The Boy Scouts of the Flying Squadron — Edition Insights

Bud had not been very successful in his wonderful inventions. They were apt to disappoint him in the severe testing out. Theory might be all very well, but when it came to practice there was generally a screw loose in his figuring that could not be tightened; and, in consequence, trouble often perched on Bud's shoulders.

During the late summer and early autumn he had been working on some idea that seemed to have taken hold of his mind to a greater extent than any previous effort had ever done. His chums knew of it, but no one had been able to coax Bud to let them share his confidence.

When the time came that Bud could not contain his secret any longer, he had gone to the leader of his patrol and confessed. At the same time he managed to interest Hugh to such an extent that the other promised to go off with him during the few days of grace granted by the school authorities around "turkey-eating time" in late November, so as to give his new invention at least a fair trial.

And this was why they had started so soon after the annual big dinner, which fact in itself spoke volumes for the grit and determination of the two lads. Few boys would have been in condition to walk three miles during the balance of the day.

They knew one fellow at least, Billy Worth, also a Wolf scout, who was so fond of eating that doubtless at this very moment he was stretched out at full length on the sofa in his den at home, trying to figure how ever he could partake of supper after disposing of such a stupendous amount of turkey and fixings.

In the previous stories of this series, the reader who may have been fortunate enough to peruse them has come to know both Hugh and Bud pretty well. They have been followed through many adventures calculated to prove their worth as scouts, and, taken on the whole, it will be admitted that in most cases the boys carried off the honors. In the Wolf patrol, as well as among the Otters, Hawks, and Foxes, there were other lads who were also animated by the same sort of progressive spirit, and who never allowed an opportunity to improve their minds or to broaden their knowledge of Nature escape them.

After taking up their heavy burdens again, Hugh and his comrade walked on for some time through the woods. The leaves were well off the trees, though the oaks still held their brown mantle, being the very last to shed their summer coat. It had frozen quite hard for several nights previous, and some of the town boys had cherished vague hopes that there might be ice for the Thanksgiving holidays, a custom that used to prevail years before, according to the accounts given by their parents. As yet, however, only a covering an inch or so thick had settled on the ponds, and of course the running river showed no signs of congealing, so that skating would have to be postponed to a later date.

Around the two scouts there lay a complete wilderness of trees. Had they searched high and low it is doubtful whether they could have found a more lonely spot within twenty miles of home.

Stormberg Mountain, on which many of their previous adventures had taken place, reared its peak on the right; and Rainbow Lake was within two miles of their present location. In selecting this place for their little outing, Bud had probably figured that the chances of their being disturbed or spied upon by any of the curious town boys would be very slight. And, like all modest inventors, Bud was very shy about showing off until he could be certain that he had actually something worth talking about to display.

The sun had seemed to hesitate upon the horizon, but now it took a sudden dip below the earth's rim, and Bud exclaimed:

"Say, did you see the sun just slide out of sight then, as though he was ashamed to leave us in the dark? This place has all grown up since I was here last, so I hope we'll get to the shack before night really sets in."

"We will all right, Bud, so don't worry any," laughed Hugh, whose aim it seemed to be to take things as philosophically as possible, especially when they could not be changed. "Right now I'm beginning to recognize some familiar things around us. There is that chestnut that has thrown out three young suckers. When it gets big, it will make a land-mark worth talking about. I noticed it the last time I was through these woods."

"Yes, like as not," grumbled Bud, who was very tired, "if the old chestnut bug that's killing all the trees in the next county doesn't get up here next year and put the kibosh on our fine nut trees for keeps. Oh! look at that rabbit spin out of that brush pile! He's on the jump, let me tell you! Hugh, I'm beginning to recognize some things around here, too, that I remember must have been close to the shack. There's the meadow clearing that I had in my mind when choosing to come away up here to try out my latest wonder. Yes, and as sure as anything, I can hear the singing of that little waterfall just below the big spring."

"It seems to tell _me_ that I'm thirsty enough to stop and get a drink before going on. The shack lies just back of that screen of trees and bushes, anyway," Hugh remarked, as he turned slightly aside and headed directly toward the quarter from whence that melodious song arose.

Apparently Bud was of the same mind, for he instantly followed suit. In another minute both scouts had deposited their packs on the hard ground and were kneeling at the rim of the little basin where the clear water, bubbling up from the sand, ran away in a busy stream that as yet had not felt the chilling hand of Jack Frost.

Each boy produced a collapsible metal cup with which he could dip into the sparkling spring. This is a much better way than bending down and sucking in great quantities of water, without knowing what impurities may be swallowed. Some scouts on their tramps even carry a small filtering stone such as is used in the army, and this is considered a wise precaution by thoughtful scout masters.

"Well, that tastes pretty fine," remarked Bud, after he had drunk his fill and carefully replaced his cup in its receptacle; "and now to get under cover. I reckon the very first thing we ought to attend to is getting a supply of wood indoors, so as to make the old shanty feel comfortable. I never think of a camp without seeing a camp fire as the best thing in it. It is that that binds scouts together more than any other part of the outdoor game, I think. Does it strike you that way, too, Hugh?"

