The Boy Patrol on Guard

  Produced by Roger Frank and Sue Clark

  The Balmy Afternoon Passed Rapidly]

  THE BOY PATROL SERIES

  The Boy Patrol On Guard

  BY

  EDWARD S. ELLIS

  Author of "The Flying Boys Series," "The Launch Boys Series," "The Deerfoot Series," etc., etc.

  ILLUSTRATED BY EDWIN J. PRITTIE

  THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY PHILADELPHIA

  Copyright, 1913, by The John C. Winston Company

  PRINTED IN U. S. A.

  Dedication

  Without asking permission, and as a partial recognition of the example set by them in their daily lives, walk and conversation, I have taken the liberty of dedicating these volumes to

  George Albert ("Bert") Hall Scout Master of Blazing Arrow Patrol, Troop 2 and his Boy Scouts, Charles A. Chase, Patrol Leader; George Robe, Corporal; Kenneth Henke, Kenneth Mitchell, Robert Snow, Ernest Oberlander, Colgate Craig, Robert Rice, Hubert Wood and Harold Hopkins.

  CONTENTS

  I--A Prospective Tenderfoot II--Lost In the Woods III--The Hermit of the Woods IV--The Training of the Tenderfoot V--How "Knot" to Do Several Things VI--How Two Millionaires Did a Good Turn VII--On Gosling Lake VIII--The "Instructor In Woodcraft" IX--The New Tenderfoot X--A Few Native Trees XI--A Lesson In Trailing XII--How It Was Done XIII--A Bit of Detective Work XIV--The Story of Johnny Appleseed XV--Other Neighbors XVI--The Sunbeam of Gosling Lake XVII--An "Injin" Story XVIII--The Echo of a World Tragedy XIX--A Queen And Her Subjects XX--What Did It Mean? XXI--How It Happened XXII--Sunshine

  CHAPTER I--A Prospective Tenderfoot

  One bright sunshiny day in the summer of 1912, a boy some seventeenyears old awoke to the fact that he had lost his way in the depth of thewoods of southern Maine.

  He was a sturdy Irish youth, with red hair, freckled face, a fine set ofteeth, an exhaustless fund of good nature, humor and wit, of pugnacioustemperament, like so many of his people, but so truthful and chivalrousthat every one with whom he came in contact speedily grew to like him.

  Now, if you have _idled_ your time in reading my "Launch Boys" stories,you will recall this lad, Mike Murphy by name, for they gave a prettyfull record of his adventures on the Kennebec and along its shores. Inorder to make clear the incidents that follow I must add a few words ofexplanation.

  Mike, as you may recall, was gifted with a voice of marvelous purity andsweetness. His singing of several Irish songs on the steamer crossingthe Atlantic enthralled the listeners and so roused the admiration of afamous prima donna that she offered to prepare him for the operaticstage, but there was nothing attractive in such a career to the modestlad. He preferred the simple life with its invigorating ozone andfreedom. During the winter months he was one of the most regularattendants at the school in Boothbay Harbor, where, under the skilfultutelage of Professor Herbert E. Bowman, he made rapid progress in hisstudies. So with warm thanks to the distinguished songstress, he passedup the proposition.

  Mike's father was caretaker for the millionaire capitalist, GideonLandon, of New York, who had built a fine bungalow on the southern endof Southport Island, where the Irishman, his wife and the son Mike dweltin a cottage near the large structure. A little way to the south was thehome of Chester Haynes in a bungalow less pretentious than the other.Alvin Landon and Chester Haynes were chums, the former being the ownerof a splendid launch, the _Deerfoot_, in which the three boys met withmore than one stirring adventure. Although Mike knew nothing about themanagement of a boat, Alvin made him his first mate, and thus opened theway for the experiences that have been related elsewhere.

  Hardly had the summer's sport begun for the three boys with their motorboat, when the machinery broke down disastrously. It was plain that thecraft would have to go to the repair shops in Portland before it couldbe of any further use to them. Accordingly, it was towed to that city,with the natural request that work should be rushed. The reply came backthat there was such a congestion in the shops that it would require twoor three weeks to complete the job. You know what that always means. Thetime is sure to be much longer than named, and it may be said the boysknew such would be the fact. It was a keen disappointment to them, butthere was no help for it and they accepted the situation like truephilosophers.

  This incident, trifling of itself, brought consequences to our youngfriends of which none of them dreamed. Alvin and Chester while at homehad become interested in the admirable Boy Scout organization, and hadjoined the Blazing Arrow Patrol, of which their old friend "Bert Hall"was Scout Master. He was arranging for an outing in the Adirondacks withthe Stag and Eagle Patrols, when the plan was changed for reasons thatwill soon be explained. Their destination became Gosling Lake insouthern Maine, a few miles back in the woods from the Kennebec River.

  Alvin and Chester decided to bear them company as tenderfeet. Theyprovided themselves with natty uniforms, and, knowing the size requiredfor Mike, sent a suit by express to him with the request that he shouldjoin them in the hike to the cool twilight of the pine woods.

  "It would never do to go without him," said Alvin; "he will be the lifeof the camp and will make a model Boy Scout."

  "The hardest task will be to cure him of his love for fighting," addedChester; "he can get up a first class shindy in ten minutes, no matterwhere he is placed."

  "There won't be anything of the kind with the Scouts, for it isimpossible; they are taught to detest fighting and Mike is always sochivalrous that he is never the aggressor. I prophesy there won't be amore peaceable boy in camp than he."

  "It is to be hoped so," commented Chester with a dubious shake of hishead.

  When the garments arrived Mike was mystified. He lifted them out of thebox and held them up for the inspection of himself and parents. Hisfather took his pipe from his mouth, squinted an eye as if aiming a gunand gravely remarked:

  "It's a Sunday suit meant fur _me_,--there's no doubt of the same."

