Boy Scouts of the Eagle Patrol Read online

  Produced by Sean Pobuda. HTML version by Al Haines.

  THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE EAGLE PATROL

  By

  Lieut. Howard Payson

  CONTENTS

  I SCOUTS ON THE TRAIL II A CRUISE TO THE ISLAND III BOY SCOUTS TO THE RESCUE IV SAM IN DIRE STRAITS V THE BULLY SPRINGS A SURPRISE VI AN ISLAND MYSTERY VII SOME STRANGE DOINGS VIII THE STOLEN UNIFORMS IX THE HYDROPLANE QUEERLY RECOVERED X WINNING THE CONTEST XI A FORTUNATE DISCOVERY XII JACK FORMS A PLOT XIII THE "FLYING FISH" ON HER METTLE XIV THE EAGLES IN CAMP XV THE CHUMS IN PERIL XVI LOST IN THE STORM XVII ALMOST RUN DOWN XVIII JOE DIGBY MISSING XIX SAM REBELS XX THE HUNT FOR TENDERFOOT JOE XXI SAVED BY "SMOKE MORSE" XXII THE ESCAPE OF THE BULLY XXIII SCOUTS IN NEED ARE FRIENDS INDEED XXIV A MEETING IN THE FOG--CONCLUSION

  CHAPTER I

  SCOUTS ON THE TRAIL

  The dark growth of scrub oak and pine parted suddenly and the lithefigure of a boy of about seventeen emerged suddenly into the littleclearing. The lad who had so abruptly materialized from theclose-growing vegetation peculiar to the region about the little townof Hampton, on the south shore of Long Island, wore a well-fittinguniform of brown khaki, canvas leggings of the same hue and a soft hatof the campaign variety, turned up at one side. To the front of hisheadpiece was fastened a metal badge, resembling the three-pointedarrow head utilized on old maps to indicate the north. On a metalscroll beneath it were embossed the words: "Be Prepared."

  The manner of the badge's attachment would have indicated at once, toany one familiar with the organization, that the lad wearing it was thepatrol leader of the local band of Boy Scouts.

  Gazing keenly about him on all sides of the little clearing in themidst of which he stood, the boy's eyes lighted with a gleam ofsatisfaction on a largish rock. He lifted this up, adjusted it to hissatisfaction and then picked up a smaller stone. This he placed on thetop of the first and then listened intently. After a moment of this hethen placed beneath the large underlying rock and at its left side asmall stone.

  Suddenly he started and gazed back. From the distance, borne faintlyto his ears, came far off boyish shouts and cries.

  They rose like the baying of a pack in full cry. Now high, now low onthe hush of the midsummer afternoon.

  "They picked the trail all right," he remarked to himself, with asmile, "maybe I'd better leave another sign."

  Stooping he snapped off a small low-growing branch and broke it nearthe end so that its top hung limply down.

  "Two signs now that this is the trail," he resumed as he stuck it inthe ground beside the stone sign. "Now I'd better be off, for they arepicking my tracks up, fast."

  He darted off into the undergrowth on the opposite side of theclearing, vanishing as suddenly and noiselessly as he had appeared.

  A few seconds later the deserted clearing was invaded by a scoutingparty of ten lads ranging in years from twelve to sixteen. They wereall attired in similar uniforms to the leader, whom they were tracing,with but one exception they wore their "Be Prepared" badges on the leftarm above the elbow. Some of them were only entitled to affix themotto part of the badge the scroll inscribed with the motto. Theselatter were the second-class scouts of the Eagle Patrol. The exceptionto the badge-bearers was a tall, well-knit lad with a sunny face andwavy, brown hair. His badge was worn on the left arm, as were theothers, but it had a strip of white braid sewn beneath it. Thisindicated that the bearer was the corporal of the patrol.

  As the group of flushed, panting lads emerged into the sandy space thecorporal looked sharply about him. Almost at once his eye encounteredthe "spoor" left by the preceding lad.

  "Here's the trail, boys," he shouted, "and to judge by the fresh lookof the break in this branch it can't have been placed here very long.The small stone by the large one means to the left. We'll run Rob Blakedown before long for all his skill if we have good luck."

  "Say, Corporal Merritt," exclaimed a perspiring lad, whose "too, toosolid flesh" seemed to be melting and running off his face in the formof streaming moisture, "don't we get a rest?"

  A general laugh greeted poor Bob or Tubby Hopkins' remark.

  "I always told you, Tubby, you were too fat to make a good scout,"laughed Corporal Merritt Crawford, "this is the sort of thing that willmake you want to take some of that tubbiness off you."

  "Say, Tubby, you look like a roll of butter at an August picnic,"laughed Simon Jeffords, one of the second-class scouts.

  "All right, Sim," testily rejoined the aggrieved fat one, "I notice atthat, though, that I am a regular scout while you are only a rookie."

