Title: The Boy Scouts of the Naval Reserve
Author: Robert Shaler
Release date: March 5, 2015 [eBook #48410]
Most recently updated: October 24, 2024
Language: English
Credits: Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Rick Morris
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net
BY
SCOUT MASTER ROBERT SHALER
AUTHOR OF “THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE SIGNAL CORPS,” “THE BOY SCOUTS OF PIONEER CAMP,” “THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE GEOLOGICAL SURVEY,” “THE BOY SCOUTS ON PICKET DUTY,” ETC., ETC.
NEW YORK
HURST & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1914,
BY
HURST & COMPANY
“How-oo-ooo!”
This weird sound, supposed to be very much like the mournful howl of the timber wolf heard on a wintry night in the wilderness, caused the boy on the bicycle to laugh softly to himself as he looked up.
After running an errand for his mother to one of the farmers’ wives, he had been pedaling carelessly along up the dusty road.
A couple of fellows of about his own age, one of whom was inclined to be rather stout, were coming along a side road, making frantic motions for him to wait until they arrived; the boy chuckled again.
“Seems like Billy is getting that signal cry of the Wolf Patrol down pretty pat,” he told himself, as he dropped off his wheel at the junction of the two roads to await the arrival of his friends, both of whom wore the well-known khaki uniforms of the scouts, just as the lone rider did.
A minute later and they, too, dismounted, one gracefully, and the other with the awkwardness that usually accompanies the heavy-weight boy. Both of them were apparently pleased at having run across their comrade at just that particular time.
“Hello! Hugh!” called out the stout boy, “we stopped in at your house, and they told us you’d gone out to Farmer Benton’s on an errand for your mother. So Arthur said we might run across you heading for home, which we sure have done.”
“That’s right, Chief,” added the more slender lad who had been called Arthur. “We want you to come along with us and pass judgment on my contraption of a wireless outfit that I’ve rigged out up on Cedar Hill. I finished the work yesterday morning, and meant to get some of you fellows up there in the afternoon, but things kept on happening over at our house one after the other, till it was too late to bother. You’ll go along, I hope, Chief?”
These three lads were all members of the well-known Wolf Patrol of the local troop of Boy Scouts. They had been chiefly instrumental in starting the popular movement in town; and had passed through many rather remarkable scenes in common, most of which have been described at length in previous stories of the Series.
Hugh Hardin had early been made the patrol leader, and when the assistant scout master of the troop had lately been compelled to resign, Hugh, as the most popular fellow among the scouts, had been elected to take his place. It is necessary that the boy who would take upon himself the responsibility of being an assistant scout master should above all be a first-class scout; secondly, he must be elected to the office by his mates; and last of all be recommended by the chief scout officers of that district. Only when these conditions have been met will the coveted certificate be sent out from Boy Scout Headquarters in New York City.
Hugh had received approval some weeks before, and a few of the boys had come to calling him “Chief” when off by themselves for a good time. Of course, when the regular scout master, Lieutenant Denmead, a retired United States army officer, was along, Hugh would expect to be treated with the same courtesy that was extended to that gentleman, and insist upon the usual scout salute at meeting.
Billy Worth had always been a great admirer and chum of Hugh. He believed the other to be the best all-round boy in that whole country. Consequently he had seemed more concerned than Hugh himself when Alec Sands, the son of the rich railroad magnate, and in many ways a spoiled boy, had on various occasions tried to get the better of Hugh. Alec was the leader of the wideawake Otter Patrol, a clever scout, and with a small following of his own; but he was none too popular among the members of the Fox and Hawk patrols. This had accounted for his failure to be elected to the office of assistant scout master at the time he and Hugh locked horns while running for the position.
Arthur Cameron had been the last one to join the Wolf Patrol, completing its roster of eight members, and for some time he had been called the “tenderfoot.” Hugh, however, managed to arouse his interest in the wonderful secrets of Nature a scout who keeps his eyes and ears wide open may learn, especially when in the woods. From that day on Arthur had striven to perfect himself in the knowledge of those things which a boy must know in order to climb the ladder of scout preferment.