  "Ye're mistook, dad, as much as ye were last night whin ye picked upthat red hot coal thinking it was a cold pratie. The garments areintinded either for mither or mesilf, as will be told whin we try 'emon."

  It cannot be denied that Mike looked "nifty" in his uniform, whichfitted him as if he had been melted and poured into it. The hat was ofolive-drab felt, with eyelets in the crown for ventilation and enoughstiffness to keep its shape; breeches of olive-drab khaki cut full andwith legs laced below the knee and with belt guides and pockets;leggings or puttees of waterproof army duck; poncho; shirt of olive-drabflannel with two bellows pockets, open front, coat style; coat of samematerial as breeches, with four bellows pockets, straight collar, dullmetal buttons with Boy Scout emblem; an ordinary belt; shoes, broad,high and strong and of soft tan leather; a haversack of waterproofcanvas, with leather straps, buckles and separate pockets, scout emblemon the flap--these were the chief garments in which Mike Murphycarefully arrayed himself. He turned slowly around as if on a pivot forhis parents to admire. At the same time, he strove to twist his headabout so as to gain a view of the rear, but it cannot be sai
d his effortwas successful.

  "It is sthrange that the lad didn't sind any word of explanition,"remarked the father, after a search in the box and the different pocketsfailed to bring anything in the nature of a letter to light.

  "He may have sint it through the mail--begorrah! how come I to furgitit?"

  "What's the matter wid ye?" asked the mother as her son leaped to thechair over which he had hung his discarded clothes and began a vigorousfumbling of them. From the hip pocket of his trousers he drew a creasedand soiled envelope, glanced at it and handed it to his father.

  "Is that yer name writ on the same?"

  The astonished parent turned it over, held it off and then drew itcloser.

  "If me name is Pathrick Murphy the letter is for me, fur that is what iswrit on the outside. How long have ye been toting that about thecounthry?"

  Mike reflected for a moment.

  "To-day is Wednesday; let me think,--yes, it was last Monday morningthat I was handed the letter by the postmaster at Boothbay Harbor,--hebeing afeard to trust ye wid the same, fur fear ye would not give it toyersilf."

  "Why didn't ye hand it to me before this?"

  "I forgot, dad, as Tim O'Shaughnessy said after moving back the wellcurb and then slipping down the well. Shall I spell out the words furye?" asked Mike as his father ran his stubby finger under the flap ofthe letter and ripped it apart.

  "If ye think ye're able to know writing, ye may thry yer hand."

  Mike unfolded the slip and read aloud the contents. The letter was fromAlvin Landon and had been mailed before the uniform was sent. All wouldhave gone right had the missive been addressed to Mike, but Alvin, withhis fine sense of propriety, had written directly to the parent, askingconsent for his son to spend several weeks with the Boy Scouts in campon Gosling Lake. There was no question in the writer's mind as to suchpermission being granted.

  Following this request were some sentences for Mike himself. Afterdirecting him how to reach the sheet of water, Alvin added:

  "Chester and I have become 'Tenderfeet' as they are called, which is thelowest grade among the Boy Scouts. Your name has been proposed by us andwe see no reason why you should not be accepted. But before that cantake place, you must pass the examination, which with some studying I amsure you will be able to do. It isn't likely you can find any one atSouthport or Boothbay Harbor to help you, nor is it necessary. What youmust know is:

  "The Scout law, sign, salute and meaning of the badge (Chester and I canteach you that in a few minutes); the composition and history of ourcountry's flag and the usual forms of respect due it. (This is learnedas easily as the other); and you must be able to tie four of thefollowing knots: square or reef, sheet-bend, bowline, fisherman's,sheepshank, halter, clove hitch, timber hitch or two half-hitches.

  "I think you told Chester and me that on your trip across the ocean youmade friends with several of the sailors, who taught you how to tie anumber of knots. If this is so, you will have no trouble on that score.So you see you have not much preparation to make. I tell you, Mike, thisis the finest thing of the kind in the world and is just what you need.You will have plenty of fun, which you know is your chief aim in life,with a fair prospect of becoming a gentleman (I trust).

  "We expect to reach Gosling Lake in time to get into our quarters onWednesday and shall look for you to be there to help us with our work."

  "And this is Wednesday morning!" repeated Mike in dismay; "what have thepoor byes done widout me to give them suggistions?"

  "They have done a good deal better than had ye been wid them," repliedhis mother; "being ye have delayed so long, it's best ye bide at home."

  With a start Mike looked at her, but the twinkle in her blue eyes showedfrom which parent the son inherited most of his waggishness.

  "I must be off," said he, springing to his feet. He would have been outof the house the next minute had not his father checked him.

  "Show a little sinse even if ye niver had any; ate a big maal, which yecan do at any time no matter if it be in the middle of the night; putsome money and yer knife, watch and compass in yer pocket. Take thatbuckthorn shillalah, with which I have cracked many a hid at Donnybrook;then hie ye to Boothbay Harbor and hire some one to take ye to the rightspot up the Sheepscott and then thramp through the woods, as ye havebeen towld to do to Gosling Lake, comporting yersilf like a gintleman,and not make yer father and mither ashamed of ye as ye have done many atime."

  This counsel was so wise that the impulsive youth could not object.Despite the completeness of his uniform and equipments more than onething was lacking. He needed toilet articles, a change of underclothing,needles, thread and a number of trifling conveniences, which athoughtful mother never forgets.

  Thus it came about that early in the afternoon Mike walked to Southportand there boarded the little steamer _Norman II_, and soon thereafterlanded at Boothbay Harbor, full of eager expectancy, and little dreamingof the remarkable experience that awaited him.