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He had seen the Laplanders put a lot of gra.s.s into their boots before pulling them on, and then filling up the legs with as much more gra.s.s as they could cram in.
There was not much gra.s.s growing on his ice-floe, so Grenfell had to invent something to use in place of it; he cut from the dogs' traces some flannel with which they were lined to prevent chafing, and with this he stuffed the moccasins, and so made them warmer, and then bound the remainder round his knees as puttees.
In this way he got sufficient warmth to enable him to sleep. Towards morning he awoke with the idea that he must make something in the way of a flag to attract the notice of people on sh.o.r.e, and to show them that there was someone in distress on the ice.
The question was, how to make a flagstaff? I wonder whether a Boy Scout could have seen a way?
Grenfell took the frozen legs of the three dead dogs, and bound them together with strips of raw hide, and thus manufactured a staff, on to which he then tied his s.h.i.+rt to act as a flag. It worked very well till the sun rose, and then the legs began to melt a little, and the flagstaff became a very wobbly one; and, as the Doctor describes it, "almost tied itself into knots."
Like a true Scout, Grenfell never despaired; he kept thinking out different ways by which he might survive the danger.
He thought of setting light to some unravelled rope by using a piece of ice to act as a burning gla.s.s. In this way he hoped to attract the attention of the people on sh.o.r.e by a smoke signal; but, while he was busy preparing it, he saw the distant sparkle of what looked like an oar from a boat, presently he saw it again, and soon he could see the boat itself.
His flag had been seen by the fishermen, and they pushed out in their boat through the frozen ice till they got him and his faithful dogs all safely aboard.
One man had seen him the night before just as it was getting dark, and had spread the news down the coast, so that all the time, though he did not know it, anxious eyes were watching him.
The only difficulty was to get a boat through the ma.s.s of broken ice-floes and drifting ice, which covered the heaving surface of the sea between him and the sh.o.r.e, but pluck and strong arms did it.
In the end his rescuers brought him safely ash.o.r.e, where every man, woman and child in the settlement was on the beach to welcome him with cheers and--many of them--with tears of joy.
Doctor Grenfell says that during the whole of this terrible experience he did not once feel fear. He felt that he would probably lie down and sleep his last sleep on that ice-floe; the thought did not disturb him very much.
At the same time, he did feel something of that regret which comes to all people when dying, and that was the remembrance of how much time he had wasted (even he!) when he had life and opportunities for doing good for other people, and how he had let his opportunities slide by without doing so much as he might have done.
So keep on doing good turns every minute whenever you can get a chance of doing them, and then when you are face to face with death, you will be able to say:
"Well, I did my best to do my duty. I did not waste much time on other things."
A PLUCKY BOY SCOUT.
It is not always in the field of action that Scouts can show their heroism; sometimes it is at home or in their private life, where their deeds are not so much seen. Here is a case:
Patrol Leader Leonard Sanderson, of the 1st Jesmond Troop, met with a bad lift accident, and smashed his thigh. But even when in awful pain, and in the shock of the sudden accident, he made light of it for fear of worrying his parents. Then he was for many weeks in hospital, and had to undergo several operations, but he was always cheerful and patient.
Many presents of fruit came to him, but, like a true Scout he shared them with the other patients. He made toys for the sick children, and helped the nurses to roll bandages. He never forgot his duty as a Scout, and proved himself a good example for others to follow.
A SCOUT WHO WAS A SCAMP.
"The boy who stopped the runaway horse would never have done it if he had not been a Scout. He was formerly a first-cla.s.s young scamp and always in some mischief."
That is what the report says of him.
But that is what happens when a lad becomes a Scout; he is no longer a fool-boy, who goes about yelling aimlessly and making himself a nuisance to everybody. Instead of that he smartens into a manly fellow, ready at any moment to give a helping hand to anybody who wants it, and without taking any reward for it, and without thinking how poor or rich, how old or young the person may be.
I was talking once to a well-known n.o.bleman, who told me that he broke his leg not long ago, and when it was getting right his doctor advised him to go and walk a little every day with two sticks to support him.
He accordingly went to Hampstead Heath, and was waddling along quite comfortably, an inch at a time, when a patrol of Scouts came up, and the Leader saluted and said:
"May we help you, sir? We could make a stretcher out of our coats and staves, and carry you."
The Duke said that when he looked at the boys and thought of them trying to carry him--for he is not a small man--he nearly laughed aloud; but as it was he thanked them very much and told them how he was walking purposely to get his leg into working order.
This kind intention, however, has given the Scouts a warm place in his heart.
TRACKING EXERCISE.
When I am walking along a road or path, I generally do a little tracking every day, because it is only by constant practice that a fellow can learn tracking or can keep his eye in when he has learnt it. It is quite easy and simple to do, only Scouts often do not think of doing it.
Here, for instance, is what I did one morning. There is nothing wonderful in it, but Scouts will understand all the better that such practice should be an everyday matter, and not merely attempted on some great occasion. It is bound to be a failure then if it has not been regularly gone in for before.
My practice was on an ordinary country road, dry and hard, with a slight layer of dust in most places, up and down hill; between high hedges; no wind (wind, you know, soon flattens out tracks in dust and makes them look much older than they really are).
At about eight o'clock in the morning, as I pa.s.sed from one field to another, I crossed the main road at the point where it reached the top of a hill.
I read some news on the ground, and this is what it said
"_Mrs. Sharp is ill this morning; and Johnny Milne has been to the railway station to fetch some newspapers._"
This was how I got at it.
There were only two fresh tracks. One was of a boy walking and the other of a bicycle.
The boy's footmarks showed a nailed boot, not big enough for a man, walking along the road which led to the school and to the railway station. It was Sat.u.r.day, a whole holiday, so he could not be going to school; he would therefore be going to the station.
Why to the station? Because at 7.33 the train came with the newspapers, and there were his tracks going back again, (_They occasionally overtrod the outgoing footprints._)
One boy in the village, Johnny Milne, was employed by the shop to fetch the papers from the train.
So if the train were punctual he would have pa.s.sed this spot on his way back about twenty minutes later; that was at seven minutes to eight.
[Ill.u.s.tration: "Mrs. Sharp is ill, and Johnny Milne has brought the newspapers from the station."]
Now, the bicycle track showed that the machine was ridden up the hill (_the track zig-zagged along the road, whereas if it had been running downhill it would have gone pretty straight_), the rider getting very tired (more _zig-zag_) near the top. There the bicycle had stopped (_sharp turn and slither of the wheels in the sand_), and the rider had got off to rest. It was a woman (_small foot, no nail marks, small, sharp heel_).
She had stood a short time (_footmarks on top of each other_), and had then remounted and ridden on. She had pa.s.sed this spot between 7.15 and ten minutes to eight. (_The bicycle tracks had pa.s.sed over Johnny Milne's outgoing track of 7:15, but his returning footmarks of ten minutes to eight overtrod the cycle tracks, so they had been made since it pa.s.sed._)
What lady would be cycling along this road at that hour of the morning? (_A rather stout lady, too, judging from the breadth of her foot and the fact that she had to rest on arriving at the top of the hill_.)
The road led to a cottage where lived Mrs. Sharp, who was not very well.
The lady must surely be Mrs. Clarke, the matronly district nurse on her bicycle going to see Mrs. Sharp and she was still there (_as there were no return wheel marks_).