That was a very exciting scene, with nervous boys hurrying to the brook, filling their little stewpans, and getting back to make a fire, without being allowed a shred of paper for a starter.
One managed to knock over his supply of water and had to go all the way back to replenish it; and then the feeble little blaze he had coaxed to burn had fluttered out, calling for new exertions and more anxiety.
Another used up his supply of matches, and then had to sit there watching some of the rest getting right along with their work.
When the victory in this contest came to the Wolf boys, it must have been a popular decision, to judge from the cheers that rang out.
There were athletic rivalries, too, more in the way of running than any other thing, because that savored of the old time Indian life, and after all many of the pursuits encouraged by the scout movement hinge on just those things primitive man must have occupied himself with doing, long years ago, when only the red race occupied this broad land.
The signaling tests were very fine, and excited much comment among all who witnessed them. Some of the boys showed a remarkable skill in transmitting messages that had been arranged by the committee, and which were, of course, utterly unknown to any of the contestants until given, a new one every time, to each patrol.
It was a close race in this affair. Bud Morgan had once worked with a surveying party, and Blake Merton was a good second to him in relaying; but Sam Winter of the Otters proved himself a marvel for speed and accuracy, and in the end gained the victory for Alec Sands and his fellows.
When it came to camp cookery, there were some queer things done that must have greatly amused the many girls present. They crowded around the amateur cooks and seemed to be enjoying it very much, if their merry peals of laughter stood for anything. And yet, after all, the flapjacks that took the prize were pretty fair pancakes, not very heavy, and just suited to a hungry boy’s appetite—when out in camp, not at home.
Other contests there were, lots of them, and one of the most comical was the human fish game. They had to have plenty of water for this, because a good strong swimmer of a rival patrol was always chosen to play the part of the fish, the end of the line being made fast around his chest.
The game, of course, was for the one who held the stout rod to tire the swimmer out through superior tactics, until he could reel him to a certain point, from which the other would do all he could to escape.