Jack Crandall, Arthur Mitchell and Gerald Hume were members of the Stag
Patrol, and the age of each was slightly more than fourteen years. Jack
was tall, muscular and had an inclination to stoop, due probably to his
rapid growth. He was somewhat reserved by nature, but his good
disposition made him one of the most popular of the Boy Scouts. What
distinguished him among his comrades was his fondness for bird lore. He
had been dubbed the official ornithologist and his note books, which he
had filled with “pointers” picked up on his excursions in the woods at
home, were of the most interesting nature. Sometimes by invitation of
Scout Master Hall, he read from them in the evening when the company
gathered around the camp fire for reports and gossip. He not only
investigated, but studied text books on the subject. No intelligent lad
can follow such a course without becoming well informed in any branch of
knowledge. It gave him pleasure to answer questions, of which many were
asked, and it was universally agreed that he was one of the most
valuable members of the troop that was spending the month of August in
the woods of southern Maine.
All that I have to tell about Jack was to his credit. He had no brothers
and but one sister, two years younger than himself. His mother was a
widow in straitened circumstances, who would have had a hard time to get
on, but for the cheerful help of Jack, who loved her and Maggie with a
devotion that could not be surpassed. One fact will tell more than could
be given in a dozen paragraphs. He wrote a letter to his mother, with a
message inclosed to his sister, on every day he was absent from home.
Since the wagon with supplies labored through the forest only twice a
week, the dear ones had the pleasure of receiving two or three of his
cheery missives by the same mail, after waiting several days for them. I
need not say that those at home were equally faithful.
Now on the afternoon following the visit of little “Sunbeam” to the
bungalow on the shore of Gosling Lake, more than half the boys, as you
may remember, divided into small parties and set off on a ramble through
the wilderness. The three whom I have named took a southern course which
led them into a lonely section and expected to be absent all the
afternoon. Five minutes after starting they were out of sight of their
friends.
You would not be interested in a detailed account of what was done
during most of the afternoon. Later on I may have something to tell you
of the birds found in that part of our country.
No boy or man pays much attention to the passage of the hours when
absorbed in a pleasant task. The three youths were surprised when the
approaching twilight warned them that the long summer day was drawing to
a close.
“Gee!” exclaimed Gerald Hume; “it’s time we hiked for home.”
Jack was the only one who carried a watch. It was a cheap pattern but a
good one. He drew it out and looked at it.
“It is ten minutes to seven. To-day is Monday, the fifth of August, and
the sun sets in sixteen minutes past seven. It will be dark when we get
to headquarters.”
“How far do you think it is?”
“We have followed such an aimless course that it is hard to tell, but it
must be a mile at least; what do you think, Arthur?”
“I should say it is a good deal more than that, but what’s the odds?
We’re not likely to meet any Indians or to run afoul any wild beasts.”
“We must keep to the right course, however,” said Gerald, “or we shall
have to camp out.”
“It won’t hurt us if we do, even when we have made no preparations,”
replied Jack, who added:
“We went south from the lake, but the points of the compass are all
twisted.”
“It would do us no good if they weren’t, for we haven’t an instrument
with us.”
“Yes; we have,” remarked Jack, who still held his watch in hand. “Have
you forgotten that a watch is a good compass when the sun is shining?”
“Mr. Hall showed us while we were on our way here,” laughed Arthur, “but
I have forgotten what he said.”
“So have I,” added Gerald.
“Luckily, I have had to test it before, and after seeing me use that
means I know you will remember it.”
Jack pointed the hour hand to the sun already low in the horizon and
explained:
“If it were forenoon, half way between the hour hand and noon is due
south. But it is afternoon and I must reckon half way backward.
Notice,—I point the hour hand at a fraction before seven. Now divide
the distance between that point and the figure 12 into halves and take
the midway point: there you are—that indicates south.”
“Suppose the sun wasn’t shining, Jack?”
