The Banner Boy Scouts

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  The Banner Boy Scouts

  Or The Struggle for Leadership

  By GEORGE A. WARREN

  THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING CO.CLEVELAND, O. NEW YORK, N.Y.

  Copyright, MCMXII

  by CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY

  _Printed in the United States of America_

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER

  I A Meeting in the Barn

  II What it Means to be a Boy Scout

  III The Disappearing Coins

  IV The First Scout Leader

  V Checking a Coward

  VI A Strange Suggestion

  VII The Trap that Peleg Set

  VIII Turning the Tables

  IX "Well Done, My Boy!"

  X An Unexpected Offer

  XI Caught Napping

  XII The Rival Troops

  XIII "Fire!"

  XIV Jack's Chance

  XV The Honor Brand

  XVI The Fire Test

  XVII Clearing Skies

  XVIII Carlo Does His Turn

  XIX The Warning Over the Wire

  XX Such Glorious Luck

  XXI The Meeting

  XXII Scouting in Earnest

  XXIII The Red Car

  XXIV A Call for Help

  XXV A Camp in the Woods

  XXVI What Woodcraft Told

  XXVII Ted Finds Something

  XXVIII Forced to Tell

  XXIX The Capture

  XXX Found Out at Last

  XXXI Well Done, Stanhope Troop!--Conclusion

  PREFACE

  My Dear Boys:

  Knowing that ninety-nine lads out of every hundred love outdoor lifeabove all else, I have taken it upon myself to give you a series ofwhat I hope will prove to be clean, wide-awake, up-to-date stories,founded upon a subject that is interesting our whole nation--the BoyScouts of America. You know what a hold this movement has taken uponthe rising generation of our broad land. There never was anything likeit before--there never may be again.

  At first many people made the mistake of believing that it was simply anew military order, and that boys who joined were to be taught the dutiesof soldiers, and learned how to fight. They know better now. It is reallythe greatest movement for Peace ever started. Not only that, but the ladswho belong to this vast organization are taught how to be manly, selfreliant, brave, courteous, kindly and steadfast.

  When you examine the roster of the officers who have loaned their namesto help along the good cause you will find such honored signatures asthose of President William Howard Taft, ex-President Theodore Roosevelt,and many others dear to the hearts of our boys.

  This glorious field opens up a very tempting opportunity for a series ofstirring stories concerning the fortunes of _real_ Boy Scouts, who havegone into the movement heart and soul, with a desire to excel in all theyundertake; and at the same time enjoy themselves hugely. I only hope andtrust that you may be pleased with what you read in this book, about thedoings of the Red Fox Patrol, of Stanhope Troop, and that the storywill do you much good.

  Yours faithfully,

  George A. Warren.

  THE BANNER BOY SCOUTS

  CHAPTER I

  A MEETING IN THE BARN

  "All here now, Paul!"

  "Call the roll, somebody, won't you?"

  "Keep quiet, fellows, please!"

  "Shall I strike a match, Paul?"

  "Not on your life, Bobolink. That crowd of Ted Slavin's is out, lookingfor us. Somebody must have leaked, or else Ted was tipped off. We've gotto be mighty cautious, I tell you, if we want to give them the slip."

  "S-s-say, d-d-don't you k-k-know we've got a fi-fine b-b-barn on ourp-p-place, fellows?"

  "For goodness sake; won't somebody please pound Bluff Shipley on theback, and make him bite his twisted tongue, so he can talk straight?"cried a pleading voice.

  "Listen!"

  There must have been a streak of authority in the tone used by PaulMorrison when he spoke this last word; every one of the other six boyscrouched there, craning his neck, and listening to catch the unusualsound that had apparently reached the trained ears of their leader.

  The woods surrounded the boys on all sides, gloomy, and full ofmystifying noises.

  Yet Paul knew full well just what every one of the sounds meant. An owlcalled mournfully to its mate from a hollow tree. Katydids and merrycrickets added their shrill music to the chorus of that late summernight. Even a colony of tree frogs solemnly chanted their appeal for"more rain."

  During the day just ended six fellows in the thriving town of Stanhopehad received urgent telephone calls from Paul, who was an only son of theleading doctor in the place.

  And each boy had promised to meet him at the Three Oaks by the time theclock in the church steeple had struck eight.

  It was even now booming out the hour.

  When the last stroke died away, the most impatient among the gatheredboys moved restlessly.

  "Follow me, fellows," said Paul, in a low, thrilling tone.

  "Where are we heading for?" queried one, who had as yet failed to expresshis feelings in the matter.

  This was Wallace Carberry, the sober member of the pair known farand wide as the Carberry Twins; his mate, William, being his exactcounterpart in every particular, when he chose to repress thegood-natured grin that usually marked his fate.

