The Wolf Patrol: A Tale of Baden-Powell's Boy Scouts

'A very good piece of work indeed, No. 1,' chimed in the instructor; then he turned to his brother. 'Well, Richard,' he said in quiet triumph, 'this is one up to the boy scouts, I think.'

'It is, Jim,' returned the senior partner; 'there's no mistake about that. A movement which trains youngsters to be cool and level-headed in this fashion ought to be supported.'

At this moment Inspector Bird, who had been searching the vessel generally, came back to the group below the companion. He had been given a general idea of Chippy's work in the discovery of the stolen goods, and now he wished to question the scout.

'First thing,' he said, 'did you know either of the men?'

'No,' said Chippy; 'I never saw their faces, and the only way I could spot one of 'em 'ud be becos he'd lost a finger.'

'Lost a finger!' cried Mr. Jim Elliott. 'Why, Luke Raper's a finger short!'

'Ah, ha!' said Inspector Bird; 'this begins to look like narrowing it down, gentlemen. It seems to me the sooner we have a talk to Mr. Luke Raper, the better.'

'We'll go back to the warehouse,' said the senior partner, 'and see whether your man has Drought Raper up to the mark.'

So back to the warehouse they went, leaving one of the watermen to guard the goods on the Three Spires until they could be removed. But there was no Luke Raper at the warehouse, nor was he ever seen there again. The police found that he had vanished from his lodgings, leaving no clue whither he had gone, and he was never traced. Chippy always felt certain that he was the timorous partner of the pair of thieves, and had fled because he feared implication in the murder which he believed had been committed.

Almost at the same time a wild, drunken longshoreman, known as Spitfire Bill – a name which his savage temper had earned for him – disappeared from the wharves of Bardon River, and very possibly he was Raper's accomplice. No one could say, for neither man was ever brought to book; but Raper's guilt was certain, for every other man about the place could account for himself clearly, and none other than Raper had a deformed hand.

Mr. Elliott wished to give Chippy a handsome reward, but the Raven steadily refused to take it. 'Can't be done,' was his reply. 'Yer see, theer's Law 2 an' the back end o' Law 5; they'm dead agin it.'

However, Mr. Elliott did something which filled Chippy and his followers with immense delight. He rigged out the Raven Patrol, from their leader down to No. 8, in full khaki scout's rig, so that when they went out in friendly competition or on a scouting-run with their friends the Wolves it was hard to say which patrol was the more smartly turned out.

CHAPTER XXVII

DICK'S GREAT PLAN

No one was more delighted to hear of Chippy's clever work in connection with the robbery than his fellow patrol-leader, Dick Elliott. Part of Dick's delight, if the truth must be told, was on his own account. 'Now,' he said to himself, 'if I can only get permission to go myself, I ought to be sure of Chippy as my companion for the week.'

What did this mean? It meant that Dick was turning over in his mind a splendid plan which he had formed for Whitsun week, if only he could gain permission to carry it out.

He was burning to go a real scouting journey – a journey upon which he would be cast upon his own resources, sleeping under the sky, or in a hay-loft or barn, and marching through the country, patrol staff in hand, taking what might come. He thought it would be splendid if he could set out on such a tramp with Chippy for a companion; and surely, after Chippy's splendid bit of work for the firm, it would be easy to beg for a week's holiday for him.

The Grammar School was always closed in Whit-week for local reasons. The fine old building stood at one side of the wide market-place, and this place was the scene of a great annual fair – a fair as old as the town itself, and possibly older. In former days, when manners were ruder and rougher, the school had not been closed during Whitsun Fair, and traditions still existed among the schoolboys of wild pranks played by their predecessors among the booths and stalls. In this way enmity arose between the boys and the fair-folk – an ill-feeling which had more than once given rise to pitched battles and serious rioting, as the town records went to prove. So towards the close of the eighteenth century the practice arose of closing the school during the fair, and forbidding the boys to frequent the market-place. During the hundred years and more that had passed since then the fair had fallen off very much, but the Whit-week holiday was still given at the school.

Dick's first move in the matter was to go to his uncle and lay the whole affair before him, including his hopes of having Chippy as a companion.

'I don't see that you could come to much harm in a few days,' said his uncle, when Dick had finished. 'I suppose you want me to back you up with your father and mother.'

'That's just it, uncle,' cried Dick; 'if you'll only do that, I shall be awfully glad.'