“If the clouds were too dense to allow you to locate the sun, your watch
would be useless as a compass, but that isn’t often the case. You should
stand in the open where no shadow falls upon you, and hold your knife
point upright on your watch dial. Almost always you can see a dim shadow
which shows where the sun is.”
“But,” inquired Arthur with a laugh; “now that we know the points of the
compass what good will it do us?”
Gerald took it upon himself to answer:
“If we went south from the lake all we have to do is to go north to get
back to it.”
“Yes, ‘_if_’ we did that, but we have paid no attention to our course
and may be east or west of the bungalow.”
Jack interposed with the good sense which rarely forsook him:
“While it is impossible that we should have held a direct southern line,
I believe we nearly did so and by going north we shall not stray far
from the right path. At any rate, we have only to try it. If we get lost
we can yell for help.”
Jack took the lead, but had not gone a hundred yards when he stopped
with an exclamation:
“Look at that!”
He pointed to the upper branches of a tall pine, betraying an excitement
that was new to him. His companions followed the direction of the
extended finger.
“I don’t see anything but a lot of branches,” replied Gerald, after a
brief scrutiny.
“Nor do I,” added Arthur.
“Are you blind? On that limb that puts out to the right is a bird’s
nest.”
“Well, what of it? This isn’t nesting time; there are no birds there
now,” said Arthur after he had located the dark bunch of twigs and
grass, well out on a long slender branch.
“I must have a look at the nest; it is a different pattern from any I
have seen since coming to Maine.”
“Well, take your look and we’ll pass on.”
“That won’t do; I must have a peep inside.”
And to the astonishment of his companions, Jack flung aside the staff he
had been carrying and began climbing the long, smooth trunk. To Gerald
and Arthur nothing could have been more foolish, but they understood
their friend too well to object.
“Did you ever see any one like him?” asked the former disgustedly.
All the two could do was to watch their chum as he shinned up the tree
with the nimbleness of a sailor climbing a ship’s mast without help of
rope or stay.
Jack had an ascent of fully twenty-five feet before he reached the first
limb. The object which drew him upward like a magnet attracting a bit of
iron was several feet higher, but the young athlete did not hesitate. It
was still so light that he could be plainly seen as he began making his
way along the frail support, which bent under his weight.
“I hope Jack knows enough not to run too much risk,” remarked Gerald
with a thrill of misgiving; “pine wood has a way of breaking when you
don’t expect it.”
“He has had enough experience to remember that.”
“But he is so set on examining that old nest that he’s likely to
forget—_Gracious_!”
Both gasped, for while the words were in Gerald’s mouth, the limb along
which Jack Crandall was making his way snapped off like a pipe stem. He
was seen to throw out his arms in an instinctive effort to save himself,
but there was nothing he could seize and he shot downward, without
having time to straighten his body. He fell sideways, striking the
ground with a violent thump which caused his hat to fly off and forced a
cry of pain from him. Although stunned by the shock, he instantly tried
to rise, only to fall back with a groan.
Gerald and Arthur ran forward and bent over him.
“Are you much hurt, Jack?” they asked.
“I’m afraid so; look out; don’t try to lift me.”
With a gasp of pitying fright, both boys saw that Jack’s right limb
below the knee was bent midway at a sharp angle. There could be no
mistaking what _that_ meant.
“Your leg is broken!” exclaimed Gerald.
“Thank God it isn’t my neck!” replied the brave sufferer.
That was sound Christian philosophy. How true it is that there are few
afflictions in this life that couldn’t be worse.
Jack with help rose on one elbow and looked at his leg. Its appearance
showed that both the tibia and the fibula had been snapped apart, for
the foot lay limp at an angle from the upper portion that it never could
have assumed if sound.
Arthur dropped down by him in a twinkling and took off the legging. The
skin had not been broken, but the sight of the jagged points pressing
against it caused a momentary faintness on the part of the two, from
which they quickly rallied.
“Don’t be scared, boys,” said Jack; “it hurts like all creation and I
don’t think I shall climb many more trees for a few weeks to come.”
“Well, Gerald, let’s get down to business,” said Arthur briskly.
