Boy Scout Fire Fighters

by Richard Harding Davis

  CHAPTER XIV

  WHEN THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENED

  Whack--"Nine-hundred-en-ten;" whack--"nine-hundred-en-'leven," whack,"Zare ees almoost une tousan trees what you boys mus' cut awraty. Whatyou zink of zat?" said Paul Nez, the big French-Canadian lumber cruiser,as he hacked a blaze into a six-inch poplar and left his short hatchetwedged fast while he felt through his pockets for a handkerchief.

  "Et will take you all ze Wintair for ze work mebbe, huh?" he continued,as he blew his nose with a loud blast.

  "George! I shouldn't wonder if it would take us a couple of months atleast," said Bruce Clifford as he sat down upon a stump and pushed hishat back upon his head.

  "Yes, snow will be thick through here when we finally finish, I guess,"added Jiminy Gordon, surveying the forest.

  "Well, the Doctair Lyman he say he not such great rush," smiled theCanadian. Then he paused and seemed to search into the very heart of thewood with his coal black eyes, and all this time he kept sniffing theair.

  "Camp 'round here sure. One no good camp too, mebby," said he finally ashe pointed toward the west.

  "I thought I smelled the smoke of a camp fire," said Bruce.

  "So did I," added Jiminy.

  "I smell heem smoke, I smell heem scraps, too. No good camp, no knowwoods. Mebby heem get seek. Come on. We all through now. We find 'emwood road now soon. Doctair Lyman heem line run cross by that blaze overtair; you see heem, huh? Heem end of Doctair Lyman's wood."

  "So that's the line, eh? Well, twenty-five acres of woods is a lot ofterritory, isn't it, Bruce?" said Jimmy, as he picked up his scouthatchet and slipped into his belt.

  The Canadian wrenched his hatchet free from the poplar and startedswinging westward between the trees and the two Quarry Troop scouts fellin behind him in single file. And as they walked on the smell of thecamp lire, and the tainted odor that emanates from a camp's garbage dumpgrew stronger to their nostrils.

  Then presently the camp itself loomed up at the very side of the woodroad for which the Canadian lumberman was headed.

  A single wall tent of large proportions was the most conspicuous thingabout the place. This had its flaps pinned back and in the doorway,reclining on a collapsible canvas camp chair with a bandage-swathed footpropped up on a soap box sat one of the occupants.

  The woodsman and the two Quarry Scouts needed only a glance at the littleclearing to know that those who had built it here knew nothing at allabout the woods and were, moreover, very disorderly by nature. Blanketslay in a confused heap among leaves and twigs instead of being hung up todry; empty cans, paste board boxes and scraps of paper littered theplace; fire burned entirely too near a dry brush pile and there was nostone fireplace to hold it in check; loose papers were scattered aboutand to make matters even worse, the pots and pans that had been used tocook the last meal lay on the ground unwashed.

  It was indeed a bungle of a camp but if the single occupant realized ithe did not seem to care a whit for he sat serenely in the doorway of thetent so interested in a book that he did not hear Paul Nez and his youngcompanions approaching.

  "'Allo, you get heem broke foot, mebby?" said Paul with a grin as hemoved toward the tent.

  The camper looked up with a start, and then smiled. "Yes, I twisted myright ankle yesterday by falling down a gully, and ouch--don't make memove 'cause it hurts like sin. Glad it isn't sprained though. It oughtto be well in four or five days. Anything you want? Anything we can dofor you? If there is, go ahead and do it yourself. The rest of thefellows are off partridge hunting. What do you want, provisions,matches? I'll tell you where they are and you can help yourself. Ican't move."

  "We don't want heem nothin'. We go out of woods now right off, down woodroad. Why you don't fix heem camp up good? Look um fire--poor, bad, veryworse. Some day heem catch bush so, leaves mebby, and then heem timberfire. Burn out heem woods. Look um pans, pots, dirty dishes. Not goodfor smell. Not good for men in heem woods. Blankets, look um all getlousy. Not very good camp, heem," said the Canadian, plainly showinghis disgust at the general disorder about the place.

