Louis laughed. “Billy is one of the best hearted boys in camp, but he’s a reckless little beggar, and he does hate work. Look out he doesn’t lead you into mischief, Upton. By the way, Big Jim tells me that you’ve already started in to conquer the wilderness, and have laid one of the savages low. Where did you learn to use your fists?”
“My father taught me how to protect myself almost as soon as I could walk, and then I took boxing lessons at the gym. That was nothing this morning; I couldn’t have licked him if he’d known what I know,” replied Walter modestly.
“My boy,” said the older lad earnestly, “right there lies the difference between success and failure—knowledge—the know how—the know why—the know when. Knowledge is power. It is better than bull strength. You knew how to make the most of what muscle you have got, and you won. You’ll find that’s the answer all through life. The man with knowledge and the power to apply it is top of the heap every time. Take these big woods here—how long do you suppose a greenhorn from the city dropped in the middle of ’em alone, with nothing but gun and blanket, would live? But take a fellow like Big Jim, with his knowledge of the wilderness and wilderness ways, and he’d hit the nearest settlement in three days and live like a lord all the way. Now, if you’re ready I’ll show you the way to the office. By the way, I’m going to ask Dr. Merriam to put you in my tribe; I like your style.”
The “office” was a small detached cabin which had formerly been the headquarters of the logging camp boss. It was divided into two rooms by means of burlap curtains. In the front room was a desk, a plain deal table, three rustic chairs and book shelves occupying two-thirds of the wall space. The head of a magnificent ten-point buck looked down from above the fireplace. Over the books were mounted specimens of salmon, trout, bass and muskelonge. Mounted specimens of rare birds, a case of butterflies wholly unlike any Walter had ever seen, and which he suspected were from distant lands, specimen stones and minerals from the surrounding mountains, added to the fascination of the room. Before the fireplace lay the skin of a huge bear, and two tanned deer hides were spread on the floor. In one corner stood a collection of guns, rifles, paddles, fishing-rods and landing nets which caught the boy’s eager eyes the instant he entered.
Through the parted curtains he had a glimpse of the same primitive sleeping arrangement, namely a box bunk, that he had found in the big cabin where he had left his duffle. Could he have peeped farther within he would have found a neat single iron bedstead with a hair mattress and snowy counterpane, a dainty white bureau, low, comfortable rocking-chair, sewing-machine and other evidences of feminine comfort, for, though Dr. Merriam religiously insisted on having for himself nothing more luxurious than he gave his “boys,” the comfort of Mrs. Merriam—she was “Mother” Merriam to the whole camp in the affections of the boys—was another matter, and no pains were spared to make things pleasant and comfortable for her. In fact, not only the boys, but the guides and others attached to the camp vied with each other in showing her little attentions and waiting upon her.
As Walter and Louis entered “Mother” Merriam came forward at once to greet the newcomer, and while Louis talked with the doctor for a few minutes this quiet, sweet-faced, tactful little woman put the newcomer so at his ease that when Louis finally bade his superior good-morning and went out, Walter turned to meet the head of the camp wholly free from the awe with which he had entered the door not five minutes before.
“Upton,” said the doctor, “Woodhull has just requested that you be assigned to his ‘tribe,’ an honor which you do not appreciate now, but which you will later. The camp is divided into four patrols or ‘tribes,’ each under the leadership and direction of one of our oldest and most trustworthy boys, known as ‘chiefs.’ Woodhull is chief of the Delawares, and Seaforth, whom you met with the launch, is chief of the Algonquins, the two tribes occupying the big cabin known as Wigwam No. 1, to which Buxby showed you on your arrival. Wigwam No. 2 is occupied by the Senecas and Hurons, under Chiefs Avery and Robertson. The rules of the camp are few and simple and every boy is put on his honor and is trusted to live up to them. Reveille is sounded at five o’clock every morning, except Sunday, when it is an hour later. At five-thirty on week-days and six-thirty on Sunday mess is served to two of the tribes and half an hour later to the other two, the wigwams alternating in the order of service.
“A detail from each wigwam is assigned to police the camp, that is, clear up all rubbish and keep the camp in order, wash dishes and chop fire-wood. Noon mess is served from twelve to one o’clock and evening mess from five-thirty to six-thirty. At nine o’clock ‘taps’ is sounded, which means ‘lights out’ and every boy in bed.
“Each boy is expected to look after the making up of his own bed. There are certain defined limits on shore and on the lake beyond which no boy may go without a permit from his chief, sanctioned by me.
“The building of fires at any time or place is strictly prohibited save when accompanied by a guide or chief. Smoking is not allowed. Violation of either of these two rules is sufficient cause for expulsion from camp. Boys who cannot swim are not allowed in the boats or canoes unless accompanied by an older competent person, until they have learned to care for themselves. The carrying or use of firearms is forbidden except at the rifle range, where instruction is given daily by one of the guides. From time to time there will be ‘special duty’ squads, such as the surveying squad, forestry squad, logging squad, and others on which boys are expected to serve willingly, and in the performance of these duties they will be taught many of the essentials of woodcraft.