CHAPTER VII--On Gosling Lake
The body of water referred to, which for certain reasons I shall callGosling Lake--though that is not its real name--is of irregular form,about two miles long from east to west, and somewhat less in breadth. Itis surrounded by pines, balsams and firs, which in most places growquite close to the water's edge, with here and there a grassy stretch ofmoderate extent, bordering the lake.
On the southern shore stands the bungalow or clubhouse, to which morethan one reference has been made. It is a low, log structure of onestory with a piazza in front, is strong and secure and has nopretensions to elegance or luxury. It was intended merely to affordsleeping and dining quarters for the occupants. When a party of wealthymen plunge into the wilderness for what they call an outing, they make agreat ado over "roughing" it. They announce that they will sleep in theopen, work strenuously for their own meals, and live the simple life, asdid the wood rangers in the olden times. But the chances are ten to onethat the campers out will bring a professional cook and one or two otherservants with them, will sleep in the beds prepared by other hands, andspend most of their time in luxurious idleness.
The bungalow which we have in mind is fifty feet in length and isdivided into two rooms,--the smaller for dining and social communion onstormy afternoons and during the evenings. This room has anold-fashioned fireplace and is provided with cooking utensils, a largetable, several chairs and other simple articles of furniture. The largerapartment is furnished with rows of bunks along each side, where sprucetips or pine boughs serve as mattresses upon which pillows and blanketsare spread. The floor is of smooth planking, and without rugs. Largewooden pegs driven into the walls take the place of closets. In shortthe aim is to yield solid comfort, yet encourage the belief among thecampers that they are actually roughing it.
Drawn up on the grassy slope in front of the clubhouse were two Indiancanoes, each large enough to carry a half dozen full grown persons. Thesingle paddles required for propulsion were kept within the building andthe craft when not in use were turned over with the bottoms facing thesky. Such is an imperfect glimpse of the clubhouse that was to serve asheadquarters of the Boy Patrols during the last month of that summer.
One of the striking attractions of the rivers, lakes and streams ofMaine is their crystalline clearness. I have looked down at the bouldersand pebbles twenty feet and more below the surface, where they were asclearly visible as if only the atmosphere was between them and my eyes.Maine lies so far north that its waters are generally cold and thebather who plunges into their depths gasps and feels like scrambling outagain; but let him persevere for a brief while and the bath becomesinvigorating and gives the body a glow and reacting warmth that thrillswith exquisite pleasure.
At six o'clock on that memorable morning in early August, you might havelooked at the clubhouse and believed it did not contain a living personor creature,--so quiet and free from stir was everything connected withit; but a few minutes later, the broad door opened and a young manwalked a few steps toward the lake and then halted and looked around, asif expecting some one. He had dark curly hair, large clear eyes, blackmustache, fair complexion somewhat tanned, a lithe, active figure ratherbelow the medium stature, and an alert manner. His dress was such as isworn by the Boy Scouts. On the upper part of his left sleeve was a badgein blue, green and red, consisting mainly of an eagle with spread wingsand shield, and the motto "Be Prepared" in gilt metal. This is theofficial insignia of the Scout Master, Scout Commissioner, AssistantScout Master and of the First Class Boy Scout.
The gentleman who thus stepped upon the stage of action was Bert Hall,who, although a family man, is as much a boy as he was a dozen yearsago. In fact, he can never be anything else, though in his activities noone is more mature than he. He is always doing something for the benefitof others, so it was inevitable that when the scout movement wasoriginated it caught his attention and engaged his sympathy andco-operation.
The Scout Master's second glance at the door showed mild surprise. Hedrew out his watch and then smiled, for he saw he was a few minutesahead of time.
"I have tried to teach the boys that it is better to be too early thantoo late, but better than either to hit the nail exactly on the head."
He kept his eye on the face of the watch until the minute and hour handformed a straight line from the figure XII to VI. Then he slipped itback in his pocket.
Almost in the same instant, the door was drawn inward, and with a shout,a Boy Scout, his face aglow with eager expectancy, dashed down the slopelike a deer, ran a few paces into the lake, splashing the water high,closed the palms of his hand above his head and dived out of sight. Hewas Charley Chase, the Blazing Arrow Patrol leader. Right behind him ona dead run, came Corporal George Robe, followed by Scouts Kenneth Henke,Kenneth Mitchell, Robert Snow, Ernest Oberlander, Colgate Craig, RobertRice, Hubert Wood and Harold Hopkins.
