Part 19 (1/2)

”Maybe we can set a springle and snare some,” hopefully suggested Tubby, as a way out of the difficulty; ”that wouldn't be as bad as shooting them, you know, and I can build a springle that will strangle them instantaneously.”

”No fair, Tubby,” laughed Rob. ”You know, a boy scout promises to obey the law, and the game law is as much a law as any other.”

Arrived at the L wharf, the boys found the Flying Fish and Captain Hudgins' Barracuda waiting for them. With much laughter they piled in--their light-heartedness and constant joking reminding such onlookers, as had ever seen the spectacle, of a band of real soldiers going to the front or embarking for foreign stations.

With three ear-splitting cheers and a final yell of, ”Kr-ee-ee-ee-ee!”

the little flotilla got under way.

They arrived at the camping ground at the northeast end of the island before noon, and found that the ”pioneers” appointed by Rob had done their work well. Each tent was placed securely on a level patch of sandy ground, cleared from brush and stamped flat. The pegs were driven extra deep in antic.i.p.ation of a gale, and an open cook tent, with flaps that could be fastened down in bad weather, stood to one side.

A small spring had been excavated by the pioneers, and an old barrel sunk in place, which had filled in the night and now presented sparkling depths of cool, clear water.

”I suppose that water is all right, captain?” inquired Leader Rob, with a true officer's regard for his troops.

”Sweet as a b.u.t.ternut, son,” rejoined the old man. ”Makes the sick strong and the strong stronger, as the medicine advertis.e.m.e.nts say.”

For the present, the cooking was to be done on a regular camp fire which was built between two green logs laid lengthwise and converging toward the end. The tops of these had, under Commodore Wingate's directions, been slightly flattened with an axe. At each end a forked branch had been set upright in the ground, with a green limb laid between them. From this limb hung ”cooking hooks,” consisting of green branches with hooked ends at one extremity to hang over the long timber, and a nail driven in the other from which to hang the pots.

”That's the best form of camp fire, boys,” said Commodore--or perhaps we would better call him scout master now--Wingate, who had accompanied the boys to see them settled. ”Now, then, the next thing to do is to run up the Stars and Stripes and plant the Eagle flag. Then you'll be all O.K.”

Little Andy Bowles made the woods behind them echo with the stirring call of ”a.s.sembly,” and halliards were reeved on a previously cut pole, about fifteen feet in height. The Stars and Stripes were attached, and while the whole company stood at attention and gave the scout salute, Scout Master Wingate raised the colors. Three loud, shrill cheers greeted Old Glory as it blew bravely out against the cloudless blue.

”That's a pretty sight now, s.h.i.+ver my timbers if it ain't,” observed old Captain Hudgins, who had stood, hat in hand, during the ceremony.

”I've seen Old Glory in many a foreign port, and felt like takin' off my hat and givin' three cheers fer the old flag; but I never seen her look better or finer than she does a-streakin' out from that there bit of timber.”

”Now, Patrol cooks,” was Scout Master Wingate's next command, ”it's only an hour to dinner time, and we want the first mess to be right.

Come on, and we'll get the pot boiling.”

Cook duty fell that day to Hiram Nelson and Walter Lonsdale, and under the scout master's directions they soon had potatoes peeled, beans in water, and a big piece of stew meat chopped up with vegetables in a capacious pot.

After every errand to the store tent, Walter was anxious to know if it was not yet time to light the fire.

”Never be in a hurry to light your fire when you are in the woods,”

rejoined the scout master; ”otherwise you will be so busy tending the fire you won't be able to prepare your food for cooking. Now we're all ready for the fire, though, and you can bring me some dry bark and small sticks from that pile of wood the pioneers laid in yesterday.”

This was promptly done, and the lads watched the next step with interest. They saw the scout master take a tiny pile of the sticks and then light a roll of bark and thrust it into them.

”I thought you piled them up all criss-cross,” remarked Hiram.

”No woodsman does that, my boy,” was the rejoinder. ”Now get me some larger timber from that pile, and I'll show you how to go about it like regular trappers.”

The fire builder shoved the ends of the sticks into the blaze and then the bean pot was hung in place.

”We won't put the potatoes on now, as they take less time,” he remarked; ”those beans will take the longest.”

Soon the heat was leaping up about the pots, and the cheerful crackle and incense of the camp fire filled the air. As the sticks burned down the scout master shoved the ends farther into the blaze, instead of throwing them on top of it.