Arthur had after a while become a second-class scout, and only at the last meeting of the troop he had been listed in the proud rank of those who were entitled to wear the full official badge, denoting that they were in the first division. The Wolf Patrol now had no tenderfoot and only three second-class scouts. Hugh hoped that in due time even these laggards would arouse themselves and show ambition to pluck the fruit from the tree of knowledge that was within such easy reach.
When Arthur made his appeal, Hugh looked a little thoughtful; the other boys at the same time showed signs of more or less eagerness. Hugh’s opinion was worth considerable to Arthur. While perhaps the patrol leader did not know half as much about the intricate details connected with a wireless outfit as Arthur himself, at the same time he could always grasp things in a broad way, and make valuable suggestions that others might profit by.
“Well, I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t turn around and take a little spin up there with you boys,” Hugh announced, presently. “I’ve done the errand for my mother, and have one of Mrs. Benton’s good yeast cakes in my pocket. She wants my mother to try a loaf of her morning’s baking. It’s tied to the handle bars of my wheel. But there’s no need of my hurrying back home because mother doesn’t mean to use the yeast till to-morrow, anyhow. All right, Arthur, I’ll go along. I’m mighty much interested in this scheme of yours. Perhaps after all, if the wireless works, and we get in touch with you while along the coast, you’ll have nearly as much fun staying home here as the lucky scouts who accompany the Naval Reserve on their maneuvering cruise aboard the scout cruiser, Vixen.”
“Glad to hear you say so, Hugh,” said the other, flushing with pleasure. “I was away down in the dumps when I found that I hadn’t a look-in on that trip. It was Billy here who asked why I didn’t finish that wireless I’d started up on the top of Cedar Hill. He said what was the harm in my trying to pick up messages you fellows would send out from time to time while aboard the scout cruiser, practicing all sorts of things, just as though there was a regular war on between the United States and some foreign power, Japan for instance. And now she’s ready for business. Let’s be off. If you say my outfit works fairly decent I’ll be feeling fifty per cent. better. It’s awful to see my chums going away on such a picnic, while I have to stay home.”
“Huh!” grunted Billy, as he threw a plump leg over his saddle and prepared to begin pedaling, “what about poor me? I came in third on the list when only two in a patrol could go. Just missed being a favored son by a hair’s breadth. I nearly swooned when I saw what a narrow escape I’d had from getting to go on the dandiest trip that ever came down the pike. I’m getting as thin as a rail peeving about my hard luck. By the time you fellows come back, Hugh, I’ll be fit to enter a freak museum under the name of a Living Skeleton.”
“Like fun you will,” jeered Arthur, who knew Billy like a book. “I notice that you’re just as fond of eating and sleeping as ever. No fellow who can do the stunts along those lines that you’re capable of is going to lose flesh. Don’t ever worry about Billy, Hugh. He may feel bad about not going, but all the same, mark my words, he’ll have a good time at home. He always carries the sunshine with him.”
And indeed that was about the truth, for Billy could joke and make merry when many of his mates were pulling long faces over the troubles that pressed thick and fast upon the patrol. It was his nature to be happy and jolly; he could not help radiating sunshine all the time.
They sped along the road, gradually getting to where the woods came down on either side, and elevations could be seen close by. The particular place which the amateur wireless operator had chosen as the site for his exploits in constructing his masts and aerials was known as Cedar Hill. It chanced to be a bit of the extensive property which the Camerons owned up in this region; which possibly was one reason Arthur had chosen it. He could lop off branches from such trees as he wanted to use without danger of being taken to task by some irate farmer, who might seriously object to destruction of valuable cedars.
There was quite a dense woods leading up to the crown of the hill and the boys would of course have to abandon their wheels down by the road.
