WHAT THE EYES OF A SCOUT MAY SEE
"What damage was done last night?" asked Jack, as he and Paul walked around the camp, while the cooks of the several patrols were engaged in getting breakfast over fires built after that clever fashion, partly in holes in the ground.
"Well," replied his chum, "outside of Jud's bruised arm that will handicap him a bit in his work; and one hole through the fly that serves as our mess tent; I haven't been able to find anything. But I picked up several stones that must have come down, and they were big enough to hurt if they had hit any of us."
"What ought we to do?" asked Jack.
"For one I think we've just got to change our way of handling those fellows. The more we try to argue, and hold out the olive branch, the worse they get. I hate to tell the boys we've reached the end of the rope; but what else is left?" and Paul, as he spoke, shook his head, and drew a long breath.
"Oh! nothing but give tit for tat," returned
Jack, without a pause, as if his mind had long been made up. "Why, even a Quaker will fight if forced to defend his honor; or some bully attacks his family. They say a worm will turn; which you mustn't take to mean that we are grubs."
"Well," declared Paul, "to-night we'll have a watch set, and if they try that sort of thing again, perhaps they'll find two can play at a bombardment."
The welcome call to breakfast broke in on their dialogue; and being possessed of the ordinary boy's appetite, both Paul and his chum were not at all backward about dropping into their places around the rude table.
Of course pretty much all the talk during the meal was about the unprovoked and cowardly attack of the preceding night. Every time a boy cast his eyes upward, and saw the sky through the ragged hole in the canvas cover, he was noticed to grit his teeth, and look angry.
But Paul assured them that he had a plan ready whereby they could put a stop to this rough treatment. Knowing him as they did, the scouts felt sure he had been driven to the limit of his forbearance. Having gone as far as their code called for in the effort to keep the peace, they would certainly be justified in taking the law into their own hands from this time forth.
"Forget it all until night comes, fellows," said Paul, finally, when they had talked the subject threadbare. "Meanwhile don't think you're going to get any sort of a nap to-day. There will be something doing every minute of the time from now up to supper call. And to begin with, let the dishwashers get busy right away, so as to clear the decks for action."
As every one had satisfied his appetite, and just then cared little whether there was ever such a thing as eating again, they were not sorry to leave the mess tent.
The camp was quickly a scene of animation. Some fellows were busy with cameras, seeking enticing subjects for views that would do them credit when the results of the great hike were examined by a committee later on. Others set about making preparations for the various duties to which they had been assigned. Paul kept his finger on the pulse of everything that took place.
He sent one squad along the shore of the lake to try the fishing. Another was engaged in forming a rude raft so that they could have something on which to paddle around from time to time. Still another group followed Paul and Wallace to hunt for signs of the raccoons they had heard during the preceding night.
Each boy of the bunch was expected to jot down in his note-book the various interesting
things they came across as they tramped. Paul gave a few hints; but he wanted them to think it out for themselves.
The most observing would make mention of dozens of things that might never attract the eye of the novice in woodcraft. He would state the species of trees he noticed on either hand; the formation of the rocks, the result perhaps of a former hurricane that leveled many old trees, and the direction which it must have passed along over this country; he would find a multitude of things to mention in the sap-sucker that tapped the dead limb of a tree; the wise crow that cawed at them from a distance; the flashing bluejay that kept just ahead of them; the red squirrel and the little chipmunks that scurried over the ground, to watch with bright eyes from the shelter of some tree, or hummock of up-tilted stones.
There was absolutely no limit to the list of interesting subjects that an observing lad could find to fill pages upon pages in his memorandum book. After he had returned home again how pleasant it would be to read anew these notes, and realize that he could not be termed blind when he passed along the trail.
And then the tracks of the little woods animals, how interesting it was to hunt for them close to the border of the water, where they could be plainly seen in the soft mud.
At first one seemed pretty much like another to the greenhorns; but either Paul or Wallace, who had studied these things before, pointed out the difference; and after that lesson the other fellows could easily tell the tracks of a raccoon from those of a mink or a 'possum, for they found them all.
After that Paul took pains to explain just how differently the imprint of a dog's or a cat's foot looked when compared with those of the wild woods folks. These two were so much alike that Bobolink remarked upon the fact.
"How can you tell them apart, Paul?" he asked, looking at the prints made by the scout leader in the mud.
"That's easy," replied Paul, "if you notice that the dog leaves the track of his nails every time; while puss, well, she sheathes her claws while she walks, keeping them sharp for business when she sights a sparrow or a young rabbit."
"But look here, what's this funny track here? Some baby must have put its hand down in the mud; but that's silly, of course. Whatever made these, Paul?" asked Philip Towne, pointing ahead to a spot they had as yet not visited.
Paul took one look, and smiled. He turned to Wallace, who nodded instantly.
"A muskrat made those tracks, boys," observed Paul; "you see he leaves marks entirely
unlike any others we've seen. And here is where our friend, Mr. Crow, came down from his perch where he's been scolding us so long. He wanted a drink perhaps; or expected to pick up a breakfast along the edge of the water, from insects that have been washed ashore."
All these things were very attractive to the boys.
"This thing gets better and better the deeper you climb into it," declared Bobolink, as he wrote away for dear life, jotting down all he could remember of what he had heard.
Some of the boys even made rude but effective diagrams of the various tracks, so that they would have the proof to show if ever a dispute arose concerning the difference between the several species.
