the faded and somewhat torn
night suit was immediately handed over to him, the particular boy was
seen to shudder, as though they gave him a cold chill.
Still, he proved to be true grit, and was soon donning them, so as to
keep up with the balance of the boys. Thad winked toward Allan, as much
as to say that he felt very much encouraged at the progress being made
in the education of Edmund Maurice Travers Smith, the spoiled darling of
a weak mamma.
"Mark my word for it," he said in a low tone to his second in command;
"with all his pink and white complexion, and girlish ways, there's the
making of a good scout in Smithy. Given a little time for him to get
over the cruel shock these rough ways bring to his orderly system, and
you'll see a different sort of fellow spring up. The seed's there all
right. And mamma's baby boy will turn into as sturdy and hardy a scout
as there is in the troop."
Allan smiled, and nodded. Perhaps he did not have quite as much faith as
the young scout-master, because he may not have been as good a reader
of character; but he realized that what Smithy had just done was as
valiant a thing for one of his nature as attacking a wildcat would be
for another boy, built along different lines. For he was defying what
had threatened to become a part of his own being, and with gritting
teeth trying to show himself a real flesh and blood boy for once.
"When we're all ready, fellows," remarked Thad, presently; "the bugler
will sound taps, and after that, see to it that all lights are out but
the camp-fire. I've fixed that so it will burn several hours; and once
or twice during the night Allan or myself will crawl out, to add some
wood from the pile you heaped up here. Not that we need the heat, you
understand; but there ought to be a lot of sentiment connected with a
first camp-fire; and the Silver Fox Patrol must never forget this one.
All ready now?"
"Hold on!" called some one from inside the near tent; "I can't find part
of my pajamas; and it'd be too cool to sleep with only half on. Now
ain't it funny why it's always _my_ things that get taken? Just like I
was going to be a target for all the fun that's going."
"Of course it's that poor old careless Step-hen again, always throwing
his things around, and forgetting where he put 'em," said Davy, in a
tone of disgust; then he took a peep inside, and burst out into a roar
of laughter, adding: "Well, did I ever see such a crazy thing? Hi!
fellows look here, and see him hunting around like fun for the lower
half of his pajamas, when they are trailing behind him right now,
fastened to the shirt part; and he never got on to it. It's right
killing, I declare."
"How could I see behind me?" grumbled Step-hen, as he hastened to get
into the balance of his night outfit; "my eyes happen to be fixed in
front; but some of you smart set may be able to see both ways. All
ready, Mr. Scout-Master; let her go!"
The eight boys presented a comical appearance as they stood there,
awaiting the sweet notes of the bugle sounding "taps;" for their pajamas
were of all sorts of patterns, from gay stripes to deep solid blues and
reds.
Thad gave one last look around, and picking up a lantern motioned to
Allan to take charge of the other, so that at the last notes they could
"douse the glim."
Then he turned toward the stout bugler, clad in the gayest suit of all,
and looking like "a rolypoly pudding," as one of the other boys
declared.
"Now!" called out the patrol leader, in a tone of authority.
So the official bugler raised the instrument to his swollen lips, game
to do his duty; and started to put his whole soul into the thrilling
score that, heard at a late hour of the night, always brings with it a
feeling of intense admiration.
He had just uttered the first few notes when they saw him suddenly whirl
around in consternation, and at the same time point with the bugle, as
he shrieked:
"Oh! look! look what's coming in on us, fellows!"
"It's a bear!" whooped Davy Jones, making a bee-line for the nearest
tree, just as might have been expected of such a gymnast.
And Thad, with one look, realized that there was no laughing matter
about it; because it was a sure-enough bear that walked into their camp
on his hind feet!