“I guess I’d better take this precious home-made loaf of bread along with me,” Hugh said as they thrust their bicycles in among the bushes near by. “It’s got such a fine smell of baking about it that some wandering hog might find it out. Wouldn’t I be mad clear through to get back here and find it gone!”
“Say, that does go right to the spot,” remarked Billy as he leaned over to sniff at the paper-covered package. “If we should happen to get lost now, like the babes in the wood, why that same bully loaf’d keep us from starving to death. Any danger of your losing the trail, Arthur?”
“Well, I’ve been up here so often that I’ve marked it pretty well,” replied the other laughingly. “Suppose you lead the way, Billy, while I talk with the Chief.”
“Sure I will,” Billy sang out cheerfully. “Always willing to be a victim. Anything to oblige, boys. ‘Walk this way,’ please, as the bow-legged salesman said to the haughty lady, before he started to show her through the store. What impertinence! I should say you had worn a plain trail, Arthur. A greenhorn could follow it in and out, past logs, and around holes. You had your Injun woodcraft down fine when you laid this out.”
Unconsciously the two who were engaged in some serious conversation, lagged more or less, though perhaps it was Billy, anxious to reach the crown of Cedar Hill, who displayed an unwonted animation in ascending the rather steep rise, and see what the final result of the other scout’s labors had been.
Once or twice Hugh—glancing up—saw that Billy had passed from sight, though he could still be heard clambering through the brush beyond. Occasionally some exclamation told that he might have clumsily stumbled over a root or a clinging vine. They were all of two-thirds of the way up when there came a sudden shriek from Billy that made the other boys stop short and look startled. Billy, however, was so prone to play practical jokes that no one knew how to take him. He could be plainly heard tearing headlong down the face of the wooded hill, and in a few seconds came panting back, his usually florid face white with sudden fear.
“What ails you, Billy?” demanded Hugh, puzzled to account for his actions.
“Seen a garter snake, did you, Billy?” jeered Arthur. “Oh! plenty of that kind around here, but they can’t hurt you. Thought it was a rattler, now, I bet you?”
“It’s a b-e-a-r—a great big black bear ’bout ten feet tall, and standin’ on his hind legs awaitin’ to hug a feller to death!” came from the white lips of the scout who had led the van of the trail followers.
Hugh had known Billy Worth to be addicted to playing practical jokes on many occasions, but he was really puzzled to guess the truth when the other so loudly declared he had met with a bear on the trail above.
There were a number of small wild animals still to be found in that section of the country. Hugh himself had met with a ferocious wildcat on one of the camping trips of the troop up at Pioneer Lake, but such a thing as a black bear had not been seen by any one for many years.
Billy was certainly not playing a part, Hugh quickly decided. The patrol leader had thrown out an arm, so as to block the passage and prevent Billy from continuing his mad flight, for he gave evidences of being inclined that way. He kept looking back along the hill trail as though fully anticipating seeing a huge hairy monster suddenly loom up. He stood ready to break away and once more dash down toward the road to the place where the bicycles had been left.
Arthur, though not free from a touch of panic himself, began to suspect that it was all a humbug. He turned on Billy and scornfully demanded:
“Show us your old bear, can’t you? March him up and let’s look him in the eye! I reckon that you’re trying to rattle your boon companions, that’s what you’re up to, Billy Worth. It don’t go, and you might as well call it off.”
Billy began to get a grip on himself, for there is nothing like derision to bring a boy to his proper senses. He straightened up, and a tinge of color came back into his plump cheeks as he retorted:
“If you don’t believe me—let’s see you go right along up there, that’s all! Let me tell you this, Arthur Cameron, if you’ll agree to walk straight along this same trail right up to your old wireless fixing on top of Cedar Hill, I’ll—yes, I’ll agree to give you that hunting knife of mine you asked me to trade for your spare compass. Get that, do you? And I’m safe in making the offer, too, because I know you’ll get the rattles as bad as I did just as soon as you set eyes on that terrible monster!”
