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

Ten yards away, in cover of a thick patch of hazels, Dick watched everything. He drew out his knife, opened it, and ran his thumb along the keen edge. 'All right, my fine fellows,' he said to himself, 'get to your work' – for the nets had shown him what they meant to do – 'and my chum will be free in a brace of shakes.'

But Dick reckoned without Smiley. That small, sly old poacher was not there to work; his task was to keep guard. So while the other four undid their bundle of nets, and prepared for a big haul, Smiley moved with the tread of a cat to and fro, watching the prisoner, listening, looking, turning his head this way and that, to detect the first sign or sound of danger. The beech to which the Raven was bound stood by itself on the bank, well away from other trees. This rendered it impossible for Dick to creep up unseen. He would have to dash out into the moonlight, and the wary watcher would see him and alarm the rest. No, there was nothing to do but wait awhile and look out for a chance to slip in, knife in hand. So Dick kept still in cover and watched the poachers as they worked busily in the light of the sinking moon.

CHAPTER XLII

DRAGGING THE POOL – A LITTLE SURPRISE

First a net was stretched across the head of the pool. Young Bill jumped into the water and waded across waist deep with one end of the net, while a confederate paid it out from the bank. The foot of the net was loaded with leaden weights, and lay close to the bed of the stream: the top was buoyed with corks and floated on the surface. Thus, when the net was carried across and pegged into the opposite bank, a wall of fine mesh lay across the stream.

Now the big navvy waded back, and a second net – a drag-net – was carried to the foot of the pool. This time three of them plunged into the water, and drew the net across the stream. Of the three, two remained in the water, the third clambered out on the opposite bank. The net was arranged, and then the four poachers began to draw it slowly up-stream, one working on each bank and two in the water.

Now, trout always lie with their noses pointing upstream, and when alarmed dash away in that direction. But this time there was a wall of net to intercept their flight, and as the drag-net was brought up and up, the fish would be enclosed between the two nets and caught.

While these preparations were going on, Dick had watched eagerly for a chance that never came. Smiley remained too close to the gagged and pinioned captive for Dick to chance a rush, and the poacher was armed with a heavy stick.

'I wish the moon would go down,' thought Dick, and glanced over his shoulder towards the west. He started, and looked again. Two figures were creeping almost on hands and knees across a moonlit patch of turf, quite close to him.

'Keepers!' whispered Dick to himself. 'Here come the keepers!' for the velveteens and gaiters of the crawling men announced who they were. Dick was hidden in complete shade, and the patch of hazels where he lay hid the new-comers both from the watcher and the working poachers. Dick's heart gave a leap of joy.

'They'll attack at once,' he thought, 'and then I can get Chippy free.'

But to his surprise there was no attack. The two keepers glided into shelter of a holly patch and vanished. There was neither sign nor sound from them. Dick, of course, could not know that the keepers were biding their time, for they wished to take the poachers in confusion, and it was very likely the biters would be bit.

The truth was that an inkling of the raid had been gained from words let fall by a drunken poacher in the village inn, and the pool had been prepared. Across the middle of it a long weighted log had been sunk, and in this log a number of old scythe blades, their edges whetted as keen as razors, had been fixed in an upright position. The edges were turned down-stream, and the keepers were waiting until the drag-net should be brought upon this cunning engine of destruction.

Presently there was a hitch in the dragging.

'Wait a bit,' said one of the poachers; 'she's caught a bit somewheer or other. Pull a bit harder, Young Bill.'

The navvy pulled hard, but to no purpose.

'It's out towards the middle o' the pool,' he growled, 'an' I dursn't go a step fudder in. I'm nigh out o' my depth already.'

'We'll get on the bank,' said the other man who was in the water. 'We'll have a better purchase for a tug at her then.'

He climbed out on the farther side, and Young Bill climbed out on the nearer. Then the four men bent to it, and hauled on the net with all their might. No use: it was stuck as fast as ever.

'Ye want to pull harder, boys,' called out Smiley.

Young Bill exploded into a volley of imprecations addressed to the watchman.

'Hark at 'im,' growled the navvy – 'pull harder; we're to pull harder while 'e slinks about on the bank. Come an' lend a hand yerself, an' be quick about it, or I'll sling ye into the river.'

