Pluck on the Long Trail; Or, Boy Scouts in the Rockies

by Edwin L. Sabin

THE LAST DASH

That young doctor was fine. He took things right into his own hands, and Major Henry said all right. The major was weak but game. He was gamer than any of us. Fitz and Red Fox Scout Ward had slept some by turns, and the two women were ready to help, too; but the doctor gave Red Fox Scout Van Sant and me the choice of going to sleep or going fishing.

It was Sunday and we didn't need the fish. We didn't intend to go to sleep; we just let them show us a place, in the bunk-house, and we lay down, for a minute. For we were ready to help, as well as the rest of them. A Scout must not be afraid of blood or wounds. We only lay down with a blanket over us, instead of going fishing—and when I opened my eyes again the sun was bright and Fitz and Ward were peeking in on us.

They were pale, but they looked happy.

Van and I tried to sit up.

"Is it over with?" we asked.

"Sure."

"Did he take it out? Was that what was the matter?"

"Yes. Want to see it?"

No, we didn't. I didn't, anyway.

"How is he? Can we see him?"

"The doctor says he'll be all right. Maybe you can see him. He's out from under. It's one o'clock."

One o'clock! Phew! We were regular deserters—but we hadn't intended to be.

We tumbled out, now, and hurried to wash and fix up, so that we would look good to the major. Sick people are finicky. The daughter was in the kitchen, but the mother and the doctor were eating. There was a funny sweetish smell, still; smell of chloroform. It is a serious smell, too.

The doctor smiled at us. "I ought to have taken yours out, while you were asleep," he joked. "I've been thinking of it."

"Is he all right?" we asked; Fitz and Ward behind us, ready to hear again.

"Bully, so far."

"Indeed he is," added the mother.

"Can we see him?"

"You can stand on the threshold and say one word: 'Hello.'"

We tiptoed through. The bed was clean and white, with a sheet outside instead of the colored spread; and the major was in it. The Elks' flag was spread out, draped over the dresser, where he could see it. His eyes opened at us. He didn't look so very terrible, and he tried to grin.

"How?" he said.

"Hello," said we; and we gave him the Scouts' sign.

"Didn't even make me sick," he croaked. "But I can't get up. Don't you fellows wait. You go ahead."

"We will," we said, to soothe him. Then we gave him the Scouts' sign again, and the silence sign, and the wolf sign (for bravery) (Note 66), and we drew back. The doctor had told us that we could say one word, and we had been made to say three!

We had seen that the major was alive and up and coming (not really up; only going to be, you know); but this was another anxious day, I tell you! Having an appendix cut out is no light matter, ever—and besides, here was the fourteenth day on the trail! The major would not be able to stir for a week and a half, maybe; yet Green Valley, our goal, was only twenty-one miles away!

"It's all a question of the nursing that he has now, boys," said the doctor, in council with us. "I'm going to trust that to you Scouts; these women have all they can do, anyway. We got the appendix out just in time—but if it hadn't been for your first-aid treatment in the beginning we might have been too late. That old appendix was swollen and ready to burst if given half a chance. His pure Scout's blood and his Scout's vitality will pull him through O. K. That's what he gets, from living right, following out Scouts' rules. But he must have attention night and day according to hygiene. We don't want any microbes monkeying with that wound I made."

"No, you bet," we said.

"I'll leave you complete directions and then I'm going back to the mines; but I'll ride over again to-morrow morning. Can't you keep him from fussing about that message?"

"We'll try," we said.

"If you can't, then one of you can jump on a horse and take it over, so as to satisfy him. You can make the round trip in five hours."

Well, we were pledged not to do that; horse or other help was forbidden. But we did not say so. What was the use? And it didn't seem now as though either Fitz or I could stand it to leave the major even for five hours. The Red Fox Scouts of course must skip on, to the railroad, or they'd miss their big Yellowstone trip, and we two Elks would be on night and day duty, with the major. The doctor said that he would be out of danger in five days. By that time the message would be long overdue. It was too bad. We had tried so hard.

The doctor left us written directions, until he should come back; and he rode off for the mines.

Fitz and I took over the nursing, and let the two women go on about their ranch work. They were mighty nice to us, and we didn't mean to bother them any more than was absolutely necessary. The two Red Foxes stayed a while longer. They said that they would light out early in the morning, if the major had a good night, in time to catch the train all right. But they didn't; we might have smelled a mouse, if we hadn't been so anxious about the major. They were good as gold, those two Red Foxes.

You see, the major kept fussing. He was worried over the failure of the message. He had it on his mind all the time. To-morrow was the fifteenth day—and here we were, laid up because of him. We told him no matter; we all had done our Scouts' best, and no fellows could have done more. But we would stick by him. That was our Scouts' duty, now.

He kept fussing. When we took his temperature, as the doctor had ordered, it had gone up two degrees. That was bad. We could not find any other special symptoms. His cut didn't hurt him, and he had not a thing to complain of—except that we wouldn't carry the message through in time.

"You'll have to do it," said Red Fox Scout Van Sant to Fitz and me.

"But we can't."

"Why not?"

That was a silly question for a Scout to ask.

"We can't leave Tom."

"Yes, you can. Hal and I are here."

"You've got to make that train, right away."

"No, we haven't."

"But you'll miss the Yellowstone trip!"

"We can take it later."

"No, sir! That won't do. The major and we, and the general, too, if he knew, won't have it that way at all. You fellows have been true Scouts. Now you go ahead."

Scout Van flushed and fidgeted.

"Well, to tell the truth," he blurted, "I guess we've missed connections a little anyway. But we don't care. We sent a telegram in this afternoon by the doctor to our crowd, telling them to go ahead themselves and not to expect us until we cut their trail. The doctor will telephone it to the operator."

We gasped.

"You see," continued Van, "we two Red Foxes can take care of the major while you're gone, like a brick. We're first-aid nurses, and the doctor has told us what to do; and he's coming back to-morrow and the next day you'll be back, maybe. He said that if the major fussed you'd better do what's wanted."

"But look here—!" began Fitz. "The major'll feel worse if he knows you're missing your trip than if the message is delayed a day or two."

"No, he won't," argued Van. "We'll explain to him. We won't miss our trip. We'll catch the crowd somewhere. Besides, that's only pleasure. This other is business. You're on the trail, in real Scouts' service, to show what Scouts can do, so we want to help."

It seemed to me that they were showing what Scouts can do, too! They were splendid, those Red Foxes.

"The major'll just fuss and fret, you know," finished Van. "That's what has sent his temperature up, already."

"Well," said Fitz, slowly, "we'll see. We Elks appreciate how you other Scouts have stuck and helped. Don't we, Jim?"

"We sure do," I agreed. "But we don't want to ride a free horse to death."

"Bosh!" laughed Van. "We're all Scouts. That's enough."

Red Fox Scout Ward beckoned to us.

"The major wants you," he said.

We went in. The major did not look good to me. His cheeks were getting flushed and his eyes were large and rabbity.

"I can't quiet him," claimed Ward, low, as we entered.

"Do you know this is the fourteenth day?" piped the major. "I've been counting up and it is. I'm sure it is."

"That's all right, old boy," soothed Fitz. "You let us do the counting. All you need do is get well."

"But we have to put that message through, don't we?" answered the major. "Just because I'm laid up is no reason why the rest of you must be laid up, too. Darn it! Can't you do something?"

He was excited. That was bad.

"I've been thinking," proceeded the major. "The general was hurt, and dropped out, but we others went on. Then little Jed Smith was hurt, and he and Kit Carson dropped out, but we others went on. And now I'm hurt, and I've dropped out, and none of you others will go on. That seems mighty mean. I don't see why you're trying to make me responsible. Everybody'll blame me."

"Of course they won't," I said.

He was wriggling his feet and moving his arms, and he was almost crying.

"Would you get well quick if we leave you and take the message through, Tom?" asked Fitz, suddenly.

The major quit wriggling, and his face shone.

"Would I? I'd beat the record. I'd sleep all I'm told to, and eat soup, and never peep. Will you, Fitz? Sure?"

"To-morrow morning. You lie quiet, and quit fussing, and sleep, and be a model patient in the hospital, and then to-morrow morning early we'll hike."

"Both of you?"

"Yep."

"One isn't enough, in case you meet trouble. It's two on the trail, for us Scouts."

"I know it."

"And you'll take the flag? I want the Elks flag to go."

"We will," we said.

"To-morrow morning, then," and the major smiled a peaceful, happy little smile. "Bueno. Now I'll go to sleep. You needn't give me any dope. I'll see you off in the morning." And he sort of settled and closed his eyes. "When are you Red Foxes off?" he asked drowsily.

"Oh, we've arranged to be around here a day yet," drawled Van Sant. "You can't get rid of us. We want to hear that the message went through. Then we'll skip. We ought to rest one day in seven. And there's a two-pound trout in a hole here, Mrs. Harden says, and Hal thinks he can catch him to-morrow before I do."

"You mustn't miss that trip," murmured the major. And when we tiptoed out, leaving Fitz on guard, he was asleep already!

So it seemed that we had done the best thing.

Red Foxes Ward and Van Sant divided the night watch between them so that we Elks should be fresh for the day's march. We were up early, and got our own breakfast, so as not to bother the two women; but the report came out from the major's room that he had had a bully night, and that now he was awake and was bound to see us. So we went in.

He had the Elks flag in his hands.

"Who's got that message?" he asked.

I had, you know.

He passed the flag to Fitz.

"You take this, then. You're sure going, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"All right. You can make it. Don't you worry about me. I'm fine. Be Scouts. It's the last leg."

"You be a Scout, too. If we're to be Scouts, on the march, you ought to be a Scout, in the hospital."

"I will." He knew what we meant. "But I wish I could go."

"So do we."

"All ready?"

"All ready."

He shook our hands.

"So long."

"So long."

We gave him the Scouts' salute, and out we went. We shook hands with the Red Foxes; they saluted us, and we saluted them. We crossed the yard for the trail; and when we looked back, the two women waved at us. We waved back. And now we were carrying the message again, with only twenty-one miles to go.