'Well, go ahead,' said his uncle; 'I'll do what I can for you.'

Even with his uncle's help Dick had some difficulty in gaining his parents' consent. At last his father was struck with a brilliant idea, which he thought would settle the affair very neatly. 'We'll let him go, as he's so keen on it,' said Mr. Elliott to his wife; 'but we'll soon have him back. I've thought of a plan.' And he explained it.

That evening Dick was in the schoolroom busy with his lessons for the next day, when he was summoned to the study, where his father was sitting by the fire with the evening paper.

'Well, Dick,' said Mr. Elliott, 'about that scouting idea of yours, now.'

'Oh, father,' burst out Dick, 'I can go, can't I? And Chippy as well? I'm sure you ought to be willing to spare him for a week.'

'Perhaps, perhaps,' laughed Mr. Elliott; 'but wait a little. I'm going to put a plan before you, to take it or leave it. Here it is: You shall start Whit-Monday morning, and I'll give you a couple of half-sovereigns. One will be for the expenses of yourself and your companion – '

'Hooray! Chippy's coming!' yelled Dick.

'Your companion on the road,' went on Mr. Elliott; 'and you must give me your word as a scout that you will not go outside that ten shillings for any expense whatsoever. The other half-sovereign is for your rail-fare home as soon as you are on your beam-ends – and that will be pretty soon, I shouldn't wonder. It will cover you up to sixty miles third-class, and you're not likely to get outside that radius on your feet.'

'And we can stay out till the ten shillings is gone, father?' cried Dick.

'Up till Saturday night,' returned Mr. Elliott. 'You must be home again before Sunday.' He chuckled as he said this, for he did not suppose for an instant that the scouts' trip would last more than a day or two. 'They'll soon run through a trifling sum like ten shillings,' he had said to his wife, 'and then, in honour bound, they must return.'

Dick gave his word joyfully, and returned to the schoolroom to gloat over the happy time ahead, when a pair of brother scouts would march out upon the world in search of adventure. The next day he sought out Chippy, and imparted the glorious news. The Raven's eyes glittered again at the thought of such a splendid time, and he entered into the romance of the thing with a zest even deeper than Dick's own; for Chippy's life had known little change and little real pleasure until the boy scouts' movement had claimed him for its own.

'We'll camp same as in the books,' cried Chippy, his voice huskier than ever in his excitement; 'an' we'll practise them dodges o' cookin' the grub, so as we'll eat on the cheap. Ten bob! Why, ten bob! We'll goo fur on ten bob!'

'And it will be all right about your wages for the week, Chippy,' said Dick; 'I've settled about that with Uncle Jim. He laughed, and said he rather fancied the firm wouldn't grumble at that.'

Chippy smiled and nodded, and then the boys plunged into eager discussion of things they must do and master in order to be ready for this noble trip.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE SCOUTS MARCH FORTH

At seven o'clock on Whit-Monday morning the sun's rays fell on the backs of two boys marching westwards from Bardon at the scout's pace: Dick and Chippy were on the road. They were in full scout's uniform, and Chippy, in his new rig, looked as smart as Dick. Their hats and shorts were of khaki shade, their shirts grey flannel, their neckerchiefs and shoulder-ties of their patrol colours, their coats rolled at their waists with spare socks and vests tucked away in the pockets, their haversacks slung over their shoulders. In their haversacks there was no food at present, for they had to purchase everything they would need from their precious ten shillings; but each carried a blanket which Mrs. Elliott had found for them. Then Chippy carried a tin billy – a present from their instructor – and Dick bore, slung at his belt, a tiny axe, tomahawk shape, its head weighing fourteen ounces. This was intended for cutting wood; and, beside the axe, each had a strong, sharp jack-knife, with spring back, so that the blade could not close on the fingers. Being patrol-leaders, each wore his badge on the front of his hat, and had a lanyard and whistle; and thus accoutred, with patrol staff in hand, they marched on their way.

'I hope it will keep fine, Chippy,' said Dick; 'we can't afford to pay money for lodgings. How long do you think we shall be able to keep going on our money – till the end of the week?'

'Hope so,' replied Chippy. 'I don't want to goo back till we're obliged.'

'Nor do I,' cried Dick. 'Well, there's the last of Bardon for a bit.'

They looked back from a little ridge, and saw the spires of the town over a row of poplars.

