The Boy Scouts of the Eagle Patrol Part 19

"Maybe we can set a springle and snare some," hopefully suggested Tubby, as a way out of the difficulty; "that wouldn't be as bad as shooting them, you know, and I can build a springle that will strangle them instantaneously."

"No fair, Tubby," laughed Rob. "You know, a boy scout promises to obey the law, and the game law is as much a law as any other."

Arrived at the L wharf, the boys found the Flying Fish and Captain Hudgins' Barracuda waiting for them. With much laughter they piled in--their light-heartedness and constant joking reminding such onlookers, as had ever seen the spectacle, of a band of real soldiers going to the front or embarking for foreign stations.

With three ear-splitting cheers and a final yell of, "Kr-ee-ee-ee-ee!"

the little flotilla got under way.

They arrived at the camping ground at the northeast end of the island before noon, and found that the "pioneers" appointed by Rob had done their work well. Each tent was placed securely on a level patch of sandy ground, cleared from brush and stamped flat. The pegs were driven extra deep in antic.i.p.ation of a gale, and an open cook tent, with flaps that could be fastened down in bad weather, stood to one side.

A small spring had been excavated by the pioneers, and an old barrel sunk in place, which had filled in the night and now presented sparkling depths of cool, clear water.

"I suppose that water is all right, captain?" inquired Leader Rob, with a true officer's regard for his troops.

"Sweet as a b.u.t.ternut, son," rejoined the old man. "Makes the sick strong and the strong stronger, as the medicine advertis.e.m.e.nts say."

For the present, the cooking was to be done on a regular camp fire which was built between two green logs laid lengthwise and converging toward the end. The tops of these had, under Commodore Wingate's directions, been slightly flattened with an axe. At each end a forked branch had been set upright in the ground, with a green limb laid between them. From this limb hung "cooking hooks," consisting of green branches with hooked ends at one extremity to hang over the long timber, and a nail driven in the other from which to hang the pots.

"That's the best form of camp fire, boys," said Commodore--or perhaps we would better call him scout master now--Wingate, who had accompanied the boys to see them settled. "Now, then, the next thing to do is to run up the Stars and Stripes and plant the Eagle flag. Then you'll be all O.K."

Little Andy Bowles made the woods behind them echo with the stirring call of "a.s.sembly," and halliards were reeved on a previously cut pole, about fifteen feet in height. The Stars and Stripes were attached, and while the whole company stood at attention and gave the scout salute, Scout Master Wingate raised the colors. Three loud, shrill cheers greeted Old Glory as it blew bravely out against the cloudless blue.

"That's a pretty sight now, s.h.i.+ver my timbers if it ain't," observed old Captain Hudgins, who had stood, hat in hand, during the ceremony.

"I've seen Old Glory in many a foreign port, and felt like takin' off my hat and givin' three cheers fer the old flag; but I never seen her look better or finer than she does a-streakin' out from that there bit of timber."

"Now, Patrol cooks," was Scout Master Wingate's next command, "it's only an hour to dinner time, and we want the first mess to be right.

Come on, and we'll get the pot boiling."

Cook duty fell that day to Hiram Nelson and Walter Lonsdale, and under the scout master's directions they soon had potatoes peeled, beans in water, and a big piece of stew meat chopped up with vegetables in a capacious pot.

After every errand to the store tent, Walter was anxious to know if it was not yet time to light the fire.

"Never be in a hurry to light your fire when you are in the woods,"

rejoined the scout master; "otherwise you will be so busy tending the fire you won't be able to prepare your food for cooking. Now we're all ready for the fire, though, and you can bring me some dry bark and small sticks from that pile of wood the pioneers laid in yesterday."

This was promptly done, and the lads watched the next step with interest. They saw the scout master take a tiny pile of the sticks and then light a roll of bark and thrust it into them.

"I thought you piled them up all criss-cross," remarked Hiram.

"No woodsman does that, my boy," was the rejoinder. "Now get me some larger timber from that pile, and I'll show you how to go about it like regular trappers."

The fire builder shoved the ends of the sticks into the blaze and then the bean pot was hung in place.

"We won't put the potatoes on now, as they take less time," he remarked; "those beans will take the longest."

Soon the heat was leaping up about the pots, and the cheerful crackle and incense of the camp fire filled the air. As the sticks burned down the scout master shoved the ends farther into the blaze, instead of throwing them on top of it.

"Now, then, boys, you've had your first lesson in camp fire making and cooking," he announced. "Now go ahead, and let's see what kind of a dinner you can produce. I'm going for a tour of exploration of the island."