The trail was up grade, following beside the creek, and we knew that we must allow at least eight hours for those twenty-one miles. It was not to be a nice day, either. Mists were floating around among the hills, which was a pretty certain sign of rain.

We hiked on. I had the message, hanging inside my shirt. It felt good. I suspected that Fitz ought to be the one to carry it; he was my superior. But he didn't ask for it, and I tried to believe that my carrying it made no difference to him. I was thinking about offering it to him, but I didn't. He had his camera, and the flag wrapped about his waist like a sash. We'd left Sally and our other stuff at the ranch, and were traveling light for this last spurt.

It was a wagon trail right down the valley, and we could travel fast. The sun grew hotter, and a hole in my boot-sole began to raise a blister on my foot. Those fourteen days of steady trailing had been hard on leather, and on clothes, too.

We passed several ranches. Along in the middle of the morning thunder began to growl in the hills, and we knew that we were liable to be wet.

The valley grew narrower, as if it was to pinch out, and the thunder grew louder. The storm was rising black over the hills ahead of us.

"That's going to be a big one," said Fitz.

It looked so. The clouds were the rolling, tumbling kind, where drab and black are mixed. And they came fast, to eat the sun.

It was raining hard on the hills ahead. We could see the lightning every second, awful zigzags and splits and bursting bombs, and the thunder was one long bellow.

The valley pinched to not much more than a gulch, with aspens and pines and willows, and now and then little grassy places, and the stream rippling down through the middle. Half the sky was gone, now, and the sun was swallowed, and it was time that Fitz and I found cover. We did not hunt a tree; not much! Trees are lightning attracters, and they leak, besides. But we saw where a ledge of shelf-rock cropped out, making a little cave.

"We'd better get in here and cache till the worst is over," proposed Fitz. "We'll eat our lunch while we're waiting."

That sounded like sense. So we snuggled under. We could just sit up, with our feet inside the edge.

"Boom-oom-oom!" roared the thunder, shaking the ground.

"Boom-oom-oom! Oom! Oom! Boom!"

We could feel a chill, the breeze stopped, as if scared, drops began to patter, a few, and then more, faster and faster, hard and swift as hail, the world got dark, and suddenly with roar and slash down she came, while we were eating our first sandwich put up by the two women.

That was the worst rain that Fitz or I had ever seen. Between mouthfuls we watched. The drops were big and they fell like a spurt from a hose, until all the outside world was just one sheet of water. The streaks drummed with the rumble of a hundred wagons. We couldn't see ten feet. Before we had eaten our second sandwiches, the water was trickling through cracks in the shelf-rock roof, and dirt was washing away from the sides of our cave. Outside, the land was a stretch of yellow, liquid adobe, worked upon by the fierce pour.

"We'll have to get out of this," shouted Fitz in my ear. "This roof may cave in on us."

And out he plunged; I followed. We were soaked through in an instant, and I could feel the water running down my skin. We could scarcely see where to go or what to do; but we had bolted just in time. One end of the shelf-rock washed out like soap, and in crumpled the roof, as a mass of shale and mud! Up the gulch sounded a roaring—another, different roaring from the roaring of the rain and thunder. Fitz grabbed my hand.

"Run!" he shouted. "Quick! Get across!"

This was no time for questions, of course. I knew that he spoke in earnest, and had some good reason. Hand in hand we raced, sliding and slipping, for the creek. It had changed a heap in five minutes. It was all a thick yellow, and was swirling and yeasty. Fitz waded right in, in a big hurry to get on the other side. He let go of my hand, but I followed close. The current bit at my knees, and we stumbled on the hidden rocks. Out Fitz staggered, and up the opposite slope, through sage and bushes. The roaring was right behind us. It was terrible. We were about all in, and Fitz stopped, panting.

"See that?" he gasped, pointing back.

A wave of yellow muck ten feet high was charging down the gulch like a squadron of cavalry in solid formation. Logs and tree-branches were sticking out of it, and great rocks were tossing and floating. Another second, and it had passed, and where we had come from—trail and shelf-rock and creek—was nothing but the muddy water and driftwood tearing past, with the pines and aspens and willows trembling amidst it. But it couldn't reach us.

"Cloud-burst," called Fitz, in my ear.

I nodded. He was white. I felt white, too. That had been a narrow escape.

"We could have climbed that other side, couldn't we?" I asked.

"We were on the wrong side of the creek, though. We might have been cut off from where we're going. That's what I thought of. See?"

Wise old Fitz. That was Scouty, to do the best thing no matter how quick you must act. Of course, with the creek between us and Green Valley, and the bridges washed out and the water up, we might have been held back for half a day!

The yellow flood boiled below, but the rain was quitting, and we might as well move on, anyway.

According to what we had been told of the trail, up at the head of the gulch it turned off, and crossed the creek on a high bridge, and made through the hills northwest for the town. Now we must shortcut to strike it over in that direction.

The rain was quitting; the sun was going to shine. That was a hard climb, through the wet and the stickiness and the slipperiness, with our clothes weighting us and clinging to us and making us hotter. But up we pushed, puffing. Then we followed the ridge a little way, until we had to go down. Next we must go up again, for another ridge.

Fitz plugged along; so did I. The sun came out and the ground steamed, and our clothes gradually dried, as the brush and trees dried; but somehow I didn't feel extra good. My head thumped, and things looked queer. It didn't result in anything serious, after the hike was over, so I guess that maybe I was hungry and excited. The rain had soaked our lunch as well as us and we threw it away in gobs; we counted on supper in Green Valley.

We didn't stop. Fitz was going strong. He was steel. And if I could hold out I mustn't say a word. So it was up-hill and down-hill, across country through brush and scattered timber, expecting any time to hit the trail or come in sight of the town. And how my head did thump!

Finally in a draw we struck a cow-path, and we stuck to this, because it looked as if it was going somewhere. Other cow-paths joined it, and it got larger and larger and more hopeful; and about five o'clock by the sun we stepped into a main traveled road. Hurrah! This was the trail for us.

The rain had not spread this far, and the road was dusty. A signboard said, pointing: "Brown's Big Store, Green Valley's Leader, One Mile." We were drawing near! I tried not to limp, and not to notice my head, as we spurted to a fast walk, straight-foot and quick, so that we would enter triumphantly. As like as not people would be looking out for us, as this was the last day; and we would show them Scouts' spirit. We Elks had fought treachery and fire and flood, and we had left four good men along the way; those had been a strenuous fifteen days, but we were winning through at last.

That last mile seemed to me longer than any twenty. The dust and gravel were hot, the sun flamed, my blister felt like a cushion full of needles, my legs were heavy and numb, that old head thumped like a drum, and I had a notion that if I slackened or lost my stride I'd never finish out that mile. So when Fitz stumbled on a piece of rock, and his strap snapped and he stopped to pick up his camera, I kept moving. He would catch me.

A shoulder of rock stuck out and the road curved around it; and when I had curved around it, too, then I saw something that sent my heart into my throat, and brought me up short. With two leaps I was back, around the rock again, in time to sign Fitz, coming: "Halt! Silence!" And I motioned him close behind the shoulder.

Beyond the rock the road stretched straight and clear, with the town only a quarter of a mile. But only about a hundred yards away, where the creek flowed close to the road, were two fellows, fishing. One was Bill Duane!

Fitz obeyed my signs. He gazed at me, startled and anxious.

"What is it?" he asked, pantomime.

I held up two fingers, for two enemies. Then I cautiously peeked out. Bill Duane was leaving the water, as if he was coming; and the other fellow was coming. The other fellow was Mike Delavan. They must have seen me before I had jumped back. We might have circuited them, but now it was too late. I never could stand a chase over the hills, and maybe Fitz couldn't.

But there was a way, and a chance, and I made up my mind in a twinkling. I jerked out the message and held it at Fitz. He shook his head. I signed what we would do—what I would do and what he must do. He shook his head. He wouldn't. We would stick together. I clinched my teeth and waved my fist under his nose, and signed that he must. He was the one.

Then I thrust the message into his hand, and out I sprang. Around the shoulder of rock Bill and Mike were sneaking, to see what had become of me. They were only about fifty yards, now, and I made for them as if to dodge them. They let out a yell and closed in, and up the hill at one side I pegged. They pegged to head me.

My legs worked badly. I didn't mind breaking the blister (I felt the warm stuff ooze out, and the sting that followed); but those heavy legs! As a Scout I ought to have skipped up the hill as springy and long-winded as a goat; but instead I had to shove myself. But up I went, nip and tuck—and my head thumped when my heart did, about a thousand times a minute. Every step I took hurt from hair to sole. But I didn't care, if I only could go far enough. Bill and Mike climbed after, on the oblique so as to cut me off before I could reach the top of the ridge and the level there.

Straight up I went, drawing them on; and halfway my throat was too dry and my legs were too heavy and my head jarred my eyes too much, and I wobbled and fell down. On came the two enemy; but I didn't care. I looked past them and saw Fitzpatrick the Bad Hand pelting down the road. He had cached his camera, but he had the flag and the message, his one arm was working like a driving-rod, he was running true, the trail lay straight and waiting, with the goal open, and I knew that he would make it!

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APPENDIX: SCOUT NOTES

CHAPTER I

Note 1, page 3: Many old-time "scouts" of Western plains and mountains did not amount to much. They led a useless life, hunting and fighting for personal gain, and gave little thought to preserving game, making permanent trails, or otherwise benefiting people who would follow. Their knowledge and experience was of the selfish or of the unreliable kind. They cared for nobody but themselves, and for nothing but their wild haunts. However, these trapper-explorers whose names the Elk Patrol took were of value to the world at large and deserve to be remembered.

General William H. Ashley lived in old St. Louis, and became a fur-trader and fur-hunter in 1822. By his great enterprise he encouraged other Americans to penetrate the Western country. He led numerous expeditions across the wild plains and the wild Rockies, and his parties were great training-schools for young trapper-scouts. He it was who fairly broke the famous Oregon and California emigrant trail across the Rocky Mountains by hauling a six-pounder cannon, on wheels, to his fort in Utah; his men were the first to explore the Great Salt Lake; he was the first brigadier-general of the Missouri State militia, and after his fur days he went to Congress.

