The Boy Patrol Around the Council Fire

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

  CHAPTER XVI -- Zip

  On the evening succeeding the interesting story told by Uncle Elk of theonce famous sea serpent, the majority of the Boy Scouts were seated onthe porch of the bungalow exchanging the day's experiences. The halfdozen detailed to prepare supper were as busy as they could be, for theylike their waiting companions were exceedingly a-hungered. Some hadspent hours in fishing for perch, bass, salmon, pickerel and lake trout;others had strolled through the fragrant, resinous woods, studying treesand bird life, and all had added to their splendid reserve of ruggedhealth, exuberant animal spirits, and that genuine happiness which comesonly with an upright life, clean habits and the constant seeking of anopportunity to do others a "good turn."

  The day had been an ideal one, overflowing with radiant sunshine,surcharged with ozone and with a sky of a crystalline clearness whichItaly throughout all its historic centuries has never surpassed. Thesummer was drawing to a close; the nights were perceptibly longer, andthere was a crisp coolness which increased after sunset and told of thecoming of autumn and winter.

  Scout Master Hall sat among his boys looking out upon the placid lake,the conversation rambling and not important enough to call for record.The chair in which Jack Crandall reclined while he talked had beencarried inside by two of the Scouts, Doctor Spellman having advised thatthis should be done now that the weather was growing chilly.

  Suddenly, Gerald Hume, of the Stag Patrol, who sat nearest to the end ofthe porch, said:

  "Hello? we have a visitor."

  A general turning of heads followed. Coming along the beach from thedirection of Uncle Elk's home was a boy, probably fifteen or sixteenyears old, rather tall for his age, dressed in khaki, with leggings, aclose-fitting cap and short coat with belt around the waist. While hisattire resembled in some respects that of the Boy Scouts, it was not thesame. He swung a swagger or short cane in his right hand, and advancedwith the elastic grace of an athlete. As he drew nearer it was seen thathe had a pleasing face, with regular features, dark eyes and hair, andthat air which while it cannot be described, yet reveals the polish andculture of the true gentleman.

  Glancing aside at the boys who were busy with their culinary duties, hestepped lightly upon the porch and with a military salute called out:

  "Good evening, boys; I am glad to meet you."

  Scout Master Hall and every youth sprang to their feet and made theregulation salute, the leader advancing and offering his hand.

  "And I assure you we are all pleased to welcome you. You are in time tojoin us at supper and of course will stay over night. Are you alone?"

  "I am; my name is George Burton and my home is in the city of New York.I am spending a week or two at the Hotel Samoset on Mouse Island, butmust soon leave to meet my folks on their return from the other side."

  "Did you come from Mouse Island to-day?" inquired Scout Master Hall.

  "I left there early this morning; crossed to Boothbay Harbor and thenstruck on foot, just as my brother and I did last summer in trampingthrough Switzerland. A farmer gave me a ride of several miles, when Iresorted to shanks-mare again. Then I caught another ride--not quite solong as the former--until I came to the half-broken track through thewoods, over which I believe the wagon labors that brings your supplies.I had heard that a party of Boy Scouts were stopping at the clubhouse,which I saw from the other side of the lake, so I skirted the sheet ofwater to this point."

  "That makes a pretty good tramp for one day," remarked the Scout Master.

  "I have done a good deal better, and I am sure it would not tax any oneof you. You asked me a few minutes ago if I were alone; I am, but Iexpect soon to be joined by a friend."

  Young Burton laughed at the surprised looks turned toward him.

  "He is my dog, named Zip."

  "He will be as welcome as his master," said Mr. Hall.

  "I know that and I thank you for us both."

  "It's mesilf that is wondering why ye don't kaap company," said MikeMurphy; "me dad explained to Father Hoogan, as his rason for taking mewid him whereiver he wint, that he liked to have a pup at his heels whinhe wandered round the country."

  The visitor smiled at the Irish lad's drollery, and was on the point ofanswering the query, when the Scouts in charge of the dinnerpreparations announced that the meal was ready.

  "We are all curious to hear your story, which we know is interesting,"remarked the Scout Master as he and the boys rose to their feet, "butnothing can be so attractive just now as the meal to which we have justbeen summoned."

  "I am of your opinion," replied Burton, moving off with the others tothe table.

  "May I ask when you look for the arrival of your friend Zip?"

  The guest took out his watch and glanced at its face.

  "It is now half-past six; he ought to be here by seven; I must allow himsome margin."

  Every one was puzzled, but made no comment. As the Scout Master hadremarked, the question of satisfying their hunger dominated all othersfor the time.

  Needless to say the whole party partook of the food with the satisfyingenjoyment which waits on sound health and exuberant spirits. As ScoutMaster Hall quoted, all "ate like horses when you hear them eat," thefeast enlivened by continuous chatter, jest and merriment. JackCrandall's chair was wheeled to the table, and with a little help fromhis friends he did his part well. Less than half an hour thus passed,when the company adjourned to the front porch, the only absent onesbeing the half dozen who had to clean up and leave things ready for themorning meal. This work did not take long, and all were soon gatheredtogether, the Scouts much interested in their guest, and what he toldthem about his dog Zip.