Many other things did Paul and Wallace bring to their attention. Why, it seemed as though one had only to turn around up on the side of Rattlesnake Mountain to discover new and wonderful facts that these boys never dreamed of before.
"Where do you suppose this old pile of rocks ever got its name, Paul?" asked one of the scouts, as he looked up at the frowning crest far above.
"I really don't know," replied Paul; "I took the trouble to ask a number of people too, who have lived around Stanhope for scores of years, and they couldn't tell me; they said it had always
gone by that name, and supposed that once it was a regular rattlesnake den."
"Why, yes," interrupted Jud Elderkin; "one man told me he remembered when there was a queer chap lived up here, a cripple too, who in those days used to put in all his time hunting rattlesnakes for their skins, which were used to make pocketbooks and slippers and belts out of; and he sold the oil, too."
"Oil?" exclaimed Bobolink, "now, what do you mean by that? Do they use it for lamps, or watches, like they do porpoise oil?"
"How about that, Wallace?" asked Paul, seeing that the reader of the Carberry Twins gave evidence of possessing knowledge along those lines.
"Good for rheumatism, they say," observed Wallace; "athletes also use it to limber up their limbs. It has a commercial value. Some men make a business of hunting rattlesnakes pretty much all the year."
"Excuse me from the job then," said Bobolink, making a wry face. "Ugh! I hate the sight of a snake! Say, you don't think there might be a little bunch of the nasty scaly monsters left over from the old cripple's hunt, do you, Paul?"
"I hope we won't run across any," returned the patrol leader, soberly; "for it's no fun getting struck by the fangs of a rattlesnake. I've
never had that bad luck, and I give you my word I'm not hankering after an experience, either."
"But then it might happen to one of us," retorted Bobolink; "and as a wise general I hope you've thought of bringing a gallon or two of strong drink along. That seems to be the only thing that can save a poor fellow when he's been jabbed by one of these twisters; anyhow, that's what I've read about it."
"You're away off then, Bobolink," laughed Paul; "for we haven't a drop of liquor in camp. There's a better way to counteract a snake bite; and I intend telling the whole troop when we gather at lunch to-day, as well as distribute some little packets I made up, under my father's directions."
"But go on," demanded Jud, "now that you've said so much. If a rattlesnake jumped out of those bushes there, and gave me a jab on the leg, how ought I go about it to keep from keeling over? I want to know, and I ain't from Missouri, either!"
"Well," Paul started to say, "in the first place you ought to know that no rattlesnake ever jumps out at anybody. At the slightest sign of danger he coils up, and sounds his policeman's rattle, which is just as near like the buzzing of a big locust as you can get it."
"Say, that's why they call a policeman's club
his locust, ain't it?" interrupted Bobolink; at which Paul smiled and nodded.
"If you should get excited on hearing this warning, and rush straight at the snake, not seeing him, why he'd get you. The first thing to do is to free your leg from all clothing, if he struck you, and tie a bandage tight above the mark where his fangs hit. Then get down yourself, or if you have a chum along, and you always will up here, according to the orders to hunt in pairs, have him suck the wound as hard as he can, spitting out the poison."
"Good gracious!" cried Bobolink, "but won't he get the dope instead of you, then?"
"It would never hurt him," answered Paul, quickly, "unless he happens to have a cut about his mouth. If that is the case he must never try to suck a snake bite. Hot water will help nearly as well as sucking. Then use some of the strong ammonia that is in a little bottle, to burn the wound. Never mind the pain, for your life is in danger. Another bottle holds some aromatic spirits of ammonia, which can be taken inwardly, as it is useful to keep up the strength and nerve of the wounded fellow."
"Is that all?" asked the interested Jud.
"Pretty much all," Paul went on. "Don't keep on the tight cord or bandage more than an hour, for it stops circulation, and might bring on
mortification, father says. Ease up on it for a bit. The arm will sting like fun, but stand it. If the patient shows signs of collapse, tighten the cord again for a time. Do this several times until you can take the cord off for good."
"Oh! I see," said Bobolink; "by that time the poor chap will either be recovered or else have kicked the bucket. But I do hope none of us get mixed up with one of that old cripple hunter's left-overs. I'm going to keep my eyes about all the while."
"That's a good idea," declared Paul, laughing; "and every fellow ought to follow suit. But let's go back to the camp now, boys. We've had about as much as anybody can cram into their head at one time."
"Here, Paul, please take a look at these marks, and tell me what sort of an animal made 'em!" called out Jud, who had been bending over, half on his knees, as if deeply interested in what he had found.
All of them hurried to the spot.
"Perhaps he's found the spoor of a runaway elephant!" suggested Bobolink, wickedly, with that passing circus in mind.
"More'n likely," observed Philip Towne; "it's a wildcat that's been prowling around the camp. Once, when I crawled out to take my watch, I thought I saw a pair of yellow eyes staring at me
over the edge of that little cliff back of the tents."
Paul made no remark. He was himself bending over now, and looking at the ground just where Jud pointed. Those who were watching him saw Paul start, and look closer.
"It must be a lynx; or perhaps a regular old panther has come down here from the North Woods," said Bobolink, really beginning to believe such a thing might be so.
"Hardly," remarked Paul; "but all the same it may mean trouble for us. You can see that these tracks were made by a man, for he had a foot much longer than any of the scouts; and boys, I'm afraid he's been hanging around our camp for some purpose!"