  "To the Shipley barn; single file; and silence is the watchword!"

  Paul Morrison had long enjoyed the confidence of his comrades in mostmatters pertaining to outdoor sports. A healthy lad, both in mind andbody, he was never so happy as when studying the secrets of Nature inwood and meadow; or in playing any of the various strenuous games towhich all boys with red blood in their veins are addicted.

  And when he sent out his mysterious request that some of his mostintimate friends meet him on this night, as he had a communicationof importance to put up to them, the greatest curiosity made itselfmanifest.

  Paul never suggested ordinary things. More than once he had engineeredsome game that brought honor and glory to the boys of Stanhope; andremembering these satisfactory "stunts" of old, it was no wonder thesefellows had come to the place of meeting without a single exception.

  With Bluff Shipley close upon the heels of the leader, and Robert OliverLink, whose name had long since been corrupted into Bobolink, bringingup the rear, the seven lads trailed through the woods, following somepath with which they were evidently more or less familiar.

  Several times Paul gave a recognized signal that caused every one of thebunch to stop short, and turn his head on one side in the endeavor todiscover whether hostile footsteps could be heard in their rear.

  But although there were doubtless many rustling sounds, the boys laidthese to the bright-eyed little denizens of that strip of woodland. Toooften had they watched the chipmunks and red squirrels hunting for nutsunder the already falling leaves, not to know that the forest was peopledwith these harmless animals.

  After five minutes more there loomed up before them the dark outlines ofa huge barn that seemed rather out of place here on the border of thewoods.

  This belonged to the father of Bluff, who, being a prosperous tobaccogrower in this valley, used the place to cure the product of his broadfields, after it had been harvested in the fall.

  Paul had been carrying some sort of package in his hand, and the boys forsome time amused themselves in guessing its nature. When he took off thepaper it stoo
d revealed as a lantern, ready for lighting.

  "Show us the way inside, Bluff. Then we'll have a little light on thesubject," remarked the leader, with a last anxious searching look around;as though he still entertained suspicions that their march to the oldbarn might have been observed by some of the hostile Slavin crowd.

  Ted Slavin had long been known as the bully of Stanhope; for it seemsthat there never yet existed a village or town without some big chapexercising that privilege. He was a fighter, too, and able to hold hisown against the best. Besides, Ted had shown some of the qualities thatindicate a natural leader; though he held the allegiance of those whotrailed after him mostly through fear, rather than any respect for hismanly qualities.

  His leading crony for the past year had been Ward Kenwood, son of thewealthy banker who was also a leading real estate owner in the place.Once upon a time Ward would have scorned the thought of associating withSlavin and his crowd; but an occasion had arisen whereby he had need ofa strong arm to even up a score, and once he found himself indebted toTed he kept on in the bully's company.

  His rivalry in many fields with Paul had much to do with his throwing hisfortunes in with the other fellows. And nothing pleased him more than tobe able to upset any calculations the latter entertained. That explainedwhy Paul was anxious to avoid a meeting with the Slavin crowd on thisparticular night, when he was brimming over with a great idea.

  Once the boys had entered the barn, Bluff secured the door, after whicha match was quickly lighted.

  "Now, here we are, safe and sound, and not an enemy around. Suppose youopen up, Paul, and get this load off our minds," said Albert Cypher, whoseldom heard his own name among his friends, but was known far and wideas Nuthin'.

  But what else could a lad expect who was so unfortunate as to findhimself afflicted with such a name as A. Cypher?

  "Yes, what's it all mean, Paul? You haven't even taken me in, you know,and I'm as much in the dark as the next fellow," remarked Jack Stormways,reproachfully; for being Paul's closest chum he might have expected toshare his confidence.

  "Wait a bit. We might as well make ourselves comfortable while we'reabout it. I'll sit down on this box, and the rest of you gather around onthe floor. I've got a big proposition to make, and you want to listencarefully."

  "T-t-take c-c-care of the lantern, f-f-fellows; my d-d-dad's w-w-wantingthis old barn f-f-for his t-t-tobacco crop, and he'd b-b-be some put outif it b-b-burned just now!" came from Bluff.

  Finding perches on various low piles of waste left over after theshipment of the last crop, the six lads gathered around Paul, eagernessstamped on every beaming face.

  "Now, what's the idea that struck you this time, Paul?" demandedBobolink.

  "I'll tell you without any beating around the bush, fellows. The thoughtcame to me that Stanhope was away behind the times. Other towns notnearly so big, have one or more troops of Boy Scouts. Why shouldn't weget up one here?" and Paul waited to hear what the response would be.

  The six who sat in a ring looked at each other as though stunned by theproposal. It was strange, indeed, that no one had up to this time takena lead in advancing such a thing.

