THE BOY SCOUTS OF LENOX

Or The Hike Over Big Bear Mountain BY FRANK V. WEBSTER AUTHOR OF “ONLY A FARM BOY,” “BEN HARDY’S FLYING MACHINE,” “THE BOY FROM THE RANCH,” ETC.

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY PUBLISHERS

BOOKS FOR BOYS By FRANK V. WEBSTER 12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. ONLY A FARM BOY TOM, THE TELEPHONE BOY THE BOY FROM THE RANCH THE YOUNG TREASURER HUNTER BOB, THE CASTAWAY THE YOUNG FIREMEN OF LAKEVILLE THE NEWSBOY PARTNERS THE BOY PILOT OF THE LAKES THE TWO BOY GOLD MINERS JACK, THE RUNAWAY COMRADES OF THE SADDLE THE BOYS OF BELLWOOD SCHOOL THE HIGH SCHOOL RIVALS BOB CHESTER’S GRIT AIRSHIP ANDY DARRY, THE LIFE SAVER DICK, THE BANK BOY BEN HARDY’S FLYING MACHINE THE BOYS OF THE WIRELESS HARRY WATSON’S HIGH SCHOOL DAYS THE BOY SCOUTS OF LENOX TOM TAYLOR AT WEST POINT COWBOY DAVE THE BOYS OF THE BATTLESHIP JACK OF THE PONY EXPRESS Cupples & Leon Co., Publishers, New York

Copyright, 1915, by CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY

THE BOY SCOUTS OF LENOX

[1]CHAPTER I

WHEN THE SEED TOOK ROOT

“I move we go into it, fellows!”

“It strikes me as a cracking good idea, all right, and I’m glad Tom stirred us up after he came back from visiting his cousins over in Freeport!”

“He says they’ve got a dandy troop, with three full patrols, over there.”

“No reason, Felix, why Lenox should be left out in the cold when it comes to Boy Scout activities. Let’s keep the ball rolling until it’s a sure thing.”

“I say the same, Josh. Why, we can count about enough noses for a full patrol right among ourselves. There’s Tom Chesney to begin with; George Cooper here, who ought to make a pretty fair scout even if he is always finding fault; Carl Oskamp, also present, if we can only tear him away from his hobby of raising homing pigeons long enough to study up what scouts have to know; yourself, Josh Kingsley; and a[2] fellow by the name of Felix Robbins, which happens to be me.”

“That’s five to begin with; and I might mention Billy Button; yes, and Walter Douglass, though I guess he’d take the premium for a tenderfoot, because he knows next to nothing about outdoor life.”

“But he’s willing to learn, because he told me so, Josh; and that counts a lot, you know. That makes seven doesn’t it? Well, to complete the roster of the patrol we might coax Horace Herkimer Crapsey to cast in his lot with us!”

The boy named Josh laughed uproariously at the suggestion, and his merriment was shared to some extent by the other two, Carl Oskamp and George Cooper. Felix shook his head at them disapprovingly.

“Just go slow there, fellows,” he told them. “Because Horace has always been so afraid of his soft white hands that he wears gloves most of the time isn’t any reason why he shouldn’t be made to see the error of his ways.”

“Oh! Felix means that if only we can coax Horace to join, we might reform him!” exclaimed Josh, who was a thin and tall boy, with what might be called a hatchet face, typically Yankee.

“By the same token,” chuckled Felix in turn, “a few of us might drop some of our bad hab[3]its if once we subscribed to the rules of the scouts, because I’ve read the same in a newspaper. They rub it into fellows who find fault with things instead of being cheerful.”

“Oh! is that so, Felix?” burst out George Cooper, who took that thrust to himself. “How about others who are lazy, and always wanting to put things off to another day? Do those same rules say ‘procrastination is the thief of time?’”

“Well boys,” remarked Carl Oskamp, pouring oil on the troubled water as was his habit, “we’ve all got our faults, and it might be a good thing if joining the scouts made us change our ways more or less. There comes Tom, now, let’s get him to tell us something more about the chance for starting a troop in Lenox right away.”

“He said he believed he knew a young man who might consent to act as scout master,” observed Felix. “It’s Mr. Robert Witherspoon, the civil engineer and surveyor.”

“Why, yes, I believe he used to be a scout master in the town he came from!” declared Carl. “I hope Tom is bringing us some good news right now.”