'Ta-ta, Bardon,' said Dick. 'We mean to have a look at Newminster before we see you again.'

'We do,' grunted Chippy.

Newminster was a famous cathedral city rather more than forty-five miles from Bardon. To go there and back would mean a tramp of some ninety miles in the six days, and that would be a very fair achievement to carry out on ten shillings for all expenses. The boys talked over ways and means as they went on. 'We got to look out for everythin' we can pick up as 'ull help us,' said Chippy.

'I see,' replied Dick; 'we must try to live on the country. That would be real scout style, Chippy. But it isn't a hostile country; we can't take anything.'

'No, no,' agreed Chippy; 'no pinchin', o' course. Still, theer's things to be had in places. Fish, now – we could cop some fish in some rivers wheer it's free to put a line in.'

'I never thought of fishing,' said Dick; 'that's a good idea. But we've got no rods or tackle.'

Chippy gave a chuckle, and dived a band into a pocket of his shorts. He drew out a hank of fine cord and a screw of paper. In the paper were half a dozen hooks on gut. 'That's all as we want,' he remarked. 'Wait till we come acrost a river wheer there's suthin' to cop.'

'Good for you, Chippy,' laughed Dick. 'A few fish will help us along in style. Only we mustn't poach.'

'No, no,' said Chippy; 'we'll play fair.'

By eleven o'clock the boys had made, with occasional halts, just about eight miles, and both had the knot out of their neckties. Dick had seen an old cottage woman labouring at her well, and had lent her a hand with the heavy bucket, and drawn all the water she would want for the day, while Chippy had sprung forward to hold the pony of a lady who was visiting a sick woman in a cottage near by.

In connection with Chippy's good turn, a discussion arose between the two scouts as they marched on from the hamlet where these things had happened. The lady had offered Chippy sixpence, and, of course, he had refused it.

'Now, look 'ere,' said Chippy; 'o' course, I didn't tek' the sixpence, becos the knot worn't out o' me neckerchief, an' the job worn't worth sixpence, nohow, an' we got to do all them sorts o' things for nuthin', by orders. But s'pose I did a job for some'dy as was really worth sixpence, an' I'd done me good turn that day, could I tek' the sixpence to help us along? It 'ud come in uncommon handy. An', besides that, we're allowed to earn money, though we mustn't beg it or tek' it for little trifles as we ought to do for nuthin'.'

Dick looked puzzled, and thought for a moment before he spoke.

'What you say is very true, Chippy,' he said at last, 'and if you like to earn some money for scout work, why, that's all right. But I don't think we could use a single farthing of it for this trip. You see, we're bound to the ten shillings.'

'Righto, Wolf,' said the faithful Raven; 'but if some'dy offered us a drink o' milk for a hand's turn, or summat like that, I s'pose there'd be no wrong theer?'

'No, I should think not,' replied Dick. 'That would be living on the country in an honest sort of way, and on good scouting lines.'

'Just so,' said his fellow scout. 'I don't mind a rap how it goes, as long as we understand one another. Now we'll look out for a good place to mek' our fust halt.'

At the general shop of the hamlet they had made their first purchases and broken into the ten shillings. They had bought enough flour to fill a ration-bag for sevenpence, two ounces of tea for twopence-halfpenny, a penny packet of baking-powder, half a pound of brown sugar for a penny farthing, and the old woman who kept the shop had thrown a lump of salt as big as Dick's fist in for nothing. So they had spent elevenpence three-farthings, and their purchases were stowed away in the linen bags which Dick and his sister had made ready for the trip.

'Big hole in a bob for a start,' commented Chippy; 'but we must stretch the stuff out.'

'Oh, the flour will make us a heap of chupatties,' said Dick. 'We'll get a lot more to eat for the money than if we'd spent it in bread.'

'Rather,' said Chippy, 'an' we'll want it, too. Here's a spring. Just the place to fill the billy.'

He filled the big tin, and then they looked round for a spot to make a fire. Fifty or sixty yards past the spring a grassy cart road turned aside from the track, and they went down it for a hundred yards till they reached a quiet sunny corner.