  "I know it, old chap. It looks like the sloppiest kind of a place to me,but then I'm not supposed to know anything about camps and woods. I comefrom Boston, you see. The other fellows are the campers. They areVermonters, from St. Cloud City," said the man in the doorwaysarcastically.

  "Huh, a deuced of a lot they know about the woods and camping," saidBruce in disgust as he surveyed the scene.

  "They know more about keeping a pig sty," said Jiminy Gordon as he pickedup the blankets and, shaking them free of the dust, hung them onto thebranch of a nearby hemlock.

  "Thanks, old chap, those blankets on the ground worried me a lot. And ifyou don't mind, will you scrape up a few of those papers? Jack and Bart(they are the fellows who are camping with me) run off every morning andleave a mess like that behind. They are off hunting most of the day andhere I have to sit like a blooming invalid until they come back. But Idon't mind so long as I have a good book. Thanks, that looks muchbetter, doesn't it? I'm much obliged to you fellows--ah--er, what'reyour names anyway--mine's Dave--Dave Connors."

  The two scouts introduced themselves and then because Paul Nez hadstarted down the wood road they waved farewell to the camper with theinjured foot and hustled to catch up to the timber cruiser.

  "When you come into heem woods for cut um down?" asked the Canadian whenthe scouts finally caught up with him.

  "Why we are going to start cutting right away," said Bruce. "You see weget a fall vacation and that will help a lot. School closes tomorrow andremains closed until next Monday. The whole troop is coming up to LongLake tomorrow afternoon after school closes, to start a camp and remainhere the whole week. Then after that we are going to come up everyFriday night and work all day Saturday until our contract is completedand we have enough lumber to build our log camp." They swung along downthe wood toward Long Lake where they met the main highway that led backtoward Woodbridge and Scout Headquarters.

  The members of the Quarry Troop of Woodbridge had taken upon themselves areal contract. Indeed they felt that they had suddenly all becomegenuine business men as a result of a bargain they had made with theleading physician of the village, for you see their little stroke ofdickering had put them in the way of securing material for a real logcabin on the shores of Long Lake, a site for the cabin, and a chance tomake a little money for the troop treasury besides. It had come aboutthis way.

  Mr. Ford, the Assistant Scoutmaster of the Quarry Troop, had learned fromDr. Lyman that he intended to cut a great deal of the standing timber onhis tract of twenty-five acres bordering the lake. This he intended todispose of as pulp wood, the only purpose it was really good for. Mr.Ford had imparted this information to Bruce Clifford and Jiminy Gordonthat same evening and it was not long before the leader of the Owl Patroland his chum had discovered the possibilities of a business deal.

  Accordingly after the next meeting the two lads visited Dr. Lyman andmade him a proposition to the effect that the scouts would cut his pulpwood and take their pay in trees. These trees, the lads explained, wereto be felled and used to construct a log cabin on the lake shore. Aspart of the bargain they asked for permission to use a section of Dr.Lyman's land that bordered the lake as a site for their camp.

  The plan struck the physician as being capital and he was particularlypleased to find that the boys were eager to earn their pleasure with goodhard work. In fact he was so pleased that he made a bargain whereby theboys would get one cord of wood in every four cut and they could havetheir wood either in trees or in cord wood lengths, just as they desired.Under this arrangement it was quite apparent that the boys would havemore than enough lumber to build their log cabin and Dr. Lyman told themthat he would buy whatever extra wood fell to their share and pay for itat the market price of pulp wood.

  Moreover, to help the boys, the physician arranged to have Paul Nez, anexperienced timber cruiser, traverse the woods
, blazing each tree of theproper pulp wood species and size thus giving the boys a clear idea ofwhat timber to cut and what to leave standing. And Bruce and Jiminy wereasked to accompany him so that they might become familiar with the forest.

