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

'Run straight ahead, Chippy,' he called. 'Leg it down the road.'

The Raven made no reply. He obeyed orders, feeling sure that his comrade had a reason for what he said.

The boys shot through the gateway, and Dick turned abruptly and dropped down beside it. The gateway was a couple of posts on which a wicket had once swung, nothing more. But a thick bramble-bush grew beside the right-hand post, and in cover of this bush Dick was crouching. He peered through the bush and saw the tramp come tearing round the bend. The rascal saw Chippy disappearing over the bridge, and thought the second fugitive had already vanished. He roared a fresh set of exceedingly impolite remarks and wishes, and came on like a tornado in full career. And as he charged into the narrow gateway, a stout patrol staff slid across, and was laid on the inner sides of the posts. He never even saw it, so madly was he bent on his pursuit, and it did its work to a miracle. He put one foot fairly under it, and as he rose to his wild bound the staff took him a little above the ankle and tripped him up. The surprise was so complete that he could not save himself. He came down headlong on the hard causeway, and ploughed up the gravel for a foot or more with his features.

The crash knocked all the wind out of him: it deserted his body in a fierce whistling sound, something between a grunt and a howl, and he was half-stunned besides, with his nose flattened into his face.

Dick gave a yell of delight, whipped out his staff – the stout bit of tough ash had taken the shock with hardly a quiver – and raced after his comrade. Chippy was a good way down the road, and when he glanced back, Dick waved his stick in triumph. The Raven at once eased to allow his friend to come up, and Dick shouted the glad news as he joined his comrade.

Chippy shouted with delight. 'He's done for,' cried the Raven. 'A1, that was. No more runnin' for 'im just yet. That was splendid, Dick.'

The boys swung their haversacks across their shoulders and continued their way at a steady, loping trot.

'Oh, Chippy,' cried Dick, 'but yours was the splendid dodge, the way you took those fellows in! They never dreamed but that you were sick with fright. How did you manage it?'

'Oo,' said the Raven, 'there ain't nothin' in that. Anybody can mek' believe to cry and beg for mercy, like.'

'Ah,' cried Dick, 'but there were real tears streaming down your face, Chippy. How did you do that?'

'Easy as easy,' replied the Raven. 'Yer just jab yer fingers in the corner o' yer eyes. I'll show yer.'

'Thanks,' laughed Dick. 'I'll take your word for it, old boy. It doesn't sound too delightful.'

'I wonder if the old un's out o' the pool yet,' said Chippy, as they trotted on, and the scouts shouted with laughter as they recalled his terrific plunge.

'The other can go back and help his friend out when he's got his wind again,' said Dick.

'Rough on the pool, though,' muttered the Raven; 'that nose o' his wor enough to mek' the water boil.'

'What luck to lose nothing!' cried Dick.

'Barrin' my stick,' put in Chippy.

'Why, yes,' replied Dick. 'Upon my word, I hadn't noticed that. Of course, your hands were filled with the haversacks, and your staff has been left on the bank where we were resting.'

'Ne'er mind,' said the Raven; 'it's wot we could best afford to lose. Soon cut another.'

The boys did not check their pace until they reached a large village a mile or more from the bridge, and then they dropped into their usual scout's stride.

On the other side of the village they came to another bridge, this time spanning a canal.

'Here we are,' said Dick, for the scouts intended to follow the towpath into Newminster: it would save them a mile and a half of dusty high-road.

They went down to the bank and started off along the side of the canal. It was not a dirty piece of water, malodorous and unsightly, as canals are in manufacturing centres: it was like a straight stretch of a clear, beautiful river. There was a towpath only on the one side. The other was a grassy border, where sedges and bulrushes grew, and cows came down from the meadows to drink.

The scouts had barely gone half a mile when they came upon a barge lying beside the bank. They glanced into its cabin as they went by, and saw that a tiny fire was burning brightly in its stove, and that it was a very trim, smart little place. But there was no bargeman, no horse, no one; the barge seemed deserted. The boys went on, and soon heard cries of anger and distress coming down the breeze. They broke into the scouts' trot, turned a bend, and saw a stout lady pursuing a white horse.

Chippy knew all about canals.

'Broke 'is tow-line, an' now he's 'ookin' it,' observed the Raven. 'Come on – scout's job 'ere.'

