The Banner Boy Scouts Snowbound

At exactly ten o’clock, on Monday morning, December 26th, Bobolink sounded the “Assembly” on his bugle. A great crowd had gathered on the bank of the frozen Bushkill. For the most part this was made up of boys and girls, but there were in addition a few parents who wanted to see the start of the scouts for their midwinter camp.

Up to this time their outings had taken place in a more genial period of the year, and not a few witnessed their departure with feelings of uneasiness. This winter had already proved its title to the stormiest known in a quarter of a century, and at the last hour more than one parent questioned the wisdom of allowing the boys to take the bold tour.

However, there were no “recalls,” and as for the ten lads themselves, to look at their eager faces it could be seen that they entertained no doubts regarding their ability to cope with whatever situations arose.

The five iceboats were in line, and could be compared with so many fleet race horses fretting to make a speedy start. Each had various mysterious packages fastened securely, leaving scanty room for the pair of “trippers.”

“After all we’re going to have a fine day of it,” remarked Tom Betts, as he gave a last look to the running gear of his new ice craft, and impatiently waited for Paul to give the word to be off.

“Luck seems to be with us in the start,” admitted Bobolink, who was next in line. “I only hope it won’t change and slap us too hard after we get up there in the woods.”

“I heard this morning that the Lawson crowd had started overland, with packs on their backs,” Phil Towns stated.

“Oh! we’re bound to rub up against that lot before we’re done with it,” prophesied Bobolink. “But if they give us any trouble I miss my guess if they won’t be sorry for it.”

“Scouts can take a heap,” said Tom, “but there is a limit to their forbearance; and once they set out to inflict proper punishment they know how to rub it in good and hard.”

“Do you really believe there’s any truth in that report we heard about Mr. Briggs’ safe being found broken open and cleaned out?” asked Phil.

“There’s no question about it,” replied Bobolink. “Though between you and me I don’t think the robbers got much of a haul, for the old man is too wise to keep much money around.”

“I heard that Hank Lawson and his crowd were spending money pretty freely when they got ready early this morning to start,” suggested Tom.

Jack, who had listened to all this talk, took occasion to warn his fellow-scouts, just as Paul had done on the other occasion.

“Better not say that again, Tom, because we have no means of knowing how they got the money. Some of them are often supplied with larger amounts than seem to be good for them. Unless you know positively, don’t start the snowball rolling downhill, because it keeps on growing larger every time some one tells the story.”

“All right, Jack,” remarked Tom, cheerfully; “what you say goes. Besides, as we expect to be away a couple of weeks there isn’t going to be much chance to tell tales in Stanhope.”

They waited impatiently for the word to go. Paul was making a last round in order to be sure that nothing had been overlooked, for caution was strongly developed in his character, as well as boldness.

There were many long faces among the other boys belonging to Stanhope Troop, for they would have liked above all things to be able to accompany their lucky comrades. The lure of the open woods had a great attraction for them, and on previous outings every one had enjoyed such glorious times that now all felt as though they were missing a grand treat.

At last Paul felt that nothing else remained to be done, and that he could get his expedition under way without any scruple. There were many skaters on the river, but a clear passage down-stream had been made for the start of the iceboat squadron.

A few of the strongest skaters had gone on ahead half an hour back, intending to accompany the adventurous ten a portion of the way. They hoped to reach the point where the old canal connected the Bushkill river with the Radway, and a long time back known as Jackson’s Creek.

Here they would await the coming of the fleet iceboats, and lend what assistance was required in making the passage of this crooked waterway.

When once again the bugle sounded the cheering became more violent than ever, for it was known that the moment of departure had arrived.

Tom Betts had been given the honor of being the first in the procession. His fellow passenger was Jack Stormways. As the new Speedaway shot from its mooring place and started down the river it seemed as though the old football days had come again, such a roar arose from human lungs, fish-horns, and every conceivable means for making a racket.

A second craft quickly followed in the wake of the leader, then a third, the two others trailing after, until all of them were heading down-stream, rapidly leaving Stanhope behind.