  Tramping the length and breadth of twenty-five acres of wood land,blazing every tree between six and eight inches, was not the easiest sortof work the scouts had ever undertaken, and when they finally arrived atWoodbridge at four o'clock in the afternoon they were "plum tuckered," toquote Jiminy.

  However, a brief rest and a hearty evening meal put them in fine shapeonce more and they were able to get to the troop headquarters betimesthat evening, for a meeting had been called at which plans were to belaid for the start of the lumber camp.

  Mr. Ford was at headquarters to hear the details of the cruise fromJiminy and Bruce, and he also gave the scouts some expert advice as tothe equipment they would want for the beginning of the camp on themorrow.

  Among other things he suggested that they build a winter camp immediatelyby putting up lean-tos with thatched roofs on the shores of the lake.These would be warmer than their tents and would make more or lesscomfortable quarters until along toward snow time, when the big log cabinthe lads hoped to build would be well on its way toward completion.Then, too, these structures could be left in the woods and would alwaysbe ready for the boys, whereas if they used their tents they would haveto make and break camp every Saturday. The Assistant Scoutmaster alsomade out lists of provisions, clothes and equipment for the boys and theyspent a busy evening getting everything together and in shape for anearly start next morning.

  In the weird half light of dawn next day, long before Woodbridge wasawake and stirring, nearly a score of scouts were hustling towardheadquarters on the crown of Otter Hill. Every lad was in uniform andmost of them wore mackinaws or sweaters to keep out the early morningchill.

  Also each carried the family ax, and over his shoulder blanket roll andhaversack.

  "Old Nanc," the troop's automobile, stood in front of the old machineshop piled high with tarpaulins, cooking utensils, provisions, and adozen and one other things that the scouts used in their summer camp, andin the driver's seat was Brad Henshaw, Dr. Lyman's chauffeur. Several ofthe boys found room for themselves on the running board; the others wenton their motorcycles, which were to be brought back in the car, for therewas no safe place in camp for such things.

  It was with considerable groaning and grumbling that the home-madeautomobile finally got under way, but when she was safely started therest of the expedition followed in her wake, and trundled on toward theirdestination.

  A little after sun-up found the lads at the lake shore. Here "Old Nanc"and the cycles were halted, for there was no chance of her making her wayalong the uneven wood road that skirted the lake for half a mile beforeit turned and entered the heart of the forest.

  At this point the scouts detrained, as it were, and deposited all theirluggage on the ground. Then, having unloaded the automobile, theyproceeded to reload her, this time with her brood of gasoline-fedducklings. This done the outfit was turned over to Brad again whoimmediately started back to Woodbridge.

  For an hour after the departure of the automobile the scouts were as busyas bees carrying their paraphernalia to the camp site which they hadpicked out on the lake shore at the point where the wood road turned andentered the forest. Here was a little stretch of high ground that hadbeen partly cleared by wind-falls and Bruce and Jiminy had selected it asan ideal location for the camp and site for the troop's future log cabinheadquarters.

  With practically three patrols at work it did not take the lads long toclear away the underbrush and fallen logs in the open space. Indeed thewhack, whack of their hatchets and the heavier cluck, cluck of their axescould be heard on all sides of the clearing and in a surprisingly shorttime a big space had been made ready for the camp. Dozens of youngcedars and fir trees were felled for the lean-tos and in short order thelads were busy with hammers and nails putting up the frame-work of six ofthese shelters.

  They worked with a will and the little forest settlement grew apace.After the frame work of the structures was completed the scouts set towork with clasp knives and hatchets and stripped the cedars and firs oftheir branches. Then with this material they began to thatch the sidesand roof of the lean-tos working the twigs in and out until they formed athickly matted protection against the weather. They worked with a willin spite of cut and blistered fingers and pitch blackened hands until itbegan to look as if they would have their little lumbering villagefinished and ready for occupancy by mid-afternoon.

