The Boy Patrol Around the Council Fire

“That would hardly answer, for he might be needed every day. A better plan will be that he should never call at the bungalow during the evening. If he agrees to that, everything will be right.”

“That’ll doot! He wouldn’t come anyway unless we signalled him, and if ye happen to be at the clubhouse, ye’ll have plinty of time to run.”

“How am I to know that he consents to it?”

“If he objicts, I’ll come back and tell ye; if he agraas, I won’t show up here agin till after ye have visited us.”

“That settles the matter. I suppose, Michael, you are wondering why I make such a strange request?”

“I am, but I’m not asking any quistions, as ye’ll obsarve.”

“Well, you will never learn from me.”

Mike was slightly nettled.

“Why thin did ye think it worth while to raise me hopes, whin I hadn’t made any inquiries?”

“I beg your pardon, Michael; I shouldn’t have done it. Let neither of us refer to it again.”

“Do ye wish me to till Docther Spellman what ye said?”

“I do.”

“Then consider that I’ve told him.”

“It would be hard for him to understand my request unless he knew my feelings. You may as well stay to supper and over night with me.”

“I thank ye, Uncle Elk, but I much fear that if I don’t return to the byes they’ll think I’ve tumbled out of a tree the same as Jack, and have broke me neck. I’ll bid ye good afternoon and make me way to Docther Spelhnan. Onless ye hear from me to the contrary, ye’ll understand that he’ll not visit the bungalow on any avening onless he is sent fur, so the way will be open to yersilf.”

The hermit rose from his chair and stood in the door as Mike walked down the path to the side of the lake. He looked round just before passing out of sight and waved his hand to the old man, who nodded.

“It’s mighty qu’ar,” mused the lad, as he shoved off in his canoe; “the docther has niver said a word as far as I’ve heerd about any throuble between ’em, and I couldn’t guess what it is to save me life.”

The bright, sunshiny afternoon was well advanced when Mike paddled a little way from shore and turned in the direction of the thin wisp of smoke which revealed the location of the physician’s summer home. Almost beyond sight could be made out the second canoe, which some of the Scouts had used in making an excursion over the sheet of water. The craft was close in shore and seemed to be motionless, as if the boys were fishing. The distance was too far for him to tell the number of occupants, but he judged they were three or four.

“And I belave Alvin and Chester are among ’em,” he added, after a scrutiny of the boat; “I mind me now that they said something about going off to-day on a cruise. Hello!”

The exclamation was caused by an unexpected discovery. Between him and the home of the physician he saw a second spiral of vapor climbing up among the treetops. Like that of the former, it was so far back from the water that nothing could be seen of the party that had kindled it.

Mike held his paddle motionless while he looked and thought.

“They must be strangers to the rist of us. If this thing kaaps up, bime by we sha’n’t have elbow room and will have to camp farther inland. I wonder now if they could be some other Boy Patrols that have strayed in here. They may have heerd of us and desire to make me acquaintance, as do most people.”

Mike had his natural share of curiosity, and decided to learn who the strangers were. He had enough time at command to permit a diversion of this nature, and he headed his craft toward the bank at a point opposite the dim wavering column of vapor which showed that a fire kindled beneath was the cause.

CHAPTER II – A Slight Miscalculation

The distance was so slight that a score of strokes drove the canoe to shore. Nothing in the nature of a path was to be seen, and there was so much undergrowth that when Mike glided under the vegetation, only the rear of the boat was visible to any one on the lake. He drew the craft up the bank far enough to prevent its floating away during his absence, and began picking his way through the bushes. A few rods and the wood grew more open, though not being much accustomed to that sort of traveling, he made considerable noise in his progress. He was thus engaged with his head bent and his arms thrust out in front feeling his way, when a low horizontal limb slid under his chin and as it almost lifted him off his feet brought him to a sudden stop.