Major Andrew Henry was General Ashley's partner in fur. But before joining with Ashley, in 1810 he had built, in Idaho, the first American trading post or fort west of the mountains.

Kit Carson was a real "boy scout," for he took the scout trail in 1826, when he was only sixteen. Because of his modesty, his bravery, his shrewdness, and his kindliness, his help to army and other Government expeditions, and his advice in Indian matters, he is the best-known of all Western frontiersmen.

Thomas Fitzpatrick the Bad Hand was an Ashley trapper, and was a captain of trappers. He afterwards served as a valuable guide for emigrants and the Government, and was a Government agent over Indians. He was called by the Indians "Bad Hand," because one hand had been crippled through a rifle explosion. He was called "White Head," too, because in a terrible chase by Indians his hair turned white.

Jedediah S. Smith is known as the Knight in Buckskin. He also was an Ashley scout or trapper, and he was the first American trapper to lead a party across to California. Jedediah Smith was a true Christian, and during all his wanderings the Bible was his best companion.

Jim Bridger was another Ashley scout. He became a scout when he was nineteen, before Kit Carson, and is almost as well known as Kit Carson. He was the Ashley man who discovered the Great Salt Lake, in 1825; he was the first to tell about the Yellowstone Park; and it was by his trail that the Union Pacific Railroad found its way over the Rocky Mountains.

Note 2, page 4: Boy Scouts know that "taking a message to Garcia" means "there and back and no breath wasted." When the war with Spain broke out, in 1898, Captain Andrew Summers Rowan, of the United States Army, was directed by the President to convey a message from the Government to General Garcia of the Cuban Army. Nobody seemed to know the exact whereabouts of General Garcia, who was concealed in the depths of the island. But Captain Rowan did not wait to ask "when" or "how." Not he. He pocketed the message, he made for Cuba, he plunged into the jungle, he found General Garcia, and he brought back the desired report. That was genuine Scouts' work, without frills or foolishness.

Note 3, page 5: Two pairs of thin socks are better for the feet than one pair of thick socks. They rub on each other, and this saves the skin from rubbing on the inside of the boot. Soldiers sometimes soap the heels and soles of their stockings, on the inside.

Note 4, page 6: The "tarp" or tarpaulin, or cowboy bed-sheet, is a strip of sixteen- or eighteen-ounce canvas duck six to eight feet wide and ten to twenty feet long. Fifteen feet is long for Boy Scouts. But it should be plenty wide enough to tuck in well and not draw open when humped by the body, and plenty long enough to cover, with room for the feet, and plenty heavy enough to shed wind and water. It is used on the outside, under and over; and in between, in his blankets, the Scout is snug. The tarp is simple and cheap and is easily accommodated to circumstances. If a few brass eyes are run along the edges, and in the corners, then it can be stretched for a shelter-tent, too. It is much used on the plains and in the mountains.

Note 5, page 6: The diamond hitch is the favorite tie by which packs and other loads are fastened upon burros and horses. It has been used from very early days in the West, and is called the "diamond" hitch because when taut the rope forms a diamond on top of the pack. There are several styles of the diamond hitch, but they all are classified as the single or the double diamond. Some require only one person to tie them; some require two persons. They bind the load very flat, they may be loosened or tightened quickly from the free end of the lash rope, and they do not stick or jam. Nobody has time to fuss with hard knots, when the pack must come off in a hurry.

The simplest form of the diamond hitch is tied as shown here. Scouts may practice it with a cushion laid upon a porch rail, a cord for a lash rope, a strip of cloth for the band or cincha, and a bent nail for the cincha hook.

The Elk Scouts had under their top-packs a "sawbuck" pack-saddle, which is a pair of wooden X's; and to the horns of the X's they hung on each side a canvas case or pannier, in which were stowed cooking utensils, etc. The blankets, etc., were folded and laid on top, with the tarpaulins covering, and the whole was then "laired up" (which is the army and packing term for tucking and squaring and making all shipshape), so that it would ride securely. The panniers must balance each other, even if rocks have to be put in on one side to even up; or else the burro's back will be made sore. Top-packs must not ride wobbly or aslant.

A splendid little book for Boy Scouts is the pamphlet "Pack Transportation," issued by the Quartermaster's Department of the United States Army, and for sale at a small price by the Government Printing Office, Washington. It tells about all the pack hitches, with pictures, and how to care for the animals on the march. This latter is very important.

Before Number 3 is formed, the cinch or cincha (the belly-band) must be drawn very tight, so that the double-twist which makes the loop in Number 3 will stick. But the rope and cincha are apt to slip and loosen, unless the Scout takes a jam-hitch or Blackwall hitch around the hook of the cincha. The rope should be kept taut throughout; and at the last should be heaved tauter still, so that the diamond bites into the pack well; and the end of the rope should be doubled back and tucked under so that it will not drag, and yet can be easily got at.

THE SIMPLEST SINGLE DIAMOND

The lash rope, or pack-rope, in the Army is one-half inch in size and is fifty feet long; but a forty-foot rope is plenty long enough for Scouts. A lair rope also is useful in packing. This is a three-eighths inch rope, twenty-five or thirty feet long, by which the packs may first be laired or tied up securely so that nothing shall shake out.

A pack for a burro may weigh from 200 to 250 pounds; but on a long, rough trip 150 pounds is better. A pack is harder on a mule or a horse than a rider is, because it never lets up.

Note 6, page 6: The Indian bow was only two and one-half to four feet long, so that it could be carried easily when stalking or when on horseback. The Sioux bow, four feet long, was an inch and a half wide at the middle and an inch thick, and tapered to half an inch thick and half an inch wide, at the ends. The Indian bow was made of wood, and of mountain-goat horns, or of solid bones, glued together. The wooden bow frequently was strengthened by having hide or sinew glued along the back. Until they learned the knack of it, few white men could bend an Indian bow.

The arrows were of different lengths, but each warrior used the one length, if he could, so that he would shoot alike, every time. Each warrior knew his own arrows, by a private mark—by length or by pattern of stem or of feathers. Some tribes used two feathers, some three. Scouts can mark their arrows, in the same way.

The bow and arrow are good Scout weapons. They give no noise. They do not frighten animals or warn the enemy. They are not expensive. They can be made on the spot. And it takes Scoutcraft to make them and to use them successfully. As long as the Indians had only bows and arrows, there was plenty of game for all.

Note 7, page 6: The lariat rope, or simply "rope," in the West, is thirty-five or forty feet long. Usually it is five-eighths, four-ply manilla, but the best are of braided rawhide. Those bought at stores have a metal knot or honda through which the slipnoose runs; but cowboys and Boy Scouts do not need this. They tie their own honda, which should be a small fixed loop with space enough for the rope to pass freely. The inside of the loop, against which the rope slips back and forth, may be wrapped with leather. In throwing the rope, the noose or slipknot should be opened to four or five feet in diameter, and the free part of the rope outside the noose should be grasped together with the noose for about one third along the noose from the honda knot. The remainder of the rope is held in a coil in the other hand, ready to release when the noose is cast. The noose (with the part of the free rope) is whirled in thumb and fingers around the head, until it has a good start; and then it is jerked straight forward by the wrist and forearm. As it sails, the honda knot swings to the front and acts as a weight to open the noose wide. That is why part of the rope is taken up, with the noose, and the noose is grasped one third along from the knot itself.

The rope, or lariat, or lasso, is a handy implement for the Scout. The Western Indians and the old-time scouts or trappers used it a great deal, for catching animals and even enemies; and when the United States fought with Mexico, in 1846, some of the Mexican cavalry were armed with lassos.

Note 8, page 7: Anybody on the march always feels better and can travel better when he keeps himself as clean and as neat as possible. Each pair of Scouts in a Patrol should share a war-bag, which is a canvas sack about four feet long, with a round bottom and with a top puckered by a rope. This war-bag is for personal stuff, so that there is no need to paw around in the general baggage, and no chance of losing things.

Note 9, page 7: Coffee is popular, but tea is better, in the long run, and Scouts should not neglect it on the trail. It is lighter than coffee, is more quickly made, and is a food, a strength-giver, and a thirst-quencher in one. All explorers favor it.

Note 10, page 7: Scout Troops would do well to have an official physician who will make out a list of remedies to be used in camp or on the march. When Scouts know how to clean out the stomach and the intestines and how to reduce fever and to subdue chills, and what to give in case of poisoning, then they can prevent many illnesses and perhaps save life. The remedies should be in shape to be easily carried, and should be simple to handle.

Note 11, page 7: The Indian walk and the old scout walk was the straight-foot walk, because it covers the ground with the least resistance. When the foot is turned so that it is pushed sideways, there is waste motion. The toes should push backward, not quartering, to get the most out of the leg muscles. George Catlin, the famous Indian painter, who lived among the Indians of the West before any of us were born, says that he could not walk in moccasins until he walked straight-foot. The Indians turned their toes in a little.

Note 12, page 10: All the Indian tribes of the Western plains and mountains, and most of the old-time scouts, knew sign language. This was a language by means of motions of the hands, helped by the body and face; so that persons could sit and talk together for hours and not utter a word! In time of danger, when silence is desired, Scouts of to-day will find the sign language valuable; and by it the Scout of one country can talk with the Scout of a foreign country.

A book on the "Indian Sign Language" was written in 1884 by Captain W. P. Clark of the United States Army, and it gives all the signs for things from A to Z.

Fitzpatrick's sign for "Watch!" was to bring his right hand with back up, in front of lower part of the face, the first two fingers extended and separated a little and pointing down the trail. The thumb and other fingers are closed. The tips of the two fingers represent the two eyes looking! When he meant "Listen!" he put his hand, palm front, to his ear, with thumb and first finger open, so that the ear set in the angle of them; and he wriggled his hands slowly.