“If that look on his face counts for anything, he’s going to give us a chance to let out a few cheers,” asserted Felix, as the fifth boy drew near.

It was a Friday afternoon near the close of[4] winter when this conversation took place. School was over for the week, and as there was an unmistakable feeling of coming spring in the air the snow on the ground seemed to be in haste to melt and disappear.

Every now and then one of the boys would be overcome by an irresistible temptation to stoop, gather up enough of the soft clinging snow to make a hard ball, which was thrown with more or less success at some tree or other object.

The town of Lenox was just one of many in the eastern section of the great United States, and boasted a few thousand inhabitants, some industries, a high school, and various churches. In Lenox the boys were no different from those to be found in every like community. They had a baseball club that vied with rival schools in spirited contests, a football organization, and in fact almost every element that might be expected to thrive in the midst of a lively community.

There was, however, one thing in which the boys of Lenox seemed to have been lacking, and this had been brought home to them when Tom Chesney came back from his recent visit to Freeport, some twenty miles away.

Somehow the growing fever among boys to organize scout troops had not broken out very early in Lenox; but if late in coming it bade fair to make up for lost time by its fierce burning.

[5]The boy who now joined the four whose chatter we have just recorded was a healthy looking chap. There was something positive about Tom Chesney that had always made him a leader with his comrades. At the same time he was never known to assume any airs or to dictate; which was all the more reason why his chums loved him.

“What luck, Tom?” demanded Josh, as soon as the newcomer joined the others.

“It’s all fixed,” was the quick answer given by Tom, who evidently did not believe in beating about the bush.

“Good for you!” cried Felix. “Then Mr. Witherspoon is willing to organize the Lenox Troop of Boy Scouts, is he, Tom?”

“He said he would be glad to have a hand in it,” replied the other, “his only regret being that as he is often called out of town he might not be able to give the matter all the attention he would like.”

“That’s great news anyhow, Tom!” declared Josh, beaming with satisfaction. “We’ve just been figuring things out, and believe we can find eight fellows who would be willing to make up the first patrol.”

“We would need that many for a starter,” commented Tom; “because according to the rules he tells me there must be at least one full patrol before a troop can be started. And I’m glad you[6] can figure on enough. It’s going to make it a success from the start.”

“There’s yourself to begin with,” remarked Josh, counting with his fingers; “Felix, Walter Douglass, George here, Billy Button, Horace Crapsey, Carl and myself, making the eight we need for a patrol.”

“I’m glad you’re all anxious to join,” said Tom, glancing from one eager face to the other, as they walked slowly down the street in a group.

“Why, so far as that goes, Tom,” ventured Felix Robbins, “most of us are counting the days before we can be wearing our khaki suits and climbing up out of the tenderfoot bunch to that of second-class scout. Only Carl here seems to be kind of holding back; though none of us can see why he should want to go and leave his old chums in the lurch.”

At that Tom gave Carl another look a little more searching than his first. He was immediately struck by the fact that Carl did not seem as happy as usual. He and Tom had been close chums for years. That fact made Tom wonder why the other had not taken him into his confidence, if there was anything wrong.

Carl must have known that the eyes of his chum were upon him for he flushed, and then looked hastily up.

“Oh! it isn’t that I wouldn’t be mighty glad of[7] the chance to go into this thing with the rest of you,” he hastened to say; “don’t believe that I’m getting tired of my old chums. It isn’t that at all. But something has happened to make me think I may be kept so busy that I’d have no time to give to studying up scout laws and attending meetings.”

“Oh! forget it all, Carl, and come in with us,” urged Josh, laying a hand affectionately on the other’s shoulder. “If it’s anything where we can help, you know as well as you do your own name that there isn’t a fellow but would lay himself out to stand back of you. Isn’t that so, boys?”

Three other voices instantly joined in to declare that they would only be glad of the opportunity to show Carl how much they appreciated him. It always touches a boy to find out how much his chums think of him. There was a suspicious moisture about Carl’s eyes as he smiled and nodded his head when replying.

“That’s nice of you, fellows. But after all perhaps I may see my way clear to joining the troop. I hope so, anyway, and I’ll try my best to make the riffle. Now Tom, tell us all Mr. Witherspoon said.”

