قراءة كتاب Camp Fires of the Wolf Patrol
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CAMP FIRES OF
THE WOLF PATROL
THE HICKORY RIDGE BOY SCOUTS
CAMP FIRES OF THE WOLF PATROL.
CHAPTER I.
A troop of khaki-clad boys had been marching, rather wearily perhaps, along a road that, judging from all indications, was not very much used by the natives.
The afternoon was waning, so that a summer's night would soon begin to close in around them. Dense woods lay in all directions, the foliage of which had afforded very pleasant shelter from the fierce rays of the August sun. "Halt!" came the loud order.
"Hurrah! we're going into our first camp, fellows!"
"Is that so, Mr. Garrabrant?"
"Pull off your lids, boys, and give a salute!"
"What a dandy old place for a camp. How d'ye suppose he came to pick this out, Elmer?"
"That's as easy to tell as falling off a log, Toby. We have to use water to cook with; and just notice this fine stream running past us," returned the boy addressed, who seemed to be the second in command of the detachment of scouts. "Besides," he added, "you forget that we aimed to reach the Sweetwater River by evening, so that we could start up the current in our boats to-morrow morning. And this, I reckon, is the stream that we're looking for."
"Hurrah again, fellows! The day's hike is done. Now for a bully rest!"
"Stand at attention, all! Call the roll, secretary, to see if there are any stragglers!" the scout master commanded, as the small troop ranged up before him.
This young man was Mr. Roderic Garrabrant, who had only too gladly assumed the rôle he occupied, being greatly interested in the boy problem; and possessing a few fads and fancies he wished to work out by actual experience. His knowledge of woodcraft was not so very extensive; but the moral effect of his presence was expected to exert considerable benefit in connection with the dozen or more members of the Hickory Ridge troop of Boy Scouts.
The small town of Hickory Ridge lay about seven miles due south of the place where they had struck the winding Sweetwater; and the party had tramped this distance since noon. While it might not seem very far to those who are accustomed to long walks, there were a number among the scouts who had undoubtedly exceeded their record on this same afternoon.
An exceedingly tall and ungainly lad, with long legs that seemed to just delight getting in the way at times, threatening to twist him in a knot, drew out a little pocket volume, and in a sing-song tone started to call off numerous names.
Each boy answered promptly when he heard his own name mentioned; and as they will very likely figure largely in our story, it might be just as well to take note of the manner in which Arthur Stansbury called them off:
"Members of the Wolf Patrol: Elmer Chenowith, Mark Cummings, Ted Burgoyne, Toby Ellsworth Jones, Arthur Stansbury, and Chatz Maxfield.
"Members of the Beaver Patrol: Matty Eggleston, Oscar Huggins, Tyrus Collins, Jasper Merriweather, Tom Cropsey, Lawrence Billings.
"Unattached, but to form Numbers One and Two of the new Eagle Patrol: Jack Armitage and Nathan Scott."
"We seem to be just two shy," observed Mr. Garrabrant, with a twinkle in his eye, as he turned toward Elmer Chenowith, who had recently received his certificate as assistant scout master from the National Council, and was really qualified to take the place of the leader whenever the latter chanced to be absent.
Elmer raised his hand promptly in salute, as he made reply:
"Yes, sir; Nat Scott and Jasper Merriweather. They pegged out a mile or so back; and after examining their feet, and finding that they were really sore from walking, I gave them permission to ride on the
