THE BOY SCOUTS ALONG THE SUSQUEHANNA
Or
The Silver Fox Patrol Caught in a Flood
by
HERBERT CARTER
Author of"The Boy Scouts' First Campfire," "The Boy Scouts In the Blue Ridge,""The Boy Scouts On the Trail," "The Boy Scouts In the Maine Woods,""The Boy Scouts Through the Big Timber," "The Boy Scouts In theRockies," Etc. Etc.
Copyright, 1915By A. L. Burt Company
"CLOSE IN ON ALL SIDES AND KEEP THEM WELL COVERED,BOYS!" SAID THAD. _Page 20__The Boy Scouts Along the Susquehanna._]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE I. The Tramp Chase. 3 II. Sighing for Trouble. 15 III. When Bumpus Climbed Over the Fence. 24 IV. Giraffe Admits That the Shoe Fits. 35 V. The Camp in the Haymow. 47 VI. Scouts to the Rescue. 58 VII. On the River Road. 67 VIII. Useful Knowledge. 77 IX. Any Port in a Storm. 88 X. The Deserted Shanty Boat. 96 XI. Adrift on the Flood. 105 XII. Hearts Courageous. 113 XIII. The Island of Hope. 122 XIV. Still Surrounded by Perils. 130 XV. The Return of Giraffe. 138 XVI. What Davy Heard. 147 XVII. Looking for Signs. 156 XVIII. More Serious News. 164 XIX. The Trail of the Marauder. 172 XX. Solving a Mystery. 181 XXI. An Empty Larder. 189 XXII. Drawing the Net. 197 XXIII. The Smoke Clew. 206 XXIV. The Capture. 214 XXV. Forced to Tell. 222 XXVI. The Keepers of the Camp. 231 XXVII. Headed for Home--Conclusion. 239
THE BOY SCOUTS ALONG THE SUSQUEHANNA.
CHAPTER I. THE TRAMP CHASE.
"I'm no weather sharp, boys; but all the same I want to remark that it'sgoing to rain like cats and dogs before a great while. Put a pin in thatto remember it, will you?"
"What makes you say so, Davy?"
"Yes, just when we're getting along splendidly, with the old Susquehannanot a great ways off, you have to go and put a damper on everything. Tellus how you know all that, won't you, Davy Jones?"
"Sure I will, Giraffe, with the greatest of pleasure, while we're sittinghere on this log, resting up. In the first place just notice how gray thesky's gotten since we had that snack at the farm house about noon!"
"Oh! shucks! that's no positive sign; it often clouds up, and never adrop falls."
"There's going to be quite some drops come _this_ time, and don't youforget it, Step Hen. Why, can't you feel the dampness in the air?"
"That brings it a little closer home, Davy; any more reasons?" demandedthe boy answering to the singular name of "Step Hen," but who, underother conditions, would have come just as quickly if someone had shouted"Steve!"
"Well, I was smart enough to look up the weather predictions before weleft Cranford yesterday," replied the active boy whom they called Davy,as he laughed softly to himself; "and they said heavy rains coming allalong the line from out West; and that they ought to hit us here byto-night, unless held up on the road."
"Whee! is that so? I guess you've made out your case, then, Davy,"admitted the boy called "Giraffe," possibly on account of his unusuallylong neck, which he had a habit of stretching on occasion to abnormaldimensions.
"Mebbe Thad knew about what was in the air when he told us to fetch ourrubber ponchos along this trip," suggested Step Hen, whose last name wasBingham.
There were just eight boys in khaki sprawled along that log in variousfavorite positions suggestive of comfort. They constituted the fullmembership of the Silver Fox Patrol connected with the Cranford Troop ofBoy Scouts, and the one designated as Thad Brewster had been the leaderever since the start of the organization.
Those of our readers who have been fortunate enough to possess any of theprevious volumes in this Series need not be told just who theseenterprising lads are; but for the purpose of introducing them tonewcomers, a few words may be deemed necessary in the start.
