The Boy Scouts of the Flying Squadron

"I want to own up that I'm pretty nearly all in and done for!"

"Same here, Bud. The going was tough over that frozen side of old

Stormberg mountain. Then we are carrying such loads into the bargain."

"For one, I'm glad we are nearly there, Hugh."

"Yes, another steady pull and we ought to strike the shanty. We aimed to get to it by nightfall, you remember, Bud."

"Yes, and after eating such a big Thanksgiving dinner, we've been pretty spry to accomplish all we have. Why, I haven't had a pull anything like this since we broke camp last summer up at Pioneer Lake!"

"And we never could have done it only for the lift we got from Farmer Badgely, going home from market. That put us some miles on the way. If you've rested enough, Bud, perhaps we would better be on the move again. The sun is getting close to the diving line, you notice."

"Here goes, then!"

With these words Bud Morgan, first-class scout and one of the leading boys in the Wolf Patrol, inserted his arms in the loops of the pack he was handling, and managed to heave it on to his sturdy back.

His companion did likewise, for each of them was "toting" much more than the customary amount of luggage that a scout on the hike would carry with him.

This comrade was an agile chap, about the same weight as Bud, but with a wide-awake expression on his face that let everybody know in the start that he was one of those born leaders who forge to the front through circumstances often beyond their control.

Hugh Hardin was not only leader of the Wolf Patrol. Sometimes he had been deputized to act in place of the regular scout master of the troop, when Lieutenant Denmead and Assistant Rawson chanced to be called away and could not serve. So well had Hugh carried out his task on such occasions, it was generally accepted as a foregone conclusion that in case the latter officer resigned, as he had lately given hints of doing, Hugh would be elected in his stead. There might be a few boys in the troop, now consisting of four patrols, who would prefer to see Alec Sands, leader of the Otters, placed in that elevated position, but his popularity was confined to his particular chums, while that of Hugh embraced members of every patrol.

On this day, Hugh and Bud had started from home immediately after partaking of a glorious Thanksgiving feast. As all preparations had been made for this trip up into the wilderness many miles above the home town, it was evident that they had a particular object in view; which, in fact, was the case.

Bud Morgan was rather given to conjuring up new and sometimes startling inventions. These he usually tried upon some of his mates and not always in a fashion to add to their peace of mind, either. On more than one occasion in the past they had been suddenly confronted by some innovation that for the moment rather demoralized the valiant wearers of the scout khaki.

Bud had not been very successful in his wonderful inventions. They were apt to disappoint him in the severe testing out. Theory might be all very well, but when it came to practice there was generally a screw loose in his figuring that could not be tightened; and, in consequence, trouble often perched on Bud's shoulders.

During the late summer and early autumn he had been working on some idea that seemed to have taken hold of his mind to a greater extent than any previous effort had ever done. His chums knew of it, but no one had been able to coax Bud to let them share his confidence.

When the time came that Bud could not contain his secret any longer, he had gone to the leader of his patrol and confessed. At the same time he managed to interest Hugh to such an extent that the other promised to go off with him during the few days of grace granted by the school authorities around "turkey-eating time" in late November, so as to give his new invention at least a fair trial.

And this was why they had started so soon after the annual big dinner, which fact in itself spoke volumes for the grit and determination of the two lads. Few boys would have been in condition to walk three miles during the balance of the day.

They knew one fellow at least, Billy Worth, also a Wolf scout, who was so fond of eating that doubtless at this very moment he was stretched out at full length on the sofa in his den at home, trying to figure how ever he could partake of supper after disposing of such a stupendous amount of turkey and fixings.

In the previous stories of this series, the reader who may have been fortunate enough to peruse them has come to know both Hugh and Bud pretty well. They have been followed through many adventures calculated to prove their worth as scouts, and, taken on the whole, it will be admitted that in most cases the boys carried off the honors. In the Wolf patrol, as well as among the Otters, Hawks, and Foxes, there were other lads who were also animated by the same sort of progressive spirit, and who never allowed an opportunity to improve their minds or to broaden their knowledge of Nature escape them.

After taking up their heavy burdens again, Hugh and his comrade walked on for some time through the woods. The leaves were well off the trees, though the oaks still held their brown mantle, being the very last to shed their summer coat. It had frozen quite hard for several nights previous, and some of the town boys had cherished vague hopes that there might be ice for the Thanksgiving holidays, a custom that used to prevail years before, according to the accounts given by their parents. As yet, however, only a covering an inch or so thick had settled on the ponds, and of course the running river showed no signs of congealing, so that skating would have to be postponed to a later date.