Hugh was still studying the other. He wondered what it could have been that Billy had really seen to alarm him so much. As a rule the other scout was not given to wild imaginings like several other boys connected with the troop whom Hugh knew very well. On the contrary Billy had generally shown a steadiness much to his credit; he was matter-of-fact and not often given to romancing.
“This thing has gone far enough, Billy,” he said sternly.
“I know you don’t believe what I say, Chief,” complained the other, “but I’m going to raise my hand, and on the honor of a scout say once more that I did really and truly see a bear!”
“Well, let it go at that,” said Hugh. “We’ll believe that you thought you saw some sort of thing that looked like a bear. I’ve known fellows who saw ghosts and believed it as much as they could anything, till it was proven that the moving white object was a pillow-slip left out on the clothes line, floating up and down in the soft night air. Sometimes in the dim woods a stump can look mighty like a big black bear, I’m told.”
“P’raps that’s all true enough, Hugh,” persisted the other, “but when you see it rear up on its hind legs, and start at you—that looks different, don’t it?” demanded the other.
“Oh! then it moved, did it? actually got up on its hind legs and wanted to give you the high sign?” jeered Arthur still unconvinced. “Well, that’s what you get for belonging to the Wolf Patrol. This wonderful bear thought you might be his own cousin. He meant to shake hands with you, Billy.”
Billy shrugged his broad shoulders. Though still looking a little anxious, he was no longer white in the face. This scepticism on the part of Arthur had the good effect of arousing what was combative in his jolly nature, and putting fresh courage in his boyish heart.
“Well,” he went on to say resolutely, “I can see that you’ll never be satisfied till you meet up with that bear for yourself, Arthur. So s’pose you hike out. We’ll follow after you. I dare you to, get that?”
No boy can easily stand being put on his mettle. With quaking heart many a lad has started into a country churchyard on a dark night or in some other such reckless venture just because his mates have given him the “dare.”
Arthur gave a quick look up the trail. So far as he could see, there did not appear to be anything amiss in that direction. Surely if a hungry bear did lurk near by he would have been apt to show himself ere this.
So Arthur, feeling that he had gone too far now to show the white feather, threw out his chest, and stepped ahead of the other two.
“All right, you watch me show you up for the biggest fakir going, Billy,” he remarked with all the firmness he could command. “I’ve passed up and down along the same trail dozens of times, and if there’d been such a thing as a bear around—well, wouldn’t I be apt to know it? Guess I would. Now, I’ve seen a fox once, a little red fox; likewise a skunk that I gave a wide berth to. There was a rabbit that used to jump out of the bushes every single day, sometimes giving me a start, if I happened to be thinking hard and forgot about it. Wonder whether anybody could make out one of those to be a bear!”
“Oh! go on and climb, that’s all,” chuckled the confident Billy. “You’ll see if I’ve got magnifiers in my eyes this time.”
“And what if we don’t see your bear?” asked Arthur. He started rather slowly to mount the trail, keeping a bright lookout ahead, which caution rather belied his confident way of expressing his disbelief.
“You will, all right,” replied the other from behind Hugh. “Even if he’s dusted out, can’t we look for his tracks? What’s the use of being scouts if we aren’t able to tell what the marks of a bear’s paw and claws look like?”
Arthur did not reply in words. He did cast a quick glance over his shoulder, however, which may have been simply to make sure his chums were close at his heels, though Hugh rather suspected the leader to be desirous of making certain that there was a clear field for flight open to him in case of necessity. Caution as well as valor is a part of a scout’s education, and he who is wise will always know of a way for retreat though scorning to make use of the same.
Billy in the rear was evidently very much in earnest. Hugh could hear him breathing hard, as if his excitement were returning in full force the closer they drew to the place where he had met his recent alarming adventure.