Among the other things the pioneers had accomplished was the building of a table large enough to seat the entire Patrol, with planks set on logs as seats. Hiram put Walter to setting this, while he burned his fingers and smudged his face over his cookery. Long before the beans seemed any nearer to what experience taught the young cook they ought to be, Walter announced that the table was all set, with its tin cups and dishes and steel knives and forks.

Suddenly, while Hiram was considering putting the potatoes on their hook, there came from the rear of the store tent the most appalling succession of squeals and screams the boy had ever heard. Springing to his feet, he dashed to the scene of the conflict--for such it seemed to be though not without a heart that beat rather faster than usual. He bad no idea what the creatures could be that were producing all the uproar, and for all he knew they might have been bears.

Behind him came Walter, rather pale, but determined to do his best as a Boy Scout to fight off any wild beasts that might be attacking the camp. As he dashed behind the tent, however, Hiram was impelled to give a loud laugh. The contestants--for he had rightly judged they were in high dispute--were two small black pigs which had looted a bag of oatmeal from under the flap of the store tent and were busily engaged in fighting over their spoils.

"Get out, you brutes! Scat!" shouted the boy, bringing down a long-handled spoon he carried over the backs of the disputants.

The spoon, being almost red-hot, the clamor of the porkers redoubled, and with indignant squeals and grumblings they dashed off into the dense growth of scrub oak and pine that covered the island in its interior. At the same moment the captain, who had been taking a snooze under some small bushes, awoke with a start.

"Eh--eh--eh! What's all that?" he exclaimed, hearing the yells. "Why, it's that plagued Betsy and Jane, my two young sows," he cried the next moment. "Consarn and keelhaul the critters, they're breakin' out all the time. I reckon they're headed fer home now," he added, when Hiram related how he had scared them.

"I'm glad that they were nothing but pigs, captain," said Hiram, going back with flushed cheeks to his cookery. "I was afraid for a minute they were I hardly know what. We'll have to fix that store tent more snugly in future."

"And I'll have ter take a double reef in my pig Pen," chuckled the captain.

CHAPTER XV

THE CHUMS IN PERIL

Even the epicurean Tubby Hopkins voted dinner that day a great success, and Hiram, with becoming modesty, took his congratulations blus.h.i.+ngly.

In mid-afternoon, after seeing that the camp was in good working order, the scout masters started for the home sh.o.r.e in Captain Hudgins's boat, which was also to bring back some additional supplies for the next day.

After dinner Rob had a.s.signed Merritt and Tubby to form a "fis.h.i.+ng squad," to range seaward in the Flying Fish and "halt and detain" all the bluefish they could apprehend. The others were given the afternoon to range the island and practice up their woodcraft and landmark work, while Rob busied himself in his tent, which was equipped with a small folding camp table, in filling out his pink blank reports which were to be forwarded to Commodore Wingate and dispatched by him to the headquarters of the Boy Scouts in New York.

Merritt and Tubby were both ardent fishermen, and in response to Hiram's pleadings, they allowed him to accompany them on their expedition. The fish were running well, and the boys cast and pulled in some time without particularly noticing how far out to sea they had gone.

Suddenly the stout youth, who was fis.h.i.+ng with an unusually heavy line and hook, felt a hard tug on his apparatus, so powerful a tweak, in fact, that it almost pulled him overboard. He tried to haul in, but the resistance on the other end of his line was so great that he was compelled to twist it about a cleat in order to avoid either letting go or being dragged into the sea.

"What in the name of Sam Hill have you hooked?" gasped Merritt, as the Flying Fish began to move through the water faster than even her engine could propel her.

"I've not the least idea," remarked Tubby placidly, "but I rather think it must be a whale."

"Whale nothing!" exclaimed Merritt scornfully and with superior wisdom.

"Whales sound, don't they?"

"Well, there's not been a sound out of this one so far," truthfully observed Hiram.

"What kind of a sound do they make, corporal?"

"Oh, you chump," responded Merritt good-naturedly, "you've lived by the sea all your life, and you don't know how a whale sounds. Sound means when a whale blows, spouts, sends up a big fountain of water."

"Oh, I see," responded Hiram, much enlightened. "But see here, Merritt, whatever we are fast to is beginning to pick up speed pretty rapidly. Don't you think we'd better cut the line or try to haul in?"

"Haul in! Not much!" exclaimed Tubby indignantly. "We'll just hang on till we tire him out, that's what we'll do, and then haul in."