The Wolf Patrol: A Tale of Baden-Powell's Boy Scouts

by John Finnemore

CHAPTER XXIX

WINNING A SUPPER

While they ate the chupatties with the relish gained by their morning's tramp, and washed them down with steaming hot tea, they looked over the map which Dick had spread between them.

'Here we are,' said Dick, putting his finger on the very cartway itself, which was clearly shown in the capital map.

Chippy nodded.

'Lemme see,' murmured the latter. 'Wot's the best way to head arter this?'

The two scouts were steering clear of all high-roads and beaten tracks. They were both agreed that there was no fun in tramping along under telegraph wires and in the dust of motor-cars. Anyone could find his way where there was a row of milestones and finger-posts to keep him straight. They were marching purely by the map, following byways and narrow, hidden country lanes, and unfrequented tracks which led by moor and heath and common. There was another immense advantage, too, in moving by such routes. Not merely was it excellent scouting practice, but it afforded them quiet places for camping. It is not easy to camp along a high-road: there are too many people about. No sooner does the smoke of the evening fire begin to rise than a squad of village loungers turn up to watch the preparations, or perhaps, worse still, someone in authority arrives, and forbids the campers to halt in that spot.

'Lemme see,' murmured Chippy again. 'Here's a river; that's about seven mile again, as fur as I can mek' out.'

Dick measured the distance. 'Just about seven miles,' he said.

'Wot d'yer say to campin' pretty handy to it to-night?' went on Chippy.

'So that you can try your hand on the fish, eh?' laughed Dick.

Chippy nodded.

'All right,' said Dick, 'we'll strike out for it. We shall have to do about two miles along a main, then we can branch off again, and get up to the river in very quiet country. See, there's hardly a house marked on the map.'

'All the better for mekin' a camp,' said Chippy; and Dick agreed.

When they had finished their meal they lay in the sunshine, chatting and watching the fire die away. Before they left they took care that every ember was extinguished, so that no harm could come to the place where they had made their halt.

It was about two o'clock when they resumed their journey, and they moved at an easy pace, with the aim of reaching their camping-ground towards five. That would give them ample time to make their preparations for the night.

Until four o'clock the march was quite uneventful, then Chippy had an adventure with a baker's cart. They were passing through a village whose street was spanned at one end by a railway bridge. Near the bridge stood a cottage lying well back from the road, and as the scouts passed, a baker drove up, and went to the cottage with his basket on his arm.

While he was at the door, a train whizzed up and thundered over the bridge, and the horse took fright and dashed away, galloping up behind the two boys. Both of the latter began to run with all their might in the same direction as the horse, which soon caught them up. He was about to pass them on Chippy's side when the Raven flung aside his staff, and seized the shaft with his right hand, and thus was enabled for a few yards to keep an equal speed with the horse. Then Chippy gripped the near rein with his left hand and tugged with all his might. The terrified creature was not yet too wild with fear to fail to answer to the pull on the bit, and swung round to the left. In this way the scout managed to jam the frightened brute's head into the tall bank, and thus pulled it up. In dashed Dick and seized the other rein, and between them the scouts held the horse until the baker ran up and helped them to secure it.

The baker was profuse in his thanks—above all, when he had looked over the horse and cart, and found that neither was a penny the worse, thanks to the Raven's clever manoeuvring.

Chippy scratched his jaw thoughtfully, then spoke up:

'D'ye reckon it's worth a loaf to ye—a big un?'

'A loaf!' cried the baker, 'it's worth every loaf I've got in the cart, and more, too. The mare might have broke her leg and the cart been smashed, and I gave three-and-twenty pound for the mare less 'n a fortnight ago.'

'We'll let it go at a loaf,' murmured Chippy; and the baker picked out the best he could find and gave a thousand thanks with it. Chippy put the loaf in his haversack, and the scouts trudged on.

'It'll stretch our flour out a bit,' said Chippy, and Dick grinned.

'After all, Chippy,' he said, 'the loaf was well earned, and no mistake. I don't see that we're not playing fair by picking up things like that.'

'I don't see aught wrong in that,' replied the Raven; 'that's living on the country in as straight a way as can be, I reckon.'

Beyond the village they climbed a rise to a ridge, and at the crown of the ascent they looked ahead, and saw a wide valley before them, with a shining stream winding its way through a green river-flat.

'There's the river, Chippy,' said Dick, 'and there goes the road up the side of the valley, turning away from the river.'

He pointed to the white ribbon of dusty road which climbed a distant rise and disappeared.

'We'll mek' straight for the river,' said the Raven.

'Right,' said Dick. 'Cross-country it is;' and the boys struck away into the fields. They spent some time in reaching the river, for they carefully avoided crossing fields where grass was growing for hay, or where corn was green; but at last they were on its banks at a point where it wound across a big patch of rough common land, dotted by flumps of gorse and broken by two or three spinneys.

The river was not wide, but it was slow, and seemed deep. The boys tried two or three places with their patrol staffs, and could not touch the bottom. Then they started to prospect for a camping-ground for the night.

'How about under that little hanger?' said Dick, pointing to a tiny wood which clung to a bank a short distance back from the river.

'Looks all right,' rejoined Chippy; and they went towards it. They were crossing a grassy strip between two clumps of furze when a small spiny creature with a sharp nose trundled across their path some distance ahead. Chippy leapt out and darted in pursuit, his staff raised. Dick followed, saw the staff fall, and came up to find the Raven turning over a dead hedgehog with the point of his stick.

'Supper for two,' chuckled Chippy, 'an' a jolly good un.'

'Supper?' cried Dick, 'Why, it's a hedgehog. Who can eat a thing like that?' and he made a face of disgust.

'Them as know's wot's good,' murmured Chippy, with a cheerful wink. 'Wait till ye've had a bit. Besides, ain't we scouts? An' scouts ha' got to tackle anythin' an' everythin'. Look wot it says in the books. Look wot B.P. et at one time an' another.'

'You're right, old chap,' said Dick; 'but just for a minute it seemed so jolly queer to knock over a spiny little brute like that, and then talk of eating it.'

'Gipsies eat 'em reg'lar,' replied Chippy, 'an' I know 'ow they handle 'em. They're good—I tell ye that.'

Carrying the hedgehog by a withe cut from a willow, the scouts went on to the ground below the hanger, and pronounced the spot first-rate for a camp. There was a sandy patch at the foot of the bank, and here they resolved to build their fire and sleep.