The cheering of the throng grew fainter as the speedy craft glided over the ice, urged on by a fair wind. There could be little doubt that the ten scouts who were undertaking the expedition were fully alive to the good fortune that had come their way.

Tom Betts was acknowledged to be the most skilful skipper, possibly barring Paul, along the Bushkill. He seemed to know how to get the best speed out of an iceboat, and at the same time avoid serious accidents, such as are likely to follow the reckless use of such frail craft.

It was thoughtful of Paul to let Tom lead the procession, when by all rights, as the scout-master, Paul might properly have assumed that position. Tom must have been considering this fact, for as he and Jack flew along, crouching under the big new sail that was drawing splendidly, he called out to his comrade:

“Let me tell you it was mighty white in Paul to assign me to this berth, Jack, when by rights everybody expected him to lead off. I appreciate it, too, I want you to understand.”

“Oh! that’s just like Paul,” he was told. “He always likes to make other fellows feel good. And for a chap who unites so many rare qualities in his make-up Paul is the most unassuming fellow I ever knew. Why, you can see that he intentionally put himself in last place, and picked out Spider Sexton’s boat to go on, because he knew it was the poorest of the lot.”

“But all the same the old Glider is doing her prettiest to-day and keeping up with the procession all right,” asserted Tom, glancing back.

“That’s because Paul’s serving as skipper,” asserted Jack, proudly. “He could get speed out of any old tub you ever saw. But then we’re not trying to do any racing on this trip, you remember, Tom.”

“Not much,” assented the other, quickly. “Paul impressed it on us that to-day we must keep it in mind that ‘safety first’ is to be our motto. Besides, with all these bundles of grub and blankets and clothes-bags strapped and roped to our boats a fellow couldn’t do himself justice, I reckon.”

“No more he could, Tom. But we’re making good time for all that, and it isn’t going to be long before we pass Manchester, and reach the place where that old abandoned canal creeps across two miles of country, more or less, to the Radway.”

“I can see the fellows who skated down ahead of us!” announced Tom, presently.

“Yes, they’re waiting to go through the canal with us,” assented Jack. “Wallace Carberry said they feared we might have a bad time of it getting the iceboats over to the Radway, and he corralled a few fellows with the idea of lending a hand.”

“They hate the worst kind to be left out of this camping game,” remarked Tom, “and want to see the last they can of us.”

A few minutes later and the skipper of the leading iceboat brought his speedy craft to a halt close to the shore, where several scouts awaited them. The other four craft soon drew up near by, thus finishing what they were pleased to call the “first leg” of the novel cruise.

It was decided to work their way through the winding creek the best way possible. In places it would be found advisable to push the boats, while now and then as an open stretch came along they might take advantage of a favorable wind to do a little sailing.

Two miles of this sort of thing would not be so bad. As Bobolink sang out, the worst was yet to come when they made the Radway, and had to ascend against a head wind that would necessitate skilful tacking to avoid an overturn.

CHAPTER XIII

ON THE WAY

“It all comes back to me again, when I see that frozen mud bank over there, fellows,” called out Frank Savage, after they had been pushing their way along the rough canal for some time.

“How many times we did get stuck on just such a mud bank,” laughed Paul. “I can shut my eyes even now, and imagine I see some of us wading alongside, and helping to get our motor boats out of the pickle. I think Bobolink must dream of it every once in a while, for he had more than his share of the fun.”

“It was bully fun all right, say what you will!” declared the boy mentioned, “though like a good many other things that are past and gone, distance lends enchantment to the view.”

“That’s right,” echoed Tom Betts, “you always seem to forget the discomforts when you look back to that kind of thing, and remember only the jolly good times. I’ve come home from hunting as tired as a dog, and vowed it would be a long while before I ever allowed myself to be tempted to go again. But, fellows, if a chum came along the next day and asked me I’d fall to the bait.”

A chance to do a little sailing interrupted this pleasant exchange of reminders. But it was for a very short distance only that they were able to take advantage of a favoring breeze; then the boys found it necessary to push the boats again.

Some of them strapped on their skates and set out to draw the laden iceboats as the most logical way of making steady progress.

