And this was the plan finally agreed upon, the conditions being signed by each leader:
Since the Coyotes had but ten men, the Wolves were to select the same number from its own roster. The entire Wolf patrol was to start out at nine o’clock in the morning and have a half hour in which to conceal itself, under honor not to go beyond these limits: the river on the west, the dirt road on the north leading past Bradner’s Mill (a mile and a half up the river) to Phillipstown, the Phillipstown pike running south to the County Fair grounds and thence west again to the Little Green River on the town limits. This was an area of about five square miles.
When the first patrol to “hide out” left the Wolf camp it was to be escorted out of sight by three umpires. Then each of the ten “hide out” scouts was to be given a square of white muslin with a conspicuous number on it to be pinned to his breast. Another square, an exact duplicate, was to be attached to the boy’s back. He was under pledge as a Boy Scout not to remove, exchange or obscure these placards. The umpires were then to prepare a list containing each boy’s name and number, which was to be held secret from the pursuers.
When a half hour’s leeway had elapsed the scouts in pursuit were to be started. They were allowed two hours and a half to scour the fields, roads, woods, barns, ravines, creeks and swamps of the “hide out” territory. The pursuers must register back in camp by twelve o’clock and report to the umpires the name or names of those of the enemy they had caught sight of. To confirm this, the discovered boy’s number had also to be given. Inability to give the number belonging to a detected boy counted as a failure.
“What license you kids got for thinkin’ you can beat us at that game?” asked Hank smiling. “You certainly don’t think you know more about the country! We’ve shot rabbits and nutted an’ stole apples over ever’ foot of it ’at ain’t water—an’ all that we’ve gone froggin’ in.”
“Never mind that,” retorted Connie. “We’ve signed up, an’ the winner’s to be the cock o’ the walk.”
“An’ takes the banner,” added Hank confidently, referring to a special emblem of white silk, bordered with red, on which these words were to be painted: “Scottsville Boy Scouts, First Prize Scouting.”
When Wednesday finally arrived and the Wolf Patrol set out for the picnic grounds, the big wagon and the dray that headed the procession were piled high with all kinds of camp equipage. The patrol provided not only for its own comfort in lodging and food but carried material to make a number of guests comfortable. This meant a big extra tent with camp stools, a specially employed colored cook and delicacies in the way of food calculated to please young ladies. It was understood that in the period from three o’clock to five thirty each afternoon, tea and light refreshments was to be served to sisters and mothers and others.
It had been arranged that cream, milk, butter and fruit and vegetables would be contributed daily by the Cloverdale Stock Farm a mile and a half away. Moved also by the expected invasion of the ladies, the scouts had already spent two afternoons at the picnic grounds removing dead tree trunks, raking the ground and tidying up. By noon of Wednesday, one passing the camp site might have thought a company of militia was in camp. Flags were flying, tents lined the river front and the spick-and-span Wolves gave the needed martial touch. As the smoking first meal was placed on the set-up table the familiar war song of the young scouts rent the air.
“Be prepared,” yelled Connie.