All these six boys belonged to the Silver Fox Patrol connected with a troop of scouts located in a New York town called Cranford. Two more had been unable to take the Maine trip, which had already carried the bunch through some adventurous times in another part of the State, whither they had first gone in order to overtake a gentleman just then moose hunting, and with whom Thad had to get in touch for certain business reasons.
Now they were on the Aroostook River, the three boats, as well as the party, having been transported from Grindstone by rail, and launched at the junction of the Masardis with the first mentioned stream.
One of the guides having been brought up in this region, had promised the boys rare sport, if only they would trust to his judgment in the matter. The trip was of indefinite length, the only stipulation being that they should not go outside the United States, when approaching the New Brunswick border along the great St. Johns River.
All of them seemed to be just bubbling over with enthusiasm and spirits. With a new voyage before them, plenty to eat aboard the canoes, guns with which to secure game, tents provided by Jim Hasty at his home town; and “everything lovely, while the goose hung high,” as Bumpus had put it, really there was no excuse for any of the scouts to feel downcast.
In their former trip around the Penobscot region the boys had had the good fortune to be chiefly instrumental in causing the arrest of a couple of fleeing yeggmen, who had broken into several banks, and for whose arrest quite a decent reward was offered. Not only that, but they had recovered valuable bonds and papers, that would undoubtedly cause the bank officials to back up the offer they had made, which was to the effect that two thousand dollars would be paid to the parties returning the said bonds, and no questions asked.
Bumpus had been the one who seemed chiefly concerned over this money matter; for it happened that the fat scout wanted dearly to visit the Far West, and was always talking of California, together with the game to be met with in the famous Rock Mountains. And with this windfall coming to their almost exhausted treasure box, it now seemed as though the Silver Fox Patrol might get away when the next vacation came around.
Giraffe, the boy with the long neck, which he could twist around in a way his comrades despaired of ever imitating, had one particular weakness. He was a regular fire worshipper. They depended on Giraffe to start the fires, whether a cooking blaze or the big camp-fire around which they loved to sit or lie, after supper was over.
Many times did Thad have to caution him about his recklessness in this regard; and his vigilance increased, now that they were in a State where forest preservation was of such moment that a special fire warden, with many assistants, was employed, to see that the laws were strictly enforced; and intending hunters were not allowed to go forth without being accompanied by a licensed guide, to make sure that all fires were utterly extinguished before breaking camp.
Of course, when Giraffe took it upon himself to find out if he could not make a fire after every known method, there was more or less fun for the crowd. But he had proved that his studies in this direction were worth while; for he had used flint and steel, matches, a burning glass for the sun to do the business, and various other methods with stunning success.
But he had thus far been “stumped” as he himself expressed it, when it came to starting a blaze after the formula of the South Sea Islanders. His little bow was made according to directions, and would whirl the pointed stick with tremendous force in the basin that had the hole in the bottom; but thus far, just as Bumpus so exultantly declared, the aspiring Giraffe had failed to accomplish the object he had in view.