Jim Bridger's sign for "Horseback!" was two fingers of one hand placed astride the edge of the other hand, and the sign for "Wolf!" is the hand (or both hands) with palm to the front, before the shoulder, and the first two fingers pricked up, separated like two ears. Then the hand was moved forward and upward, just a little, like a wolf reconnoitering over a crest.

Occasionally the sign for something was not precisely the same among all the Indian tribes. The Pawnee sign for "wolf" was the first finger of each hand stuck up alongside the head, like ears pricking. But it was a sign easily read. All the signs were sensible and initiative. When the "future" was meant, the finger was thrust ahead with a screwing motion, as if boring; when the "past" was meant, the hand and finger were extended in front and drawn back with the screwing motion. When he was full of food the Indian drew his thumb and finger along his body from his stomach to his throat. When he was hungry he drew the edge of his hand back and forth across his stomach, as sign that he was being cut in two. The sign "talk" is to draw the words out of the mouth with thumb and finger; while to "stop talking" is the same motion half made and then slashed by the edge of the same hand being brought down through it. This means "All right," "That's enough," "I understand," and also "Cut it out!" "Chop it off!"

Years were reckoned as winters, and "winter" is signed by the two clenched hands shivering in front of the body. Days were "sleeps," and "sleep" is signed by inclining the head sideways, to rest upon the palm of the hand. "Man" is the first finger thrust upright, before, because man walks erect. The "question" sign is the right hand bent up, before, at the wrist, fingers apart, and turned from side to side. To ask "How old are you?" the Indian would sign: "You," "winter," "number," "what?"

So Scouts will not find it hard to pick up the sign language; the motions represent the thing itself. When a sign requires several motions, a good sign talker will make them all as rapidly as we pronounce syllables, and he will tell a long story using one hand or two, as most convenient.

CHAPTER II

Note 13, page 11: The sign for "Bird flying" is the sign for wings. The two hands are raised opposite the shoulders, palms to the front, fingers extended and together. Then the hands are waved forward and back, like wings—slowly for large birds, fast for little birds, to imitate the bird itself.

Note 14, page 13: A good way to spread the Scout or cowboy tarpaulin bed is to lay the tarpaulin out at full length, on the smooth place chosen, and to lay the blankets and quilts, open, full length on top. Both ends of the tarp are left bare, of course, for the bedding is shorter than the tarp. Then the whole is turned back upon itself at the middle; one edge of the tarp is tucked under, and part of the other edge, making a bag, with leeway enough so that the sleeper can crawl in. Now there is as much bedding under as over, which is the proper condition when sleeping out upon the ground. The bare end of the tarp, under, will keep the pillow off the dirt; the bare end which comes over will cover the face in case of storm. The Scout has a low, flat bed, which will shed wind and rain.

Note 15, page 13: A reflector is a handy baker. It is a bright-lined box like half of a pyramid or half of an oven. The dough is put into it, and it is set upon its base, open to the fire. The heat strikes it and reflects upon the dough and the dough bakes. It is simple, and can be made to fold together, so that it packs easily. Another trapper and scout method is to smear dough upon a shovel or even a flat, smooth board, and set it up against the fire. The Mexicans bake their tortillas, or thin flour cakes, by smearing them upon smooth stones.

Note 16, page 17: Scouts can readily invent a whistle code of their own. The Western Indians used whistles of bone, in war, and the United States Army can drill by whistle signals.

CHAPTER III

Note 17, page 21: The teeth are a very important item in Scout service. If Scouts will notice the soldiers of the United States Army, and the sailors of the United States Navy, they will notice also that their teeth are always kept clean and sound. Scouts, no matter where they are, should brush their teeth well with tooth powder every morning at least; and should keep them free from particles of food, and should wash their mouths with a dental antiseptic to kill microbes. Brushed teeth and combed and brushed hair after the wet rub make the Scout fit for the day's work. He feels decent.

Note 18, page 25: Scouts who are in camp or on the trail without fish-hooks and are hard-put to catch fish, may try an old Indian and scout method. A bent pin sometimes does not work, with large fish; but the Indians tied a cord or sinew to the end of a small, slender bone, and again, with a loop, to the middle of the bone.

When the fish swallowed the bait impaled upon the bone, the cord or sinew hauled the bone by the middle so that it usually snagged in the fish's throat or gills. A sharp, tough splinter or a small nail will do the same. Thus:

CHAPTER IV

Note 19, page 33: Newspaper stuffed into wet boots or shoes helps them to dry by holding them open and by absorbing the moisture. Of course, the newspaper should be changed frequently. Warm pebbles poured into wet boots or shoes dry them quickly, too. A stuffing of dead grass is another Scouty scheme.

Note 20, page 36: For a leader of a Scouts' party to write up the chief events of each day's march in a notebook, and to sketch the country traversed, teaches order and disciplines the memory, and oftentimes will prove a valuable record.

Note 21, page 38: The right-handed or the left-handed person usually is right-sided or left-sided, all the way down, but not always. So because a person is right-handed or left-handed he probably is right-footed or left-footed, but not necessarily so. Some persons use their left hands to write with, but throw with their right hands, and are likely to use either foot. And some may be left-handed but right-footed. A Scout should learn to use both hands and both feet alike. And he also will learn not to be cocksure and jump at conclusions. All rules have exceptions.

CHAPTER V

Note 22, page 39: Scouts will find that weather-signs among the high mountains are very different from those of the low or the flatter country. The easiest sign of storm is the night-caps. For when in the morning the mountains still have their night-caps on, and the clouds rest like shattered fog in the draws and hollows, the day will surely have rain, by noon. But among the Rockies there usually is a thunder-storm in the middle of every day during the summer.

No one wind for all localities brings rain. The weather is interfered with by the peaks and the valleys. However, here are a few signs to be noted:

When by day the air is extra clear, so that very distant ridges stand out sharply, a storm is apt to be brewing.

When the camp-fire smoke bends down, in the still air of midday or afternoon, a storm is apt to be brewing.

When by night the stars are extra sharp and twinkle less than usual, overhead, but are dim around the horizon, a storm is apt to be brewing.

When there is a halo or ring around the moon, a storm is apt to be brewing; and it is claimed that the larger the circle, the nearer the storm.

When the canvas of the tent stays tight or damp, showing a gathering dampness, a storm is apt to be brewing.

When ants are noted dragging leaves or twigs across the entrance to their nest, a storm is near.

The change of the moon is claimed to change the weather also. And an old maxim says that the third day before the new moon is the sign of the weather for that moon month. If the new moon comes upon the 10th, then the weather of the 8th is to be the general weather of the next thirty days.

Of course, in winter time, or in the late fall or early spring, when the sun-dogs appear, that is a pretty sure sign of cold weather. The Indians say that the "sun is painting both cheeks," or that the "sun has built fires to warm himself."

But Scouts will have difficulty in predicting mountain weather, because storms are diverted by the peaks, and swing off or are broken up; and besides, many mountain trails and mountain camps are one mile and two miles high—above ordinary conditions. The saying is that only fools and Indians predict weather, in the mountains!

Note 23, page 39: Scouts as well as anybody else should have their teeth approved of by a dentist, before starting out on the long trail. The tooth-ache saps the strength, and a cavity might result in a serious abscess, far from proper treatment.

Note 24, page 40: In the thick timber where there are many trees the chance of course is less that the tree which you are under will be struck by the lightning. But to seek refuge under any tree, in a field or other open place, is dangerous. Many persons are killed, every summer, by seeking some lone tree or small clump of trees, or a high-standing tree, in a thunder-storm.

Note 25, page 47: The low soft spot is not so good as the high hard spot, to sleep on. Green grass is damp, and softness gathers dampness. Cowboys and rangers always spread their beds on a little elevation, where the ground is drier and where there is a breeze for ventilation and to keep the insects away.

Note 26, page 49: Nobody can cook by a big fire, without cooking himself too! The smaller the fire the better, as long as it is enough. Just a handful of twigs at a time will cook coffee or roast a chunk of meat. It is an old scout saying that "Little wood feeds the fire, much wood puts it out." Cook by coals rather than by flame. In the West cedar makes the best coals, the cleanest flame; sage makes a very hot fire, and burns to ashes which hold the fire, but it does not give hard coals. Anything pitchy smokes the camp.

In the mountains meat wrapped in a gunnysack or a tarpaulin, to protect from the flies, and hung in the shade and particularly in a tree where the air circulates, will keep a long, long time.

Note 27, page 49: The brass eyes in the edges of the Elk Scouts' tarps here would come into good use for stretching the tarp as a low "A" shelter-tent or dog-tent. The small shelter-tents of the United States Army are called by the soldiers "pup" tents.

Note 28, page 53: The notion that many persons have, of taking guns with them into the mountains or the hills, for protection from wild animals, is a foolish notion. In this day and age the wild animals have been so disciplined by man that they are afraid of him. They would rather run than fight; and throughout the greater part of the United States in North America the animals who could be dangerous are scarce. Guns do much more harm than the animals themselves; and it is the wounded animal which is dangerous. To pack a big gun on the ordinary trail through the wilderness country West or East is the mark of a tenderfoot, unless the gun is needed for meat. Many and many a seasoned wilderness dweller—ranger, cowboy, rancher, prospector—travels afoot or horseback day after day, night after night, and never carries a gun, never needs a gun.

CHAPTER VI

Note 29, page 61: One of the regulations of the United States Army Pack Transportation Department says that packers must treat all the mules kindly, for a mule remembers kindness and never forgets injury. Packers must not even throw stones, to drive a mule into line. Of course, Boy Scouts know that kindness with animals always wins out over harshness, and that there is no greater cowardliness than the abuse of a helpless beast.

Note 30, page 62: Highness and dryness, wood and water, and grazing for the animals are the requirements of the Scouts' camp on the pack trail.

Note 31, page 63: By camp law bird or four-foot or other harmless animals within say two hundred yards of camp is safe from injury by man. This also prevents reckless shooting about camp. The wild life near camp is one of the chief charms of camping in the wilderness. No Scout wishes to leave a trail of blood and murder and suffering, to mark his progress through meadow and timber.

