Thad was capable of assuming charge of one canoe, with the assistance of Step Hen and Davy, both lusty fellows. And so they had not bothered trying to fill the gap at the last hour. The chances were that they might have had to take some fellow along who would turn out to be sullen, or else a shirk; thus spoiling much of their pleasure on the trip.
These members of the Silver Fox Patrol had reason to feel proud, because each one of them was at that time wearing a trifling little badge that proved their right to call themselves assistant fire wardens, employed by the great State of Maine to forever keep an eye out for dangerous conflagrations, and labor to extinguish the same before they could do much damage.
It had come about in this manner:
On the train they had formed the acquaintance of a gentleman, who turned out to be the chief fire warden, on his way right then to patrol a certain district that nearly every year boasted of one or more severe fires.
He was greatly interested in Thad’s account of the numerous things a Boy Scout aspired to do each day; and as it was his privilege to take on as many unpaid assistants as he chose, just as a sheriff may do in an emergency, the gentleman had with his own hands pinned a little badge on the lapel of each boy’s coat.
They were very proud of the honor, and expressed their intention of serving as fire-wardens to the best of their ability–all but Giraffe. He used to shake his head every time he glanced down at his badge, and look solemn. The fact of the matter was, Giraffe had all his life been so wrapped up in starting fires, that the very idea of spending his precious time in helping to put one out did not appeal to him very strongly.
“Jim is telling me that we can expect to see the mouth of the Little Machias River any old time from now on,” remarked Allan; “and while I haven’t come up this way exactly, to the Eagle waters, I guess he’s about right.”
“Sure he is,” ventured Giraffe, “for we passed the place where the Big Machias joins forces with the Aroostook some time back; and unless my eagle eye fails me, away up ahead I can see the junction right now, where we turn to the left, and leave this dandy old stream. Then the fun begins with the paddles.”
“What was that the fire-warden was saying to you, Thad, about some sort of bad man up in this region, that gave the game wardens more trouble than all the rest of the poachers combined?” Step Hen asked.
Jim Hasty was seen to squirm a little; and Thad noticed this as he answered the question.