  "Come on, cut out the conversation," exclaimed Corporal Crawfordhastily, "while we are fussing about here, Rob Blake must be halfwayhome."

  With a groan of comical despair from poor Tubby, the Boy Scouts dartedforward once more. On and on they pushed across country, skillfullytracking their leader by the various signs they had been taught to knowand of which the present scouting expedition was a test.

  Their young leader evidently intended them to use their eyes to theutmost for, beside the stone signs, he used blaze-marks, cut on thetrees with his hunting knife. For instance, at one place they wouldfind a square bit of bark removed, with a long slice to the left of it.This indicated that their quarry had doubled to the left. The slice tothe right of the square blaze indicated the reverse.

  Suddenly Corporal Crawford held up his hand as a signal for silence.The scouts came to an abrupt stop.

  From what seemed to be only a short distance in front of them theycould hear a voice upraised apparently in anger. Replying to it werethe tones of their leader.

  "Seems to be trouble ahead of some kind," exclaimed Crawford. "Come on,boys."

  They all advanced close on his heels--guided by the sound of the angryvoice, which did not diminish in tone but apparently waxed more andmore furious as they drew nearer. Presently the woodland thinned andthe ground became dotted with stumps of felled timber and in a fewpaces more they emerged on a small peach orchard at the edge of whichstood Rob Blake and a larger and older boy. As Crawford and hisfollowers came upon the scene the elder lad, who seemed beside himselfwith rage, picked up a large rock and was about to hurl it with all hismight at Rob when the young corporal dashed forward and held his handup to stay him.

  "Here, what's all this trouble?" he demanded.

  "You just keep out of it, Merritt Crawford," said the elder lad, ahulking, thick-set youth with a mean look on his heavy features. "I'mjust reading this kid here a lesson. This orchard is my father's andmine and you'll keep out of it in future or suffer the consequences,understand?"

  "Why, we aren't doing any harm," protested Rob Blake heatedly.

  "I don't care what you are doing or not doing," retorted the other,"this is my father's orchard and you'll keep off it. You and the restof you tin soldiers. I don't want you stealing our peaches."

  "I guess you are sore, Jack Curtiss, because you couldn't get a boyscout patrol of your own! I guess that's what the trouble is,"remarked Tubby Hopkins softly, but with a meaning look at the big lad.

  "You impudent little whipper-snapper," roared Jack Curtiss, "if youweren't such a shrimp I'd lick you for that remark, but you're allbeneath my notice. All I want to say to you is keep away from myorchard or I'll give you a trimming."

  "Suppose you start now," said Rob Blake quietly, "if you are so anxiousto show what a scrapper you are."

  "Bah, I don't want anything to do with you, I tell you," rejoinedCurtiss, turning away, with a rather troubled expression, however, forwhile he was a bully the big lad had no particular liking for a fightun
less he was pretty sure that all the advantage lay on his side.

  "It was too bad you didn't get that patrol of yours, Jack," called theirrepressible Tubby after him as the big youth strode off across theorchard toward the old-fashioned farmhouse in which he lived with hisfather, a well-to-do farmer. "Never mind; better luck next time," hewent on, "or maybe we'll let you into ours some time."

  "You just wait," roared the retreating bully, shaking his fist at thelads, "I'll make trouble for you yet."

  "Well," remarked Rob Blake, as Jack Curtiss strode off, "I guess therun is over for to-day. Too bad we should have come out on his land.Of course he feels sore at us; and I shouldn't wonder but he willreally try to do us some mischief if he gets a chance."

  As it was growing late and there did not seem much chance of restartingthe "Follow the Trail" practice, that day at least, the boys strolledback through the woodland and soon emerged on a country road aboutthree miles from Hampton Inlet, where they lived.

  While they are covering the distance perhaps the reader may care toknow something about the cause of the enmity which Jack Curtissentertained toward the lads of the Eagle Patrol. It had its beginningseveral months before when the boys of Hampton Inlet began to discussforming a patrol of boy scouts. They all attended the Hampton Academy,and naturally the news that Rob Blake was going to try to organize apatrol soon spread through the school.

  Jack Curtiss, as soon as he heard what Rob--whom he considered more orless a rival of his--intended doing he also forwarded an application tothe headquarters of the organization in New York. As Rob Blake's hadbeen received first, however, and on investigation he was shown to be alikely lad for the leader, he was appointed and at once began theenrollment of his scouts.

  The bully was furious when he realized that he would be unable tosecure an authorized patrol, and he and his cronies, two lads about hisown age named Bill Bender and Sam Redding, had been busy ever sincedevising schemes to "get even" as they called it. None of these,however, had been effective and the encounter of that day was the firstchance Jack had had to work off any of his rancor on Rob Blake's patrol.