Note 32, page 67: This division of watches or guards should be noted by Scouts. Bed-mates or bunkies should not follow one another on guard; for A wakes B when he crawls out; and after he has changed with B, and has slept two or three hours, he is waked again by B crawling in. But each Scout listed for guard duty should so be listed that he is not disturbed through at least two of the watches.

CHAPTER VII

Note 33, page 72: A "trail" is made up of "sign" or marks which show that something has passed that way. The overturning of pebbles and sticks, dryness and wetness of the spots where they were, dryness and hardness of the edges of footprints, grass pressed down, twigs of bushes broken, dew disturbed, water muddied, ant-hills crushed—all tell a tale to the Scout. He must be able to figure out what was the condition of the trail when the person or animal passed—and that will tell him how long ago the marks or sign were made. And the shape of the sign, and the way in which it is laid, tell what manner of person or animal passed, and how fast. Steps vary in size, and in pressure and in distance apart. A man at a very hurried walk is apt to leave a deeper toe-print, and a loaded horse sinks deeper than a light one. A good trailer is a good guesser, but he is a good guesser because he puts two and two together and knows that they make four.

Note 34, page 74: A portion of a patrol on a scout should think to leave private signs, by marks in the dirt or on trees or by twigs bent or by little heaps of stones, which will tell their comrades what has been occurring. This the Indians were accustomed to do, especially in a strange country. To this day little stone-heaps are seen, in the plains and mountains of the West, marking where Indians had laid a trail.

Note 35, page 77: Great generals and captains make it a point not to do what the enemy wants them to do or expects them to do, and never to think that the enemy is less smart than they are themselves. To despise the enemy is to give him an advantage.

CHAPTER VIII

Note 36, page 88: "Parole" means word of honor not to attempt escape; and in war when a prisoner of rank gives this promise he is permitted his freedom within certain limits. Sometimes he is released entirely upon his promise or parole not to fight again during the war. Paroles are deemed serious matters, and few men are so reckless and deceitful as to break them. But of course there are two sides to a parole; and if it is not accepted as honestly as it is given, then there is no bargain. But if there is the slightest doubt or argument, then the Scout ought to stay a prisoner, rather than escape with dishonor, charged with breaking his word. That the other fellow is dishonest is no excuse for the Scout being dishonest, too.

Note 37, page 89: The sign for escape is this: Bridger crossed his wrists, with his fists doubled, and wrenched them apart, upward, as if breaking a cord binding them. He may have used the "Go" sign, which is the hand extended, edge up, in front of the hip, and pushed forward with an upward motion, as if climbing a trail.

Note 38, page 94: An old scout method of tying a prisoner's arms behind his back is to place the hands there with their backs together, and to tie the thumbs and the little fingers! This requires only ordinary cord and not much of it, and even a strip from a handkerchief will do. To prevent the prisoner from running away, he may be stood up against a tree and his arms passed behind that, before the hands are tied.

CHAPTER IX

Note 39, page 100: Persons who are lost and are going it blindly on foot usually keep inclining to the left, because they step a little farther with the right foot than with the left. After a time they complete a circle. Scouts should watch themselves and note whether they are making toward the left or not. Horses, too, are supposed to circle toward the left. But all this applies chiefly to the level country. In the mountains and hills the course is irregular, as the person or horse climbs up and down, picking the easier way. And on a slope anybody is always slipping downward a little, on a slant toward the bottom, unless he lines his trail by a tree or rock.

Scouts when they think that they are lost should hold to their good sense. If they feel themselves growing panicky, they had better sit down and wait until they can reason things out. The Scout who takes matters easy can get along for a couple of days until he is found or has worked himself free; but the Scout who runs and chases and sobs and shrieks wears himself down so that he is no good.

To be lost among the hills or mountains is much less serious than to be lost upon the flat plains. The mountains and hills have landmarks; the plains have maybe none. In the mountains and hills the Scout who is looking for camp or companions should get up on a ridge, and make a smoke—the two-smoke "lost" signal—and wait, and look for other smokes. If he feels that he must travel, because camp is too far or cannot see his smoke, or does not suspect that he is lost, his best plan is to strike a stream and stick to it until it brings him out. Travel by a stream is sometimes jungly; but in the mountains, ranches and cabins are located beside streams. Downstream is of course the easier direction.

It is a bad plan to try short cuts, when finding a way. The Scout may think that by leaving a trail or a stream and striking off up a draw or over a point he will save distance. But there is the chance that he will not come out where he expects to come out, and that he will be in a worse fix than before. When a course is once decided upon, the Scout should follow it through, taking it as easy as possible.

Note 40, page 106: Old-time scouts had to make all their fires by flint and steel; and it is well for modern Scouts to practice this. When the ground is too wet, and would be apt to put out the little blaze, the fire can be started in a frying-pan. Matches are very convenient, but they must be warded from dampness. They can be carried in a corked bottle; they can be dipped, before leaving home, in melted paraffin, which will coat them water-proof; and dampness can be rubbed out of them by friction by rolling them rapidly between the palms of the hands and scratching them quick. When every object is soaked through, matches (if dry) may be lighted upon a stone which has been rubbed violently against another stone.

If the Scout has a rifle or pistol or gun, then he can make a fire by shooting powder into a bunch of tinder—raveled handkerchief or coat lining, or frazzled cedar bark. The bullet or the shot should be drawn out of the cartridge, and the powder made loose, and the tinder should be fastened so that it will not be blown away.

In the rain a blanket or coat or hat should be held over the little blaze, until the flames are strong.

It was the old-time scouts who taught even the Indians to make fire by flint and steel, or by two flints. Two chunks of granite, especially when iron is contained, will answer. The Indians previously had used fire-sticks and were very careful to save coals. But they saw that "knocking fire out of rocks" was much easier.

Note 41, page 108: Scouts of course know the Big Dipper or the Great Bear, and the Little Dipper or the Little Bear, in the sky. The Big Dipper points to the North Star or Pole Star, and the North Star or Pole Star is the star in the end of the handle of the Little Dipper. These two formations up above are the Clock of the Heavens.

The "Guardians of the Pole" are the two stars which make the bottom of the cup of the Big Dipper. They are supposed to be sentinels marching around and around the tent of the North Star, as they are carried along by the Big Dipper. For the stars of the Big and the Little Dipper, like all the other stars, circuit the North Star once in about every twenty-four hours.

But the old-time scouts of plains and mountains told time by the "Pointers," which are the two bright stars forming the end of the cup of the Big Dipper. These point to the Pole Star, and they move just as the "Guardians of the Pole" move. They are easier to watch than the "Guardians of the Pole," and are more like an hour-hand. With every hour they, and the "Guardians of the Pole," and all the Dipper stars move in the same direction as the sun one and one-half the distance between the stars forming the top of the Big Dipper's cup. The Scout with a good memory and a good eye for distance can guess pretty nearly how time passes.

He has another method, too. The circuit of the stars is not quite the same as the circuit of the sun; for the stars swing about from starting-place to starting-place in about four minutes less than twenty-four hours, so that every month they gain 120 minutes, or two hours. On May 1, at nine in the evening, the "Pointers" of the Big Dipper are straight overhead, and point downward at the Pole Star, and if we could see them twelve hours later, or at nine in the morning, we should find them opposite, below the Pole Star, and pointing up at it. On June 1, they would arrive overhead two hours earlier, or at seven in the evening, and by nine o'clock would be west of overhead, while at seven and nine in the morning they would be opposite, or halfway around. On August 1 their halfway places would be at three in the afternoon and three in the morning.

So, figuring each month, and knowing where the "Pointers" are at nine, or at midnight, or at three in the morning, the Scout can read, for several nights running without appreciable change, what time it is. And on the plains the old trappers were accustomed to look up out of their buffalo-robes and say, "By the Pointers it is midnight."

The Big Dipper swings on such a wide circle that sometimes it drops into the hills or into mist. The Little Dipper stays high in the sky. Therefore sailors choose the two brighter stars in the end of the cup of the Little Dipper, and watch them, for an hour-hand.

The Blackfeet Indians call the Big Dipper the Seven Brothers, and they, and also other plains people such as sheep-herders and cowboys, tell the time by the "Last Brother," which is the star in the end of the handle. "The Last Brother is pointing to the east," or "The Last Brother is pointing downwards to the prairie," say the Indians. And by that they mean the hour is so and so.

Note 42, page 109: The "Papoose on the old Squaw's Back" is a tiny star, Alcor, very close to the star Mizar which forms the bend in the handle of the Big Dipper. To see this tiny star is a test for eyesight. The Sioux Indians say that the Big Dipper is four warriors carrying a funeral bier, followed by a train of mourners. The second star in the train (or the star in the bend) is the widow of the slain brave, with her little child, or the Little Sister, weeping beside her!

The Blackfeet and other Indians say that the Pole Star (which does not move) is a hole in the sky, through which streams the light from the magical country beyond. They call it "the star that stands still."

By the "Lost Children" Jim Bridger meant the Pleiades. These stars, forming a cluster or nebula, sink below the western horizon in the spring and do not appear in the sky again until autumn; and the following is the reason why. They were once six children in a Blackfeet camp. The Blackfeet hunters had killed many buffalo, and among them some buffalo calves. The little yellow hides of the buffalo calves were given to the children of the camp to play with, but six of the children were poor and did not get any. The other children made much fun of the six, and plagued them so that they drove them out of the camp. After wandering ashamed and afraid on the prairie, the six finally were taken up into the sky. So they are not seen in the spring and summer, when the buffalo calves are yellow; but in the autumn and winter, when the buffalo calves are black, they come out.

Nearly everybody can see the six stars of the Pleiades, and good eyesight can make out seven. By turning the head and gazing sideways the seven are made plainer. An English girl has eyesight so remarkable that she has counted twelve.