Smiley ran at once, for he stood in great dread of his violent accomplice, and knew that the threat was a perfectly serious one. For a few moments there was a busy interchange of remarks and opinions as the baffled poachers discussed the possibilities of the case, and decided that a water-logged branch was at the bottom of the trouble.

While they were talking Dick was acting. No sooner did he see the watchman called off guard than he began to wriggle like an eel across the turf towards the beech, keeping the trunk of the tree between himself and the poachers. His keen knife made short work of Chippy's bonds, gag included, and the Raven was free. The latter slipped round the trunk, and the two scouts glided quickly back into cover of the hazels.

'Good old Wolf,' whispered Chippy, drawing a few deep breaths. 'I felt sure ye'd be somewheer handy. I owe ye a vote o' thanks. It's carried unanermously.'

'Oh, dry up, Chippy,' whispered his comrade. 'As if you wouldn't have done the same for me. What luck the rascals got into a fix! That gave me a chance. But, Chippy, there are keepers over there, watching them.'

'Keepers!' breathed Chippy in amazement. 'Why don't they collar 'em?' – and even as he spoke, the scouts learned why the keepers had delayed their attack.

'Now, altogether,' cried young Bill at the waterside, and the five poachers bent for a last tremendous tug which would free their net. The net was freed, but not exactly in the style they hoped for. There was a sudden, keen Cr-r-r-rish! of snapping, parting meshes, and the net, cut clean into two by the scythe blades, came to shore in two halves, one on either bank.

It gave, at the last, so suddenly that the hauling rogues were taken completely by surprise. At one moment they were pulling against a tremendous resistance; at the next there was none, and they went head over heels, all five of them, the three on the nearer side piled in a heap.

Upon this heap the two keepers darted, and at the same moment a keeper and a policeman appeared on the other bank. The yell of surprise which burst from the lips of the rogues as they went to earth was still ringing in the air when they felt the grip of justice fastened on their collars, and knew that the game had gone against them on every score.

The gigantic navvy broke away from his captors and ran. A keeper pursued him, caught him up, and closed with him. There was a short, fierce struggle, and both men went down headlong, locked together in a savage grapple. The keeper was undermost, and the weight of his huge opponent knocked the breath out of him for the moment. The poacher leapt up, and aimed a terrific kick at his fallen opponent. The man would have received a severe injury had not the scouts swept into action at the very nick of time.

'Here's the wust of 'em. Cop 'im, my lads,' roared Chippy, in a voice which he made as deep as a well. And Dick lashed out and fetched the big fellow a staggerer with his patrol staff, and shouted also. Feeling the blow, and hearing the voices at his back, the poacher thought that a crowd of foes was upon him, and took to his heels and fled through a coppice, crashing through bushes and saplings with furious lumbering speed.

The scouts slipped away to see how the second keeper was getting on, and found that he had got Smiley safe and sound, while the third man had vanished. Upon the other bank one was captive and the other had fled.

'How are you gettin' on there, Jem?' called the keeper who had secured Smiley.

'Oh, I've as good as got my man,' replied Jem, returning to the river-bank. 'It was Bill Horden, that big navvy. I'll nail him to-morrow all right. But there was the rummest thing happened over yonder, 'mongst the trees.' And he burst into the story of his rescue.

'I'd have had my head kicked in if they boys hadn't run up and started Bill off,' he concluded; 'but who they are, and where they sprung from, I can't make out.'

The scouts, tucked away in the cover, chuckled as they heard their mysterious appearance discussed, and wondered if Smiley would throw any light on the matter. But the old poacher remained sullen and silent, and now the keepers were hailed by the policeman across the river.

'Bring your man down to the bridge,' he cried, 'and we'll march the two we've got off to the lock-up.'

'All right,' said the keeper who had collared Smiley. 'I'll come now. Jem, you get the nets an' follow us.'

'The play's over,' whispered Dick in his comrade's ear, 'and we'll get back to camp.'

The scouts glided away up the little brook, and soon regained their camp, where the fire was burning briskly, for the whole affair had not taken any great amount of time. They sat down and discussed the matter from the moment Dick had smelt the tobacco-smoke till the final rally on the bank of the trout-pool, then turned in once more, and were asleep in two moments.