“Yes, we want to know what we’d have to do the first thing,” added Josh, who was about as quick to start things as Felix Robbins was slow. “I sent off and got a scout manual. It came last[8] night, and I’m soaking up the contents at a great rate.”

“That was why I saw a light over in your room late last night, was it?” George Cooper demanded. “Burning the midnight oil. Must have been interesting reading, seems to me, Josh.”

“I could hardly tear myself away from the book,” responded the other boy. “After to-night I’ll loan it to the rest of you, though I guess Tom must have got one from Mr. Witherspoon, for I see something bulging in his pocket.”

Tom laughed at that.

“Josh,” he said, “it’s very plain to me that you will make a pretty clever scout, because you’ve got the habit of observing things down to a fine point. And if you’ve read as much as you say, of course you know that one of the first things a tenderfoot has to do is to remember to keep his eyes about him, and see things.”

“Yes,” added Josh, eagerly, “one test is for each boy to stand in front of a store window for just two minutes, making a mental map of the same, and then go off to jot down as many objects as he can remember to have seen there.”

“That’s quite a stunt,” remarked Felix thoughtfully; “and I reckon the one who can figure out the biggest number of articles goes up head in the class. I must remember and practice that game. It strikes me as worth while.”

[9]“Listen to the row up there, will you?” burst out George Cooper just then. “Why, that lot of boys seems to be having a snowball fight, don’t they? Hello! it isn’t a battle after all, but they’re pelting somebody or other. See how the balls fly like a flock of pigeons from Carl’s coop!”

“It looks like a man they’re bombarding!” ejaculated Felix.

“You’re right about that, and an old man in the bargain,” added Tom as he quickened his steps involuntarily; “I can see that bully Tony Pollock leading the lot; yes, and the other fellows must be his cronies, Wedge McGuffey and Asa Green.”

“See the poor old fellow try to dodge the balls!” exclaimed Josh. “They’re making them like ice too, and I wouldn’t put it past that lot to pack a stone in each snowball in the bargain. They’d be equal to anything.”

“Are we going to stand by and see that sport go on, boys?” asked Carl as he shut his jaws tight together, and the light of indignation shone in his eyes.

“We wouldn’t be fit to wear the khaki of scouts if we did, fellows!” cried Tom Chesney. “Come on, and let’s give them a taste of their own medicine,” and with loud shouts the five comrades started to gather up the snow as they chased pell-mell toward the scene of excitement.

Contents

[10]CHAPTER II

THE MAN WHO LOVED NATURE

“Give it to them, boys!” Josh was shouting as he started to send his first ball straight at the group of busy tormentors who were showering the helpless old man with their icy balls that must have stung almost as much as so many rocks.

He seemed to be lame, for while he tried to advance toward the young rascals waving his stout cane wildly, they had no difficulty in keeping a safe distance off, and continuing the cruel bombardment.

The smashing of that ball flung by Josh, who was pitcher on the Lenox baseball team, and a fine shot, was the first intimation the three tormentors of the old man had that the tables had been turned.

“Hey! look here what’s on to us!” shrilled one of the trio, as he felt the sudden shock caused by the first snowball striking the back of his head.

Upon that the bully of the town and his two[11] allies were forced to turn and try to defend themselves against this assault from the rear. They fought desperately for a very short time, but their hands were already half frozen, and five against three proved too great odds for their valor.

Besides, every time Josh let fly he managed to land on some part of the person of Tony Pollock or one of his cronies. And those hard balls when driven by the sturdy arm of the baseball pitcher stung mercilessly.

The old man stood and watched, with something like a smile on his face. He seemed to have forgotten all about his own recent predicament in seeing these young rowdies receiving their just dues. If he had not been old and lame possibly he might have insisted on joining in the fray, and adding to the punishment being meted out to the three cowardly boys.

Once a retreat was begun, it quickly merged into a regular panic. Tom stayed to talk to the old man while his comrades pursued the fleeing trio, and peppered them good and hard. When finally they felt that they had amply vindicated their right to be reckoned worthy candidates for scout membership they came back, laughing heartily among themselves, to where Tom and the old man were standing.

“Why, I’ve seen that old fellow before,” Josh[12] remarked in a low tone as he and Carl, George and Felix drew near. “His name is Larry Henderson, and they say he’s something of a hermit, living away up in the woods beyond Bear Mountain.”