“Worrah! I wonder if me hid is left on me shoulders!” he exclaimed, vigorously rubbing his neck; “yis, – the most of me is here, as Tarn Murry said whin he came down after being blowed up in a powder mill.”

A few rods farther and he came upon a sight which caused him to halt as abruptly as before, with a strong inclination to turn about and go back to his canoe.

In a small open space a fire of pine cones, twigs and branches was burning beside the trunk of a fallen tree. Resting on the top of the blaze was a tomato can, filled with bubbling coffee, whose aroma reached the nostrils of Mike at the moment he caught sight of the fire. On the log sat a ragged, frowsy tramp, with a crooked stick in his hand tending the blaze, while on the ground half lying down and half sitting up, was a second vagrant sucking a corncob pipe.

You remember the two nuisances who called upon Dr. Spellman and because of their insolence were sharply rebuffed by him, though his wife, in the kindness of her heart, gave them food. These were the same hoboes, who it will be noted had not as yet wandered far from the physician’s home. You remember, too, their characteristic names, – Buzby Biggs and Saxy Hutt. Lazy, shiftless, dirty, rugged of frame, thieves and unmitigated pests, they were straggling through this part of Maine, in mortal dread of two afflictions, – work and a bath. They were ready to suffer harsh treatment and privation rather than submit to either.

Mike’s sensitiveness revolted at sight of them, but before he could turn away, both of the men, who must have heard his approach, raised their heads and looked toward him. Hutt, who was smoking the pipe, slowly rose to his feet, stretched his arms over his head, and beckoned with his grimy forefinger.

“Welcome, my lord!” he called in his husky voice; “wilt thou not come into our baronial castle and partake of a flagon of wine with us?”

The grotesqueness of the invitation appealed to Mike and he walked forward, recalling that he had not his buckthorn cane with him. Had he gone for a tramp through the woods he would have held it in his hand, but it was in his way when using the canoe. He never carried firearms, for to do so is to disobey one of the strictest rules of the Boy Scouts, besides which, as you know, an Irishman believes in the use only of nature’s weapons, with the addition perhaps now and then of a stout shillaleh. Not that Mike Murphy expected any trouble with these men, but the thought which came to him was natural under the circumstances.

He approached in his confident fashion, with a grin on his face, halted a pace or two from the fire, and with the couple examining him, made the Boy Scout salute.

“’Tis so kind of ye that I will halt a brief while and enj’y the hospitality of the Knights of the Ragged Shirt and Dirty Face.”

This was a pretty crisp salutation, but it need not be said that Mike felt no more regard for the couple than do all respectable persons. He remained standing and did not go nearer.

“Aren’t yer afraid of being arrested fur yer beauty, young man?” asked Biggs with a grimace.

“Not while yersilves are in the counthry.”

“Who are you anyway?”

“Mike Murphy of Southport, State of Maine. I would exchange cards wid ye, but I’m afeard ye couldn’t return the compliment.”

“I left my pasteboards at home on the piany. We gather from your dress that you’re one of them Boy Patrols.”

“Ye’re right, excipt jest now I’m on this side of the lake.”

“Gee whizz! but you’re keen. How long do you chaps intend to stay there?”

“Probably until we lave. We’re not among the folks who hev to be kicked out by their betters.”

“Meaning us?”

“As ye plaise; I want to be agreeable to ye.”

Mike had not shown tact. He ought to have reflected that it was imprudent to rouse the resentment of two full grown men of so lawless a character as these tramps undoubtedly were. Combative as Mike was by nature, he would have hardly been the equal of one of them in a “shindy” which could be easily started and which it seemed he had set out to provoke.

“I observe,” said Biggs, “that you have a brass chain dangling from yer coat pocket in front; does the same signify that there’s a watch anchored at t’other end?”

Mike answered the question by flipping out his time piece and displaying it.

“The best Waterbury chronometer made, – price a dollar and a half.”

“I should like to borrer the same for my pal and me.”