"Yes, I came to that conclusion," replied the leader of the Wolf patrol, "after watching how anxious the boys always were to get plenty of fuel ready long before night came. Then you know a fire stands for grub time, too, and that always appeals to scouts who have done lots of things during the day to tire themselves out."

"That's so, I've had heaps of fun just watching Billy Worth's eyes dance while he hauled firewood into camp. With every armful he seemed to be saying, 'There, that's going to help cook our supper to-night! And we're going to have fried onions, and potatoes and ham omelette!' I had half a notion to ask Billy to come along with us on this trip, but somehow I hated to think of the fun he'd poke at me in case my wonderful invention turned out to be a fizzle, like so many of them have in the past. I knew _you_ wouldn't give me away, Hugh, if that happened,---and if I lived to tell the tale! Well, I hope I can get my pack on my back again for the last hundred feet; but it comes harder every time. Thanks awfully for the poke, Hugh; it did the business. Now I'm in harness and ready to go on."

The two weary scouts staggered more or less as they started to push through the last barrier of trees and brush. They knew that they would speedily discover the long deserted shack there among the second growth thicket of young trees. Indeed, it was hardly half a minute later when Bud came to a sudden halt, at the same time saying in a hoarse whisper:

"Hugh, look there, will you? There's a light in the shanty! What do you think of the meanness of that? After we've come all the way up here just to keep to ourselves, then to find somebody camping on the ground! Shucks! It makes me feel as if it was a bad omen, and right in the start, too!"

The two boys stood there looking for a full minute. Hugh had discovered the presence of a light in the cabin about the same time that Bud mentioned the fact. It could be seen shining through the aperture that had once been used as a window. There was no glass in this now, and a heavy shutter, hung on rusty hinges, gave the only means of keeping out the cold air, though this had not been closed by the unknown party within.

"Whoever can it be?" muttered the disgusted Bud, doubtless begrudging that long tramp from the road where the friendly farmer had dropped them.

"Perhaps some one who's thinking of using the old shanty as headquarters while trapping this season," Hugh replied. "You know Ralph Kenyon used to take quite a lot of pelts around this region before he joined the scouts and changed his mind about that sort of thing."

"Then you don't think it could be a hobo?" queried Bud with a relieved vein in his voice.

"Well, tramps nearly always stick close to the railroads, you know," the other observed with the air of one who had made it a point to take note of such happenings; "and besides, what hobo would think of wandering away up here so far from a base of supplies? But we can settle all that easy enough, Bud."

"By going on and breaking in on him, you mean?" questioned the other eagerly.

"Yes, though perhaps first of all we'd do well to creep up and take a look in at that opening. A scout should be sure of his ground before he takes a leap. It isn't always so easy to go back again."

"All right, Hugh, let's start right in and have a squint at him. Seems to me I get a whiff of cooking, don't you?"

"Yes, I noticed that, Bud; and also that he's got a fire burning in there. You can see it flicker, and that wouldn't happen if the light came from a lantern, or even from a torch."

"Smells good, too. That fellow knows how to cook, whoever he is," remarked the other scout, sniffing eagerly at the air as he spoke. Hours had passed since dinner-time and they had had a hard tramp.

They advanced quickly though cautiously. Their hearts were beating faster than usual, perhaps because they had been carrying heavy loads. Then again there was a chance that the moment's excitement had considerable to do with the quickening of their pulses.

Arriving alongside the wall of the lonely cabin that had been built many years before by a man who meant to start a farm up in this region, the boys hastened to glue their eyes to the opening.

What they saw astonished them and at the same time relieved their feelings. There was but a single occupant of the cabin, and he a boy about their own age, also dressed in the khaki uniform of a scout. He was busily engaged in cooking some supper, and apparently did not suspect the presence of any one near by.

"Why, it's Ralph Kenyon!" gasped Bud. "Whatever can he be doing all by himself up here?"

Hugh could give a guess. He knew that in times past the young chap in question had made it a practice to trap the little wild animals that might still be found in the woods and swamps of that region, for the sake of the money he could get for their fine furry pelts. This was before he joined the scouts, which was soon after valuable ore had been discovered on the Kenyon farm and a strip of land sold to the railroad, these transactions placing the family on a secure financial foundation.

Evidently as the cold weather came on, Ralph had been tempted to wander over to his old stamping-grounds, not to set traps as of yore or shoot any of the timid woods' animals for the sake of their warm coats, but just to revive old recollections.

He had evidently fetched his double-barrel shotgun along with him, since it stood in a corner; and he was evidently cooking a brace of fat quail which he must have managed to knock down on his trip up here.

From the way he cocked his head just then it seemed as though Ralph must have thought he had heard some strange sound. Perhaps Bud had spoken louder than he had meant to do. But then there was no need of further holding back. Ralph was a member of the same troop as themselves, and while perhaps Bud would have preferred not increasing the number of witnesses to his own triumph or rank failure, he saw that it could not be helped. And Bud was one of those who can make the best of a bad bargain. Besides, Ralph was a good fellow, and generally well liked by his companions.