Dick had rearranged his side of the bed before he lay down again, and now he slept in great comfort, and slept long, for when he woke the sun was high up and the day was warm.

He rubbed his eyes and looked round for Chippy. To his surprise, the Raven sat beside the fire skinning a couple of young rabbits.

'Hallo, Chippy!' cried Dick, 'been hunting already? Why, where did you pick those rabbits up?'

'Just along the bank 'ere,' replied the Raven. 'I was up best part of an hour ago, an' took a stroll, an' seed 'em a-runnin' about by the hundred. These two were dodgin' in an' out of a hole under a tree, so I went theer, an' in they popped. But I soon dug 'em out.'

'Dug them out!' cried Dick. 'Why, I've heard that digging rabbits out is a job that takes hours with a spade.'

'So 'tis if they've got into their burrows,' returned his comrade. 'But theer's the big deep holes they live in, an' theer's little short holes they mek' for fun. They're called "play-holes," an' 'twas a play-hole these two cut into. It worn't more'n eighteen inches deep, an' soft sand. I 'ad 'em out in no time.'

Chippy finished skinning the rabbits, and washed them, and then they were set aside while the comrades stripped, and splashed round, and swam a little at a spot where the brook opened out into a small pool. When they were dressed again, they were very ready for breakfast. Chippy fried the rabbits in the billy with another lump of Dick's mutton fat, and they proved deliciously tender. The boys left nothing but the bones, and with the rabbits they finished their loaf. After breakfast they lay on the grass in the sun for half an hour working out their day's journey on the map, and pitched on a place called Wildcombe Chase for their last camp. It was within fourteen miles of Bardon, and would give a quiet, steady tramp in for their last day.

At the thought that the morrow was the last day of their delightful expedition the scouts felt more than a trifle sad; but they cheered themselves up with promises of other like journeys in the future, and took the road for a seventeen-mile march.

'Do we pull our knots out for lending a hand to the keeper last night, Chippy?' asked Dick, laughing.

'You can pull your'n out two or three times over,' replied the Raven. 'Fust ye saved me; then ye let that big rogue ha' one for luck, an' that saved the keeper. Me, I did naught, 'cept get collared when I wor' fast asleep.'

'Didn't you?' returned Dick. 'I know that shout of yours was the thing that frightened him, not the crack I hit him. He thought a six-foot policeman was at his heels. Well, never mind the knots. We'll throw that in. After all, boy scouts are bound to lend a hand in the cause of law and order.'

'O' course,' agreed Chippy. 'Wheer's discipline if so be as everybody can do as he's a mind?'

CHAPTER XLIII

THE BROKEN BICYCLE

That morning the brother scouts enjoyed an experience which gave them keener pleasure than perhaps anything else which happened during their journey. It began about eleven o'clock, when they were following a country road upon which hamlets, and even houses, were very far apart.

They were approaching the foot of a very steep hill, when the Raven's eyes, always on the watch, as a scout's eyes should be, caught a gleam of something glittering in a great bed of weeds beside the road. He stopped, parted the weeds with his staff, and disclosed a broken bicycle, diamond-framed, lying on its side. It was the bright nickelled handle-bar which had caught his eye.

'Somebody's had a smash, and left the broken machine here,' said Dick; and Chippy nodded.

Now, Dick's statement of the case would have satisfied most people, and they would have gone on their way. There was the broken bicycle, and the rider had left it. Perhaps he meant to fetch his disabled machine later. In any case an untrained person would have seen nothing that he could possibly do, and would have dismissed the matter from his mind. But that would not do for the Wolf and the Raven. It was their duty as scouts to got to the bottom of the affair, if possible, on the chance that help was needed somehow or somewhere, and they began a careful examination of the machine and its surroundings.

The cause of the accident suggested itself at once – a broken brake and a runaway down the hill, with a smash at the foot. There were two brakes on the machine. One was jammed; one had a broken wire. Whether the jammed brake had been so or not before the accident they could not tell. As far as they could judge, the broken wire had left the rider helpless on the steep slope. They looked up the hill. The track came down fairly straight, until it was within a few yards of the bed of weeds. Then it swerved sharply aside. A yard from the angle of the swerve lay a large stone. Deduction: The front wheel had struck the stone, driven it a yard to the left, and itself had swerved violently to the right, and dashed on to a heap of stones hidden under the growth of weeds. The shock had been tremendous. How discovered? The frame was badly twisted and broken, and the machine was an excellent one; the transfer bore the name of a first-rate maker.