“Sure thing,” added Felix, instantly; “I’ve heard my folks talking about him lots of times. He does a little trapping, they say, but spends most of his time studying animated nature. He knows every animal that ever lived on this continent, and the birds and insects too, I reckon. He’s as smart as they make ’em, and used to be a college professor some people say, even if he does talk a little rough now.”

For some reason all of them were feeling more or less interest in the man who walked with a cane. Perhaps this arose from the fact that of late they had become enthusiastic over everything connected with woodcraft. And the fact that Mr. Henderson was acquainted with a thousand secrets about the interesting things to be discovered in the Great Outdoors appealed strongly to them.

“These are my chums, Mr. Henderson,” said Tom, when the others came up; and as the name of each one was mentioned the hermit of Bear Mountain grasped his hand, giving a squeeze that made some of the boys wince.

“I’m glad to meet you all,” he said, heartily.[13] “It was worth being attacked by that lot of rowdies just to get acquainted with such a fine lot of boys. And I want to say that you gave them all the punishment they deserved. I counted hits until I lost all track of the number.”

“Yes,” said Felix, with a grin on his freckled face; “they’re rubbing many a sore spot right now, I reckon. Josh here, who’s our star pitcher on the nine, never wasted a single ball. And I could hear the same fairly whistle through the air.”

“Gosh all hemlock! Felix,” objected the boy mentioned, “you’re stretching things pretty wide, aren’t you? Now I guess the rest of you did your share in the good work, just as much as I.”

“All the same I’m thankful for your coming to my assistance,” said Mr. Henderson. “My rheumatism kept me from being as spry in dodging their cannonade as I might have been some years ago. And one ball that broke against that tree had a stone inside it, I’m sorry to say. We would have called that unsportsmanlike in my young days.”

“Only the meanest kind of a fellow would descend to such a trick!” exclaimed the indignant Josh; “but then Tony Pollock and his crowd are ready to do anything low-down and crooked. They’ll never be able to join our scout troop, after we get it started.”

[14]“What’s that you are saying?” asked the old man, showing sudden interest.

“Why, you see, sir,” explained Josh, always ready to do his share of talking if given half a chance, “our chum here, Tom Chesney, was visiting his cousins over in Freeport, and got interested in their scout troop. So we’ve taken the thing up, and expect to start the ball rolling right away.”

“It happens,” Tom went on, “that there is a young man in town who once served as scout master in a troop, and I’ve just had him promise to come around to-night and tell us what we’ve got to do to get the necessary charter from scout headquarters.”

“You interest me very much, boys,” said Mr. Henderson, his eyes sparkling as he spoke. “I have read considerable about the wonderful progress this new movement is making all over the land; and I want to say that I like the principles it advocates. Boys have known too little in the past of how to take care of themselves at all times, and also be ready to lend a helping hand to others.”

“The camping out, and finding all sorts of queer things in the woods is what makes me want to join a troop!” said Josh; “because I always did love to fish and hunt, and get off in the mountains away from everybody.”

[15]“That’s a good foundation to start on,” remarked the hermit, with kindling eyes, as he looked from one eager face to another; “but I imagine that after you’ve been a scout for a short time your ideas will begin to change considerably.”

“How, sir?” asked Josh, looking unconvinced.

“Well,” continued the old man, softly, “you’ll find such enjoyment in observing the habits of all the little woods folks that by degrees the fierce desire you have now to slay them will grow colder. In the end most of you will consider it ten times better to sit and watch them at their labors or play than to slaughter them in sport, or even to kill them for food.”

“But Mr. Henderson,” said Josh, boldly, “I’ve heard that you trap animals for their pelts; and I guess you must knock a few over when you feel like having game for dinner, don’t you?”

“Occasionally I go out and get a rabbit or a partridge, though not often,” admitted the old man; “and as for my trapping, I only try to take such animals or vermin as are cruel in their nature and seem to be a pest to the innocent things I’m so fond of having around me. I wish you boys could visit my cabin some time or other, and make the acquaintance of my innumerable pets. They look on me as their best friend, and I would never dream of raising a hand to injure them. Kind[16]ness to animals, I believe, is one of the cardinal principles of a true scout.”

“Yes, sir, that’s what it is,” responded Josh, eagerly. “I’ve got the whole twelve points of scout law on the tip of my tongue right now. Here’s what they are: A scout has got to be trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent.”