Besides the patrol leader there were Allan Hollister, a boy whose formerexperiences in the woods of Maine and the Adirondacks made him anauthority on subjects connected with outdoor life; a Southern boy, RobertQuail White, called "Bob White" by all his chums; Conrad Stedman,otherwise the "Giraffe," previously mentioned; "Step Hen" Bingham; DavyJones, an uneasy fellow, whose great specialty seemed to lie in the wayof wonderful gymnastic feats, such as walking on his hands, hanging byhis toes from a lofty limb, and kindred remarkable reckless habits;Cornelius Hawtree, a very red-faced, stout youth, with fiery hair and amild disposition, and known as "Bumpus" among his set; and last thoughnot least "Smithy," whose real name was Edmund Maurice Travers Smith, andwho had never fully overcome his dainty habits that at first had made hima subject of ridicule among the more rough-and-ready members of theSilver Fox Patrol.
There they were, as active a lot of scouts as could have been found fromthe Atlantic to the Pacific. They had been through considerable in theway of seeing life; and yet their experiences had not spoiled them in theleast.
At the time we discover them seated on that big log they were a good manymiles away from their home town; and seemed to be bent upon some objectthat might make their Easter holidays a season to be long remembered.
When Step Hen so naively hinted that the patrol leader may have suspecteda spell of bad weather was due, when he ordered them to be sure and fetchalong their rubber ponchos, there was a craning of necks, as everybodytried to set eyes on the face of Thad. Of course Giraffe had theadvantage here, on account of that long neck of his, which he oftenthrust out something after the style of a tortoise when the land seemsclear.
"How about that, Mr. Scout Master?" asked Bumpus.
Thad Brewster had a right to be called after that fashion, for he hadduly qualified for the position, and received his commission from scoutheadquarters, empowering him to take the place of the regular scoutmaster, when the latter could not be present. As Dr. Philander Hobbs, theyoung man who gave of his time and energies to help the cause along,found himself unable to accompany the scouts on many of their outings,the necessity of assuming command frequently fell wholly on Thad, who hadalways acquitted himself very well indeed.
Thad laughed as he noted their eagerness to hear his admission.
"I'll have to own up, fellows," he went on to say frankly, "that I didread the paper, just as Davy Jones says happened with him; and when I sawthe chances there were of a storm coming down on us, I made up my mind weought to go prepared. But even if we didn't have a rubber poncho along Iwouldn't be afraid to wager we'd get through in pretty decent shape."
"That's right, Thad," commented Giraffe; "after scouts have gone the
limit, like we did down South last winter, when the schoolhouse burned,and we had a fine vacation before the new brick one was completed, theyought to be able to buck up against nearly anything, and come out of thebig end of the horn."
"Horn!" echoed Bumpus, involuntarily letting his hand fall upon thesilver-plated bugle he carried so proudly, and the possession of whichtold that he must be the bugler of the troop--"Horn! that reminds me Ihaven't had a chance to use my dandy instrument only at reveille and tapsfor quite some time now."
"Well, don't start in now, Bumpus, whatever you do," remonstrated StepHen. "To my mind a horn's a good thing only on certain occasions. Now,when I'm just gettin' the best sleep after sun-up it's sure a shame tohear you tooting away to beat the band."
"But none of us make any sort of a row when he blows the assembly at mealtimes, I notice," Smithy remarked sagely; and not a protest was raised,showing that in this particular the members of the patrol wereunanimously agreed.
The last exploit of the scouts had taken them into the Far South, in factamong the lagoons and swamps of Louisiana; and although some months hadsince passed, it would seem as though the events of that thrillingexperience were still being threshed out whenever the eight boys cametogether.
Thad was an orphan, living with an uncle, a quaint old man whom everyoneknew as "Daddy." Acting from information that had been received in around-about way, the leader of the scout patrol had organized anexpedition to go South during the unexpected vacation, to look for acertain man who had once worked for his widowed mother, and was suspectedof having been concerned in the mysterious disappearance of Thad's littlesister, Pauline, some years back.
The boys had carried this enterprise through to a successful termination;and after meeting with many thrilling, likewise comical adventures, hadactually traced this man, and managed to recover the child; who was now ahappy inmate of the Brewster home, the pride of old Daddy's heart.
