Kitabı oku: «The Boy Patrol Around the Council Fire», sayfa 4
“He whirled about to flee. Had he discovered his peril sooner and gained a few minutes’ start, no pursuer could have overtaken him. But six muskets were leveled, and he was ordered to surrender under threat of instant death. He paused, came down the bank again and stepped into the boat, which was rowed out to the British ship Halifax. There he was searched and the fatal papers were found on him.
“The tradition is that the man in the tavern who betrayed Hale was a distant Tory relative who recognized him as soon as he entered the place. Upon leaving the inn, he went to a British naval officer in Huntingdon Bay with the news.
“Captain Hale was taken to New York on the 21st and brought before Lord Howe, who read the documents that had been captured with the prisoner. It was useless to try to conceal the truth and Hale denied nothing. He said he wished no court-martial and was ready to meet his fate.
“Howe was naturally a kind-hearted man, but just then he was greatly irritated over a fire which had destroyed several hundred houses in New York, and which he believed had been started by the Americans to prevent his use of them. He condemned Hale to be hanged at daylight the next morning and placed him in the custody of William Cunningham, Provost Marshal and one of the most brutal wretches that ever lived. It is some consolation to know that this miscreant was hanged himself some years later for scores of confessed murders to which he had been accessory. He thrust Hale into a prison cell, and would not have unpinioned him except for the intercession of a British officer. When the prisoner asked for the presence of a chaplain, it was refused with curses, as was his request for a Bible. The same friendly officer obtained permission for Hale to write letters to his mother, sisters and the girl to whom he was betrothed. The missives were handed to Cunningham to be forwarded. With a leer he read each and then tore them up and flung the fragments on the floor. Hale looked scornfully at him but did not speak.
“The next morning he was led to the gallows, which was the limb of an apple tree, exactly where is not known. In accordance with the military custom of those days, a ladder was placed under the branch. The prisoner climbed two or three rounds, when at a signal the support was turned and he was left dangling in the air. A moment before, he had looked down in the faces of the hushed spectators and uttered his last noble words:
“‘I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country!’
“No one knows where the martyr was buried. On November 25, 1893, a statue to his memory was unveiled in City Hall Park, in the presence of a vast assemblage and amid impressive ceremonies.”
CHAPTER VII – Concerning Certain New England Birds
“One reason why I deferred our talk about birds,” said Uncle Elk, addressing the troop of Boy Scouts who had gathered in the large room of the bungalow the next evening, “is that you might have more opportunity to brighten up your knowledge on the subject. Scout Master Hall tells me that when you learned you were to spend your vacation in southern Maine, you started in to inform yourselves about the birds which are to be found in New England. It is impossible under the circumstances that you should see them all, for the season is not the most favorable and not even a majority are to be found in this section. Instead of dealing out a lot of facts, I am going to ask you do it for me. Secretary Rothstein has given me a list of all the Boy Scouts who are present. There are too many of you for me to identify separately, so I shall call upon you at random. I think,” he added with a sly glance at the invalid on his right, “that I shall except Jack, since he seems to know all about our feathered inhabitants and would be simply taking my place.
“Starting with Mr. Hall’s Patrol I call upon his leader, Charles A. Chase, to name the first order as it is generally accepted.”
The alert young man promptly arose and said:
“It is the raptores, which means robbers.”
“What does it include?”
“The falcons proper, hawks, buzzard-hawks, eagles, horned owls, gray owls and day owls.”
“Very good. Corporal George Robe will name the second order.”
The plump little fellow blushed but did not hesitate.
“Scansores or climbers, which takes in cuckoos and woodpeckers.”
“The third order is so numerous that I can hardly expect any one to remember the complete list. Will Kenneth Henke name the third order?”
“Insessores or perchers.”
“I will ask Kenneth Mitchell, Robert Snow and Ernest Oberlander to help you in making out a complete catalogue.”
While these boys did well, they would not have succeeded but for the aid of Colgate Craig and Robert Rice. Even then Uncle Elk had to supply several names, for the long list included humming birds, goatsuckers, screamers, kingfishers, flycatchers, singers, thrushes, mocking birds, wrens, warblers, tanagers, swallows, shrikes, skylarks, sparrows, orioles, blackbirds, crows, jays and some others less known.
Alvin Landon had an easy task with the rasores or scratchers, which embrace the doves, game birds such as the Canada grouse, spruce partridge, pinnated grouse, ruffed grouse improperly called the partridge, Virginia partridge, quail and Bob White.