Although he could not believe it possible that Billy had actually seen such a thing as a bear, still Hugh confessed to feeling considerable curiosity himself in the matter. He had already made up his mind that it would turn out to be some old stump that stood in a rather dark and gloomy spot. Perhaps a squirrel had run up the stump, frightened by the sudden appearance of the boy, and this movement, coupled with the queer appearance of the remnant of a tree, had given Billy his scare.
Well, they would soon know what it might have been. Arthur was steadily advancing up the hillside, none too swiftly it must be confessed. He had apparently remembered all he had ever learned about the habits of a real scout when passing through lonely woods where dangers were apt to lurk, for it could be seen that he was turning his head to the right and to the left from time to time, as if determined that nothing should escape his observation.
“Listen! didn’t you hear something that sounded like a whine?” asked Billy from his position of safety in the rear.
It might have been just like him to try and add to the nervousness of the scout who led the van, but Hugh knew that this was not so; he too had caught some sort of odd sound at the same time that the other spoke so thrillingly. As for Arthur, he stopped short.
“What could that have been, Hugh?” he asked anxiously, while the satisfied Billy actually began to chuckle with glee at seeing the doubting one begin to show signs of wavering.
“I couldn’t say, Arthur,” replied the scout master promptly. “Some sort of animal made it. I should think even a fox could bark loud enough for that, or a weasel snarl because he was bothered while feeding. Want me to lead off, Arthur?”
Perhaps the boy would have been glad of the chance to say yes, but knowing how Billy would exult at his sudden change of heart he shut his teeth hard together and merely replied:
“Well, I should say not, Hugh. I don’t make out to be the bravest scout in the troop in the Wolf Patrol, but I hope I am not ready to lie down and crawl just because I happen to hear a silly old whine. Chances are it’s some dog that’s been digging out a rabbit burrow up here and wants to let us know he’s on deck. Come on, both of you, and let’s see what’s up.”
With that Arthur resumed his upward progress, covering foot after foot, continuing his careful survey ahead. Hugh was really proud of the way the late “tenderfoot” managed to carry on the lead so successfully; even under the exciting conditions the scout master could pay attention to such things, since they concerned his duties as instructor.
“Just a little further, Arthur, and you’ll turn that sharp bend,” almost whispered Billy, pressing up against Hugh in his intense eagerness to see what would happen. “Oh! there was that whine again, Hugh! Mebbe you’ll believe me after a bit. Mebbe you’ll give me credit for havin’ eyes in my head! Steady now, old wireless! A few more steps, and you’re bound to strike something or I’ll eat my hat!”
This sort of talk was well calculated to increase the manifest nervousness of Arthur, but he was at least game to the backbone, not dreaming of showing the white feather, the thing above all others that any ordinary boy dreads to do.
Hugh pressed a little closer to the leader. He wanted to be on hand for what was going to happen, no matter whether this turned out to be along tragic or comical lines. And besides, Arthur was visibly trembling, as though he needed some strong arm to back him up. If he felt Hugh touching his elbow it would doubtless afford him more or less comfort.
Then Arthur, with set jaws, summoning all his resolution to the fore, made the last step needed to take him around that bend in the trail where the tall bushes seemed to shut out what lay beyond.
No sooner had he done so than he seemed to be changed into stone, for he stood there like a statue carved out of marble, staring at something that lay just beyond. Billy came pushing up just in time to hear the pilot of the expedition gasp:
“Look! look, Hugh! Is that really a bear, or am I seeing things I shouldn’t?”
When the scout master had taken a second look he made a discovery that seemed to afford him more or less satisfaction, for he immediately called out:
“It’s a live bear, all right, Arthur. Billy wasn’t dreaming, it seems. Look closer and you’ll find that the poor thing is tied to that tree with a rope; and chances are it’s the performing bear I heard was over at Salem last week!”
At that both of the other boys breathed freely once more. Billy puffed out his chest, filled with pride because his astonishing declaration had at least been proven true.