The Western Indians have had names for many of the stars and the planets and the constellations, and the night sky has been of much company and use to them and to the old plainsmen and mountaineers, just as it was to Jim Bridger at this time.

Mars is "Big-Fire-Star"; Jupiter is "Morning Star," or when evening star is "The Lance"; Venus is "Day Star," because sometimes it is so bright that it can be seen in the day. Scouts should know by the almanac what is the morning star, and then when it rises over the camp or the trail they are told that morning is at hand.

Note 43, page 110: Sunday comes to the trail, to the mountains and plains and field and forest, just as often as to the town and the farm. The Scout will feel much better, mentally and physically, when he observes Sunday. This one day in the seven can be made different by a change from the ordinary routine: by a good cleaning up; by only a short march, just enough for exercise; by a whole day in camp, if possible; by an avoidance of harm to bird or beast; by some especial arrangement, which will say, "This is Sunday." The real Jedediah Smith, fur-hunter and explorer, found as much profit in his Bible as in his rifle, amidst the wilderness; and the Scout of to-day should include the Bible in the outfit. It reads well out in the great open, it is full of nature lore of sky and water and earth, and it is a great comforter and sweetener of trail and camp.

CHAPTER X

Note 44, page 112: The smoke signal has been in use for many, many years. The Indians of the West used it much, and whenever an army detachment or other strangers traversed the plains and the hills their course was marked by the smoke signals of Indian scouts. To make smoke signals, first a moderate blaze is started; then damp or green stuff is piled on, for a smudge; and the column of smoke is cut into puffs by a blanket or coat held over like a cup and suddenly jerked off. A high place should be selected for the smoke signal, so as to distinguish it from the ordinary camp-fire, which is not as a rule made on a high place,—that is, in hostile country. A still day is necessary for accurate smoke signaling. This signaling is being recommended for the United States Forestry Service, so that Rangers and Guards can telegraph warnings and news by the Morse or the Army and Navy alphabet. A short puff would be the dot, a long puff the dash; or one short puff would be "1," two short puffs close together "2," and a long puff "3." This Army and Navy code is explained under Note 48.

The Indians had secret codes, for the smoke signals; and used dense smokes and thin smokes, both. Green pine and spruce and fire boughs raise a thick black smoke.

In army scouting on the plains the following signals were customary:

"Wish to communicate." Three smokes side by side.

"Enemy discovered." Two puffs, repeated at fifteen-minute intervals. Boy Scouts need not have the intervals so long. One minute is enough, for a standard.

"Many enemy discovered." Three puffs, at intervals.

"Come to council," or "Join forces." Four puffs, repeated.

"March to the north." Two smokes, of two puffs each.

"March to the south." Two smokes, of three puffs each.

"March to the east." Three smokes, of two puffs each.

"March to the west." Three smokes, of three puffs each.

Plainsmen and woodsmen understand the following signals also:

"Camp is here." One smoke, one puff at intervals.

"Help. I am lost." Two fires, occasional single puffs.

"Good news." Three steady smokes.

Scouts' patrols can invent their own code of smokes, by number of smokes, by puffs, and by intervals between puffs. Of course, the single fire is much more easily managed by one person.

Note 45, page 116: The Red Fox Scouts probably carried with them a liquid carbolic and antiseptic soap, which comes put up in small bottles with patent shaker stoppers. A few drops of this in some water makes a splendid wash for wounds, and is harmless. Druggists and surgical supply stores can furnish Scouts with this soap. Being non-poisonous, good for a gargle as well as for external use, it is superior to many other antiseptic washes. A spool of surgeons' adhesive tape, say three-quarter inch wide, a roll of sterilized absorbent cotton, and a roll of sterilized gauze will of course be included in the Scouts' first-aid kit.

CHAPTER XI

Note 46, page 124: Bichloride of mercury is a strong antiseptic, and much favored for disinfecting dishes and other vessels used by sick people. It is convenient to carry, in a form known as Bernay's tablets. They come white or blue, and one is dissolved in water to make a solution. They are very poisonous, internally, and Scouts must look out that none of the solution enters the stomach. Of course, there are many antiseptic substances for washing wounds: potash and borax are good, especially in the form of potassium permanganate and boric acid. Anything in a tablet or a powdery form is easier to pack than anything in a liquid form. Wounds must be kept surgically clean, which means "aseptic" or perfectly free of poisoning microbes, or else there may be blood-poisoning. So Scouts should be careful that their fingers and whatever else touches a wound also are surgically clean, by being washed well in some antiseptic. Cloths and knife blades, etc., can be made clean by being boiled for ten minutes.

CHAPTER XII

Note 47, page 133: When a Scout would climb a tree which looks hard, particularly a large-trunk tree, he can work a scheme by connecting his ankles with a soft rope or a handkerchief, or the like, measuring about two thirds around the trunk. Then when he hitches up along the trunk he gets a splendid purchase. Several strands of rope are better than one, so that they will not slip. And if the rope or cloth is wet, it will stick better.

Note 48, page 140: All Scouts should know how to wigwag messages. There are three alphabets which may be used in telegraphing by wigwagging with a flag or with the cap: the American Morse, such as is used in this country by the regular telegraph, the Continental Morse, and the Army and Navy. The American Morse is dots and dashes and spaces; but the Continental Morse is different, because it does not have any spaces. It is employed in Europe and in submarine cable work. The United States Army and Navy have their own wigwag alphabet, which is named the Myer alphabet, in compliment to Brevet Brigadier-General Albert J. Myer, the first chief signal officer of the Army, appointed in 1860. Commonly the system is known as the Army and Navy.

Scouts will find that knowing the American Morse or dot-and-dash telegraph signs will be of much value because these can be used both in wigwag and in electric-wire work; but Scouts to be of assistance to their country in military time must know the Army and Navy alphabet, which is easier to learn.

Instead of the dot and the dash and the space, the figures 1, 2, and 3 are used. The figure 1, like the wigwag dot, is a quick sweep of the flag to the right, from the perpendicular to the level of the waist, or one quarter of a circle. The figure 2 is a similar sweep to the left. The figure 3 is a "front," or sweeping the flag straight down, before, and instantly returning it to the upright again. The perpendicular or upright is the beginning of every motion. The "front" ends things: words, sentences, messages, etc.

Here is the Army and Navy alphabet: "A," you see, would be dip to left, and return; to left, and return. "B," a left, a right, a right, and a left.

A .............22 I .............1 Q .............1211
B .............2112 J .............1122 R .............211
C .............121 K .............2121 S .............212
D .............222 L .............221 T .............2
E .............12 M .............1221 U .............112
F .............2221 N .............11 V .............1222
G .............2211 O .............21 W .............1121
H .............122 P .............1212 X .............2122
Y .............111 Z .............2222
Figs. Abbreviations
1 .............1111 a is for after wi ...........with
2 .............2222 b .............before y ...........yes
3 .............1112 c .............can 1112 ...........tion
4 .............2221 h .............have
5 .............1122 n .............not
6 .............2211 r .............are
7 .............1222 t .............the
8 .............2111 u .............you
9 .............1221 ur ............your
0 .............2112 w .............word
Signs
End of word...............................3
End of sentence...........................33
End of message............................333
Numerals follow (or end)..................X X 3
Signature follows.........................Sig 3
Error.....................................E E 3
I understand (O.. K..)....................A A 3
Cease signaling...........................A A A 333
Cipher follows (or ends)..................X C 3
Wait a moment.............................1111 3
Repeat after (word).......................C C 3 A 3 (give word)
Repeat last word..........................C C 33
Repeat last message.......................C C C 333
Move little to right......................R R 3
Move little to left.......................L L 3
Signal faster.............................2212 3
Permission granted........................P G 3
Permission not granted....................N G 3

The address in full of a message is considered as one sentence, ended by 3 or a "front," and return to perpendicular.

This Army and Navy alphabet is easier to read, because it does away with the pausing or lengthening of the motions, to make the spaces which help to form some of the Morse letters. Every letter is reeled straight off without a break.

Two flags are used in wigwagging. A white flag with a red square in the center is used against a dark background; a red flag with a white square in the center is used against the sky or against a mixed background. But of course in emergency anything must be tried, and for a short distance the Scout can use his hat or cap, or handkerchief, or even his arm alone. The motions should be sharp and quick and distinct, with a perpendicular between each motion and a "front" between words. The Army rate with the large service flag is five or six words a minute.

The beam of a searchlight is used just as a flag is used, to sweep upward for "perpendicular," downward for "front," and to right and to left. Another system of night signaling is by lantern or torch; but it should be swung from the knees up and out, for right or 1, up and out in opposite direction for left, or 2, and raised straight up for "front" or 3. Four electric lamps in a row, which flash red and white in various combinations, colored fires, bombs and rockets, also make night signals.

For daytime signaling the United States Army favors the mirror or heliograph (sun-writing) system. The 1 is a short flash, the 2 is two short flashes, the 3 is a long, steady flash. This system can be read through 100 and 150 miles.

The United States Navy employs a two-arm or a two-flag system, which by different slants and angles of the arms or flags signals by the Army and Navy code. It is called the Semaphore system—like the semaphore block signals of railroads. It is more convenient for windy weather, because the flags are shorter and smaller than the flags of the three-motion wigwag.

Scouts should have in their library a copy of the United States Signal Corps booklet, "Manual of Visual Signaling," which can be had at a small price from the Government Printing Office at Washington. This tells all about the different systems of day and night signaling, and shows alphabets, signal flags, codes, ciphers, and so forth.

The Indians of the plains and mountains have had systems of signaling as perfect as those of the Army and Navy. In early days of the Army on the plains, the Indians passed news along among themselves over long distances faster than it was passed by the military telegraph. They used a smoke code; and they used also mirror-flashes, blanket-waving, pony-running, foot-running, and hand gestures.

Their secret signals were never told; no threats or bribes could make an Indian divulge his tribal or his band code. Not even the white men who lived with the Indians could learn it. Once some Army officers watched a Sioux chief, posted on a little knoll, drill his red cavalry for an hour, without a word or a gesture; all he used was a little looking-glass held in the palm of his hand.