Chester Haynes gave the fifth order as grallatores or waders, which with its herons, shore birds, plovers, snipes, sandpipers and others are known to every one.
The sixth and last order as named by Hubert Wood was the natores or swimmers, with the principal of which every American boy is familiar. Hubert, with the assistance of Harold Hopkins, named swans, geese, several kinds of ducks, gulls, terns, divers, loons and grebes.
“That is a pretty full list,” commented Uncle Elk, “but it may be that Michael has some other waders in mind.”
“That I hev,” responded the Irish youth springing to his feet; “the first time Alvin and Chester tried to paddle a canoe it tipped over wid ’em – they lacking the sense I showed – and the water not being deep the same was waders for the time.”
Mike did not smile as he resumed his seat on the floor, though every one else did.
“Let me remind you,” added Uncle Elk, “that we have simply named the six orders, without any attempt to particularize. To illustrate will you name a bird?”
Some one called:
“Let’s talk about the thrush.”
“Very well; its head is a clear cinnamon brown, the under parts white, sometimes tinged with buff on the breast and thickly marked beneath except on the chin and throat. The sides of the head are a dark brown, streaked with white, with maxillary streaks on each side of the throat. It is a trifle over eight inches long, the wings being a little more than half of that, and the eggs are usually four in number, of a uniform light-blue color, without spots and showing a slight tint of green.
“The song thrush is common in Rhode Island, Connecticut and Massachusetts, but is not often seen in the other New England States. I have had persons say they saw and heard them in this section, when it was either the hermit or olive-backed thrush. You may look for their return from the South about the tenth of May, the two sexes coming at the same time.
“The great charm of the thrush is its wonderful voice. Hardly has it arrived when you hear the sweet notes of the male at early dawn or when twilight is coming on. Very rarely is it heard in the middle of the day, unless the sky is overcast. The best description of that which cannot be described is by Nuttall, which so impressed me when I first read it that I have never forgotten the words. He says:
“‘The prelude to this song resembles almost the double-tonguing of the flute, blended with a tinkling, shrill, and solemn warble, which re-echoes from his solitary retreat like the dirge of some recluse, who shuns the busy haunts of life. The whole air consists usually of four parts, or bars, which succeed in deliberate tune, finally blending together in impressive and soothing harmony, becoming more mellow and sweet at every repetition. Rival performers seem to challenge each other from various parts of the wood, vying for the favor of their mates with sympathetic responses and softer tones. And some, waging a jealous strife, terminate the warm dispute by an appeal to combat and violence. Like the robin and the thresher, in dark and gloomy weather when other birds are sheltered and silent, the clear notes of the wood thrush are heard through the dripping woods from dawn to dusk; so that the sweeter and more constant is his song. His clear and interrupted whistle is likewise often nearly the only voice of melody heard by the traveler to midday, in the heat of summer, as he traverses the silent, dark and wooded wilderness, remote from the haunts of men.’
“You have all been charmed by the music of this bird and will agree that this description, while it falls short of the reality, cannot be excelled. Now, in your rambles you have seen birds with gorgeous plumage; which one do you consider the most beautiful of all?”
After some discussion, the majority pronounced in favor of the scarlet tanager.
“Most persons will agree with you, but my preference is for what is popularly known as the wood duck, which builds its nests in trees and in size and habits resembles the common duck. The colors shown in the feathers of this bird to my mind are simply bewildering in their beauty.
“But to return to the tanager. He is found in all parts of New England but more frequently in the southern portions. A noticeable fact about this tanager is that it seems to be extending its range. I hear that it has been seen for the first time in sections where those familiar with its habits never expected to find it. Will Arthur Mitchell tell me when it arrives from the South and about its nesting?”
The lad appealed to rose and replied:
“It comes north about the middle of May, looks around for two weeks or so and then begins building its nest. It prefers oak groves situated near swamps. The nest is placed on the horizontal limb of a tree not more than twenty feet above ground.”
“What of the eggs?”
“They vary from three to five in number, and are of a light greenish blue with spatters of purplish brown. It belongs to the order of perehers.”
“Is the tanager a useful bird?”
“It is; the males destroy thousands of insects and though the song isn’t noteworthy, it is pleasant to hear.”
“Will Gordon Calhoun give a general description of this bird?”