“But it is a bear all right, isn’t it?” Billy was saying with evident satisfaction, “and you’ll have to take back all you said about my being so scared ’cause I saw a whole lot of things that never could happen, Arthur. Mebbe there aren’t any wild bears a-roamin’ around these parts any more, but I did see a hairy monster, didn’t I? And when I told you he reared up on his hind legs and made like he wanted to dance with me, I wasn’t yarning, you see. Huh! next time you won’t be so ready to make out I’m a fakir. Magnifying a stump into a live beast! Whew! look at him stretching right now, will you? What are you meaning to do, Hugh?”
The patrol leader had started toward the imprisoned bear, causing Billy to ask this last question.
“Why, I wonder where his master can be?” Hugh Hardin readily observed, his curiosity aroused afresh.
“Oh! taking a good long sleep somewhere in the bushes around most likely,” Billy remarked unconcernedly. “You know the breed all right, fellows. They’re as cruel a bunch as you’d find anywhere. I reckon this poor thing’s got heaps and heaps of big welts under his hair from being whipped when he wouldn’t feel like dancing, his pole held in his forepaws. I’ve watched ’em do it.”
All of them now approached the bear more closely. The animal did not seem to be of the common black American variety, but had a sort of cinnamon hue.
“I think they bring them over from Russia, down along some part of the Caucasus or Ural Mountains,” Hugh was saying as the shaggy beast, still standing erect on its haunches, started to make those queer whining sounds again.
“What d’ye reckon the old thing means by that, Hugh?” asked Arthur.
“And look at the way he keeps working his mouth, will you?” added Billy. “Tell you what, I think he must be hungry! He smells that fine loaf of bread you’ve got under your arm, Chief. Better give it to the poor beggar. Look at him putting out his tongue, and slathering his lips. He’s sure begging for something.”
“I think I know what he wants most of all,” said Hugh. “You can see from the way the ground’s torn up around that he must have been tied here all night.”
“Whew! that would be tough on the poor thing, wouldn’t it?” declared Billy, who had a tender heart and could not bear to see any beast or bird suffer when it lay in his power to change things for the better.
“He wants a drink of water the worst kind, boys,” continued the patrol leader.
“And I know of a fine little spring not five minutes’ walk away from here, too. I’ve often stepped over there when working at my wireless to get a cold drink,” Arthur hastened to remark.
“You’re elected then unanimously, seeing that you’re the only one that knows where the water tank lies,” Billy told him.
“Elected to what?” demanded the other scout.
“Why to lead the poor old bear to his drink,” Billy went on to say, without betraying the least sign of humor in his round face. “Step right up and unfasten that greasy rope, Arthur, while I stand by this tree ready to climb, if so be he breaks away and comes my way. He keeps on looking at me like he thought I was good enough to eat. That’s the trouble with being nice and plump. But what ails you, Chum Arthur? I don’t see you jumping forward to pat our hairy brother and tell him his troubles are all over, since you’ve come along.”
“Hugh! what are we going to do about it?” Arthur asked, turning from his tormentor toward the scout master.
“If you lead the way, I’ll go along with you to that spring,” replied the other quietly. “We might fill our hats and perhaps that’ll be enough. I never saw a bear drink water, but in hot summer weather I should think they’d want it as well as any other animal. Come along, Arthur.”
Billy seemed in doubt whether to offer to accompany his comrades or remain there. He did not altogether like the idea of finding himself left alone with the bear. The rope looked thin and worn, and might break. So as soon as the others had departed, and he could hear their voices growing fainter as they hurried on toward Arthur’s pet spring, Billy proceeded to climb the tree against which he had been leaning.
“Gives a fellow a better outlook, for one thing,” he told himself, as he straddled the lower limb, “and then in case the sly old rascal did break loose, why I’d have a halfway chance to kick at him, and keep him down below till they came back and Hugh tied him up again. Scouts should be cautious as well as brave; that’s always been my motto. There, Hugh went and left that loaf of bread when he took Arthur with him to get the water. See that bear sniffing as hard as anything, would you? One thing sure, if he did break loose he’d start in to gobble that bread, and let me alone.”