The old white horse was not hooking it very fast. There was no need that he should. The stout lady jogged a few steps, then settled into a walk. The old horse cropped the grass beside the water till she was close at his heels, then he jogged off a little and settled down to grazing again. But the active scouts soon settled his hash. They passed the stout lady at full speed, and ran down the old nag within fifty yards. Then Dick led him back to the barge-woman, who was mopping a hot red face with a big red handkerchief.

'Well, I'm more'n a bit obliged to yer,' she panted, 'an' thank ye kindly. The line parted, and I thought I never should ketch that dratted ole creetur. Ah, ye good-for-nuthin',' she cried to the horse, who now held down his nose and looked meekness itself, 'an' the good missis I am to ye. Allus plenty to eat, and no whippin'.'

'He went off on a little beano,' said Chippy soothingly. 'Don't blame 'im. They all will when they get the chance. Now we'll rig 'im for ye tight an' sound.'

The boys led the horse back to his deserted task, fished the broken rope out of the water, and joined the parted ends with a sheet-bend knot, such as all scouts learn to tie.

'Goin' to Newminster?' asked the bargewoman.

'Yes,' said Dick.

'In a hurry?'

'Not particularly,' he said.

'Why not ride along o' me? It ain't fast, but it's as easy as anythin'.'

Now, neither scout would have confessed it to the other for worlds, but each of them was feeling the three days' tramp a little; and besides, the idea of gliding along the river-like canal on the barge, which was very clean and gaily painted, was rather fascinating.

'You're very kind,' said Dick, and glanced at his comrade.

'I'd like it prime,' murmured Chippy.

'Jump on,' said the stout lady; and the scouts were aboard in an instant.

Dick was less familiar with a barge than Chippy, and he inspected with the deepest interest the snug, neat little cabin, as bright and clean as a new pin, with its little stove, its narrow seats, its shelves, and cupboards, with everything stowed away in shipshape fashion, the whole place reminding him of a room in a big doll's house.

Chippy complimented the lady of the barge on the smartness of her ship.

'We keep it as tidy as we know 'ow,' she replied. 'Me an' my 'usband we niver tek' dirty loads – coals, or anythin' like that. Crockery an' earthenware we got under the canvas now' – and she nodded forward – 'that's the sort o' load for us. Queer thing the ole horse broke loose this arternoon when I'm by myself, which don't often happen. My man he's gone on to Newminster, an' there we'll stop to-night.' Then she gave her attention to steering the barge round a bend, while the old horse plodded along the bank as meekly as if thoughts of running away could never enter his head.

In a quiet bend of the waterway the bargewoman roared 'Wo!' and the white horse pulled up at once and whickered.

'Time for 'is nosebag,' she said, 'an' 'e knows it very well. An' we'll have a cup o' tea. I allus pull up for that, an' tek' it quiet an' comfortable, wi'out havin' to bother about steerin'.'

She fished out a tin bucket already filled with chaff, and proceeded to climb ashore and hang it round the horse's head.

'Tea for three,' murmured the Raven. 'More grub;' and Dick smiled.

The meal was a very cheerful little affair. The scouts sat on the roof of the cabin in the sunshine, with their cups beside them, and their hostess spread butter liberally on the slices of a large cottage loaf, and encouraged them to eat heartily, and set them a first-rate example herself.

Over the teacups they chatted freely, and the boys explained their movements. Among other things, they narrated their adventure of a few hours ago with the tramps, and the bargewoman was very indignant.

'Lazy good-for-nothin' varmin – that's what I call them tramps!' she cried. 'I know what I'd do wi' 'em. I'd take ivery man-jack of 'em by the scruff o' his neck, an' set him at a job, that I would, as sure as my name's Hester Slade. An' I'd say to him: "When that's done ye'll get sommat to eat, an' not afore." That's wot I'd say. "Work or starve!"' And Mrs. Slade waved the bread-knife above her head, as if it were a sword flourished in defiance of the whole army of tramps in general.

CHAPTER XXXVII

AT NEWMINSTER

'We come off pretty well,' said Chippy – 'lost naught but my stick.'

'I'll show you where to out another afore we get to Newminster,' said Mrs. Slade – 'a place where my man often cuts a stick. 'Tis a plantation of ashes on a bank lookin' to the north. Heavy, holdin' ground, too – just the spot for slow-growin' tough timber.'

She went to the towpath once more to unstrap the tin bucket from the horse's head, and set him to his task again.

'I fancy we shall have to stay somewhere in Newminster to-night, Chippy,' said Dick.