  Young Blake was the only son of Mr. Albert Blake, the president of thelocal bank. His corporal, Merritt Crawford, was the eldest of thenumerous family of Jared Crawford, the blacksmith and wheelwright ofthe little town, and Tubby Hopkins was the offspring of Mrs. Hopkins--awidow in comfortable circumstances. The other lads of the Patrol whomwe shall meet as the story of their doings and adventures progresseswere all natives of the town, which was situated on the south shore ofLong Island--as has been said--and on an inlet which led out to theAtlantic itself.

  The scouts trudged back into Hampton just at twilight and made theirway at once to their armory--as they called it--which was situated In alarge room above the bank of which Rob's father was president. At oneside of it was a row of lockers and each lad--after changing hisuniform for street clothes--placed his "regimentals" in thesereceptacles.

  This done the lads broke up and started for their various homes. Roband his young corporal left the armory together, after locking the doorand descending the stairs which led onto a side street.

  "I wonder if that fellow Curtiss means to carry out his threat ofgetting even?" said Crawford as they made their way down the street armin arm, for their homes were not far apart and both on Main Street.

  "He's mean enough to attempt anything," rejoined Rob, "but I don'tthink he's got nerve enough to carry out any of his schemes. Hullo!"he broke off suddenly, "there he is now across the street by the postoffice, talking to Bill Bender and Sam Redding. I'll bet they arehatching up some sort of mischief. Just look at them looking at us.I'll bet a doughnut they were talking about us."

  "Shouldn't wonder," agreed his companion. "By the way, I've got to goand see if there is any mail. Come on over."

  The two lads crossed the street and as they entered the post office,although neither of them had much use for either of the bullies' twochums, they nodded to them pleasantly.

  "You kids think you're pretty fine with your Eagle Patrol or whateveryou call it, don't you," sneered Bill Bender, as they walked by. "I'llbet the smell of a little real powder would make your whole regimentrun to cover."

  "Don't pay any attention to him," whispered the young corporal to Rob,who doubled up his fists and flushed angrily at the sneering tone JackCurtiss' friend had adopted.

  Rob restrained his anger with an effort, and by the time they emergedfrom the post office the trio of worthies--who, as Rob had rightlyguessed, had been discussing them--had moved on up the street.

  "I had trouble with those kids myself this afternoon," remarked JackCurtiss with a scowl, as they wended their way toward a shed in therear of Bill Bender's home, which had been fitted tip as a sort ofclubroom.

  "What did they do to you?" incautiously inquired Sam Redding, a youthas big as the other two, but not so powerful. In fact he was used moreor less as a tool by them.

  "Do to me," roared the bully, "what did I do to them, you mean."

  "Well what did you do to them then?" asked Bill Bender, as they enteredthe clubroom before referred to and he produced some cigarettes, whichall three had been strictly forbidden to smoke.

  "Chased them off my land," rejoined the other, lighting a paper rolland blowing out a cloud of smoke, "you should have seen them run. Ifthey want to play their fool games they've got to do it on the propertyof folks who'll let them. They can't come on my land."

  "You mean your father's, don't you?" put in the unlucky Sam Redding.

  "Sam, you've got a head like a billiard ball," retorted the bully,turning on the other, "it'll be mine some day, won't it? Therefore it'sas good as mine now."

  Although he didn't quite see the logic of the foregoing, Sam Reddinggave a sage nod and agreed that his leader was right.

  "Yes, those kids need a good lesson from somebody," chimed in BillBender.

  "I think we had better be the 'somebodies' to give it to them,"rejoined Jack Curtiss. "They are getting insufferable. They actuallytwitted me this afternoon with being sore at them because I didn't getmy patrol--as if I really wanted one. That Blake kid is the worst ofthe bunch. Just because his father has a little money he gives himselfall kinds of airs. My father is as rich as his, even if he isn't abanker."

  "I've been thinking of a good trick we can put up on them, but it willtake some nerve to carry it out," announced Bill Bender, after somemore discussion of the lads of the Eagle Patrol.

  "Out with it, then," urged the bully, "what is it?"

  In a lowered tone Bill Bender sketched out his scheme in detail, whileJack and Sam nodded their approval. At length he ceased talking andthe other two broke out into a delighted laugh, in which malice as muchas merriment prevailed.

  "It's the very thing," exclaimed Jack. "Bill, you're a genius. We'lldo it as soon as possible. If that doesn't take some starch out ofthose tin soldiers nothing will."

  Half an hour later the three cronies parted for the night. Sam went tohis home near the waterfront, for his father was a boat builder, andJack started to walk the three miles to his father's farm in themoonlight. His way took him by the bank. As he passed it he gazed upat the windows of the armory on which was lettered in gilt: "EaglePatrol of the Boy Scouts of America."

  "That's a slick idea of Bill's," said the bully to himself, "I canhardly wait till we get a chance to carry it out."