CHAPTER VIII—The “Instructor In Woodcraft”
The ball game having ended so summarily, the Patrols gathered once more on the slope in front of the clubhouse to decide what should be done during the remainder of the forenoon.
“That’s what I call a mystery,” declared the chubby faced Corporal Robe, alluding to the disappearance of the ball; “I wonder whether any big bird flying overhead made off with it.”
“The explanation is simple,” said Alvin Landon as if in pity of the ignorance of the others.
“Well, you are so smart,” remarked the corporal, “suppose you explain for the benefit of the rest of us.
“Didn’t you observe that I put all my power in that sweep of the bat, and I caught the ball on the trade mark? Well, it is probably still sailing through the air and most likely will be found on the outskirts of Boothbay Harbor or at Christmas Cove.”
“Strange we never thought of that,” commented Robe, as if impressed. “I had a notion that the ball lodged somewhere among the limbs of the trees.”
“I never heard of anything like that.”
“Don’t you think there may be several things of which you never heard?”
“Enough of this aimless talk,” broke in the Scout Master; “we have a visitor.”
There was a general turning of heads toward the lake, where all saw the cause of the last remark of the Scout Master. A birch canoe had put out from the eastern shore and was approaching the bungalow at a moderate speed. In the stern of the craft was seated a man who swung the short paddle with easy powerful strokes. His face was turned toward the group of lads.
“I thought Rip Van Winkle lived in the Catskills,” remarked the corporal in a low voice, whereat all smiled, for the appearance of the stranger justified the comparison. He was bareheaded and his long hair and beard were of snowy whiteness. The picture was a striking one, with the curving prow of the pretty craft pointed straight toward the landing. The crystalline water was split into a gentle ripple by the bow, fashioned the same as the stern, and the sparkle of the blade looked as if he was lifting and tumbling liquid diamonds about for the party to admire.
You have been introduced to “Uncle Elk,” and do not need any further description of him. He and Mike Murphy were to meet some hours later not far away in the woods.
Scout Master Hall and the boys walked down to the edge of the lake to welcome their caller. They were glad to receive strangers at any time, and believing the man to be much older than he was, they stood ready to give him the help he might possibly need. But he required nothing of that nature.
Uncle Elk seemed to be surveying the group from under his shaggy brows, but he acted as if he saw them not. With the same regular sweep of the paddle, he held the boat to its course, gently checking it as the prow neared land, so that it impinged like a feather against the shingle. He arose, stepped out, drew the craft farther up the beach and then astonished the boys and their leader by doing a most unexpected thing. He straightened his slightly stooping figure, fixed his penetrating eyes on the Scout Master, and made the Boy Scout salute. So far as his exuberant beard permitted them to see, he was grave and solemn of manner.
“Hurrah! he’s one of us!” called Herbert Wood, as led by Hall, all stood erect and returned the greeting. And almost instantly the old man taught them precisely how the wolf makes his cry, followed by the “baow,” of the stag and the “kreece,” of the eagle. Those keen eyes which scorned all artificial aid, had observed the flags of the three Patrols displayed along with the emblem of their country above the roof of the bungalow.
Hall stepped forward and offered his hand, which was clasped by the venerable man, who showed his pleasure in looking into the faces of so bright a lot of youths.
“Will you accept me as a Boy Scout?” he asked, the movement at the sides of his mouth showing he was smiling, while his eyes twinkled and fine wrinkles appeared at the corners.
“You seem to be one already,” replied the Scout Master.
“I have not been initiated, though I have taken pains to inform myself about your organization. I have only one misgiving.”
“What is that?”
“I believe you accept no person who is under twelve years of age.”
“If you will give us your word that you have seen that number of years, I shall be satisfied. What do you say, boys?”
Entering into the spirit of the moment, the lads discussed the question. Hardly a face showed a smile, and there were grave shakings of heads. Finally, Leader Chase said:
“We are willing to run the risk.”
“With your permission,” said the visitor, bowing toward Scout Master Hall, “I shall be glad if you see your way clear to my becoming an honorary member of your order. My name is Elkanah Sisum, more generally known as ‘Uncle Elk’; I live by myself a couple of miles inland from the lake” (indicating the point); “I have a comfortable home; my latchstring always hangs outside and I shall take it as an honor if you will come and see me often.”
“I do not recall any rule regarding honorary members of the Boy Scouts, but I hereby declare you to be such, Uncle Elk,” said Scout Master Hall with much heartiness.
In obedience to a unanimous impulse every youth made the salute, to which the old gentleman responded.
“Thanks for the honor, which is appreciated. I have lived in the Maine woods for a good many years and have hunted from Eagle Lake away up in the wild north, to this settled section, where not much in the way of game is left. Perhaps there may be something relating to trees, birds, fishes and the ways of the woods that I can teach you, though,” he added with a twinkle of his bright eyes; “boys in these days have so many advantages that they run away from us old fellows in knowledge. None the less, you will find that the more you learn the more there is left for you to learn. Many a boy with a twine and bent pin can beat the best of you in wooing fish from the water; scores of urchins much younger than you know more of the woods and its inhabitants than you will learn in years; I can show you lads who with the bows and arrows made by themselves will bring down game that you can’t touch with the latest improved firearms, while as regards trailing through the depths of the wilderness they can teach you the rudiments.”
“Nothing can be truer than that; the advantages we have are many, but without brains and application they will do us little good. Your offer to help us along these paths of knowledge is gratefully accepted. We shall make frequent calls upon you, with the understanding that you will often come and see us. We have studied woodcraft a good deal, just enough to realize, as you have reminded us, how little we know of it. We need an instructor and we hereby close with your offer without giving you time to withdraw it.”