Now, what had happened to the rider? He had been pitched flying from his machine, and Dick found where he had fallen. Three yards from the spot where the broken bicycle lay, the weeds were flattened, as if a heavy body had dropped there. Then Dick gave a long, low whistle.

'By Jove, Chippy! look here!' he cried, and pointed with his staff. The Raven hastened up, and whistled too, when he saw a patch of blood lying around a sharp-edged stone. The blood was quite fresh, and that proved the accident was recent.

'Poor chap dropped with his head on the stone, and cut himself pretty badly,' said Dick; and Chippy nodded.

'It ain't a big machine,' he remarked.

'It's just about the size of mine,' returned Dick. 'It may be a fellow about our age, Chippy, by the look of the bike.'

Now arose the vital question: Had the unlucky rider received help or not? How had he left the place – on his own feet, or with assistance? The scouts settled that in a minute's close search. They had taken care not to potter about and confuse the spoor with their own markings. They soon came to the conclusion that such marks as they could find were made by the rider when he had dragged himself to his feet.

'Has anyone passed here since the accident?' said Dick.

'Soon find that out,' cried Chippy; and the two scouts turned their trained eyes on the dusty road, which gave up instantly the knowledge its surface held.

Two tracks only were recent. One was made by a pair of wheels and the feet of a horse; the other by a pair of large, hobnailed shoes. The wheel-tracks were narrow, and the horse had trotted till it was some distance up the hill, then fallen into a walk. The boys decided that a gig and a labourer had passed along, both going the same way.

Ten yards up the hill the bicycle track crossed a track of the gig. Thirty yards up the hill the ribbed Dunlops had wiped out the side of a hobnailed impression. Very good. The bike had come down the hill after these had passed; it had been the last thing on the road. This greatly strengthened the idea which the scouts had already formed, that no help had been available. Now they began to search for the rider's line of movement from the place.

Dick found it: a footprint on a dusty patch in the grassy wayside track. He called to his companion. When Chippy had seen it, Dick set his own foot on the track; his shoe exactly covered it.

Now the scouts gathered their impressions together, and reconstructed in theory the whole affair. A boy of about their own age had ridden over the brow of the slope, with only one brake available on his machine. Near the top of the hill the brake had broken; they regarded this as proved by the tremendous way which the machine had got on it. The rider was skilful, for his track was true, and he would have escaped had it not been for the large stone in the track, and this, it was very likely, his great speed had prevented him from seeing until too late; another point, by the way, to prove the early giving-out of the brake. He had swerved violently aside, and struck the heap of stones by the bank before he could regain control of his machine, and the smash followed. After the smash the rider had pulled himself together, and gone alone from the place; his trail ran up the hill, and it looked as if he were making for home; it was certain that he was pretty badly hurt.

'Now, Chippy,' said Dick, 'the point for us is this: Has he got safely home or not?'

'Foller 'im up,' said the Raven briefly; 'scout's job to mek' sure.'

Dick nodded, and without another word they struck the trail, and worked their way up the steep slope.

'Blood,' said Chippy, and pointed out two stains on the grass.

'Blood it is,' replied his companion, and they pressed forward.

Near the top of the slope, where, just at the crown, the hill was at its steepest, the boys stopped in amazement. Here was a trail with a vengeance! The roadside grass gave way to a sandy patch twenty yards long, and the patch was scored with long, dragging marks. Then Dick-pointed with his staff. There in the soft soil was the impression of a hand, and dark spots lay along the trail.

'By Jove, Chippy! the poor chap!' cried the Wolf. 'The hill proved too steep for his weakness. Look, he's finished it on his hands and knees.'

Dick bent, and laid his own hand over the clear impression on the sand.

'Same size again,' he cried; 'he's just about our age, Chippy.'

'It's the blood he's lost as fetched 'im down,' said the Raven, his face very grave; 'but he's a good plucked un. He's fightin' his way somewheer.'