“Yes,” remarked Jack with a smile, “you’ve got a big baby on your hands;
and if we don’t find our way back to camp it won’t prove the jolliest
night of my life.”
“You can give us help.”
“How?”
“Hold us to a straight course.”
“That is, you wish me to boss the job; I’ll try to do my duty.”
This is what the two Boy Scouts now did, as deftly and surely as if they
had rehearsed the act, though it was the first time they had undertaken
such a duty:
Gerald and Arthur took off their coats, turned the sleeves inside out
and placed them on the ground with their lower sides touching each
other. Gerald first compared the staff he had been carrying with Jack’s
which lay near, and finding the latter the stronger passed it through
the sleeves on one side and flung away his own staff, while Arthur
shoved his through the sleeves of his own coat. The two garments were
then buttoned with the button side down and the stretcher was ready.
Jack, who was striving to repress all signs of the anguish he suffered,
was then deposited gently on the support, one of his friends between and
at either end of the two handles. As they stepped off, they adopted a
precaution which is worth remembering, should you ever be called upon to
act the good Samaritan in similar circumstances. Gerald first reached
out with his right foot, observing which Arthur at the same moment
advanced his left. They were careful thus to keep out of step, thereby
saving the patient from the jouncing that otherwise would have been
added to his distress.
The carriers could not know whether Jack was suffering much or little or
not at all, for he was by far the most cheerful of the three. They
managed to roll a part of the garments so as to stuff them under his
head and thereby partly raise it. This gave him a view of the woods
directly in front, of which knowledge he made good use.
“Gee!” he called to Gerald who was acting as the leader; “bear a little
more to the right.”
The lad obeyed and a few minutes later Jack called:
“Haw! not so much—Gee a little—that’s it; keep it up.”
“I think it would be well if I cut a gad for you,” suggested Arthur from
the rear; “you can whack him on the side you wish him to turn.”
“It would be a good idea,” replied Jack, “but I’ll give him a chance to
save himself by doing what I order him to do. If he refuses, it will be
at his peril.”
“I’ll do my best,” Gerald meekly called back.
All three showed a sturdy readiness that did them credit. It cannot be
doubted that Jack Crandall was suffering keenly, but he would have
collapsed before letting his companions know it, while they on their
part gave no hint of the discouraging prospect before them. Each youth
had to carry a dead weight of sixty pounds or more. That of itself was
of small moment, for they could rest whenever they chose, but night was
at hand and they were not only a good way from camp but could not tell
when they would reach it. As has already been said, there was nothing to
frighten them in the prospect of spending the night in the woods, during
dog days, even if the climate in southern Maine is cool, at least after
the sun goes down.
But their anxiety was for their chum with the broken leg. That ought to
receive surgical attention with the least possible delay. Fortunately a
skilful physician was within call from the clubhouse, but when could the
latter be reached, and what would happen to Jack if they should go
hopelessly astray?
It was this fear which caused the bearers distress. They would have
discussed the important question, but could not well talk over the head
of the sufferer, so they held their peace and strode on.
“You mustn’t tire yourselves out,” protested Jack from his couch; “you
have traveled far enough for a good rest.”
“What do you say, Art?” asked Gerald.
“This is just fun; it beats baseball.”
“And will beat you if you try to keep it up. I insist that you stop
awhile; don’t drop me like a hot potato though, but gently as it were.”
The support was slowly lowered and the bearers mopped their foreheads.
“How are you feeling, Jack?” asked Gerald.
“I could feel a good deal worse and also somewhat better.”
“You bear it like a hero; now I hope that we shall not miss the
bungalow, for it won’t be any fun for you to stay out doors till
morning.”
“We’re not going to miss the house,” replied Jack so decisively that his
friends looked questioningly at him.
“What makes you positive of that point?”
“We hit the right course; don’t you recognize signs about you?”
“No, and I don’t believe you do.”
“Do you remember that big white oak with the gnarled limb that put out a
short distance from the base of the trunk?”
“You mean the knot that you said would bring a good price from any one
of the ship builders at Bath?” asked Gerald in turn.