Listening he could hear the other two talking some little distance away. It was from this that Billy judged they had arrived at the spring, and were proceeding to fill their campaign hats. Although this idea of Hugh’s might seem a little strange on the face of it, there was really nothing uncommon about his desire to relieve the sufferings of the thirsty animal. Scouts are taught to do just these helpful things whenever the opportunity comes along; and many a fellow has found a chance to turn his reversed medal over for the day by an act of mercy toward dumb beasts,—horses, cows, or even dogs in pain or trouble of any sort.
Given time, Billy might have thought to the same end himself, but his brain did not work as rapidly as that of some of the other boys, and as a rule he made slow progress.
He sat there, keeping a wary eye on the performing bear and guessing at the progress of his chums by catching the sound of their voices coming louder and louder with every half minute.
Then Billy breathed more freely when he saw their figures flitting carefully among the trees near by, so as not to spill more of the water than could be helped.
“Good for you, boys!” he called out as he hastened to slip down from his elevated perch, but not soon enough to escape the sharp eyes of Arthur, who immediately took him to task for deserting the solid earth.
“Wise old Billy, ain’t it?” he remarked, jeeringly. “He wasn’t going to take any chances of being nibbled at by the tame bear, was he? Climbed a tree, didn’t you, son? Just as if bears couldn’t shin up a trunk like hot cakes! You’re a bright one, I must say, Billy.”
“That’s all right and I am not ashamed to admit it, either,” asserted the other stoutly. “A scout should never be rash, the rules say. Why should I take unnecessary chances, when I knew that bear had his eye on me, and thought I’d make a good lunch? If he’d been tackling you, Arthur, I’d show you what I’d do if I had to grab him from the back, and wrestle with him like his master does; only he hasn’t his muzzle on right now, and that’d be bad. Does he drink, Hugh?”
While the others were indulging in this little exchange of sentiments, the scout master had advanced toward the tied bear holding out his hat water-pail. The animal eagerly thrust his snout into the cool liquid and seemed to be drinking after a fashion, which told that Hugh had been right when he said the beast must have been fastened here for some time.
“He wasn’t there when I came down from the top of the hill yesterday morning, I give you my word for that, Chief,” Arthur announced, as he stood ready to hand his hat of water over to the other, should the first supply prove insufficient to satisfy the poor beast. “You can see for yourself that it would be impossible for me to have passed on this trail and missed running across him.”
“But what d’ye reckon has become of his master, and how are we goin’ to get the dancing bear back to town, when he don’t know us? That’s what I’d like to know,” Billy demanded apprehensively, not as yet daring to come within five feet of the sleek monster.
“I’m bothered to know what it all means,” Hugh told them. “When he fastened the bear here, the man must have had some notion in his head but he’s been kept from coming back again.”
“Would he want to abandon the poor thing just because it wasn’t paying him to tote the bear along?” asked Arthur.
“I wouldn’t think that could be,” said Hugh. “As far as I know, these men who own trained bears always make a good deal of money and they spend mighty little. Besides, such an animal would be worth fifty or a hundred dollars for exhibition purposes, I’d think. No, there’s some other reason for it. I’ve got half a notion to try to find the man’s track leading away from here, and see which way he did go. What if he fell down some little precipice—there are such things around these hills—and broke his leg? Why, he might lie there and die for all anybody’d hear him call, up in this lonely region.”
Both of the other scouts were more or less worked up by what the patrol leader had just said. It was not very difficult for them to picture a variety of serious perils along the lines suggested by Hugh; they rather liked the idea of picking up the departing trail of the foreigner just to see if they would be equal to the task of discovering him, perhaps asleep, near by.