Chippy grunted in a dissatisfied fashion. The Raven was very keen on doing the trip for the smallest possible outlay of money. It seemed to him so much more scoutlike to live on the country, as they were fond of saying, and to pay for shelter did not seem to be playing the game.

Dick nodded. 'I know what you mean,' he said, for he had quite understood Chippy's grunt. 'But we're bound to make Newminster, and send off a card to show we've been in the town.'

'O' course,' said the Raven.

'And then it will be rather late to start off again and strike for the open country to search for a camping-place.'

'Right, Dick – quite right,' rejoined his comrade; 'the wust of it is as lodgin's cost money.'

'Needn't cost ye a single copper this night, anyhow,' said a voice in their ears, and the scouts jumped. Mrs. Slade had come up unseen, and had caught the last words of the Raven.

'Here y' are,' she went on, and pointed to the snug little cabin; 'that's yourn to-night if ye want it.'

'But you'll need it for yourselves,' cried Dick.

'Not this night,' she replied. 'I've got a married darter in Newminster. She've a-married a wharfinger in a good way o' business. Such a house as she've got! Upstairs, downstairs, an' a back-kitchen.'

Mrs. Slade visibly swelled in importance as she described her daughter's palatial surroundings. No doubt they seemed very extensive indeed after one small cabin. 'An' 'tis settled we stay wi' her to-night, so the cabin 'ere will be empty, an' ye're as welcome to it as can be.'

The scouts' eyes glistened, and they were easily induced to accept the kindly offer, and so they glided on their way towards the town, chatting together like old friends. Mrs. Slade pulled up for a moment at the ash plantation, and Chippy sprang out with the tomahawk. In five minutes he was back with a tough, straight ash-stick, which he trimmed and whittled with his knife as they made the last mile into the city.

At the wharf where the barge was to lie for the night they met Mr. Slade, a short, thick-set man, with a short, broad face between a fur cap and a belcher handkerchief. He was to the full as good-natured as his wife, and cordially re-echoed her invitation for the scouts to sleep in their cabin. The wharfinger's house was near at hand, so that the owners of the barge would not be far away.

The scouts stowed their haversacks and staves away in the cabin of the barge, shut it up, and locked it with the key which Mrs. Slade had lent to them, and left the key at the wharfinger's house. Then they put on their jackets and went for a stroll round the streets of the quaint old city. The long summer evening was dying as they stood below the fine west front of the cathedral, and watched the swallows skimming about the noble towers. Near at hand was a post-office, where Dick triumphantly scribbled, 'At Newminster. All well,' on a card, and dropped it into the letter-box.

'Supper and turn in now, Chippy,' he said,

'Righto,' murmured the Raven. 'We must be off early to-morrow. Road home 'ull work out three or four mile more'n the road 'ere.'

'That's a fact,' said Dick; 'but we'll turn up at Bardon by Saturday night without setting foot in a train yet. Now, Chippy, what shall we have for supper? We've got jolly good lodgings for nothing: we can afford something extra for supper.'

They were going down the street which would lead them back to the wharf, and the Raven paused in front of a butcher's shop.

'Can we sport a pound o' sausages?' he said. 'They'd mek' a good feed to-night, and we'd have one or two left for brekfast again.'

'Good,' said Dick, and they laid down eightpence for a pound of sausages, and threepence for a small loaf, and returned to the barge. Here they fried their sausages and made some tea, for the fire in the stove was not out, and the good-natured bargewoman had left them a small bucketful of coke to make it up again.

After supper they carefully put out the fire, and turned in on the two bunks which lay one on either side of the little cabin. Here, wrapped in their blankets, they slept like tops till five o'clock in the morning.

Chippy was the first to wake, and he got up and thrust his head out at the hatch. His movements aroused his comrade, and Dick sprang to the floor.

'Lucky we've been in 'ere,' said Chippy. 'It's been pourin' o' rain in the night.'

So it had. The hollows among the stones which paved the wharf were filled with pools of water, and everywhere had the fresh-washed look which accompanies a heavy downpour.

'Well, we've been snug and dry enough,' cried Dick. 'Now for breakfast and a start.'

They had cooked the whole of the sausages the night before, so that they did not trouble to light a fire. They finished the loaf and the sausages, and were almost at the end of their meal, when Mrs. Slade came across from the wharfinger's house. Through her good offices they obtained a bucket of clean water, and washed their faces and hands, promising themselves a good dip in the first river they came to in their day's journey. So by half-past six they had said farewell to the bargewoman, and were marching through the silent streets of the little city in the sweet freshness of a June summer morning.