“Yes.”
“It is not too dark for you to see a little way. Just to the left is a
similar white oak; do you notice it?”
The two scrutinized the huge tree and Arthur exclaimed:
“It looks exactly like it.”
“Of course, for it is the same one.”
When the tree was examined more closely further doubt was removed.
“What a piece of good fortune! Why, we saw that only a few minutes after
leaving home.”
“Of course; we are within a hundred yards of headquarters.”
“Thank Providence; we dared not hope it. Jack, you know more about
woodcraft than we do.”
“Which isn’t saying much,” replied Jack, catching the cheerful spirits
of his friends, who now picked him up as tenderly as before, and did not
pause until they emerged from the woods and made their way to the porch,
where they set down their burden and Gerald hurried to make known the
mishap. By that time night had fully come and all the boys were inside
enjoying the society of Sunbeam, as she sat and chatted on the knee of
Mike Murphy. Pausing in the door, Arthur beckoned to Scout Master Hall,
who excused himself and hastened outside. There when told the truth, he
bent over Jack, took his hand and expressed his sympathy.
“We must get word to Dr. Spellman at once,” said the leader; “I will
borrow Gordon Calhoun’s revolver and signal to him. Meanwhile, take Jack
inside.”
“Hadn’t you better wait, so as not to scare the little girl?” was the
thoughtful question of the patient.
“There is nothing to scare her; carry him in, boys.”
Jack was carefully taken through the opened door and deposited on the
nearest bunk. A few moments were all that was necessary to explain the
mishap to the party. Sunbeam or Stubby or Ruth, as you prefer, was full
of tender sympathy, but the full extent of the lad’s injuries was kept
from her, and a few minutes later she was laid in her couch, as has been
related, and almost immediately she closed her eyes.
Mike asked for the revolver, and walking to the edge of the lake pointed
it upward and discharged three more chambers. He went back into the
house where he cheered Jack by his waggery for some time. Then he
reloaded the weapon and again moved to the water’s edge, with the
intention of calling the physician a third time. Before doing so, he
listened. Through the stillness he heard the dip of a paddle and knew
the doctor was hurrying to the clubhouse, eager to do what he could for
whoever needed his help.
Alvin and Chester followed Mike and stood by his side. There was no moon
as yet in the sky, but the stars gleamed brilliantly and they could see
for a considerable distance over the placid surface of the beautiful
sheet of water. The sound of the paddle grew more distinct, and by and
by a swiftly approaching canoe took form in the obscurity.
Not until the voice of the wife broke upon the quiet did it occur to any
one of the boys that the physician was likely to associate the call with
his own child. And yet what was more natural than that he should do so?
“Is anything the matter with Ruth?” asked the mother, the instant she
caught the dim outlines of the boys.
“Nothing at all,” replied Alvin; “she is in her bed and asleep.”
“Thank heaven!” was the grateful exclamation as the woman sank back and
clasped her hands. Her husband had held the paddle suspended until he
heard the reply. Now he dipped the implement deep and with a couple of
vigorous strokes sent the craft with a bump against the beach.
“What’s the trouble, Alvin?” he asked while helping his wife out and
drawing the canoe a little way up the bank.
“One of the boys fell out of a tree this afternoon and broke his leg.”
“I am sorry to hear that; I shan’t need my instruments,” he remarked in
the cool business tone of the professional man; “lead the way, boys.”
Scout Master Hall and several of the boys had come out on the porch and
all welcomed the physician and his wife.
“Business first and pleasure afterward,” remarked the medical man as he
stepped across the threshold and went to the bunk in which Jack Crandall
had been lifted. The blazing wood in the fireplace and the bright lamp
overhead filled the room with light as bright as day. Jack looked up and
smiled, with an apology for the trouble he was causing the doctor, who
without replying to his words, made a quick but thorough examination of
the hurt.
“Beautiful! beautiful!” he exclaimed; “it is one of the most beautiful
fractures I ever saw.”
It sounded odd, but it was professional.