“But I don’t see how anybody could sleep through all that noise Billy here put up,” Arthur chose to remark, “when he came rushing down the hill with his hair standing on end, and his eyes looking as if they would drop out of his head.”
“Oh! hold on, there, go easy with a fellow, can’t you?” urged Billy reproachfully. “Of course I own up I was some scared, but it wasn’t as bad as all that, and you know it, Arthur. Guess anybody’d have had some shock to run across that thing all of a sudden and believe it to be a wild bear.”
“Why, before we’re done with it,” boasted Arthur, “you may see me riding on the old fellow’s broad back like as not. They’re really as tame and docile as kittens, I was told; that is, after they get to know you, and you’ve fed ’em a few times so they’ll look on you as a friend. There, he acts as though he’d had all the water he wanted, Hugh. Just throw out the rest, and I’ll put on my wet hat, which ought to feel nice and cool after all that soaking.”
Hugh was already commencing to cast around in search of tracks that would be of a far different type from their own,—prints made by broad-soled hob-nailed shoes, such as these Russian immigrants wear. This made it look as though he had been quite in earnest when he made that assertion about feeling in the humor to try and follow the trail the bear’s master had left when he departed on his unknown errand.
Billy happened to think of that loaf of bread which the patrol leader had laid down when arriving on the scene. Some spirit of mischief caused the boy to step over, and picking the package up advance toward the tied bear, holding it out to see what the animal would do.
He found out, and in a big hurry too, after a fashion he had evidently not suspected would come to pass. The animal sniffed harder than ever as he caught the tantalizing odor of the freshly baked bread. If it had held a good scent for the boy who had stuffed himself at breakfast only an hour or two ago, fancy how it excited the bear, which must have been very hungry indeed.
Before Billy could realize how all those frantic pullings might result, he heard the worn rope give a sudden sharp snap where it had gone around the tree. Then he saw that the eager bear was now loose, and advancing quickly toward him, growling and whining with eagerness, and impatient to break his long fast!
“Hugh, oh! Hugh! he’s loose!”
These boys of the Wolf Patrol had become so accustomed to depending on their energetic leader when trouble threatened that this cry pealed from the lips of Billy Worth as naturally as he would eat his supper, given half a chance.
The sight of that bear standing on his two hind legs and advancing eagerly toward him gave Billy the shock of his life. He realized that being without any kind of weapon, he was powerless to resist should the hungry animal seize hold of him, and commence breaking his fast. Billy did not know, or at least failed to remember then under such tremendous excitement, that bears, at least of this species, are more addicted to a diet of roots, berries, and cereals when they can get them, than flesh.
He dropped the loaf of bread, though the act was more the result of his fright than any idea of coaxing the beast to turn his attention elsewhere, and let him, Billy, alone.
Arthur was close by, but as incapable of assisting his chum as Billy was of helping himself; it seemed as though Arthur must have been paralyzed by the sight of that tall monster pushing directly at the other scout. Arthur remained standing there with open mouth and staring eyes, never so much as lifting a hand.
When the bear began to sniff eagerly, and then dropped suddenly on all fours, as though meaning to hunt for the loaf which had fallen, Billy experienced a feeling of intense relief.
He was actually able to get some momentum, for up to then, while desirous of beating a retreat he had seemed frozen to the ground; he could remember passing through a similar experience when suffering from a species of nightmare.
So Billy fell back several paces, all the while observing the actions of the educated bear as though fascinated.
It would seem that the animal must have been given a loaf of bread tied up in paper many times in the past. Perhaps that was his customary daily allowance. He started to tear the covering away, undoubtedly fully aware of the necessity for doing this before he could get at the contents. And Billy thought he showed almost human intelligence about it, too; in fact, he afterward declared his positive belief that Bruin had deliberately untied the string with his teeth and claws.
At any rate, whether that was true or only imagination on the part of the staring boy, the bear was munching eagerly at the bread by the time Hugh arrived on the spot, which proved how quickly all this had been accomplished.