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

'Oh, nonsense!' cried two or three boys. 'We were watching on each side and in front too closely for that.'

Chippy grinned. 'Yer worn't watchin' close enough to see wot wor in the waggon from Bland's Mill,' he remarked.

'You were in the waggon?' cried Billy Seton. Chippy nodded, and went on to explain.

'But at that rate,' said Arthur, 'you abandoned your duty of laying a track.'

'Well,' said Chippy, 'there's plenty o' track now. I've bagged the lot of yer long afore the track's finished. I reckon I'm in my rights theer.'

'Yes,' said Dick; 'there's a good deal in that. In my opinion it was a jolly smart bit of work.'

'Rather,' cried Billy Seton; and he began to sing the Scout's Song: 'Ingonyama' (He is a lion); and Dick responded with the 'Invooboo' chorus (Yes; he is better than that: he is a hippopotamus).

But Arthur Graydon's angry voice struck in: 'Stop that fooling, Seton and Elliott,' he said. Then he went on: 'Wolf Patrol, you will at once return to the sand-pit and then home. March!'

The patrol fell in at once, for orders must be obeyed instantly, and without question.

'Wot about my challenge now?' cried Chippy.

'The Wolf Patrol refuses to receive any challenge from you,' replied Arthur shortly. 'We're not going to have anything to do with a set of grubby bounders out of Skinner's Hole.'

He ordered his men forward, and was at once obeyed. Chippy had already given up the tracking-irons, and away went the patrol for the sandpit to fetch Dick's bicycle, which had been carefully hidden there.

Chippy watched them go with a sore heart. He had felt certain that he would be recognised as a brother scout, after capturing the whole patrol. But it seemed that he was not to be, and his bitterness found vent in speech.

'Fine ol' patrol, yo' are!' he called after them. 'I'll lay a bit as B. – P. wouldn't be any too proud of yer if he knowed about it. Ye've got too much edge on yer. Smart togs ain't everythink.'

Chippy's speech, all things considered, was very natural, but in the main it was undeserved, as we shall soon see.

CHAPTER VII

THE PATROL DECIDES

The Wolf Patrol were to meet Mr. Elliott the next Thursday afternoon. If the day should be fine they were to practise tracking tests on the heath; if wet, it was to be Kim's game in Mr. Elliott's study.

The day turned out one of pouring rain, and at three o'clock the Wolf Patrol had gathered in Mr. Elliott's room, where a tray of small articles, covered by a handkerchief, lay on a side-table.

'We'll begin with Kim's game,' said Mr. Elliott, 'and I'll be umpire. On that tray I have put twenty-five small articles, all different – a button, a pin, a stud, a ring, and so on. I shall give you each a pencil and a card, and I shall allow every boy one minute to study the tray. Then he will go away and write down every article that he can remember. The card with the longest list, of course, wins.'

He was about to give out the cards and pencils, when Billy Seton spoke up.

'Mr. Elliott,' he said, 'there's another matter that two or three of us would like you to umpire upon before we begin this game.'

'What is it, Billy?' said the instructor.

Billy told the story of Chippy's challenge, of his capture of the patrol, and told it fairly. 'We left him standing there,' concluded Billy, 'and I didn't like it, and I found that some of the other fellows didn't like it; but we had the order to march, and we had to go; that's Scout Law No. 7. But the same law says that we can reason about an order if we don't think it's fair, and I don't think that was fair.'

'What does the patrol-leader say?' said Mr. Elliott, turning to Arthur Graydon.

'I gave the order to march because it seemed to me the thing was too silly from beginning to end,' cried Arthur. 'I'm not going to scout about with a parcel of dirty, ragged wharf-rats. I think we should look a lot of idiots if we did.'

'Now, Mr. Elliott,' said Billy, 'what do you say?'

'Not a word, Billy,' replied Mr. Elliott quietly. 'Not a syllable. This is a thing for the patrol to decide for themselves.'

There was a short silence, then Billy murmured gently:

'What do you think, Mr. Elliott, that B. – P. would say if he was here?'

Mr. Elliott smiled, and shook his head. He was not to be drawn that way.

'I'll tell you this much, Billy,' he remarked, 'that I think he would do exactly as I am doing – leave it to the patrol. The very foundation of the thing, you know, is to teach you to stand on your own legs.'

'Why not vote upon the question?' suggested Dick Elliott; and the idea was received with a burst of applause.

'Yes,' said Mr. Elliott, 'that's a good plan. Hold a secret ballot, so that every member of the patrol may feel quite free to express his real feelings. We can soon arrange that.'

He took a sheet of plain foolscap from his writing-table, and carefully divided it into eight equal pieces, and gave each boy a piece. From the mantelshelf he took a tall china vase, and placed that on the writing-table.

'Now,' said he, 'I propose that each of you shall go out in turn to the hall table. There you will mark your papers. A circle means that the voter is willing to meet the boys from Skinner's Hole in friendly contest; a cross means that he is not willing. When a paper is marked it will be folded across the middle with the mark inside, brought back, and dropped into the vase. In that way the ballot will be perfectly secret, and you may freely express your feelings.'

There was deep silence as the boys voted in turn according to their patrol numbers. The party in the study kept their backs to the writing-table, so that a voter was not even seen to drop his paper in, and within five minutes the eight votes were in the vase which served as ballot-box.

The boys looked on eagerly as Mr. Elliott fetched the vase after No. 8 had voted and returned to the group of his comrades.

'First of all,' said Mr. Elliott, 'I shall shake the vase well, so that the papers may be thoroughly mixed up.'

He did so, then held the vase upside down, and the papers fell out. He opened them one after the other. There were six circles and two crosses. It was an immense majority in favour of Chippy's challenge.

'Six to two,' announced Mr. Elliott. 'The Wolf Patrol is willing to meet the Ravens from Skinner's Hole.'

'Then they'll meet them without me!' burst out Arthur Graydon, his face scarlet with rage, for he had quite expected to carry the patrol with him. 'I shan't be patrol-leader any longer!'

He whipped off his badge and flung it on the table, and was gone before anyone could stop him or remonstrate with him. He snatched his cap from the stand in the hall, and was out of the house in a flash. The Wolf Patrol had lost their leader!

'That's Arthur all over,' murmured Billy Seton. 'He's frightfully shirty. But I didn't think he'd hook it.'

'Oh, he'll think better of it when he's cooler,' said Mr. Elliott. 'We'll get on with our game. But I'll say that I'm quite with you in your decision.'

'Half a minute, please,' said Reggie Parr, flushing to the roots of his hair. 'I'm going to come out into the open. The other cross was mine. But I don't want to leave the patrol.'

'You needn't leave it, old man,' cried Billy Seton. 'We should be jolly sorry to lose you.'

'I'll run with the rest,' jerked out Reggie. 'But I shouldn't like to stop and keep quiet about the cross.'

'It's forgiven! It's forgotten! Come to my arms!' sang out Billy, and pretended to embrace his comrade as a lost sheep returning to the fold. This caused much laughter, and the Wolf Patrol, save for their lost leader, were completely reunited, and plunged into Kim's game with great earnestness.

CHAPTER VIII