Chippy set the billy down, and both turned to and built a fire, at which they were now pretty expert. First they gathered a dozen handfuls of dried grass and made a little heap. Over this heap they built a pyramid of dried twigs and tindery sticks gathered at the foot of the hedgerow. A match was set to the dried grass, and a little red flame sprang swiftly up and began to curl about the twigs and sticks. Now the boys were busy scouting here and there for large sticks to pile again in a bigger pyramid above the burning heap, and in a corner where hedge-cuttings had been flung in the previous winter they found plenty of fuel. Soon they had a capital fire, and the billy was put on to boil, while Dick turned his hand to the chupatties.

He unrolled his coat, and spread it on the ground with the lining upwards. Upon the lining he made a heap of flour, and formed a hole in the centre with his hand. Into this hole he poured hot water from the billy, and added a little salt and baking-powder. Then he mixed the whole well together, kneading and working it with his hands, the latter sprinkled with flour to prevent the dough from sticking to his fingers. Finally he had a couple of flat buns or cakes of dough. In the meantime Chippy had been getting the fire ready. A good pile of red-hot wood ashes had gathered in the centre of the burning sticks. When the dough was ready these ashes were swept aside, and the cakes laid on the hot earth. Then the ashes were piled round the cakes, and they were left to bake.

When the chupatties were nearly baked, the billy was boiled up again, and some tea and a handful of sugar thrown into it. Dick had cut a long skewer of wood to try the cakes, and he now pronounced them done. They were taken from the ashes and set to cool, while each scout fished a tin mug out of his haversack. Soon they were seated at their first meal, a thousand times more happy than any two kings.

CHAPTER XXIX

WINNING A SUPPER

While they ate the chupatties with the relish gained by their morning's tramp, and washed them down with steaming hot tea, they looked over the map which Dick had spread between them.

'Here we are,' said Dick, putting his finger on the very cartway itself, which was clearly shown in the capital map.

Chippy nodded.

'Lemme see,' murmured the latter. 'Wot's the best way to head arter this?'

The two scouts were steering clear of all high-roads and beaten tracks. They were both agreed that there was no fun in tramping along under telegraph wires and in the dust of motor-cars. Anyone could find his way where there was a row of milestones and finger-posts to keep him straight. They were marching purely by the map, following byways and narrow, hidden country lanes, and unfrequented tracks which led by moor and heath and common. There was another immense advantage, too, in moving by such routes. Not merely was it excellent scouting practice, but it afforded them quiet places for camping. It is not easy to camp along a high-road: there are too many people about. No sooner does the smoke of the evening fire begin to rise than a squad of village loungers turn up to watch the preparations, or perhaps, worse still, someone in authority arrives, and forbids the campers to halt in that spot.

'Lemme see,' murmured Chippy again. 'Here's a river; that's about seven mile again, as fur as I can mek' out.'

Dick measured the distance. 'Just about seven miles,' he said.

'Wot d'yer say to campin' pretty handy to it to-night?' went on Chippy.

'So that you can try your hand on the fish, eh?' laughed Dick.

Chippy nodded.

'All right,' said Dick, 'we'll strike out for it. We shall have to do about two miles along a main, then we can branch off again, and get up to the river in very quiet country. See, there's hardly a house marked on the map.'

'All the better for mekin' a camp,' said Chippy; and Dick agreed.

When they had finished their meal they lay in the sunshine, chatting and watching the fire die away. Before they left they took care that every ember was extinguished, so that no harm could come to the place where they had made their halt.

It was about two o'clock when they resumed their journey, and they moved at an easy pace, with the aim of reaching their camping-ground towards five. That would give them ample time to make their preparations for the night.

Until four o'clock the march was quite uneventful, then Chippy had an adventure with a baker's cart. They were passing through a village whose street was spanned at one end by a railway bridge. Near the bridge stood a cottage lying well back from the road, and as the scouts passed, a baker drove up, and went to the cottage with his basket on his arm.

While he was at the door, a train whizzed up and thundered over the bridge, and the horse took fright and dashed away, galloping up behind the two boys. Both of the latter began to run with all their might in the same direction as the horse, which soon caught them up. He was about to pass them on Chippy's side when the Raven flung aside his staff, and seized the shaft with his right hand, and thus was enabled for a few yards to keep an equal speed with the horse. Then Chippy gripped the near rein with his left hand and tugged with all his might. The terrified creature was not yet too wild with fear to fail to answer to the pull on the bit, and swung round to the left. In this way the scout managed to jam the frightened brute's head into the tall bank, and thus pulled it up. In dashed Dick and seized the other rein, and between them the scouts held the horse until the baker ran up and helped them to secure it.