After a brief wait, other members of the troop streamed laughing afterthe leaders, among them being our old friends Alvin Landon and ChesterHaynes. The clothing of each consisted of a pair of tights, whose lengthfrom the extreme northern boundary to the remote southern edge, wasperhaps twelve inches. It was a proper concession to the aestheticdemands of the occasion.
How they frolicked and disported themselves! A party of boys can no morekeep from shouting than so many girls can refrain from screaming atsight of a mouse whisking about their feet. They dived, swam, splashedone another, darted under the surface like so many young submarines, andreveled in the very ecstasy of enjoyment. The first thrilling sting ofthe cold element caused all to gasp, but a few minutes ended that andnone would have had it a degree milder.
Scout Master Hall moved a little to one side, so as to be out of theway, stepped close to the water, folded his arms and smiled in sympathyat sight of the joyous abandon of boys,--one of whom he had often beenand meant to be again. His present duty was to oversee his charges. Heknew all were good swimmers, but some one might be seized with cramp,because of the sudden plunge, and accident always threatens everybody. Aperson can be drowned with such awful suddenness that the Master nevertook any chances that could be averted. He held himself ready to leapinto the lake on the instant his services were needed.
As the minutes passed, he felt how slight the danger was of anything ofthat nature, but as has been said, he was ever on his guard. He waswatching Alvin Adams and Corporal Robe, who were engaged in therollicking sport of ducking each other. Suddenly Alvin slipped below thesurface, when his friend was not looking, seized the corporal's ankle,and yanked him under. The next instant, Robe bobbed up, blew the waterfrom his mouth in spray, glanced around and seeing Alvin swimmingdesperately away, made after him. Both were equally skilful in the waterand it could not be seen that the pursuer was gaining. Alvin might haveescaped by heading for shore or where the water was shallow, but thatwould have been an admission of the superiority of the other, and nohealthy youngster will do _that_ until it is fairly demonstrated andeven then will hesitate.
Suddenly Alvin dropped out of sight. It looked as if he did so to escapehis pursuer who stopped over the spot where he had gone down, ready toseize him the instant he came within reach. Scout Master Hall laughedand watched the fun.
Up shot the head of Alvin a little way off, and Robe was about to makeafter him, when the youth called out:
"I've got a cramp!" and down he went.
Hall gathered himself for the run and jump, when with one foot in thewater, he saw the necessity had passed. In a few seconds, Alvin's headshowed again, but the corporal with one resolute stroke was beside him.
"All right, old fellow; put your hand on my shoulder," he said.
Despite his predicament, Alvin was cool and did as directed. As herested his left hand on the shoulder of his friend, he said with alaugh:
"Gee! but my legs seemed to be tied up in knots; that's the first time Iever was caught; thanks; I'm all right, with your help."
Chester and several other boys had hastened to
his help, but they sawall danger was over. Robe swam with moderate stroke toward shore. Thewater quickly shallowed, and when his feet touched the hard bottom,Alvin tried awkwardly to walk, but he had to have support before hecould stumble to land, where he sank down and began vigorously workinghis legs, while Robe and the Scout Master massaged the corded muscles.
"The next time you go in bathing, try the Indian preventive of cramps,"said Hall.
"What's that? I used to wear an eelskin tied about one of my ankles."
"No good. Before entering the water, rub the pit of your stomach hardwith the dry palms of your hands. When the skin grows red, dash coldwater over the stomach and rub dry; after that you need have no fear ofcramps. You seem to be all right."
"I am; I should like to try it again; I owe the corporal the biggestducking he ever had."
"No; you have had enough swimming for this morning, and so have all theboys."
The Scout Master gave the signal and the whole party obediently cameashore, ran into the building and hurriedly donned their clothing.
The next thing in order was breakfast and you may be sure every lad wasready for it. Although the old-fashioned implements in the clubhousewould have served well, yet with the score of sharp appetites tosatisfy, the delay would have been trying. Moreover, the Scout Masterwished to drill the youngsters in preparing their meals, as if they wereon a hike through a long stretch of wilderness. So the three Patrols setto work under his eye, doing so with a system and intelligence thatcalled for slight suggestion from him.
"Remember," he cautioned; "_you_ must use no more than two matches instarting a fire and a single one ought to answer."