“What are two measly miles, when such a glorious prospect looms up ahead of us?” cried Sandy. “We ought to be at the old Radway by noon.”

“Yes,” added Bobolink, quickly. “And I heard Paul saying just now that as we were in no great hurry he meant to call a halt there for an hour or more. We can start a fire and have a bully little warm lunch, just to keep us from starving between now and nightfall, when a regular dinner will be in order.”

Of course, this set some of the boys to making fun of Bobolink’s well known weakness. The accused scout took it all as good natured joking. Besides, who could get angry when engaged in such a glorious outing as that upon which they were now fully embarked? Certainly not the even-tempered Bobolink.

From time to time the boys recognized various spots where certain incidents had happened to them when on their never-to-be-forgotten motor boat cruise of the preceding summer.

It was well on towards noon when they finally reached the place where the old connecting canal joined the Radway river. It happened, fortunately for the plans of the scouts, that both streams were rather high at the setting in of winter, which accounted for an abundance of ice along the connecting link.

“Looky there, Paul. Could you find a better place for a fire than in that cove back of the point?” demanded Bobolink, evidently bent on reminding the commander-in-chief of his promise.

“You’re right about that,” admitted Paul, “for the trees and bushes on the point act as a wind break. Head over that way, boys, and let’s make a stop for refreshments.”

“Good for you, Paul!” cried Spider Sexton, jubilantly. “I skipped the best part of my usual feed this morning, I was so excited and afraid I might get left; and I want to warn you all I’m as empty right now as a drum. So cook enough for an extra man or two when you’re about it.”

“Huh! you’ll take a hand in that job yourself, Spider,” asserted Bobolink, pretending to look very stern, though he knew there would be no lack of volunteers for preparing that first camp meal. Enthusiasm always runs high when boys first go into the woods, but later on it gets to be an old story, and some of the campers have to be drummed into harness.

A fire was soon started, for every one of the scouts knew all about the coaxing of a blaze, no matter how damp the wood might seem. The scouts had learned their lesson in woodcraft, and took pride in excelling one another on occasion.

Then a bustling ensued as several cooks busied themselves in frying ham, as well as some potatoes that had already been boiled at home. When several onions had been mixed with these, after being first fried in a separate pan, the odors that arose were exceedingly palatable to the hungry groups that stood around awaiting the call to lunch.

Coffee had been made in the two capacious tin pots, for on such a bracing day as this they felt they needed something to warm their systems. Plenty of condensed milk had been brought along, and a can of this was opened by puncturing the top in two places. Thus, if not emptied at a sitting, a can can be sealed up again, and kept over for another occasion.

“As good a feed as I ever want to enjoy!” was the way Bobolink bubbled over as he reached for his second helping, meanwhile keeping a wary eye on the boy who had warned them as to his enormous capacity for food.

“It is mighty fine,” agreed Wallace Carberry, “but somehow, fellows, it seems like a funeral feast to me, because it’s the last time I’ll be able to join you. Never felt so bad in my life before. Shed a few tears for me once in a while, won’t you?”

The others laughingly promised to accommodate him. Truth to tell, most of them did feel very sorry for Wallace and the other boys whose parents had debarred them from all this pleasure before them.

When the hour was up another start was made. This time they headed up the erratic Radway. The skaters still clung to them, bent on seeing all they could of those whom they envied so much.

Progress was sometimes very tedious, because the wind persisted in meeting them head on, and it is not the easiest task in the world to force an iceboat against a negative breeze. Tacking had to be resorted to many times, and each mile they gained was well won.

The boys enjoyed the exhilarating exercise, however, and while there were a few minor accidents nothing serious interfered with their progress.

It was two o’clock when they sighted Lake Tokala ahead of them. Shouts of joy from those in advance told the glad story to the toilers in the rear. This quickened their pulses, and made them all feel that the worst was now over.

When the broad reaches of the lake had been gained they were able to make speed once more. It was the best part of the entire trip—the run across the wide lake. And how the sight of Cedar Island brought back most vividly recollections of the happy and exciting days spent there not many months before!