Addressing the scouts, the Master said:
“The only matters to be settled are the title that is to go with Uncle Elk’s office and the size of salary that is to be paid him as instructor.”
“Suppose you leave the latter question to me,” gravely suggested the old man.
Scout Master Hall pretended to be undecided and asked his boys quizzically:
“Is it safe to do that?”
“There doesn’t seem to be any help for it,” replied Patrol Leader Chase.
“Then we may as well make a virtue of necessity; and now as to the proper title which Uncle Elk is to assume. I am ready for suggestions.”
Uncle Elk and the Scout Master listened with amusement to the proposals of the boys. All were eagerly interested and nearly every one submitted at least one proposal. Some of them were overwhelming. Perhaps the most striking was that of Gordon Calhoun, Scout 5 of Patrol 2. It was “Lieutenant-General and Supreme Counsellor and Master of the Mysteries of the Woods.”
Uncle Elk and Scout Master Hall laughed.
“If I were of the African race, that would suit me exactly, but, as it is, the weight would crush me. Try, boys, to hit upon something simple.”
Calhoun joined in the merriment at his expense and gave up.
Isaac Rothstein, the black-haired, dark-eyed Jewish member of the Stag Patrol, amid the hush of his comrades said:
“Why not call Uncle Elk ‘Instructor in Woodcraft’?”
“You’ve hit it,” commented the pleased visitor.
“I agree with you,” said the Scout Master, patting the shoulder of the blushing boy who stood at his side. “The name is simple and expressive and therefore meets every requirement without paining the modesty of the gentleman who wears it; and now, Mr. Instructor, may I be permitted to ask when it will suit your convenience to begin earning your salary?”
Uncle Elk glanced up at the sky and noted the position of the sun.
“It is now a few minutes past eleven; the day is so far along that I propose to go back to my home and stay there until to-morrow morning. Nothing unexpected occurring, I shall be here at half-past eight o’clock. I shall not come in my boat but on foot, prepared to take up my duties.”
(Scout Master Hall slyly glanced at his watch, while the man was speaking. The hands showed it was six minutes past eleven.)
“You will remain and take dinner with us.” The Instructor nodded.
“I shall be pleased. Meanwhile, may I witness a drill of your troop?”
The Scout Master blew a sharp blast on his whistle and strolled to the front of the clubhouse, the Instructor beside him. Facing about, the former nodded and a pretty exhibition followed. The three patrols composing the troop, each under the command of its leader, went through the maneuvers with a precision and unity that were almost perfect.
The troop formed in two ranks, the second covering the intervals between the scouts in the first rank, the feet turned out at an angle of forty-five degrees, the body erect, arms hanging easily, fingers slightly bent, head up and eyes to the front. This is the “Alert” position. It will be remembered that the boys carried no weapons.
The next command was to “stand at ease.” Each left foot was shifted eight or ten inches to the left, the weight of the body being thus equally divided on both feet; the hands were carried behind the back, one loosely resting on the palm of the other, the grasp being maintained by the fingers and thumb. Then followed “dressing,” the different turnings,—right-turn, left-turn, about-turn, and right and left half-turn.
In the brief pause that occurred at this moment, Instructor Sisum asked the Scout Master in a voice which all heard:
“What are the rules regarding salutes?”
The Scout Master nodded to Corporal Robe, who with a sly grin passed the question to Private Harold Hopkins, and he, having no one to whom he could shift it, promptly replied, accompanying his words with a practical illustration:
“We have the half salute and the full salute. Scouts use the half salute when they meet for the first time in the day. The fingers are held as in the full salute, but the right hand is raised only shoulder high, with palm to the front.
“For the full salute we raise the hand to the forehead, elbow in line and nearly square with the shoulder, for one or two seconds.”
“When should this salute be given?” asked the Instructor.
“When a private meets one of his officers, any commissioned officer of the United States army, or the colors of a regiment when passing the body at a funeral; on such occasions as the Fourth of July, Flag Day, Memorial Day; when the Stars and Strips are hoisted, and, if in uniform, when the ‘Star Spangled Banner’ or ‘My Country’ is played.”
“Which hand should be employed in making the salute?”
“The same rule holds as in the United States army; it must be done by the hand farthest from the person saluted. In addressing an officer a Scout will halt two paces from him and salute and will repeat it before withdrawing.”
Other exercises were followed by the troop drill. The scouts fell into line for inspection, with the assistant patrol leader on the right of each patrol, the leader one pace in front of his patrol and the Scout Master two paces in front of the line.
You will not care for a detailed description of the pleasing drill. If you wish to learn the various movements, the best plan is to become a Boy Scout, and at the same time improve yourself mentally, morally and physically.
Having dismissed the troop with liberty to do as they pleased until dinner time, Scout Master Hall seated himself on the piazza extending along the front of the clubhouse, beside his visitor, intending to spend the interval before dinner time in conversation. He had become much interested in the old gentleman about whom was wrapped something of mystery. Hall expected a partial explanation or at least some reference to the cause of Uncle Elk’s self exile, but he did not give any hint, and of course Hall was silent on that point.
Thus it came about that when the Instructor in Woodcraft paddled away in his canoe, quite early in the afternoon, neither the Scout Master nor his boys knew anything of their visitor beyond the fact that he was a most attractive old gentleman, with whom they expected to spend many pleasant hours while serving as his pupils in the woods.