Judging from the numerous burdens with which the eight boys were weighteddown it would seem that they must be in heavy marching order, after themanner of troops afield. Each fellow carried a blanket, folded so as tohang from his shoulder, and with the two ends secured under the otherarm. Besides, he had a haversack that looked as though it might containmore or less food and extra clothing.
Giraffe also sported a frying-pan of generous dimensions; another scoutcarried a coffee pot; and doubtless the necessary tin cups, knives,forks, platters and spoons would be forthcoming whenever needed.
The convenient log which served the boys as a seat lay close to the roadalong which they had been tramping for hours that day, making inquirieswhenever a chance offered, and picking up clews after the fashion of realscouts.
As the reason for their coming to this part of the country has everythingto do with our story, it had better be explained before we follow Thadand his chums any further along the rather muddy road that led acrosscountry to the Susquehanna River.
Just a couple of days before the coming of the Easter holidays Thad hadbeen asked over the 'phone to come and see Judge Whittaker, one of themost respected citizens of Cranford. Wondering what the strange requestcould mean, the patrol leader had immediately complied, after school thatsame afternoon.
He heard a most remarkable thing, and one that thrilled his nerves asthey had not been stirred for many a day. The Judge first of all told himthat he had long observed the doings of the scouts with growingadmiration, and finding himself in need of assistance of a peculiarorder, made bold to call upon Thad to help him.
Shorn of all unnecessary particulars, it would seem that the Judge,obeying a whim which he now called the height of foolishness, and whilewaiting for a new safe to be delivered from New York to take the place ofthe one that had to be opened by an expert because the time-lock had gonewrong, had actually sewed a very valuable paper in the red lining of anold faded blue coat which was hanging in his closet, and which he kept asa memento of the time his only son served in the engineer corps of thearmy.
It seemed that as the Judge had married again, his wife was not very fondof seeing that old blue army overcoat with the red lining hanging around;and thinking it a useless incumbrance, she had figured that it would bedoing more good shielding some poor tramp from the cold than justtempting the moths in that closet.
And so it came about that one day, upon looking for the army coat, theJudge discovered to his utmost dismay that it could not be found. When heasked his wife, she was compelled to admit that three days before, afterpitying a shivering hobo who came to the door and asked for food, she hadobeyed a sudden generous instinct and given him the warm if faded blueovercoat.
The Judge was in a great predicament now. His first thought was to startout in search of "Wandering George" himself, and buy back the coat, whichthe hobo could not imagine would be worth more than a dollar or so at themost. Then, when he remembered his rheumatism, and how unfitted for sucha chase he must be, the Judge gave this plan up.
His next idea was to send to the city and have a detective put on thetrack; but he had a horror of doing this, because he fancied that most ofthese professional detectives were only too ready to demand blackmail ifgiven half a chance; and there was something about that paper which JudgeWhittaker did not want known in a public way.
And just about that time he happened to think of Thad and his scouts;which gave him an inspiration. He felt sure they would be able to followthe hobo who wore the faded army overcoat, and in due time come up withhim. Then Thad was to offer him a few dollars for the garment, using hisdiscretion so that the suspicions of the tramp might not be aroused.
It promised to be a pretty chase, and already they had been on the roadfor the better part of two days, here and there learning that a manwearing such a coat had been seen to pass along. Part of the time theyhad tramped the ties of the railroad, but latterly the chase had stuck tothe highway.
Now, acting on the suggestion of the sorrowful Judge, Thad had not toldany one of the scouts, saving his close chum Allan, what the real reasonof the hunt for the lost army coat meant. The others simply fancied thatJudge Whittaker valued the old garment highly because his only son, nowin Alaska, had worn it during the Spanish-American war, and was unwillingto have it come to such a disgraceful end. All they thought about was thefun of tracking the hobo and eventually bringing back the old engineercorps overcoat to its late owner. That was glory enough for Step Hen,Giraffe, Bumpus and the rest. It afforded them a chance to get in theopen, and imagine for a time at least that they were outdoing some ofthose dusky warriors who, in the good old days of "Leatherstocking" andothers of Cooper's characters, roamed these very same woods.