  "Bully idea, Paul!" ejaculated Jack, slapping a hand on his kneeenthusiastically, as though it appealed to him most decidedly.

  "Well, I declare, to think that nobody ever mentioned such a grandmovement before. Count me in right from the start!" said WallaceCarberry--sober Wallace, who usually measured his words as though theywere golden.

  "And me too," observed Bobolink.

  "Ditto for William!" called out the other Carberry Twin, grinning withdelight.

  "G-g-guess I'd make a bully good t-t-tenderfoot!"

  "That's the best thing you ever thought up, old chap," came from Nuthin'.

  "Hurrah! every county heard from, and not one contrary word. It looksas if there might be something doing right soon around this region,"declared Paul, naturally pleased because his proposition had met withsuch unanimous satisfaction.

  "Tell us more about it, please. I've read about the Boy Scouts; but mymother would take a fit if she thought I was practicing to become asoldier. You see, I had an older brother, who enlisted to go out withsome of the boys when we had our little fuss about Cuba and thePhilippines; and poor Frank died in camp of typhoid fever. I'll have ahard time winning her over, and the dad, too," remarked Bobolink, sadly.

  "Well, that's where you make a big mistake, Bobolink. Over in England,where the Boy Scout movement started, it has some connection with thearmy, because there, you see, every fellow expects at some time to servehis country as a soldier, or on board a naval vessel. But here inAmerica, the movement is one for peace."

  "Then what's all the doings about?" asked Nuthin', as if puzzled.

  "I know, and Paul is right about it," came from Wallace Carberry, alwaysquite a reader of newspapers and magazines.

  "Let him tell then. I'm for the game, no matter what it means," criedBobolink.

  "And I think Bluff knows something about it, for he said he would do forthe lowest grade of scout, which is the tenderfoot. But I don't think anyof you are qualified to take even that degree; for a tenderfoot mustfirst be familiar with scout law, sign, salute, and know what his badgemeans; he must know about our national flag, and the usual forms ofsalute due to it; and be able to tie some seven or eight common knots.How about that, Bluff?"

  "N-n-not guilty!" promptly answered the one addressed.

  "Say, that sounds interesting any way. Tell us some more about this,Paul!" exclaimed William, always eager to hear of anything that smackedof novelty.

  "Well, there are two more degrees a fellow can climb up to, asecond-class scout, and a first-class scout, full fledged. After that, ifhe wants to keep right on there are merit badges to be won for excellingin angling, athletics, camping, cooking at the campfire, taxidermy, firstaid to the injured, handicraft, life saving, path-finding, and a lotmore."

  "Now you've got me stuck on this new game," cried Bobolink, excitedly."The more you explain the better I like the idea. Me for the Boy Scouts,fellows!"

  "Hear! Hear! Paul, the idea is yours, and we vote unanimously that youoccupy the exalted position of scout master--I know that every troop hasto have such a head, and you're better fitted for the job than any fellowin town!"

  "Yes," laughed Paul, "but unfortunately, I believe a scout master has tobe over twenty-one years of age."

  "Who knows the ways of the open like our Paul? He's the right man in theright place. Say, are there any books on the subject, that we can get,and learn more about this thing?" asked Wallace, who seemed to beparticularly well pleased.

  "I've already sent for a manual, and expect it by to-morrow; when we canfind out all about it. But wishing to be posted when I put the question Iwent over the river to Aldine to-day, and saw some of the boys there whobelong to the Scouts. They made me more anxious than ever to start apatrol in our home town."

  "But I've seen something about a troop?" remarked Jack Stormways, who,Paul thought, seemed unusually sober for a boy ordinarily light-hearted.

  "Yes, a troop takes in say, three local posts called patrols, each ofwhich has eight members. It is known by a number, as Troop One of Boston;and each minor organization takes a name of some animal, such as wildcator fox. If it is called Fox, every boy belonging to it is supposed to beable to bark like a fox, so as to be able to signal a comrade whilescouting in the woods."

  "Ginger! but that does sound interesting," declared William.

  "It's j-j-just immense, that's w-w-what!" was Bluff's opinion.

  "Listen! I heard a laugh as sure as anything!" exclaimed Paul, lifting ahand to indicate silence; and every one of the group assumed an attitudeof expectancy.

  As they waited there suddenly came a tremendous crash, as some objectlanded forcibly against the wooden side of the old barn. It was instantlyfollowed by a second bang, and others came quick and fast, until thenoise might be likened to a bombardment from a hostile battery.

  "It's the S
lavin crowd!" called Bobolink, excitedly jumping to his feet."They followed us here after all, and have been listening to every word!"

  "All hands to repel boarders!" shouted Paul; and with a cheer theseven boys rushed over to the door, out of which they sprang, benton retaliating on their tormentors.