Kitabı oku: «The Wolf Patrol: A Tale of Baden-Powell's Boy Scouts», sayfa 16

CHAPTER XLVI
DICK'S ACCIDENT

Dick and Chippy took the road again an hour after dinner amid a volley of cheers raised by the labourers on the farm. The men had gathered in the stockyard to see them start, and gave them three times three and a tiger; for the Hardys were very popular with their dependents, and, beyond that, the men felt respect for coolness, pluck, and skill for the sake of the qualities themselves.

The two scouts felt a glow of delight in this achievement such as no words can describe. They marched on their way with a swinging stride, as if they stood on air. First they had the keen professional delight of having built up by their own observation a theory which proved true in every particular save one – that the blood found on the scene of the accident had flowed from a cut in the arm, and not in the head. But that was a mere detail; in every item that mattered their deductions had proved sound.

'I should just like to have asked him when the brake went,' said Dick. 'Pretty well at the top of the hill, I know.'

'Must ha' done,' said Chippy, 'by the spin he'd got on the machine.'

They had not seen or spoken to their comrade before leaving the farm. Fred Hardy was in too weak a state even to know what his brother scouts had done for him, let alone seeing them or thanking them; his life still hung on a thread, but that thread would for a surety have been snapped had not the patrol-leaders discovered him and checked the bleeding.

'An' to think, arter follerin' him up, he turned out one of us,' murmured Chippy.

'Wasn't it splendid!' cried Dick.

Yes, that was the very crowning touch of the adventure. They would have done it all with the most cheerful willingness for anyone, old or young, sick or poor; but to rescue a brother scout – ah! that gave a flavour to the affair which filled them with purest delight.

Now the scouts swung forward with steady stride; they had lost a good deal of time, and the miles stretched before them – a formidable array to be ticked off before the spires of Bardon would be seen. This sweep back from Newminster was longer than the road they had followed to the city, and the extra distance was beginning to tell. They made a good strong march for three hours, and then halted for a short rest; and upon this halt a rather awkward accident took place, in which Dick was the sufferer.

The scouts had been tempted to pause at a point where a shallow brook ran for some hundreds of yards beside the road, forming one boundary. They had just made a long stretch of hot, dusty road, and their feet were aching. The water tempted them to halt, and strip off shoes and stockings, to bathe their heated and weary feet.

They sat down on the roots of a tree beside the stream, and dangled their feet in the cool running water, and found it very pleasant and refreshing.

'There's a fish acrost th' other side, just gone into a hole in the bank,' said Chippy; 'wonder if I could get 'im out?'

'Are you any good at catching fish with your hands, Chippy?' asked his companion. 'I never had any luck that way. I've tried in that brook on the heath, but they mostly seem to slip through my fingers.'

'There's a knack about it,' replied the Raven. 'Now, I dessay, Dick, ye tried to shut your hand round 'em.'

'Yes, I did,' said the Wolf.

'Ah, now, that's wheer ye went wrong,' returned his friend. 'Ye want to mark 'em down under a stone or in a hole, then press 'em hard agin the side, an' hold 'em theer a while. Then ye can jerk 'em out when they've lost their wind a bit.'

Chippy proceeded to show how it was done. He slipped his shirt-sleeve back to the shoulder, and introduced his hand cautiously into the hole. He made a sudden movement, and snapped 'Got 'im!' and held on. A minute later he drew out a small trout, his finger and thumb thrust into the gills, and showed it to Dick.

'Quarter-pounder for ye,' he said, and dexterously broke its neck.

'Let's see if we can get enough for supper, Chippy,' cried Dick; 'they'd go down first-rate with the sandwiches;' for Mrs. Hardy had insisted on storing their haversacks with a plentiful supply of ham and beef sandwiches. They spent half an hour or more paddling about in the cool, clear water, but only three small ones came to hand.

Then Chippy thrust his arm up a hole among the roots of an alder, and gave a chuckle of delight. 'A big un at last,' he cried; 'I've got 'im.' But suddenly his note changed.

'Ow!' he yelled, in comic anguish, and whipped his hand out of the hole. Blood was streaming from his forefinger.

'I say,' cried Dick, 'what a savage trout!'

''Tworn't a trout at all,' wailed the Raven; ''twor a big rat, an' he bit me.'

The scouts roared with laughter as Chippy flipped the blood into the water.

'He'd got you that time,' chuckled Dick.

'Sure enough,' nodded the Raven. 'I thought it wor' a pounder at the least. He's nigh on bit my finger through.'

Dick had his patrol staff in hand: he thrust it up the hole and tried to poke the rat out. But the hole twisted among the roots, and was a safe fortress for its wily defender.

'Well, I've done all the gropin' I want, this time,' remarked Chippy, washing his finger in the stream.

'Yes, we must be off again,' said Dick, and began slowly to wade towards the bank where their shoes and stockings lay.

Suddenly he started and picked up one foot.

'Ah!' cried Dick, 'that was sharp, and no mistake.'