"If you feel rested enough, fellows," Thad now told them, "perhaps we'dbetter get a move on again. The last information we managed to pick uptold us this Wandering George, as he likes to call himself, can't be agreat distance ahead of us now. In fact, I'm in hopes that we may runacross him before night comes and forces us to go into camp somewherealong the river."
Accordingly, the other scouts sprang to their feet, everyone trying tomake out that he was as "fresh as a daisy," though poor fat Bumpus gavean audible groan when he pried himself loose from that comfortable log.He was not built for long hikes, though possessed of a stubborn naturethat made it hard for him to give up any object upon which he had set hisheart.
"Yes, we've rested long enough," admitted Giraffe, who, being tall andslim, was known as a fine runner, and long distance pedestrian. "Sorry tosay there won't be any wagon following us to pick up stragglers; so ifyou fall down, Bumpus, better stop at the first farmhouse you strike, andwait till we come back."
This little slur only caused the fat scout to look at the speakercontemptuously; but from an unexpected quarter help came.
"Huh! you certainly do like to rub it into Bumpus, Giraffe, because he'sbuilt on the heavy order," Step Hen went on to say; "but go slow, my boy.Don't you know the battle isn't always to the swift or the strong? Haveyou forgotten all about the race between the hare and the tortoise
; anddidn't the old slow-moving chap come in ahead, after all? I've knownBumpus to beat you out before this. You may have to use a crow-bar to gethim started sometimes; but once he does move he don't let little thingsbalk him. Besides, it ain't nice of you nagging him because he happens toweigh twice as much as you do. Bumpus is all right!"
"Thank you, Step Hen; I'll remember that," observed the freckled-facescout, as he gave his defender an appreciative grin.
Down the road they went, straggling along without any particular order,because Thad knew from past experiences he could get better work out ofhis followers when they relaxed. Still, they kept pretty well bunched,for whenever the conversation started up none of them wished to lose aword of what was said.
On the previous night they had been forced to make a temporary shelterwith all manner of fence rails, boughs from trees, and such brush as theycould find. Having their blankets along, and being cheered with a campfire during the night, the experience had been rather delightful on thewhole.
These energetic boys had been through so much during the time theybelonged to the Cranford Scouts that nothing along ordinary lines seemedto daunt them. They were well equipped for meeting and overcoming suchdifficulties as might arise to confront them on a trip like the presentone; in fact, they took keen delight in matching their wits against allcomers, and a victory only served to whet their appetite for moreproblems to be solved along the line of woodcraft knowledge.
For something like half an hour they pushed steadily along. Bumpus, inorder to positively prove to the sneering Giraffe that he was in the bestof condition, had actually pushed ahead with the leaders. If he limpedoccasionally he did his best to conceal the fact by mumbling somethingabout the nuisance of stepping on pebbles and being nearly thrown off hisbalance; a ruse that caused the said wily Giraffe to smile broadly, andwink toward Step Hen knowingly.
However, this disposition of their forces enabled Bumpus to make adiscovery of apparently vast importance, which he suddenly communicatedto the rest in what he intended to be a stage whisper:
"Hey! hold on here, what's this I see ahead of us, boys? Unless my eyeshave gone back on me, which I don't believe they have, there's the smokeof a fire rising over yonder alongside the road; and Thad, tell me, ain'tthere a couple of trampy looking fellows sitting on stones cooking theirgrub? Bully for us, fellows, I wouldn't be surprised a bit now if we'dgone and ketched up with our quarry right here and now!"
Every scout stared as Bumpus was saying all of this. They saw that smokewas undoubtedly rising close to the road, showing the presence of a fire;while their keen, practiced eyes, used to observing things at longdistances, told them that in all probability the two men who occupied theroadside camp belonged to the order of hoboes; for their clothing showedsigns of much wear and tear, and moreover they were heating their coffeein old tomato cans, after the time-tried custom of the tramp tribe thecountry over.
Naturally, under the circumstances, this discovery caused their hearts tobeat with additional rapidity as they contemplated an early closing oftheir campaign.