The team with supplies had arrived from Boothbay Harbor the day before,so there was no lack of food. The first step was to build a fireplace orprimitive stove. This was done by rolling three or four large stones inposition near one another. Into the open space between them werearranged some dry shavings from a dead limb of cedar, including leaves,twigs, pine cones and pieces of heavier wood,--all set so loosely thatthere was plenty of room for draught. Then a Vulcan match, carefullyshielded from the slightest breath of wind, was applied to the featherystuff at the base of the pile. It caught at once, climbed over andthrough the more solid wood, and in a few minutes a vigorous, cracklingblaze was going. Resting on top of the irregular stones--which gave manyopenings for the flames to circulate through--the big round griddle wasplaced in position. As it caught the heat, the smooth surface wassmeared with a piece of salt pork, and then the batter of self-raisingflour was poured out. Almost immediately the upper side of the mixturebroke into numerous little holes or openings, proving that the hot ironwas doing its work. The cook slid his round flat turner under the circleof batter, flopped it over, revealing the rich golden brown of what hadbeen the lower side. Two griddles were kept going until it seemed thepancakes were beyond counting. When after a long, long while asufficient number had been prepared, thin slices of bacon were fried onthe griddle and in the surplus fat, shavings of raw potatoes were doneto a turn.
I am sure you need no instruction in the most modern methods of makinggriddle cakes, frying bacon, preparing canned salmon or trout, roastingpotatoes, baking fresh fish, grilling frogs' legs, the different ways ofcooking eggs, and making coffee, cocoa and tea. If you feel you needtraining in those fields of industry, apply to your mothers or bigsisters and they will teach you far better than I can. I advise campersout, however, not to try to bake biscuits or bread. The results are notsatisfactory and it's easier to carry it.
The most destructive scourge to which all wooded sections of our countryare exposed is that of forest fires. The last report of the ForestryCommission is that the loss in one year has amounted to five milliondollars. A vast amount of property is thus annually destroyed, and thelamentable fact remains that in many instances the conflagrations aredue to carelessness. A party of campers go into the woods, start a firefor cooking purposes and leave the embers smouldering, thinking theywill die out in a little while and cause no harm. These embers, however,may stay alive for days, be fanned into a blaze by a gust of wind, and,scattering among the dry leaves and withered foliage, swell into avarying mass of flame which sweeps everything before it.
Many states thus exposed employ fire rangers who use incessant vigilancein saving their forests. Notices are posted throughout the Maine woodswarning all against this peril. A few years ago, Congress passed a lawimposing a fine of five thousand dollars or imprisonment for two yearsor both as a penalty for maliciously firing any tract, and a lesserpunishment for causing a fire through carelessness.
When the morning meal was over, the Boy Patrols promptly extinguishedevery ember by pouring water over it until not a spark remained. Thenthe dishes were washed, dried and piled away on the shelves in theclubhouse; the bedding was aired and fuel gathered for the midday meal.By that time the sun was well up in the sky. Scout Master Hall put thetroop through a brisk military drill, and then asked them to expresstheir wishes.
The propositions offered almost equaled the number of boys. Some wishedto paddle around the lake in the two canoes. True, most of them knewlittle about the management of such craft, but every one was sure hecould quickly learn.
"All you have to do is to sit still and swing the paddle first on oneside and then on the other," was the self-complacent assertion ofKenneth Henke.
"That may be so," assented the Scout Master, "but there is a right and awrong way of doing everything, and, as a rule, a boy can be dependedupon to begin with the wrong way. You never saw a quadruped which whenthrown into the water will not swim on the first trial, as well as if hehad spent months in training, but whoever heard of a man or boy who didit?"
"I have," was the surprising reply of Alvin Landon.
In answer to the inquiring looks of the party, Alvin said:
"Chester and I have a friend, an Irish boy about our age, named MikeMurphy, that we expected would meet us here, who had never been able toswim a stroke. We have watched him try it many times, but he alwaysfailed. One day when he was asleep he was pitched overboard where thewater must have been twenty feet deep, and straightway he swam like aduck to land."
"I have heard of such instances, but they are exceedingly rare. It wasnot the case with me and I think with none of you."
There was a general shaking of heads. Then a proposal was made to fishalong shore, or to break up into small parties and ramble through thewoods, studying the different species of trees and plant life, birds,and possibly some small animals, trailing, and what may be called thefiner points of woodcraft.
It was Chester Haynes who struck fire by shouting:
"Let's have a game of baseball!"
"That's it! hurrah!" and a dozen hats were flung in air; "there's morethan enough of us to make two nines and all know the game."
"A good idea," said Scout Master Hall, who could not forget that it wasonly a few years before that he won fame as one of the best batters andshort-stops on the team of his native town.
The enthusiasm of the boys was not dampened by the discovery of severalfacts which, in ordinary circumstances, would have been discouraging. Inthe first place, there was only one ball in the whole company. Not onlywere there grave doubts about its being of the regulation make, but theseams had been started, and it looked as if the cover would be quicklyknocked off. No use, however, of crossing a bridge till you reach it.