They had entered Newminster from the south: they were leaving it towards the north. In order to cover fresh ground all the time, they had planned their route so that their track as marked on the map showed as a very much flattened oval. They had worked towards Newminster on a south-westerly sweep; they were working home again on a north-easterly tack.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

HOMEWARD BOUND – A DISH OF EELS

For nearly three miles they held to the main road, going due north, then turned aside to a quiet grassy by-track running north-east, and were fairly launched on their new route. Moving in quiet, steady fashion, they made nine miles before they halted, then pulled up below an oak-tree on the borders of a little wood for a long halt during the heat of the day. Both, though in good, hard condition, were dripping with sweat, for the day was unwontedly sultry for early summer.

'Don't mind if I do stretch me legs a bit,' grunted the Raven.

'Yes,' said Dick; 'jolly stiff going to-day, Chippy. Isn't it hot? But we can take a good long rest now. We've broken the back of the day's journey.'

'Right time to do it, Dick,' said his friend.

'Rather,' said Dick; 'no time for a tramp like the freshness of the morning.'

The boys stretched themselves in the shade and lay at their ease for half an hour, then Dick sat up.

'Well,' he said, 'there seems a hollow inside me somewhere.'

'Same 'ere, Dick,' murmured the Raven. 'We'll fill up. Wot's the bill o' fare?'

'Chupatties and tea, I fancy,' replied the Wolf. 'We've been carrying the rest of that bag of flour about since Monday morning.'

'All to the good,' murmured Chippy, 'all to the good. Wot we've dropped in for has saved our – ' He pulled up abruptly, and did not utter the word 'cash,' which had been in his mind. 'Shan't mention that,' he continued in a lower whisper still, ''cept we're in the middle of a ten-acre field.'

Dick laughed. 'We got into a trifle of a fix the last time we discussed that subject,' he said. 'I say, Chippy, do you reckon that it was a bit of a blot on us as scouts that we were caught like that?'

Chippy heaved a deep sigh. 'I've never mentioned it,' he replied, 'but it's bin on my mind more'n once. Seems to me we orter scouted round more to find whether there wor enemies in the country. They 'ad us on toast, they did. Reg'lar let down for a pair o' scouts,' and Chippy sighed again.

In order to banish these melancholy thoughts, the Wolf and the Raven began to get something to eat. The Wolf opened his jacket and mixed the flour on the lining, while the Raven fetched water and made a fire, and chopped and peeled and heated a club.

When the dough was ready, Dick worked it into a long strip which was wound spirally round the club. Then the club was thrust into the ground beside the fire, one end of it being sharpened. Now and again the club was given a turn while the dough toasted steadily. Chippy watched the dough, and Dick made the tea.

They ate their meal, rested a couple of hours, then went on again. It was now midday, and tremendously hot. But they were not going a great way. The map showed the winding blue line of a river two miles ahead, and they were in search of it for a pleasant swim.

They gained the bank of the river, sat down a short time to cool off, then stripped and plunged in, and spent a delightful half-hour in the clear water. As they were dressing they observed that a faintly marked path ran through the meadow at the edge of the stream. They followed it when they were ready to march once more, and soon came upon a mill standing at the waterside. Above the mill was a broad pool, and in the shade of some bushes trout were feeding, or, more likely, playing, for now and again one would leap clean out of the water and fall back again with a flash of silver. The boys sat down on the bank beside the water and gazed upon the pleasant pool.

'It would come in handy if you could catch a few of those trout, Chippy,' said Dick. 'Those were all right we caught on Monday night.'

The Raven shook his head. 'Wish I could, Dick,' he replied; 'but that dodge ain't no use now, an' I couldn't get them over theer to look at anythin' I've got wi' me.'

'I suppose not,' said Dick. 'I say, Chippy, see that heap of stones just under the bank here.'

The Raven glanced down and saw what his brother scout was pointing at. It looked as if for generations the millers had flung their broken mill-stones into this part of the pool, and they lay piled against each other with black hollows between.

Chippy looked down thoughtfully, then his eyes lighted up. 'Never seen a more likely place in me life for big eels,' he grunted; 'they love a hole atwixt stones lik that.'

'Do you think we could catch a few?' cried Dick eagerly.