“The wings and tail of the male are like black silk velvet, but the main color is a brilliant blood red. The female wears a more sober dress.”
When the rambling talk had continued for some time longer, Scout Master Hall asked Uncle Elk to tell them something about bird migration.
“That is an interesting subject over which I with thousands have speculated and theorized without learning much. It is easy to understand why the geese from the extreme north hike south with the approach of the arctic winter, and why many others in more temperate latitudes do the same, coming north with the return of spring, but some of the migrations are beyond explanation. I should like to ask what birds make the longest flights?”
Scout Master Hall and Jack Crandall expressed their views, but the old man shook his head.
“Since all of you did no more than guess, it was a waste of time. Now follow me closely. We have no large maps here to place on the wall for you to study, but you have a fair knowledge of geography and can draw a mental map that will serve. Picture a map of the western hemisphere. Have you done so?”
A general nodding of heads.
“You didn’t nod, Mr. Hall.”
“I have the map before my mind’s eye,” replied the Scout Master; “I am following you.”
“Since the discovery of the North Pole, you have all become familiar with the contour of the polar regions. Locate the Arctic Islands in, say seventy-five degrees north latitude; then draw an imaginary line from those islands down along the coast of Labrador, across to Newfoundland, and down to Nova Scotia, then over the Atlantic to the Lesser Antilles in the West Indies, from there to Brazil and across Argentina and end your line in Patagonia at the extremity of South America.
“You have mentally swept over a tremendous stretch of country and water, but are not yet through. Push on westward to the Pacific, northward up the coast, then across Central America and up the Mississippi Valley, through central Canada and back to the Arctic Islands from which you started. Truly a long journey and yet it is the yearly itinerary of the American golden plover, which, measured in miles, is three-fifths of the distance round the world.”
“You have mentioned one of the most remarkable facts in natural history,” commented Mr. Hall, who, like every listener, was deeply impressed.
“Quite true,” replied Uncle Elk, “though there are many equally inexplicable. I have sometimes fancied that birds resemble men in their longing for travel. With means of locomotion at their command still far beyond the skill of our best aviators, what wonder that our little brothers of the air are impelled to gather the best that can be secured?
“This, however, is a fanciful theory which the naturalists will not accept. It must be remembered that the majority of golden plovers who start on this long journey never complete it, for almost every mile is attended with danger. They are dazzled by the vivid electric lights of the cities, and confused by the tall buildings, telephone and telegraph wires, especially on dark nights when the birds fly low. Thousands are thus killed, besides which adverse gales blow many out to sea, and blizzards and snowstorms destroy myriads.
“Perhaps we have talked enough about birds,” said Uncle Elk, “but I shall be glad to answer any questions that may occur to you.”
After a moment’s silence, Mike Murphy rose to his feet. His face, as usual, was serious even when about to indulge in some of his waggeries, but this time he was in earnest.
“Maybe it’s mesilf that knows mighty little about birds excipt them as is met with in Ireland, which isn’t many. There is one that I once heerd of that belongs to anither counthry.”
“Describe it, Michael,” remarked the old man indulgently.
“It has the bill of a duck, webbed feet, lays eggs, has a furry body and I belave is what is called a mammal. It’s a mighty qu’ar bird that I’d like to know the name of.”
In answer to the general smiles Uncle Elk asked:
“Have you ever seen one of the creatures, Michael?”
“Not that I know of, though I have often made search for ’em.”
“Michael has described no fancy creation. Such a thing exists. Can any one tell me its name?”
Isaac Rothstein replied:
“It is the ornithorhynchus or water mole of Australia, but it is not classed as a bird.”
“No, although there seems to be some reason why it should be. You see what a limitless field opens before you when you leave the American continent to make investigations elsewhere. For a long time to come we shall find our hands full in our own country.”
“What about the birds that are called Indians?” gravely asked Mike.
“There are some facts regarding Maine Indians which are worth remembering. In 1612, they numbered 38,000. At the close of the French and Indian War this number had been reduced to a thousand, which is the aboriginal population to-day. The decrease was due to the fierce wars which the tribes waged among themselves. The Indians in Maine were four times as numerous as those in Massachusetts. The Pine Tree State was the ‘dark and bloody ground’ of colonial days.