Around the two scouts there lay a complete wilderness of trees. Had they searched high and low it is doubtful whether they could have found a more lonely spot within twenty miles of home.

Stormberg Mountain, on which many of their previous adventures had taken place, reared its peak on the right; and Rainbow Lake was within two miles of their present location. In selecting this place for their little outing, Bud had probably figured that the chances of their being disturbed or spied upon by any of the curious town boys would be very slight. And, like all modest inventors, Bud was very shy about showing off until he could be certain that he had actually something worth talking about to display.

The sun had seemed to hesitate upon the horizon, but now it took a sudden dip below the earth's rim, and Bud exclaimed:

"Say, did you see the sun just slide out of sight then, as though he was ashamed to leave us in the dark? This place has all grown up since I was here last, so I hope we'll get to the shack before night really sets in."

"We will all right, Bud, so don't worry any," laughed Hugh, whose aim it seemed to be to take things as philosophically as possible, especially when they could not be changed. "Right now I'm beginning to recognize some familiar things around us. There is that chestnut that has thrown out three young suckers. When it gets big, it will make a land-mark worth talking about. I noticed it the last time I was through these woods."

"Yes, like as not," grumbled Bud, who was very tired, "if the old chestnut bug that's killing all the trees in the next county doesn't get up here next year and put the kibosh on our fine nut trees for keeps. Oh! look at that rabbit spin out of that brush pile! He's on the jump, let me tell you! Hugh, I'm beginning to recognize some things around here, too, that I remember must have been close to the shack. There's the meadow clearing that I had in my mind when choosing to come away up here to try out my latest wonder. Yes, and as sure as anything, I can hear the singing of that little waterfall just below the big spring."

"It seems to tell me that I'm thirsty enough to stop and get a drink before going on. The shack lies just back of that screen of trees and bushes, anyway," Hugh remarked, as he turned slightly aside and headed directly toward the quarter from whence that melodious song arose.

Apparently Bud was of the same mind, for he instantly followed suit. In another minute both scouts had deposited their packs on the hard ground and were kneeling at the rim of the little basin where the clear water, bubbling up from the sand, ran away in a busy stream that as yet had not felt the chilling hand of Jack Frost.

Each boy produced a collapsible metal cup with which he could dip into the sparkling spring. This is a much better way than bending down and sucking in great quantities of water, without knowing what impurities may be swallowed. Some scouts on their tramps even carry a small filtering stone such as is used in the army, and this is considered a wise precaution by thoughtful scout masters.

"Well, that tastes pretty fine," remarked Bud, after he had drunk his fill and carefully replaced his cup in its receptacle; "and now to get under cover. I reckon the very first thing we ought to attend to is getting a supply of wood indoors, so as to make the old shanty feel comfortable. I never think of a camp without seeing a camp fire as the best thing in it. It is that that binds scouts together more than any other part of the outdoor game, I think. Does it strike you that way, too, Hugh?"

"Yes, I came to that conclusion," replied the leader of the Wolf patrol, "after watching how anxious the boys always were to get plenty of fuel ready long before night came. Then you know a fire stands for grub time, too, and that always appeals to scouts who have done lots of things during the day to tire themselves out."

"That's so, I've had heaps of fun just watching Billy Worth's eyes dance while he hauled firewood into camp. With every armful he seemed to be saying, 'There, that's going to help cook our supper to-night! And we're going to have fried onions, and potatoes and ham omelette!' I had half a notion to ask Billy to come along with us on this trip, but somehow I hated to think of the fun he'd poke at me in case my wonderful invention turned out to be a fizzle, like so many of them have in the past. I knew you wouldn't give me away, Hugh, if that happened,--and if I lived to tell the tale! Well, I hope I can get my pack on my back again for the last hundred feet; but it comes harder every time. Thanks awfully for the poke, Hugh; it did the business. Now I'm in harness and ready to go on."

The two weary scouts staggered more or less as they started to push through the last barrier of trees and brush. They knew that they would speedily discover the long deserted shack there among the second growth thicket of young trees. Indeed, it was hardly half a minute later when Bud came to a sudden halt, at the same time saying in a hoarse whisper:

"Hugh, look there, will you? There's a light in the shanty! What do you think of the meanness of that? After we've come all the way up here just to keep to ourselves, then to find somebody camping on the ground! Shucks! It makes me feel as if it was a bad omen, and right in the start, too!"