The Boy Scouts of Lenox Part 13

And when supper was ready, with the boys gathered around, each bent on doing the best he knew how to show his appreciation of the work of the cooks, it seemed to be the fitting climax to a most wonderful day.

Would they ever forget that supper? Never had anything tasted so royally good at home.

"This is the life!" declared Josh Kingsley, buoyantly, as he pa.s.sed his tin plate along for a second helping when he heard it mentioned that there was still a further supply not distributed.

"It certainly does taste pretty fine to me!" admitted Horace c.r.a.psey, who had in times gone by been so finicky about his eating that his folks had begun to wonder what was going to become of him--yet who was now sitting there cross-legged like a Turk, wielding an ordinary knife and fork, and with his pannikin on his lap, actually doing without a napkin, and enjoying it in the bargain.

Mr. Witherspoon had the seat of honor, for the boys insisted that he should occupy the highest place on the log that had been rolled near the fires. He observed all that went on with satisfaction. Boys were close to his heart, and he never tired of his hobby of studying them.

It was a constant source of delight to the scout master to listen to them chatter, and he noticed that a perceptible change was taking place in some of his charges since first joining the troop.

Finally when every youth admitted that he had had all he could eat, Mr. Witherspoon got up.

"Now it's full time we started our _real_ campfire," he announced.

"That was why I had you gather such a big heap of wood. Here's the right place for the blaze, as we must be careful not to scorch any of the trees, the branches of which hang down over us, because this property belongs to some one, and we must respect his rights."

He had no trouble about finding willing workers, because every one acted as if anxious to have a hand in the building of that first campfire, to be recorded in the annals of Lenox Troop as an event of unusual importance.

When finally the pyramid had been carefully built the scout master was asked to apply the match.

"Unfortunately I do not know the customary procedure on such momentous occasions," he told the boys, as they formed a circle around the pile; "and all I can say is that with this match I am about to dedicate this fire to the useful purpose of bringing all our hearts in tune with our surroundings. For to-night then, we will try to believe ourselves real vagabonds, or children of the forest, sitting around the sanctuary at which every camper wors.h.i.+ps--the crackling fire!"

Then the blaze began to seize hold of the wood, and amidst the cheers of the enthusiastic scouts the fire got fully under way.

High leaped the red flames, so that presently there was a general backward movement, on account of the heat. Had it been November instead of June, they would doubtless have enjoyed the cheery warmth much more.

Each boy managed to pick out a comfortable place, and then the talk began to grow general. Plans for the morrow and the succeeding days were being discussed with much ardor.

It was while this was going on, and the scouts were all feeling most happy that with but scant warning a discomforting element was suddenly injected into Camp Content. Moving figures, harsh voices, together with the half strangled barks of dogs held in leash startled the seated campers. Two rough-looking men, evidently a farmer and his hired man, armed with guns, and holding a couple of dogs by ropes, came in sight close by.

CHAPTER XIII

THE LIFE THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN SAVED

"Hey! what d'ye mean by trespa.s.sin' on my ground? I'll have the law on ye for darin' to build a big bonfire like that! No tramp convention c'n threaten to set fire to my woods, let me tell ye!"

The man in the lead was shouting this in an angry voice as he bustled forward, with his dog growling and straining to get free. Of course every one of the boys scrambled to his feet in a hurry. The sight of their khaki uniforms seemed to give the big farmer a decided shock, for they saw him come to a stop.

"What's this here?" he exclaimed, as he stared at the dozen lads. "Tell me, am I seein' things Bill Scruggs? Is it the State Militia dropped down on us? Is there a war on?"

Mr. Witherspoon, who was of course in uniform, stepped to the front and made the old fellow a military salute that must have gone far toward soothing his ruffled feelings.

"We're sorry if we've intruded on your ground, sir," he said in that convincing voice of his. "The fact is these are some of the Boy Scouts of Lenox, a troop that has lately been organized. I am Robert Witherspoon, the surveyor, and if I'm not mistaken I did some work for you a few months ago, Mr. Brush."