“In a general way the tribes bore the same names as rivers. Those west of the Penobscot were of the Abnaki group, and those to the east into New Brunswick called themselves Etechemins. All belonged to the Algonquin nation. When King Philip’s War broke out in 1675, the Maine Indians numbered about 12,000. This was twice the white population and sufficient to wipe out the settlements nearly to the New Hampshire border. Finally, in 1759, the Indians in Maine did not number more than a thousand. They were mainly Penobscots and Passamaquoddies. They remained faithful to the Americans throughout the Revolution. It is a curious fact that while the Passamaquoddies have decreased in number during the last ninety years, the Penobscots have increased to the extent of seven, the former being slightly more numerous. Both keep up their tribal conditions, and the Penobscots live in the same village site that their forefathers occupied before the white men set foot on the continent.”
CHAPTER VIII – A Council of War
That night, after Uncle Elk had left the bungalow, Alvin Landon, Chester Haynes and Mike Murphy held what Alvin called a council of war.
Sauntering a little way from the building, they sat down in the silent depths of the woods where no one could overhear what was said by them. Not that a Boy Scout would be guilty of eavesdropping, but it was best that no inkling of what was in the air should become accidentally known to others.
Without quoting all the conversation, let me make clear its substance. The three were so mystified by the incidents already told that they determined not to cease their efforts until the puzzle was solved. They were the only Boy Scouts who knew the particulars, and it was natural that their friends should give their chief interest to fishing, rambling in the forest, studying trees, picking up what they could of natural history, and laying in unnecessary stores of health and strength.
One thing was certain: Uncle Elk knew the secret and he wouldn’t tell. More than that, Chester Haynes startled his chums by the declaration:
“So does Mr. Hall, – at least I am pretty sure he does.”
“What reason have you for thinking that?” asked the astonished Alvin.
“I have seen them more than once whispering in a way that showed they were keenly interested.”
“Did you hear anything that either said?”
“Not a word.”
“How do you know then to what they were referring?”
“I don’t; I’m only guessing.”
“I belave ye’re right,” added Mike; “I obsarved the same thing and had the same ’spicion, and would have spoke of it if Chest hadn’t got ahead of me. But I’m thinking that if Mr. Hall knows it all, why the mischief doesn’t he tell us afore we bust?”
“For the simple reason that Uncle Elk has bound him to secrecy. No; what we find out must be done without the help of either.”
“And we’ll doot!” exclaimed Mike, “or we’ll break a trace trying.”
“How shall we go about it?” asked Alvin. “Whatever we do must be done without either of them, especially Uncle Elk, knowing it.”
“And there’s the rub.”
Bring three bright-witted boys together and let them concentrate their mental energies upon the solution of a problem, and even if they don’t succeed, they are sure to evolve something worth while.
“It is useless to apply to Mr. Hall,” said Alvin, “for nothing could induce him to violate the confidence of another. But Uncle Elk holds the master key and can speak when he chooses.”
“Which the same is the rule with most folks,” commented Mike.
“Now, see here,” put in Chester; “he has shown a fondness for you – ”
“Can ye name any one of me acquaintances that hasn’t?” interrupted the wag.
“Why can’t you set to work and coax it out of him?”
“Begorra! haven’t I tried more than once. I’ve hinted and asked him straight out until I’m in the fix of Phil Rafferty.”
“What was that?”
“Phil took a notion that he could butt ivery other admirer of Bridget Mulrooney off the track. He kipt at it till one day he towld me he had a dim ’spicion that Bridget and her big brother Tarn and her dad of the same name, not forgitting Bridget her-silf, weren’t as fond of him as they oughter be. They had dropped purty plain hints and the last time Phil called, Bridget remarked sorter off-hand like, that she niver wanted to see his ugly mug agin. Her brother kicked him off the porch and flung him over the fence and the owld gintleman set their dog on him, which the same nearly choked in trying to swaller the seat of his pants. Phil said he was beginnin’ to ’spicion that the family took as a whole, didn’t love him as they oughter. It’s the same wid Uncle Elk and me. He’s riddy to talk on anything excipt the raison them two tramps was scared into taking a bath, and he won’t throw any light on that p’int.”
“Then there is no use of either of us trying.”
“I could hev towld ye that long ago.”
Once more it was Chester who showed the most subtlety.
“Uncle Elk knows that Mike is doing all he can to solve the puzzle; he knows he’ll not stop trying till he learns the truth; if Alvin and I keep him company, he will understand that we have joined forces. It will be as easy for him to baffle us three when we are together as to defeat any one of us. Therefore we ought to separate and each push the hunt for himself.”