At the top of the hill came a level stretch, and here the wounded rider had gathered himself together again and stumbled forward. Within a very short distance the road forked, and at the fork the trail was lost. The two roads were hard and stony, and showed no trace of footmarks, and the blood had ceased to fall.

'A road apiece,' said Chippy.

'Yes,' said Dick. 'You take right; I'll take left. First one to find anything whistles.'

CHAPTER XLIV

THE BROTHER SCOUT

They parted instantly, and each took his track, his eyes glued to the ground. They could work a great distance apart and yet keep in touch, for their patrol whistles were very powerful, and the day was still.

Chippy went a good three-quarters of a mile, and yet had found nothing. He feared he was not on the right track, for at last he came to a soft patch where spoor ought to have been. There was one new track: the man with the hobnailed boots had turned this way, but there was no other sign of recent passage. Chippy was standing in hesitation, when faint and far away the shrill call of a patrol whistle came to his ears. At once he raised his own whistle to his lips and blew an answering call, then turned and darted like a hare back along the road. He gained the fork and raced along the path which Dick had followed. It was clear that the Wolf had found the track or the injured boy, but the Raven did not trouble about searching for signs of the rider. He knew that his comrade would leave him full directions which way to travel, and his only aim now was to join Dick. So he tore along the road, his eyes fixed on the centre of the track.

Suddenly he pulled up dead. There was a broad arrow marked heavily in the road with the point of Dick's staff. The head pointed to a side-track, and Chippy wheeled and flew off in the new direction. Again he was pulled up. A second broad arrow, square across the way. This time the head pointed to a wicket-gate painted white. Even as the Raven dodged through the wicket he knew that his comrade had hit the right trail. The wicket was painted white, and a stain of red was smeared across the top bar: the injured boy had passed this way.

Faster and faster sped the Raven along a winding field-path which led through meadow after meadow. Then he saw his friend in the distance, and knew that Dick was still on the trail, for he was bending low and moving slowly. The Wolf turned his head as his companion came up panting.

'I'm on the spoor, Chippy,' he said. 'Here's blood again, spot after spot. He must have begun to bleed afresh.'

'I seed some on the gate,' said the Raven; 'did yer hit the trail pretty soon?'

'No,' returned Dick. 'I was in more than half a mind to turn back when I came on the boot track and knew it again. And within twenty yards I found sure signs and whistled.'

He moved forward, and the Raven dropped into file behind, for the track was narrow. Thus it was that he, being free to glance ahead, was the first to catch sight of the object of their search.

'Look, Dick!' he cried. 'Look, look! Right ahead!'

Dick straightened himself, saw what his comrade meant, and the two boys darted forward. They had just turned a corner where the path wound by a tall bank, and thirty yards before them a figure lay in a heap at the foot of the bank. As they ran up to it, they uttered a cry of surprise and wonder. It was a brother scout! There he lay, his slouch hat beside him, his badge on his arm, his legs doubled under him. He had made a grand fight, a scout's fight, to gain his home after his severe accident. But now he had collapsed from utter weakness and loss of blood, and lay against the bank, his face as white as wood-ashes.

His comrades pounced on him at once, placed him in an easier position, and searched for the wound. It was on the inner side of the right arm, a frightful ragged cut made by the deep point of the jagged stone, and was bleeding still. Out came Dick's handkerchief and Chippy's knife. Dick tied the handkerchief above the wound, Chippy cut a short, stiff stick. Then the stick was slipped inside the bandage and twisted until the handkerchief was very tight, and had checked the flow of blood. Dick held the boy's arm up above his body as a further aid to check the bleeding.

'Now, Chippy,' he said, 'cut round and get some water in the billy.'

'Right,' said the Raven; 'we passed a ditch wi' some water in it a bit back.' He flew off, and soon returned with the billy full of cold water.

'Now give me your handkerchief,' said Dick, 'and while I dab the cut with water you push ahead and find help.'

Chippy nodded. 'I reckon this path runs somewheer,' he said. 'I'll foller it up.'

He raced forward and disappeared round a further bend, leaving Dick to do his best for their unconscious comrade. Within three hundred yards Chippy saw a white house before him in lee of a fir coppice.