The baker was profuse in his thanks – above all, when he had looked over the horse and cart, and found that neither was a penny the worse, thanks to the Raven's clever manoeuvring.

Chippy scratched his jaw thoughtfully, then spoke up:

'D'ye reckon it's worth a loaf to ye – a big un?'

'A loaf!' cried the baker, 'it's worth every loaf I've got in the cart, and more, too. The mare might have broke her leg and the cart been smashed, and I gave three-and-twenty pound for the mare less 'n a fortnight ago.'

'We'll let it go at a loaf,' murmured Chippy; and the baker picked out the best he could find and gave a thousand thanks with it. Chippy put the loaf in his haversack, and the scouts trudged on.

'It'll stretch our flour out a bit,' said Chippy, and Dick grinned.

'After all, Chippy,' he said, 'the loaf was well earned, and no mistake. I don't see that we're not playing fair by picking up things like that.'

'I don't see aught wrong in that,' replied the Raven; 'that's living on the country in as straight a way as can be, I reckon.'

Beyond the village they climbed a rise to a ridge, and at the crown of the ascent they looked ahead, and saw a wide valley before them, with a shining stream winding its way through a green river-flat.

'There's the river, Chippy,' said Dick, 'and there goes the road up the side of the valley, turning away from the river.'

He pointed to the white ribbon of dusty road which climbed a distant rise and disappeared.

'We'll mek' straight for the river,' said the Raven.

'Right,' said Dick. 'Cross-country it is;' and the boys struck away into the fields. They spent some time in reaching the river, for they carefully avoided crossing fields where grass was growing for hay, or where corn was green; but at last they were on its banks at a point where it wound across a big patch of rough common land, dotted by flumps of gorse and broken by two or three spinneys.

The river was not wide, but it was slow, and seemed deep. The boys tried two or three places with their patrol staffs, and could not touch the bottom. Then they started to prospect for a camping-ground for the night.

'How about under that little hanger?' said Dick, pointing to a tiny wood which clung to a bank a short distance back from the river.

'Looks all right,' rejoined Chippy; and they went towards it. They were crossing a grassy strip between two clumps of furze when a small spiny creature with a sharp nose trundled across their path some distance ahead. Chippy leapt out and darted in pursuit, his staff raised. Dick followed, saw the staff fall, and came up to find the Raven turning over a dead hedgehog with the point of his stick.

'Supper for two,' chuckled Chippy, 'an' a jolly good un.'

'Supper?' cried Dick, 'Why, it's a hedgehog. Who can eat a thing like that?' and he made a face of disgust.

'Them as know's wot's good,' murmured Chippy, with a cheerful wink. 'Wait till ye've had a bit. Besides, ain't we scouts? An' scouts ha' got to tackle anythin' an' everythin'. Look wot it says in the books. Look wot B.P. et at one time an' another.'

'You're right, old chap,' said Dick; 'but just for a minute it seemed so jolly queer to knock over a spiny little brute like that, and then talk of eating it.'

'Gipsies eat 'em reg'lar,' replied Chippy, 'an' I know 'ow they handle 'em. They're good – I tell ye that.'

Carrying the hedgehog by a withe cut from a willow, the scouts went on to the ground below the hanger, and pronounced the spot first-rate for a camp. There was a sandy patch at the foot of the bank, and here they resolved to build their fire and sleep.

CHAPTER XXX

THE FIRST CAMP

The fire was taken in hand first thing, for Chippy would need a great pile of red-hot embers for his cookery. The hanger was littered with dry sticks, so that there was no lack of material, and soon they had a rousing fire crackling on the sandy soil.

At the foot of the hanger they met with a stroke of luck. They found a young beech-tree which had been blown down in some winter storm. It was now as dry as a bone and easy cutting, and Dick went to work with the little axe, and soon cut and split a heap of logs some eight or ten inches long and three or four inches through – first-rate stuff, for no tree in the wood burns more sweetly than beech. While the fire was under way, and while Dick hacked at the beech, Chippy had gone in search of clay. He was gone soms time, for he did not hit on a clayey spot at once. But he worked along the bank of the stream where the wash of the water had laid bare the nature of the soil until he struck upon a seam of red clay, and dug out a mass with his knife and the point of his staff.