However, some of the signs were general. A tremulous motion or flash meant game or enemy. Several quick flashes, close together, meant "Come on." A beam to the left meant "By the left"; to the right meant "By the right."

When looking for buffalo, the number of flashes would tell how many bands of buffalo were sighted, and a quivering motion would bid the hunters to "Come on."

Scouts will find some blanket signs handy. If the blanket is too large to manage, fold it once.

"Who are you?" Hold the blanket by the two upper corners, in front, and bend with it far to the right and to the left.

"We want peace." Hold the blanket by the two upper corners, in front, and bending forward lay it flat upon the ground.

"Keep away," or "No." Hold up the blanket, grasping the two upper corners. Cross the arms, still with hands grasping the corners. Bring right arm back to front and right, almost opening the blanket again. Repeat.

"Go back" or "Hide." Hold up blanket by two corners opposite right shoulder, and swing it to right and down, several times.

"Alarm!" Toss the blanket several times, as high as possible.

"Something (or somebody) in sight." Hold up blanket by the two corners opposite right shoulder. Then swing the right corner around to left and to right. Repeat.

"Come on" or "Approach." Hold blanket up by two upper corners in front of the body. Swing the right arm and corner to the left. Repeat.

Pony-running signals are usually in a circle, or forward and backward, on the side of a hill or the crest. If the movements are fast, then the news is exciting and important. If they are made in full view of the surrounding country, then the danger is not close. If they are made under cover, then the danger is near. If they are made under cover and the rider suddenly stops and hides, then everybody must hide, or retreat, for the enemy is too strong. The bigger the movements, the more the enemy or the more the game. A dodging zigzag course shows that the scout is pursued or apt to be pursued. A furious riding back and forth along a crest means that a war party is returning successful. Boy Scouts can make the motions on foot, and by a code of circles and figure eights, etc., can signal many things.

Signals by the hand and arm alone are convenient to know.

"Who are you?" is made by waving the right hand to right and to left in quick succession.

"We are friends" is made by raising both hands and grasping the left with the right, as if shaking hands.

"We are enemies" is made by placing the right fist against the forehead, and turning it from side to side.

"Halt" or "Keep away" is made by raising the right hand, palm to the front, and moving it forward and back.

"Come" is made by raising right hand, back to front, and beckoning with a wide sweep forward and in again, repeating.

For distance two-arm signals are better than one-arm; and Scouts should have a short code in two-arms. Both arms stretched wide may mean "Go back" or "Halt"; both arms partly dropped may mean "No," partly raised may mean "Yes." And so on. These were plain signals.

Note 49, page 141: A sprain, such as a sprained wrist or ankle, for instance, is a serious injury, and must not be made light of or neglected. If not properly and promptly treated, it is likely to leave the cords or ligaments permanently weak. When treatment may begin at once, the injured joint should be laid bare, even if by cutting the shoe instead of unlacing it and pulling it off, and the coldest water should be applied lavishly. The joint may well be plunged into an icy spring or stream, or held under a running faucet. If the joint can be kept elevated, so that the blood will not flow into it so readily, so much the better.

If some distance has to be covered before the injured person arrives in reach of treatment, the shoe might as well remain on, to act as a bandage and a support—although it probably will have to be cut off later. If the joint is not the ankle joint, a tight, stout bandage should be fastened around. Nobody should try to step upon his sprained ankle or use his sprained wrist, or whatever joint it may be.

After swelling has set in very hot water is said to be superior to very cold water; the very hot and the very cold have much the same effect, anyway. But the water application should be kept up for at least twenty-four hours, and the wounded place must not be moved one particle for several days. When the time comes to move it, it should be wrapped with a supporting bandage.

General Ashley probably had a hard time with his neglected ankle.

CHAPTER XIII

Note 50, page 147: The cache (which is a French word and is pronounced "cash") or hiding-place is a genuine scout invention. Long ago the trappers and traders of the plains and mountains, when they had more pelts or more supplies than they could readily carry, would "cache" them. The favorite way was to dig a hole, and gradually enlarge it underground, like a jug. The dirt was laid upon a blanket and emptied into a stream, so that it would not be noticed. Then the hole was lined with dry sticks or with blankets, the pelts or supplies were packed inside, and covered with buffalo robe or tarpaulin; and the earth was tamped in solidly. Next a fire was built on top, that the ashes might deceive Indians and animals. Or the tent or lodge was erected over the spot for a few days. At any rate, all traces of the hiding-place were wiped out, and landmarks were noted well.

It was considered a serious offense for one white man to molest the cache of another white man, unless to save his own life. And to rob a cache of the furs was worse than stealing horses.

All caches were not alike. Some were holes, others were caves into banks. When Scouts of to-day make a cache, they must record the location exceedingly well and close, or they are apt to lose the spot. It seems very easy to remember trees and rocks and all; but anybody who has laid a rabbit down, while he chased another, and then has thought to go straight and pick it up again—or anybody who has searched for a golf-ball when he knew exactly where it lit—will realize that a cache may be very tricky.

Note 51, page 152: The homeopathic preparation of aconite is highly recommended by many woodsmen and other travelers as a good thing to have in the trail medicine kit. A few drops will kill a fever or a cold. Dover's Powder (in small doses, by causing perspiration and thus checking a fever or throwing off a cold), quinine, calomel (for biliousness and to clean out the intestines when they are clogged with waste and mucus), Epsom salts or castor oil (to clean out the bowels also), an emetic, like sirup of ipecac (to empty the stomach quickly in case of emergency), some mustard for making a plaster for the chest (in croupiness or cold inside the chest), or for mixing with warm water to make an emetic, extract of ginger or sirup of ginger (for summer complaint and griping looseness of the bowels if long continued), perhaps some soda mint tablets (for sour stomach caused by overeating), are other simple remedies. Of course the Scout should learn to read the little clinical thermometer, and one should be carried in the trail kit.

It is much better to know exactly how to use a few simple standard remedies, than to experiment with a lot of powerful drugs and very likely make terrible mistakes. To give a medicine without being certain just why and just what it will do is as bad as pointing a gun at somebody without knowing whether or not it is loaded. Doctors study hard for years, before they begin to practice; and Scouts cannot expect to make doctors of themselves in a few months. Head cool, feet warm, bowels open, moderate eating—these are United States Army rules, and Scouts' rules too. "An ounce of prevention is better than a pound of cure"! Scouts who take care of their bodies properly will rarely need medicine, and should be proud of the fact.

Note 52, page 153: In 1909, in California alone, out of 388 forest fires 243, or almost two thirds, were caused by human beings' carelessness; and 119, or almost one third, were caused by camp-fires! The money loss to the state was $1,000,000; but this was not all the damage. A forest, or a single tree, is not replaced in a year, or in ten years; and the stately evergreen trees grow slowest of all.

California claims that if a few plain rules were observed, in that state alone 500 out of 575 forest fires would not occur. Some of these rules are:

1. Never throw aside matches, or lighted or smoldering stuff, where anything can possibly catch from it.

2. Camp-fires should be as small as will serve. (Most campers build fires too large, and against trees or logs whence they will be sure to spread.)

3. Don't build fires in leaves, rotten wood or sawdust, or pine needles.

4. Don't build fires against large or hollow logs where it is hard to see that they are not put out. They eat in.

5. Don't build fires under low evergreens, or where a flame may leap to a branch, or sparks light upon a branch.

6. In windy weather and in dangerous places camp-fires should be confined in trenches, or an open spot be chosen and the ground first cleared of all vegetable matter.

7. Never leave a fire, even for a short time, until you are certain that it is out. Wet it thoroughly, to the bottom, or else stamp it out and pile on sand or dirt.

8. Never pass by a fire in grass, brush, or timber, which is unguarded and which you can see is likely to spread. Extinguish it; or if it is beyond your control, notify the nearest ranch, town, or forest official.

These regulations are for Boy Scouts to remember and to observe, no matter where the trail leads.

CHAPTER XIV

Note 53, page 161: A fire line is a cleared strip, sometimes only ten, sometimes, where the brush is thick, as much as sixty feet wide, running through the timber and the bushes, as a check to the blaze. An old wood-road, or a regular wagon-road, or a logging-trail, or a pack-trail is used as a fire line, when possible; but when a fire line must be cleared especially, it is laid from bare spot to bare spot and along the tops of ridges. A fire travels very fast up-hill, but works slowly in getting across. Scouts should remember this important fact: The steeper the hill, the swifter the fire will climb it.

There are three kinds of forest fires: Surface fires, which burn just the upper layer of dry leaves and dry grass, brush, and small trees; ground fires, which burn deep amidst sawdust or pine needles or peat; and crown fires, which travel through the tops of the trees. Fires start as surface fires, and then can be beaten out with coats and sacks and shovels, and stopped by hoe and spade and plow. The ground fire does not look dangerous, but it is, and it is hard to get at. Crown fires are surface fires which have climbed into the trees and are borne along in prodigious leaps by the wind. They are the most vicious and the worst to fight.

The duty of Scouts is to jump upon a surface fire and kill it before it becomes a sly ground fire or a raving crown fire.

Note 54, page 171: Even the best surgeons nowadays "fuss" with deep wounds as little as possible. They clean the deep wound, by washing it as well as they can, to remove dirt and other loose foreign particles; then they cover gently with a sterilized pad, and bandage, to keep microbes away, and Nature does the rest. In the days when our fathers were boys, salves and arnica and all kinds of messy stuff were used; but the world has found that all Nature asks is a chance to go ahead, herself, without interference.

Unless a bullet, even, is lodged where it irritates a nerve or a muscle or disturbs the workings of some organ of the body, the surgeon is apt to let it stay, until Nature has tried to throw a wall about it and enclose it out of the way.

So the less a Scout pokes at a deep wound, the better. He can wash it out with hot water, and maybe can pick out particles of visible dirt or splinters with forceps which have been boiled for ten minutes. Then he can bandage it loosely, and wait for Nature or a surgeon.