“Ye’ve hit it!” exclaimed Mike, “and to encourage ye in good works and to show ye the honor ye oughter hev, I offers ye me hand.”
He gravely extended his palm in the gloom and it was warmly shaken.
Let a party of boys engage in some plot – and the same is true of adults – and their chief fear is that it will be discovered and defeated by someone else more or less interested. No precaution must be neglected. It was agreed by our friends that no one of them should drop a word in the hearing of others that could rouse curiosity, and not to show by their manner that anything unusual was on their minds.
One question considered was whether Dr. Spellman should be taken into their confidence. He had witnessed the panic of the tramps and was as curious as the boys to learn its cause. Alvin disposed of the matter.
“I don’t see how he can be of any help and he doesn’t wish to leave his home too long since the trouble he had with the bums. Uncle Elk, for some reason, hates the doctor; the two would be pretty sure to meet if the doctor joined forces with us, and the consequences would be bad. Say what you please, Uncle Elk has a queer twist in his brain, and I dread doing anything that will excite him. Let us work independently of every one else.”
“I’m wid ye,” assented Mike, and Chester agreed.
This much decided upon, the particulars of the plan remained to be arranged. Mike proposed that he should saunter off alone to the western end of the lake, near where Alvin and Chester had gone in the canoe during the day, and there with no companion should set himself to learn what he could. The others would take the opposite course, which would lead them to the home of Uncle Elk. They had no intention of questioning the old man or even letting him know what they had in mind, but would employ their wits as opportunity offered.
Nothing would have been more pleasing than for Mike to use the canoe to reach the western end of the lake, but he decided that the safest course was for all three to let the boats alone. The hermit would doubtless be on the watch and would know the errand of the lads.
“Do we need to have signals?” asked Chester.
“What for?” inquired Alvin in turn.
“If one of us finds out something, he will want to tell the others.”
“I don’t see how the plan can work, for we shall be so far apart that any call we make will be heard by some of the Scouts and may give the whole thing away. Whatever comes to light can wait till we meet here after supper to-night.”
Mike, who had been thoughtful for a minute or two, now spoke:
“We thought that being Mr. Hall’s lips are closed, Uncle Elk is the only one that can ixplain the queer actions of Biggs and Hutt, but Uncle Elk isn’t the only one.”
“Who else can do so?”
“Biggs and Hutt.”
“That is true,” said Alvin, “but I don’t believe they would show any more willingness than Uncle Elk. Besides, after such a fright as they got yesterday, they are probably miles away at this minute and still running.”
“Which doesn’t signify that they won’t come back again. One would think they would have taken the warning Dr. Spellman gave them, but they didn’t. I believe there is going to be more trouble with those two scamps,” said Chester impressively.
“They’ve got to behave thimselves,” added Mike with more feeling than he had yet shown, “or I’ll git Mr. Hall to lead the whole troop agin ’em.”
“You know the Boy Scouts are opposed to all violence.”
“And so’m I, excipt whin it’s yer dooty to lambaste the ither chap, as whin he drops a hint that he doesn’t think ye’re able to doot. If Biggs and Hutt go to stealing or stepping too hard on us, do ye ixpect we’re going to grin and bear it?”
“Without answering that question,” remarked Alvin, “let me suggest that if any one of us happens to meet either or both the hoboes, he does his best to get an explanation from them. If you don’t succeed, no harm will be done.”
“Good counsel,” commented Chester, “but I don’t believe it will bring any result.”
“We mustn’t neglect anything – ”
“Whisht!” interrupted Mike, suddenly laying his hand on the arm of this comrade.
All three became silent, and each distinctly heard faint footfalls from a point deeper in the wood.
“Some one has been listening,” whispered Alvin, “but he couldn’t have heard anything.”
“And what if he did?” asked Chester; “we have no enemies in this part of the world.”
Mike had started in the direction of the suspicious sound. He did not take time to soften the noise of his feet, and the stranger thus warned hurried away. Evidently he was a better woodman than his pursuer, for he got over the ground faster. Mike caught a glimpse of him in the star-gleam, as he emerged on the beach and ran off. A few minutes later the Irish youth rejoined his friends.
“Do you know who it was?” asked Alvin.
“No; he didn’t spake nor look back. I thought it best to return to ye.”
“Why?”
“I hadn’t me shillaleh wid me, and I was in too much danger of overhauling the spalpeen.”