Instead of calling out and telling the boy inside the shack that a couple of weary wayfarers had arrived and meant to join him, Hugh saw fit to give the recognized signal of the Wolves: "_How-oo-oo_!" twice repeated.

Then as Ralph sprang to the door to take away the prop with which he had secured it, Hugh and Bud pushed into the interior of the cabin.

Ralph stared at them but seemed decidedly pleased, for he instantly thrust out his hand in friendly greeting.

"Well, well, who'd think you would drop in on me as if you came from the skies?" he was saying as he worked Hugh's arm like a milkman's pump handle. "You see, I've been coming out here for several years every Thanksgiving afternoon to set my first traps of the season; and while I don't expect ever to do it again, I just couldn't keep from spending one night in the woods to revive old recollections. But I'm tickled to death at the idea of having company, for it does get mighty lonesome sometimes. Whatever are you doing up here, Hugh and Bud?"

So, as Hugh waited for his companion to explain, Bud began to tell how he had been up to his old tricks again and believed that he had invented something that was going to be a stunning success; also, that he had coaxed accommodating Hugh to go off with him in order to try it out in secret.

"Of course, since we find you in possession of the shanty where we meant to put up for one or two nights," Bud continued, with a grin, "why, I'll have to let you share my secret tomorrow when we start to try it out. Till then don't ask questions and I'll tell you no lies. And I want to inform you right now that what you're cooking for supper sets my nerves on edge, it smells so good."

"That's lucky," remarked Ralph, "for I have just four more fat juicy quail on hand. I made a double shot into a covey that got up in the brush. If you fellows say the word, I'll start right away to get them ready for the pan."

"You'll do nothing of the kind," chuckled Hugh, who, like Bud, had deposited his burden in a corner, "we're only too glad of a chance to help pluck a few feathers ourselves. It's enough that you make us a present of what you meant probably to take home to your mother."

"Oh! I can get others later on," observed Ralph, as he pointed to the little heap of brown and black feathers which marked the spot where the unused birds lay. "You see, she's not feeling very well, my mother, I mean, and somehow quail on toast always appeals to her. But while you're working there, let me make more coffee. Have you got cups and such things along in your packs, boys?"

"We have," declared the overjoyed Bud; "and this bird is just prime; never saw a fatter one, I declare. Say, Hugh, we didn't expect such a bully treat as this, did we, when we aimed to get here in time to cook supper?"

Preparations progressed rapidly. As Ralph had already stowed away quite a large quantity of wood for use during the night, that labor was spared the two late arrivals, which fact pleased Bud very much. He could work as hard as the next one when interested in what he was doing, but gathering fuel had never appealed to him in the same way it did to Billy Worth, who was all the time figuring out what splendid things the wood could be used to cook.

As the three boys sat around eating the evening meal, they chatted in a lively manner. Hugh told how he and Bud had had a fine lift by means of the farmer's wagon, and then continued:

"I suppose you started this morning, and on that account missed your Thanksgiving turkey, Ralph? But you said your mother was not feeling well; and so perhaps the feast has been postponed at your house to a more convenient time?"

"Just what it has," replied the other. "You see my married sisters are expected home on Saturday night, and so mother decided to let the big dinner go until Sunday, when we'll all be together again. I just took a snack to munch on at noon, and brought some things to cook. I got here two hours back, and had plenty of time to fix things as I wanted them for my one night out."

"Perhaps you'll make it two, if we decide to stay that long, eh, Ralph?" asked Bud, who was feeling much more warmly toward the other since partaking of the delicious quail. "You see, we've got plenty of rations along for three, and you'd be as welcome to share with us as a shower in June."

"I'll see about that to-morrow afternoon, Bud," replied the other. "But before I forget it, I want to tell you boys about a couple of queer men I happened to see while coming through the woods not more than a mile or so away from here."

"P'raps timber prospectors" suggested Hugh; "I've known of such men to come up in this region trying to spy out new fields for operating their destructive saw-mills. Somehow I hate to see the forest wiped out that way. A tree takes some hundreds of years to mature, and then it goes down in a heap, to be sawed up into boards. It seems like a shame to me every time I think of how the timber is disappearing. I believe in the work of the Forest Reserve Board. It's high time this country began to think of keeping what it's got before everything is lost. But tell us about these men that you saw. They were not tramps, Ralph?"

"Oh, no, they were dressed too well for that," replied the other quickly. "I happened to sight them in time to duck behind a tree, and they never once suspected that anybody was near. One was a tall, thin man, a German, I thought, while the other was dark and short,---fact is, I took him for a Chinese, a Japanese or a Korean from the color of his skin and his black bristling hair."

"That sounds interesting, anyway!" commented Bud. Then he added with a little amused laugh, "P'raps they've heard in some mysterious way, Hugh, how a celebrated young inventor named Bud Morgan means to try out his latest wonderful stunt, and they hope to steal the concrete result of his budding genius. But go on, Ralph. What did they do that looked suspicious?"