CHAPTER XVI

Note 55, page 186: The Elks by this time had lost their pack-saddles and panniers, which had been cached with other stuff after the two burros were stolen by the renegades. They had lost also their lash ropes with the cinchas; so that it was necessary to throw some pack-hitch that did not require a cincha and hook. One of the easiest of such hitches is the squaw-hitch. The tarps were spread out and the camp stuff was folded in so that the result was a large, soft pad, with nothing to hurt Apache's back. Then the hitch was thrown with one of the ropes, as follows:

Figure I is a double bight, which is laid over the top of the pack, so that the two loops hang, well down, half on each side. "X"-"Y" is the animal's back. Take the end of the rope, "c," and pass it under the animal's belly, and through loop "a" on the other side; pass rope end "d" under and through loop "b," the same way. Next bring them back to the first side again, and through the middle place "e," as shown by dotted lines of Figure II. Keep all the ropes well separated, where they bite into the pack and into the animal's stomach, and draw taut, and fasten with a hitch at "e." The result will look like Figure III.

The diamond hitch can be tied by using a loop instead of the cincha hook.

Note 56, page 193: Pack animals and saddle-horses do much better on the trail if they can be permitted to graze free, or only hobbled. They like to forage about for themselves, and usually will eat more and better grass than when tied by a picket rope. During the first three or four days out, horse or mule is apt to wander back to the home pasture. Hobbles can be bought or made. When bought, they are broad, flexible strips of leather about eighteen inches long, with cuffs which buckle around each fore leg above the hoof. Hobbles can be made on the spot by twisting soft rope from fore leg to fore leg and tying the ends by lapping in the middle.

It is safer to picket a horse by a rope upon the neck rather than upon the leg. He is not so apt to injure himself by pulling or running. A picket rope is forty feet long. To loop it securely about the neck, measure with the end about the neck, and at the proper place along the rope tie a single knot; knot the end of the rope, and passing it about the neck thrust the knotted end through the single knot. Here is a loop that cannot slip and choke the horse, and can easily be untied.

Sometimes the loose end of the picket rope may be fastened to a tree, or to a bush. A horse should be picketed out from trees, or in the center of an open space, so that he cannot wind the rope about a tree and hold himself too short to graze. Sometimes the free end is fastened to a stake or picket-pin driven into the ground. But if there is no pin, and no tree or bush is handy, then a "dead-man" may be used. This is an old scout scheme. The rope is tied to a stick eighteen inches long, or to a bunch of sticks, or to a bunch of brush, or to a stone; and this buried a foot and a half or two feet, and the earth or sand tamped upon it. Thus it is wedged fast against any ordinary pull. By this scheme a horse may be picketed out on the bare desert.

When an animal is allowed to graze free, a good plan is to have a loose rope twenty or thirty feet in length trail from his neck as he grazes. This is another scout scheme, used by Indians, trappers, and cowboys. When the animal declines to be bridled or grasped by the mane, the trailing rope usually can be caught up. Indians and trappers when riding depended much upon this trailing rope, so that when thrown they could grab it instantly, and mount again.

CHAPTER XVII

Note 57, page 206: Flowers as well as animals have their place and their rights; and they as well as the animals help to make the great out-of-doors different from the in-doors. A Scout never destroys anything uselessly or "for fun."

Note 58, page 211: Scouts should learn how to repair dislocations of the jaw, the finger, and the shoulder, as these are the least difficult and the most frequent. A dislocation can be told from a fracture of the bone by a twisting of the hand or the foot, and by a shortening or a lengthening of the arm or leg, according to whether the head of the bone has slipped up from the socket, or down. And there is neither feeling nor sound of the broken bones grating against each other. But never go ahead blindly.

A Scout who dislocates his own hip, far from help, should try lashing his leg to a tree, and on his back, clasping another tree, should pull himself forward with all his strength. But a dislocation of the knee is much more delicate to manage, and with that or a dislocated elbow the Scout can contrive to get to a surgeon.

Note 59, page 214: Yes, Scouts can always manage. The quickest way to make a blanket stretcher is to double the blanket, tie each pair of corners with a non-slipping knot, and pass a pole through the fold on one edge and through the knotted corners of the other. The quickest way to make a coat stretcher is to take two coats, turn the sleeves of one or of both inside, lay the coats inside up, or sleeves up, with the tails touching at the edges. Thrust a pole through each line of sleeves, and button each coat over the poles.

Three or four belts or other straps such as camera straps slung between poles form an emergency litter or seat; and a man who can sit up can be carried in a chair made by a pole or rifle thrust through the sleeves of a coat, and the coat-tail tied fast to another pole or rifle.

When an injured person is too sore to be moved from blanket to litter, an old scout method is this: Three cross-pieces or short poles are lashed to connect the two long poles or side poles. One short piece forms each end and one crosses the middle, thus:

This frame is lowered over the patient, and the blanket that he is on is fastened to its edges. Then when the litter is ready, he is in it already! The middle cross-piece is handy for him to grasp, for steadying himself.

Small stones rolled in the corners of blankets make a purchase for the wrappings, and the knots will not slip.

Scouts may make chairs by clasping hands; but an easy way is to have the patient sit upon a short board or short pole resting in the hollow of the bearers' arms.

In smooth country, and when the sick or wounded person is not too badly off, the Indian and trapper "travois" or horse litter may be employed. Two elastic poles about fifteen feet long are united by cross-pieces, ladder style; and with two ends slung one upon either side of the horse, and the other two ends dragging, are trailed along behind the horse. The poles should be springy, so as to lessen the jar from rough places.

If there is another steady horse, the rear ends of the litter can be slung upon it, instead of resting on the ground. This is another old scout and Indian method.

CHAPTER XVIII

Note 60, page 216: "Jerked" meat is another genuinely scout institution, and has been well known to Indians and trappers and hunters in the West since early times. The air of the Western plains and mountains is very dry and pure. Venison or bear-meat or beef, when raw may be cut into strips two fingers wide, a half or three quarters of an inch thick, and six or seven inches long, and hung up in the sun. In about three days it is hard and leathery, and may be carried about until eaten. It may be eaten by chewing at it as it is, or it may be fried. Scouts will find that, while traveling, a couple of slices of this jerked meat, chewed and swallowed, keeps up the strength finely.

When a camp is in a hurry, the meat may be strung over a slow fire, to make it dry faster; and it may be cured faster yet by smoking, as the Elks cured it. Some persons use salt; and if they have time they sprinkle the pile of strips, when fresh, with salt, and fold them in the animal's green hide, to pickle and sweat for twenty-four hours. But salt is not needed; and of course the Indians and the old-time scout trappers never had salt. Trappers sometimes used a sprinkle of gunpowder for salt; and that is an army makeshift, too.

After a buffalo hunt the Indian villages were all festooned with jerked meat, strung on scaffolds and among the teepees. Traders and emigrants jerked the meat by stringing it along the outside of their wagons and drying it while on the move.

Note 61, page 217: This is the Indian and trapper method of dressing skins, and is easy for any Scout of to-day. The skin is stretched, hair side down, between pegs, or over a smooth bowlder or log, while it is fresh or green, and with a knife or bone, not too sharp, is scraped until the mucus-like thin inner coating is scraped away. This is called "graining." In the old-time scout's lodge or camp there always was a "graining block"—a smooth stump or log set up for the pelts to fit over while being scraped. Do not scrape so deep as to cut the roots of the hair. Next the pelt is dried. Then it is covered with a mixture of the brains and pure water, and soaked, and it is rubbed and worked with both hands until the brains have been rubbed in and until the skin is rubbed dry and soft. Next it is laid over a willow frame, or hung up, open, and smoked for twelve hours or so. Now it is soft and unchangeable, forever.

When white clay or gypsum was near, the Indians would mix that with water until the fluid was the color of milk and four times as thick. Before the skin was smoked it was smeared plentifully with this, and allowed to dry. Then it was rubbed a long time, until it was soft and flexible and the clay had all been rubbed away. This took out the stains and made the skin white.

Note 62, page 222: Aluminum is not dangerous to cook in. Tin sometimes unites with acids in foods, or in certain liquids, and gives off a poison. Tin also rusts, but aluminum does not. And aluminum is much the lighter in weight, and is a better heat conductor, therefore cooking quicker.

Note 63, page 223: "Levez!" is what the old-time scouts-trappers ought to have said. It is the French for "Rise! Get up!" But some trappers said "Leve! Leve!" and some called "Lave!" thinking that they were using the Spanish verb "Lavar," meaning to wash.

CHAPTER XIX

Note 64, page 236: Scouts should bear in mind that practically every illness demands a cleaning out of the bowels, by a prompt laxative or by a mild cathartic, in the very beginning. This carries off the poisons that feed the illness. And Scouts should bear in mind that for a pain which indicates appendicitis, an ice-cold pack and not a hot pack is the proper application. The ice-cold pack drives the blood away from the appendix, and keeps it more normal until the surgeon can arrive. A hot pack draws the blood to the region and congests or swells the appendix all the more. Irritated thus, the appendix is apt to burst. The prompt attention to the bowels is always necessary.

CHAPTER XX

Note 65, page 251: In the dark a horse or mule will smell out the trail where other horses and mules have passed. The mule has been supposed to have a better nose than the horse, for trails and for water—and for Indians. In the camps of emigrants and trappers and other overland travelers, of the old days, the mules would smell approaching Indians and give the alarm.

CHAPTER XXI

Note 66, page 260: Among the Western Indians their scouts were especially selected young men, and these were likened to wolves. They were instructed "to be wise as well as brave; to look not only to the front, but to the right and left, behind them, and at the ground; to watch carefully the movements of all wild animals, from buffalo to birds; to wind through ravines and the beds of streams; to walk on hard ground or where there is grass, so as to leave no trail; to move with great care so as not to disturb any wild animals; and to return with much speed should they discover anything to report." When the scout returned with news of a war-party, he howled like a wolf.

"To scout" was the wolf sign, with the hand turning to right and to left and downward, like wolf ears pricking in all directions.

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