  "He is a bloodhound," he explained, "not quite two years old. The breedis not specially noted for its intelligence, but its delicacy or powerof scent would be unbelievable had it not been proved over and overagain. I hope to give you some demonstrations by my own dog, who is ofpure breed, and with more brains than the generality of his kind."

  "Are you sure he will trail you to this place?" asked Scout Master Hall.

  "There is not a particle of doubt about it. He has performed moredifficult feats than that; in fact, I am trying to find something hecannot do, but so far haven't succeeded."

  "Will you tell us the particulars of his present task?"

  "I left Mouse Island this morning about seven o'clock on the _NormanII_, run by Captain Pinkham. Having made my arrangements with ManagerDodge, I explained to my friend Chester Greenleaf that Zip would be atthe dock and board the boat at twenty minutes to two for the roundabouttrip to Boothbay Harbor. I advised Greenleaf not to try to collect aticket from Zip, as he might resent it, and the young man promised tobear the counsel in mind. All that was to be done was to take the pup tothe wharf at Boothbay and leave him to do the rest.

  "Zip didn't like the idea of being left behind at Mouse, but he knewwhat was expected of him, and stood quietly on the dock as with alugubrious expression he watched me go. I waved my hand at him, and hewagged his tail in return, as much as to say I couldn't lose him in thatfashion.

  "Now," said Burton animatedly, "consider what Zip has had to do. He leftMouse Island at twenty minutes to two o'clock this afternoon and reachedBoothbay Harbor at about half past two, which was fully seven hoursbehind me. I'll warrant he was the first one ashore, and in a twinklingpicked up my trail and was speeding northward from the town. Two milesout he lost it for the time because I had a lift from a farmer, but Zipknew what that meant, and he loped on up the road, certain ofdiscovering when I left the vehicle."

  "Is it possible," asked Scout Master Hall, "that he could keep yourscent while you were riding in a wagon?"

  "I am not prepared to deny it, incredible as it may sound. A bloodhoundhas been known to trot twenty feet to one side of a trail along a broadhighway, and not lose it for miles. Zip is so familiar with my scentthat he may have detected it from the first. Be that as it may, he lostno time in nosing about the road, but detected the very spot where myfo
ot again touched ground, and was after me like a thunderbolt. I had asecond ride--not quite so long as the first--which brought me to therough unbroken track over which your supply wagon brings yourprovisions. It was a long tramp to this place, and, as you know, theafternoon was gone when I arrived."

  "Did you make any attempts to throw him off your track?"

  "No, for it was useless. Had a canoe been at hand I might have crossedthe lake in it, but that would have been unfair, for of course no trailcan be followed through water, since in the nature of things none can bemade.

  "Since I have been specially interested in this breed of dogs," youngBurton modestly added, "I may have picked up a few points that are notfamiliar to all of you."

  "There is no question as to that," replied Scout Master Hall, "you havealready proved it; you are telling us facts that are not only new to usbut of special interest. All the boys feel as I do."

  A general murmur of assent followed.

  "You are more complimentary than I deserve. While the bloodhound is notthe most common breed of dogs in this country, I suppose most of you arefamiliar with his looks and history. They were once used in Cuba totrack escaping prisoners and runaway slaves, and probably served thesame purpose in some parts of the South before the Civil War, but in ourcountry they were employed simply to track the negroes and were trainednot to harm them, for, aside from the cruelty of the act, it was againstthe interests of the slave owner to injure his own property. In Cuba,the bloodhounds were like ravening tigers. The poor wretch in threshingthrough the thickets and swamps heard the horrible baying fast drawingnearer. His only escape was to leap among the limbs of a tree, and climbbeyond reach of the brutes. If he was tardy in doing so, the blackterror that burst through the undergrowth buried his fangs in his throatthe next instant and never let go, no matter how desperately the manfought."

  "How was it when the poor fellow reached a perch?"

  "The dogs sat down and waited until the pursuers came up and claimed theprisoner."

  "Suppose the slave took to water?"

  "He was pretty sure to do that sooner or later, but it rarely availedagainst the marvelous scent of his enemies. After a time the man had toleave the creek or river, as it might be, and with two or three or morebloodhounds trotting along the bank with their muzzle to the ground,they were certain to pick up the scent with little or no loss of time.

  "This peculiarly Spanish product became famous during the war with theSeminole Indians of Florida some seventy years ago. You know that thoseredskins retreated into the swamps and everglades where our soldierscould not follow them, or, if they followed, could not find them. Thewar dragged on year after year until the patience of the government wasworn out. In its perplexity a number of Cuban bloodhounds were imported;and, although our officers took pains to declare that the dogs would beused to track and not to rend the Seminoles, an indignant protest wentup against the barbarity of the act.

  "But," added young Burton with a laugh, "the crime, if it were such,worked its own remedy. Somehow or other the Indians learned to makefriends with the black brutes which came to them in the swamps, and theytrained them with so much skill that they used them to hunt down thestray soldiers and former owners. The use of bloodhounds in the Seminolewar proved a farce."

  The guest suddenly ceased talking for a moment and said:

  "It is time I heard from Zip."

  "Some accident may have befallen him or perhaps he has gone astray."

  "Both are improbable--listen!"