  At half past eleven Romper Ryan, Ray Martin and Buster Benson knocked offshelter-building, for they had been appointed cooks for the camp. Hastilythey put together a big stone fireplace well away from any leaves andunderbrush, and after they had a good fire going they began preparing thefirst meal at the Quarry Scout lumber camp.

  The three lads elected to the commissary department were the best cooksin the troop, and they did themselves proud on that particular occasion,for when Romper finally sounded his call to quarters on the bottom of thetin dishpan there were stacks of golden brown country sausages, snowywhite boiled potatoes, savory strips of fried bacon, three big pots ofsteaming hot coffee and last, but not least, nearly a hundred chocolatedoughnuts which Jiminy Gordon's mother had contributed just by way ofshowing the boys how much she thought of them.

  In a jiffy seventeen youngsters were assembled in line, tin plate and cupin hand. One by one they filed past the three cooks and received theirportions, and shortly after they were all sitting cross legged on theground, each devoting his full attention to filling a vacant space justunder his belt. The only sound that could be heard was the scraping ofknives and forks against the tin plates, and now and then a grunt ofsatisfaction, for their work in the open had given the lads appetites ofyoung sharks.

  "Um-m-m, Jiminy, that was some feed!" grunted Jiminy Gordon as he putdown his plate and wiped his mouth on his handkerchief.

  "You said it, only I wish I could have just one more helping of sausagesand maybe a little more potatoes; I think I'd feel entirely satisfiedthen," said fat Babe Wilson, looking pleadingly at Romper.

  "Aw give him enough to eat, Romper, he's only had three helpings already,"jeered Bud Weir.

  "Sorry, Babe, but you've cleaned us out. There isn't a potato or asausage left," said Romper.

  "Gee, that's a fine note. Want to starve him?" said Ray Martin,sarcastically.

  "Hi, don't you talk. You got your share before we did. Pretty softbeing a cook. I'd like to have that job myself," snorted Babe Wilson.

  "You leave Ray alone, Babe. He's some cook, he is. So is Romper, too,only he lets his old fire smoke. Look at that yellow haze up there amongthe trees. Did your fire make all that smoke, Romper?" said Bruce.

  "My fire--why--blame it all it's out. It's plum down to ashes--and,gee! I didn't heat any dish water. Hi, Buster, what did you let thatfire go out for? I told you to put some wood on and heat water."

  "I--I--aw, I was so hungry I forgot about it. Never mind I'll build itagain. I--"

  "Say, Romper, is your fire really out?" queried Bruce, looking at thefireplace. Then he added:

  "Sure enough, but by gollies I smell some--I hope it isn't--gee, lookover to the west there above the trees: Is that smoke? Is it? Say,fellows, can it be a forest fire? Gee, I hope not."

  "Forest fire!" exclaimed half a dozen scouts.

  Every lad jumped to his feet immediately and looked in the directionBruce was pointing. And there they beheld a pall of yellow smoke hanginglow above the tree tops. They could smell it, too. The pungent odor ofburning hemlock was so strong as to be unmistakable. Then for the firsttime the lads noted that the sunlight seemed dimmed too.

  "Jove, I believe it _is_ a forest fire," cried Bud Weir.

  "I'll bet--say, fellows, look at those big jack rabbits, and there's afox, and look at the birds. It's a forest fire all right, or thoseanimals w
ouldn't be running out in the open like that and streaking itfor the lake. Cracky what'll we do? I-- Hi, Bruce, what's getting you,you're as pale as a ghost?"

  Every lad turned toward the leader of the Owl Patrol, who stood as ifstricken dumb with horror. But even as they gazed at him he shook offthe mental fetters and immediately became a lad of action.

  "Fellows," he cried, "listen! There's a man in there--in the fire.Perhaps three of them. Jiminy, you remember, Dave--Dave,what's-his-name--Connors. You know, the fellow in camp over there withthe twisted ankle. We saw him yesterday. He's probably in there yet.We must get him out. He can't move, and a forest fire's about the mostterrible thing in the world. Quick, fellows! Get your blankets and wet'em in the lake. Quick, now! Follow me!"