The Wolf Patrol: A Tale of Baden-Powell's Boy Scouts

'Weasels seem pretty busy about this 'ere coppice,' observed Chippy.

'No mistake about it,' agreed Dick. 'Do you know, Chippy, I've heard that they are always active and running about before bad weather.'

'Hope they've got another reason this time,' growled the Raven. 'Sky looks all right.'

'It does,' replied Dick.

The two scouts looked to every point of the compass, and raked their memories for weather signs, and compared what they remembered, but they could see nothing wrong. The sun was going down in a perfectly clear sky, and flooding the common with glorious light. There was no wind, no threat of storm from any quarter: the evening was cool, calm, and splendid.

'We'll turn in as soon as the sun's gone,' said Dick, 'and be up early in the morning, and make a long day of it.'

Chippy nodded, and the boys watched the great orb sinking steadily towards a long bank of purple woodland, which closed in the horizon.

'Wot's the home stretch run out at?' asked the Haven.

'The march in from here?' said Dick. 'Where's the map? We'll soon foot it up.'

The map was spread out, and careful measurements taken. 'Rather more than twenty-one miles,' said Dick.

Chippy whistled softly. 'We'd do it aw' right if nuthin' had happened to yer foot,' he murmured.

'We'll do it all right as it is,' cried the Wolf. 'Do you think I'm going to let that spoil our grand march? Not likely. I'll step it out to-morrow, and heel-and-toe it into Bardon every inch, Chippy, my boy.'

'It's a tidy stump on a cut foot,' said the Raven soberly.

'Hallo! what's that?' said Dick, and they looked round.

A furious squealing broke out among the trees behind them, and then a rabbit tumbled out of a bush, made a short scuttling run, and rolled over in a heap.

Close at its heels came the bloodthirsty little weasel in full pursuit, sprang on its prey once more, and fixed its teeth in the back of the rabbit's head, when the squealing broke forth anew.

Up leapt the Raven and took a hand in the affair at once. He caught up a stick of firewood, but the weasel ran away and left the rabbit kicking on the ground. Chippy picked up the bunny and came back to the fire.

'A good fat un, he cried, 'about three-parts grown. Good old weasel!'

'Very kind of him to go foraging for us,' laughed Dick.

'Ain't it?' – and the Raven showed the rabbit. It was not yet dead, and Chippy at once put it out of its pain by a sharp tap on the back of its neck with the edge of his hand. This killed it instantly.

'That's a good breakfast for us,' said Dick. 'We've got one or two sandwiches left as well.'

'Righto,' said Chippy, and turned to and skinned the rabbit, and cleaned it, ready for broiling in the morning.

Then they turned in, and were soon off to sleep.

Three hours later the Raven was wakened by something moving and sniffing about his bed. He sat up, and a creature, looking in the faint light something like a dog, ran away into the coppice.

Next Dick awoke, aroused by his chum's movements, and heard the Raven grunting and growling softly to himself.

'Anything wrong, Chippy?' he asked.

'Sommat's been here an' bagged the brekfus',' replied the Raven.

'Was it a dog prowling about?' cried Dick.

At this moment a hollow bark rang from the depths of the coppice:

'Wow-wow! Wow-wow!'

'There it is,' said Dick; 'a dog.'

'No,' replied Chippy. 'I know wot it is now. That's a fox. I'll bet theer's a vixen wi' cubs in this coppice, an' she's smelt the rabbit an' collared it.'

'Then I hope that weasel will start hunting again, laughed Dick, 'and chevy up another breakfast for us.'

'Well, it's gone, an' theer's no use tryin' to look for it,' said Chippy, and tucked himself up in his blanket again.

CHAPTER XLVIII

IN THE RAIN

The scouts were falling off to sleep once more when they were aroused again, this time by the divinest music. A nightingale began to sing in the little wood, and made it echo and re-echo with the richest song.

Suddenly a faint murmuring began to mingle with the lovely notes. The murmuring grew, and the bird's song ceased. The air was filled with the patter of falling rain.

'Rain!' cried Dick; 'that's rain, Chippy.'

'On'y a shower, p'raps,' said his comrade.

'I hope so,' returned the Wolf.

They felt nothing of the rain at present, for they were camped beneath a fir which stood as an outpost to the coppice, and its thick canopy was stretched above their heads. Chippy sprang up and threw fresh fuel on the fire, and looked out on the night.

'Theer's a big black cloud creepin' up from the sou'-west,' he said. 'That looks pretty bad for a soaker.'

In a short time the scouts knew they were in for a real drenching. The patter of the rain came heavier and thicker, until it was drumming on the fir-branches in steady streams. Soon great spots began to fall from the lower branches of the fir beneath which they lay.

'I've just had a big drop slap in my eye,' said Dick, sitting up. 'What are we going to do, Chippy?'

'Got to do summat,' said the Raven, 'an' quick, too, afore we're drownded out.'

'Let's rig up a shelter tent with the blankets,' suggested Dick; and they set to work at once. They pulled the four fence-rails which formed the framework of their bed from their places, and laid them side by side in search of the shorter ones. They proved much of the same size, so Chippy went to work with the hatchet to shorten a pair, while Dick began to dig the holes in which to step them. The ground was soft, and with the aid of his knife Dick soon had a couple of holes eighteen inches deep. While he did this Chippy had cut two rails down, and fastened a third across the ends of the shorter ones, with the scouts' neckties for cords. They had ample light to work by, for the fire had flared up bravely.

Now they swung up their framework of two posts and a cross-bar, and stepped the feet of the posts in the holes, throwing back the soft earth, and ramming it in with the short, thick pieces cut off the rails. This made a far stronger hold for the uprights than anything they could have done in the shape of sharpening their ends and trying to drive them down.

Next they took their blankets, and hung them side by side over the cross-bar, one overlapping the other by a couple of feet. With their knives they cut a number of pegs from the hard gorse stems, and sharpened them, and drove them through the blankets into the bar, pinning the blankets tightly in place. The tough gorse-wood went into the soft rail like nails, and the back of the tomahawk made a splendid hammer. They had a fourth rail, and they pegged the other ends of the blankets down to that, drew it backwards, and there was a lean-to beneath which they leapt with shouts of triumph.

'Done th' old rain this time,' yelled the Raven. 'Now we'll keep a rousin' fire goin', and sit here and listen to it.'