'Shouldn't wonder,' replied his comrade. 'We'll have a go, anyhow. Fust, we want some lobs.'

The search for lob-worms was made at once.

'We'll have to dig for them, I suppose,' said Dick.

'Not a bit of it,' said Chippy. 'I'll show ye a lot quicker way than that.'

He went to the side of the field where there was a ditch nearly dry in the hot sun. He walked along the ditch until he came to a stone. He turned the stone swiftly, and there was almost sure to be a big lob lying underneath it, sometimes two or three. Before they could withdraw into their holes the Raven's finger was pressed on their tails, and they were helpless. In a few moments he had collected more than a dozen big lobs, and these were carried back triumphantly to the mill-pool in his hat.

Next he cut a couple of hazel-rods about four feet long, and fairly stiff, tied a short line to each, and fastened a strong-eyed hook at the end of the line.

'Now we're ready,' he said. 'This little game's called "sniggling," an' it's a sure thing if only th' eel's at 'ome. Lemme get 'old 'o one fust, an' show ye how to pull 'im out.'

Chippy put a lob on his hook, and then pinched a small split bullet – of which his friend had given him half a dozen – on the line about six inches above the hook. He dropped the weighted bait into a dark hole between two fragments of stone, and moved it gently about. Two or three minutes passed; then the Raven drew his bait up.

'Nobody in,' he remarked; 'try next door.' He moved a yard along the bank, and dropped the bait into a second dark crevice. It was seized instantly, and the line sharply plucked.

'One 'ere,' said Chippy; 'there's no mistake about hearin' from him, if there's one about.'

'Look how he's pulling at the line!' cried Dick, as the slender cord jerked again and again.

'Yus,' said Chippy; 'nuthin' plucks an' pulls like an eel. Now he's got a good hold o' the bait, an' out he comes.'

The Raven began to pull firmly but slowly, keeping the line quite taut.

'Don't try to yank 'im out,' he said to his pupil. 'Sure's ye do, ye'll break the line an' lose the lot. Pull gently at 'im till he's tired; then out he comes, smooth an' easy.'

Three or four minutes passed before Chippy drew the snake-like head of the eel out of the black hole between the stones.

'A good un,' he snapped, drew on the line a little harder, and swung an eel weighing half a pound or more to the bank, where he promptly put one foot on the eel and drew the line taut.

'See wot I'm doin'?' said the Raven. 'If ye don't look out, he'll tangle hisself all up in yer line, an' give ye a fine old job to get 'im free.' With that he whipped out his knife, and despatched the wriggling creature by cutting off its head.

Dick now took his stick and line to try his luck, while his comrade dug out hook and bait, which had vanished down the eel's throat. Dick caught a little one in the first hole that he tried, and drew it safely to the bank. But there he failed to control its wild, sinuous movements, and it tangled itself up in his line in such a style that Chippy had to come to his aid.

After that he got on much better, and caught two good-sized ones, and held them and the line taut, while Chippy sailed in with the knife and whipped their heads off.

In a short time they had seven, for the holes were well furnished with occupants, and with these seven they stayed content. They washed them in a quiet backwater, and rubbed them as clean as they could with wisps of dry grass, and then packed them in Chippy's haversack, with more dry grass about them.

'Mek' us a jolly good supper to-night,' said the Raven.

'They will,' cried Dick. 'Now for the road again. We've got an uphill stretch before us, Chippy, according to the map.'

CHAPTER XXXIX

THE STORM – WHAT HAPPENED WHILE THEY DRIED THEIR CLOTHES

Within a mile again, the track they were following – a very ancient vicinal way – began to rise over a long stretch of moorland used mainly for sheep-walks, and covered in places with wide patches of low-growing bilberry-bushes. On some of these bushes the purple little berries were already ripe, and the boys gathered them in handfuls, and ate them as they walked.

Suddenly a low, heavy muttering called their attention to the western sky, and they saw a blue-black cloud rising swiftly.

'Thunder,' said Dick; 'that's what this terrific heat has meant.'

'Best step out,' remarked the Raven. 'No shelter about 'ere for a mile or two.'

They stayed no longer to gather bilberries, but pushed on at a steady swinging stride, looking back from time to time at the storm, which seemed to pursue them. A wind sprang up, and wild gusts raced past them, and howled across the moor. Light, swift clouds which seemed to be flying before the storm hurried across the sky, and the sunshine was swallowed up and the day darkened.