Wallace and his three chums still held on. They declared they were bound to stick like “leeches” until they had seen the expedition safely across the lake. What if night did overtake them before they got back to the Bushkill again? There would be a moon, and skating would be a pleasure under such favorable conditions.

“Don’t see any signs of another wild man on the island, do you, Jack?” asked Tom Betts, as the Speedaway fairly flew past the oasis in the field of ice that was crowned by a thick growth of cedars, which had given the island its name.

“Nothing doing in that line, Tom,” replied the other with a laugh. “Such an adventure happens to ordinary fellows only once in a life-time. But then something just as queer may be sprung on us in the place we’re heading for.”

The crossing of Tokala Lake did not consume a great deal of time, for the wind had shifted just enough to make it favor them more or less much of the way over.

“I c’n see smoke creeping up at the point Paul’s heading for,” announced Tom Betts. “That must come from the cabin we heard had been built here since we had our outing on the lake.”

“We were told that it stood close to the mouth of the creek which we have to ascend some miles,” remarked Jack. “And this man is the one we think to leave our boats in charge of while away in the woods.”

“I only hope then that he’ll be a reliable keeper,” observed Tom, seriously, “for it would nearly break my heart if anything happened to the Speedaway now. I’ve only tried her out a few times, but she gives promise of beating anything ever built in this section of the country. I don’t believe I could duplicate her lines again if I tried.”

“Don’t borrow trouble,” Jack told him. “We’ll dismantle the boats all we can before we leave them, and the chances are ten to one we’ll find them O.K. when we come out of the woods two weeks from now. But here we are at the place, and the boys who mean to return home will have to say good-bye.”

CHAPTER XIV

THE RING OF STEEL RUNNERS

As the little flotilla of ice yachts drew up close to the shore, the sound of boyish laughter must have been heard, for a man was seen approaching. He came from the direction of the cabin which they had sighted among the trees, and from the mud and stone chimney of which smoke was ascending straight into the air—a promise of continued good weather.

The boys were climbing up the bank when he reached them. So far as they could see he appeared to be a rough but genial man, and Paul believed they could easily trust him to take care of the boats while away.

“I suppose you are Abe Turner, spoken of by Mr. Garrity?” was the way Paul addressed the man, holding out his hand in friendly greeting.

The other’s face relaxed into a smile. Evidently he liked this manly looking young chap immediately, as most people did, for Paul had a peculiarly winning way about him.

“That’s my name, and I reckon now you must be Paul,” said the other.

“Why, how did you know that?” demanded Bobolink, in surprise.

“Oh! I had a letter from Mr. Thomas Garrity telling me all about you boys, and ordering me to do anything you might want. You see he owns all the country around here, an’ I’m holding the fort until spring, when there’s going to be some big timber cutting done. We expect to get it to market down the Radway.”

The scouts exchanged pleased looks.

“Bully for Mr. Thomas Garrity!” shouted Tom Betts, “he’s all to the good, if his conversion to liking boys did come late in life. He’s bound to make up for all the lost time now. Three cheers, fellows, for our good friend!”

They were given with a rousing will, and the echoes must have alarmed some of the shy denizens of the snow forest, for a fox was seen to scurry across an open spot, and a bevy of crows in some not far distant oak trees started to caw and call.

“All we want you to do for us, Abe,” explained Paul, “is to take good care of our five iceboats, which we will have to leave with you.”

“And we might as well tell you in the beginning,” added Bobolink, “that several tough chaps from our town have come up here to spend some time, just from learning of our plans.”

“Yes,” went on Tom Betts, the anxious one, “and nothing would tickle that Hank Lawson and his gang so much as to be able to sneak some of our boats away, or, failing that, to smash them into kindling wood with an axe.”

Abe nodded his shaggy head and smiled.

“I’ve heard some things about Hank Lawson,” he observed. “But take it from me that if he comes around my shanty trying any of his tricks he’ll get a lesson he’ll never forget. I’ll see to it that your boats are kept safe. I’ve two dogs off hunting in the woods just now, but I’ll fasten ’em nigh where you store the boats. I’m sorry for the boy who gets within the grip of Towser’s teeth, yes, or Clinch’s either.”

