“Permit me to say, however, my dear boy, that from the way it feels and from the appearance of the splint and the neat bandage you’ve put around it, it would have been hard for any surgeon to improve on the work under such crude conditions as those up here in the woods.”
“So say we all of us, Mr. Perkins!” burst out Billy. “We think our assistant scout master is about right when it comes to first aid to the injured. If you could have seen how he brought one of the boys to, when we all believed he was surely a goner, after being under water so long, you’d understand our feelings. I guess we were ready to stop the artificial pumping to induce respiration, but Hugh ordered us to keep on and on. He would not give up hope. And the boy is alive and kicking, as big as ever to-day. They sent Hugh a medal from Scout Headquarters down in little old New York.”
“He ought to be proud of that medal,” said the gentleman, with considerable feeling. “And you can depend on it that every one of you will be wearing a similar one before long. I happen to know several of the head men who are deeply interested in this scout movement, and I shall see them personally. You have aroused my interest, and I’m feeling inclined to give up the dangerous sport of ballooning for something that will benefit my fellow men more, and this Boy Scout movement strikes me as just what would fill the bill.”
“That makes us feel happier than ever, sir,” said Hugh. “If we have made a new friend for the movement by what we happened to do to-day we shouldn’t ask any better reward.”
“Just leave that to me, Hugh, that is my affair,” said the gentleman, as he made a movement with his well arm to signify that he desired assistance in gaining his feet. “Now I’m feeling rested, and perhaps we had better be making a start. We can do our talking as we move along. I’m hankering after a drink from that cold spring you were telling me about, too.”
CHAPTER X.
A BIG COUNT FOR THE WOLF PATROL.
They were soon on the way back, though of course the boys had to walk rather slowly, on account of the weak condition of the aeronaut.
“I’ll send some one later to gather up what is left of my faithful balloon,” he told them; “because, though I fancy I’ll never go up again, it must always have pleasant associations for me.”
Hugh, leading the rest, followed the trail closely. Still, he used those eyes of his to wonderful advantage and seemed to see everything that moved around them on the ground, in the air high above, or among the branches of the trees. No chipmunk sprang for its hole at the base of a stump, no squirrel flew like a red or gray streak of light to the opposite side of a tree-trunk, no thrush whirred through a thicket, but that Hugh knew all about it. He had long studied the small birds and animals of these woods, and was well acquainted with their habits and haunts.
After a while they arrived at the cold spring, and when Mr. Perkins had been given a drink of water in a coiled leaf made into a cornucopia cup, he pronounced it “nectar fit for the gods.” The boys considered that it suited them all right, though they would never have thought of describing it that way.