That no one had brought a bat mattered not. It was easy with the sharphatchets to cut and trim a limb to the proper size, or near enough forpractical purposes. When Bobby Rice, with many suggestions from theothers, had completed his task, all agreed that it was an artistic pieceof work, and might well serve as a model for the regular outfitters.
No one referred to the lack of gloves and chest protectors, for onlymollycoddles would mind a little thing like that. The German students atHeidelberg are proud of the scars they win in duels, and any reputableball player is equally pleased with his corkscrew fingers and batteredface.
B
ut one obstacle for a time looked unsurmountable: where were suitablegrounds to be found?
The grassy slope which borders Gosling Lake is comparatively narrow,though of varying width. Of necessity the players would have to restraintheir ardor when it came to batting balls. If these were driven too farto one side they would drop into the water, the fielders would have toswim after them and home runs would be overwhelming. If batted in theother direction they would disappear among the trees and undergrowth,and what player can send the ball in a straight line in front of theplate?
A hurried search brought to light a tract which it was decided would dobetter than had been expected. The slope was perhaps fifty feet wide inthe broadest part, while lengthwise it extended mostly round the lake.In this place the diamond was laid out. A big flat stone served for homeplate. Scout Master Hall paced off the right distance to first base,where another stone was laid. Second base was in the wavelet whichlapped the beach, with third base opposite first. If a runner shouldslide for it, the chances were that he would keep on sliding into thelake, and he would care very little if he did. It may be said that thealleged diamond, while substantially of the right length, was verynarrow and shut in on one side by water and on the other by forest.
Bobby Snow captained one nine and Harold Hopkins the other. As thebatting order was arranged, Alvin Landon was to lead off for his side,which was the first to go to the bat. Bobby was proud of his skill as apitcher. There is a legend that on one occasion when pitching for hisschool nine, he struck three men and was hit for nine bases and a homerun in one inning. He indignantly denies the charge when it is made, andI don't believe it myself. Be that as it may, there can be no criticismof his style when he sends them over. His pose is impressive and leadsthe spectators to expect great things.
Scout Master Hall generally acted as umpire. Every one knew he was fairin his decisions and if he hadn't been nobody dare say anything. Itwouldn't pay.
All being ready, Alvin stepped to the plate, with his bat firmlygrasped. He spat on his hands, rubbed them up and down the roughsurface, tapped the stone home plate, spread his feet apart and waitedwhile every eye was fixed upon him.
Meanwhile, Bobby Snow, the pitcher, wound himself up. Standing erect tothe towering height of nearly five feet, he swung his left foot aroundin front of his right, with the toe resting on the ground, and claspedthe ball in his two palms which were held as high above his head as hecould reach. He and the batter grinned at each other.
"I dare you to give me a good ball," said Alvin tantalizingly.
"Do you want an outcurve or incurve or dip or a spit ball?"
"I didn't know you had ever heard of those things; do your worst."
Bobby with the sphere still held aloft, gravely looked around at hisout-fielders. The three almost touched elbows.
"Ty Cobb," he shouted, "move further to the left."
"I can't do it," was the mutinous reply, "without going out into thelake."
"Well, go there then."
"I'll see you hanged first; you do it."
"Don't get sassy; I'm not one of the spectators. Hans Wagner, shift tothe right."
"If I do," said the other fielder, "I'll have to get behind a tree."
"You'll be of as much use there as where you are."
"Go ahead and pitch the ball, if you know how to do such a thing."
Bobby pretended not to hear this slur, but drawing back his right arm,hurled the ball toward the plate. It was wide, but Alvin struck at it,missing by about three feet. It went past the catcher as he clawed at itand he had to hunt several minutes before finding the elusive object,which he tossed back to Bobby, who without any more remarks shot itforward and Alvin swung at it. He hit it fairly too, though harder thanhe intended. It rose some fifty feet and flitted like a flash among thetrees. Alvin hurled his bat aside, narrowly missing the umpire, and ranfor first base. Arrived there, he glared around.
"Where's second base?" he called; "Ty Cobb, you moved it!"
"It got in the way of my feet; I flung it into the lake."
"That's what I call dirty ball," commented Alvin, making a dive aheadand arriving by a roundabout route at the home plate.
Meanwhile, the ball remained missing. One player after another plungedinto the woods and joined in the search. Finally the umpire followed andthen all the other players took a hand. You know how contrary inanimatethings--as for instance a collar button--can be. That ball to this dayhas not been found, and the declaration of the umpire was justified:
"The shortest game of baseball on record; two balls pitched, one swipeand that's all."