That was good news to Tom, who smiled as though finally satisfied that there was really nothing to be feared.

“Sorry to say we’ll have to be leaving you, boys,” announced Wallace just then, as he started to go the rounds with a mournful face, shaking hands with each lucky scout whom he envied so much.

“Hope you have the time of your lives,” called out another of those who were debarred from enjoying the outing.

These boys started away, looking back from time to time as they crossed wide Lake Tokala. Finally, with a last parting salute, they darted into the mouth of the canal and were lost to view.

There was an immediate bustle, for time was flitting, and much remained to be done. The five owners of the iceboats proceeded to dismantle them, which was not a tedious proceeding. The masts were unstepped and hidden in a place by themselves. The sails were taken into the cabin of Abe, where they would be safe.

Meanwhile, the other boys had been engaged in making up the various packs which from now on must be shouldered by each member of the expedition. Experience in such things allowed them to accomplish more in a given time than novices would have been able to do.

“Everything seems to be ready, Paul,” announced Jack after a while, as they gathered around, each boy striving to fix his individual pack upon his back, and getting some other fellow to adjust the straps.

Bobolink seemed to have half again as much as any of the others, though this was really all his own doing. Besides his usual share of the luggage he had pots and pans and skillets sticking out in all directions, so that he presented the appearance of a traveling tinker.

“It’s a great pity, Bobolink,” said Tom Betts, with a grin, as he surveyed his comrade after helping the other load up, “that you were born about seventy-five years too late.”

“Tell me why,” urged the other.

“Think what a peddler you would have made! You’d have been a howling success hawking your goods around the country.”

Of course they had all adjusted their skates before taking up their packs; for bending down would really have been next to a physical impossibility after those weighty burdens had been assumed.

“Hope you have a right good time, boys,” said Abe Turner in parting. “And don’t any of you worry about these boats. When you come back this way you’ll find everything slick and neat here.”

“Good for you, Abe,” cried Tom Betts. “And make up your mind to it the Banner Boy Scouts never forget their friends. You’re on the list, Abe. Good-bye!”

They were off at last, and it was high time, for the short December day was already getting well along toward its close. Night would come almost before they knew it, though they had no reason to expect anything like darkness, with that moon now much more than half full up there in the heavens.

Some of the boys had noticed the mouth of this creek when camping on Cedar Island the previous summer. They had been so much occupied with fishing, taking flashlight pictures of little wild animals in their native haunts, and in solving certain mysteries that came their way that none of them had had time to explore the stream.

On this account then it would prove to be a new bit of country for them, and this fact rather pleased most of the boys, as they dearly loved to prowl around in a section they had never visited before.

Strung out in a straggling procession they skated along. The creek was about as crooked as anything could well be, a fact that influenced Bobolink to shout out:

“In the absence of a better name, fellows, I hereby christen this waterway Snake Creek; any objections?”

“It deserves the name, all right,” commented Spider Sexton, “for I never saw such a wiggly stream in all my born days.”

“Seems as if we had already come all of five miles, and nary a sign of a cabin ahead yet that I can see,” observed Phil Towns, presently, for Phil was really beginning to feel pretty well used up, not being quite so sturdy as some others among the ten scouts.

“That’s the joke,” laughed Paul; “and it’s on me I guess more than any one else. I thought of nearly a thousand things, seems to me, but forgot to ask any one just how far it was up to the cabin from the lake by way of this scrambling creek.”

“Why, I’m sure Mr. Garrity said something like six miles!” exclaimed Jack.

“Yes, but that may have meant as the crow flies, straightaway,” returned the scout-master.

“At the worst then, Paul,” Bobolink ventured to say, “we can camp, and spend a night in the open under the hemlocks. Veteran scouts have no need to be afraid to tackle such a little game as that, with plenty of grub and blankets along.”

“Hear! hear!” said Phil Towns. “And as the sun has set already I for one wouldn’t care how soon you decided to do that stunt.”