"That's a fact ye did, Mr. Witherspoon," declared the farmer, with less venom in his tone. "Seems like I didn't know ye with them togs on."

"I'm acting as scout master to these lads just now," continued the other, in his conciliatory way. "One of the rules of the organization is that each troop must have a grown person to serve with them, so that any undue boyish spirits may be kept within reasonable bounds."

"So I read in the paper, Mr. Witherspoon," continued the countryman.

"Won't you tie up your dogs, Mr. Brush, and come and join us here before the fire?" asked the scout master, who doubtless had more or less faith in the ability of a cheery blaze to curb animosity.

They saw the farmer rub his chin with his hand. He seemed to be debating within himself as to whether or not it would be advisable to comply with such a friendly invitation.

"Well, p'raps I mightn't git such a good chance to look scouts over again as this here one," he presently said, half to himself. "I've been reading a hull lot lately 'bout the doin's of the boys. Got three lads o' my own yet," and there he was seen to swallow something that seemed almost to choke him.

"Then for their sake you ought to be interested in this great movement, Mr. Brush," said the scout master; "I remember a bright boy of yours who was very much interested in the little surveying work I did for you that day. He helped me some, and said he thought he'd like to be a civil engineer when he grew up. If he joined the scouts that desire might be encouraged, sir, I a.s.sure you."

"Oh, they been pesterin' the life outen me to let 'em jine, but I ain't had no faith in the thing," Mr. Brush went on to say, with a stubborn shake of the head.

He had by this time tied up his dog, and was accepting a seat on the log close to the obliging scout master. The boys were satisfied to let Mr. Witherspoon do the most of the talking. They could see that he meant to open the eyes of this unbeliever, and show him a few things that he ought to know.

"Just why did you frown on the scout movement, may I ask, sir?" Mr.

Witherspoon continued, quietly.

"Well, in the fust place I don't calc'late that my boys be brought up to be food for gunpowder," replied the farmer.

"Then like a good many people you think Boy Scouts in this country are intended to become a part of the military defences; is that it, Mr.

Brush?"

"Do you mean to tell me it ain't so, Mr. Witherspoon?" asked the farmer.

"Nothing is further from the truth than that, as I'll prove to you in a dozen ways, if you care to listen," the scout master told him.

"Fire away, then," said the farmer. "I'm not hide-bound ye know, and allers open to conviction; so tell me why I orter let my three boys jine the scouts."

Mr. Witherspoon started in and explained the fundamental principles upon which the new movement was organized. He soon convinced the farmer that there was not the slightest intention on the part of those having the matter in hand to incorporate the scouts into a National Defence Movement.

"Was that the only objection you had, Mr. Brush?" he asked when the farmer frankly admitted that he had been wrong in his opinion.

"I reckoned that these boys only got together and wore uniforms for a big lark," was the reply to his question. "I ought to know what boys is like, havin' had four of my own."

"Then you have lost one, have you sir?" questioned the scout master, not from idle curiosity, either, Tom Chesney felt positive.

The old man heaved a great sigh.

"Yes, my youngest, and the darling o' his maw's heart, little Jim. Only last summer he was off swimmin' with several o' his chums, and got caught with a cramp. They got him out, brave enough, but--he never kim to agin."

Mr. Witherspoon cast a quick and meaning glance around the circle of eager faces. Several of the scouts nodded in a significant fas.h.i.+on as though they guessed what was flas.h.i.+ng through the mind of their leader.

"Mr. Brush," said the scout master, gravely, "I'd like to tell you some things that to my own personal knowledge scouts have done; things that they never would have been capable of performing in the wide world had they remained outside of this organization that first of all teaches them to be manly, independent, helpful to others, and true to themselves. May I, sir?"

"Jest as ye please, Mr. Witherspoon," came the low reply, for the farmer had evidently been partly overcome with the sad remembrance of the vacant chair, and the face he missed so much at his table.

The scout master went about it in a very able manner. Again he explained the numerous duties of a scout, and how he was taught to render first aid to the injured in case, for instance, his services should ever be needed when some comrade cut himself with an ax, and was in peril of bleeding to death.