'Wot's the matter?' called out Chippy, approaching him.

'Trod on something sharp,' said Dick.

'I should think yer did,' cried the Raven; 'look at yer foot. We must see to this.'

Dick looked, and saw the clear water stained with blood as it swept past his foot. He bent down and looked at the bed of the stream.

'Confound it all,' he said, 'it's the end of a broken bottle I've trodden on. No wonder it warmed me up a bit. Somebody's chucked it into the brook as they passed.'

The boys scrambled to the bank, and there Dick's wound was examined. It was on the outer side of the right heel, not long, but deep, for the broken bottle had thrust a sharp splintered point upwards, and the cut bled very freely. They washed it well in the cold water until the blood ceased to flow, then rubbed plenty of the mutton-fat in, for that was the only kind of ointment they had.

'Quite sure theer's no salt in this?' asked Chippy. ''Cos salt 'ud be dangerous.'

'Quite sure,' replied Dick. 'I boiled it down myself. It's pure fat.'

Chippy looked anxious. 'It's frightful awk'ard a cut in yer foot,' he said. 'How are ye goin' to march, Dick?'

'Oh, I'll march all right,' said Dick. 'I wish, though, it had been my finger, like yours, Chippy.'

The Raven nodded. 'True for you,' he said, 'ye don't ha' to tramp on yer hands.'

They bound up the cut in a strip torn from a handkerchief, got into their stockings and shoes, and went forward. Dick declared that his cut gave him little or no pain, but Chippy still looked uneasy. He knew that the time for trouble was ahead, when the cut would stiffen.

CHAPTER XLVII
THE LAST CAMP

'We'll never see Wildcombe Chase to-night, Chippy,' said Dick, as they stepped along.

'Not likely,' was the reply; 'we've a-lost too much time for that. An' now theer's that cut. What I say is this: let's mek' an early camp an' give yer foot a good rest. P'raps it'll feel better in the mornin'.'

'It isn't very bad now,' said Dick, 'only a little sore.'

'H'm,' grunted Chippy, 'so ye say. I know wot a deep cut like that means. We'll rest it as soon as we can.'

They paused on a triangle of grass at some cross roads and got out their map. Wildcombe Chase was altogether too far now, and they looked for a nearer camping-ground. They saw that they were within a mile of a village, and beyond that a by-way led across a large common. On this common they resolved to make their last bivouac.

They passed through the village without purchasing anything. They had plenty of food for supper in their haversacks, and though their tea and sugar and so on were finished, they did not intend to buy more. Even to purchase in small quantities would leave them with some on their hands, and they were not willing to spend the money. It was no mean, miserly spirit which moved them. Their scout's pride was concerned in carrying out the journey at as low a cost as possible, working their own way, as it were, through the country. For the money, as money, neither cared a rap. It must also be confessed that Dick was rather keen on handing back to his father a big part of the ten shillings. Dick remembered the twinkle in his father's eye, when Mr. Elliott handed over the half-sovereign for way money. The smile meant that he felt perfectly certain that the two boys would soon run through the ten shillings and have to turn back. Dick had perfectly understood, and the more he could return of that half-sovereign the prouder be would feel.

They pressed on across the common with a distant fir coppice for their landmark and goal. Such a place meant a comfortable bed for the night, and as soon as they gained its shelter Chippy cried halt, and forbade Dick to stir another step.

'It's been gettin' wuss and wuss lately,' said Chippy. 'Ye don't say a word, an' ye try to step out just as usual, but it's gettin' wuss an' wuss.'

'Oh, I don't mind admitting it's a trifle sore,' said Dick, 'but it will be all right in the morning.'

'Hope so,' said Chippy. 'Now you just drop straight down on that bank, an' I'll do th' odd jobs.'

Dick protested, but the Raven was not to be moved. He forced his chum to stretch himself on a warm, grassy bank while he made the preparations for camping that night. A short distance away a rushy patch betokened the presence of water. Dick pointed it out. 'I'll go over there and wash my foot,' he said.

'Right,' said Chippy, 'an' dab some more o' that fat on the cut.'

Dick found a little pool in the marshy place, and the cool water was very pleasant to his wounded foot, which had now become sore and aching. When he returned, Chippy was emerging from the coppice with armfuls of bedding; he had found a framework in the rails of a broken fence which had once bounded the firwood.

'Here, Chippy, I can lend a hand at that,' said Dick. 'There's no particular moving about in that job.'

'Aw' right,' said the Raven; 'then I'll set plenty o' stuff to yer hand an' see about the fire.'

Chippy soon had a fire going, and a heap of dry sticks gathered to feed it. A short distance away a big patch of gorse had been swaled in the spring. It had been a very partial affair, and the strong stems stood blackened and gaunt, but unburned. Thither went Chippy with the little axe, and worked like a nigger, hacking down stem after stem, and dragging them across until he had a pile of them also.

'They'll mek' a good steady fire for the night,' he remarked. Then he seized the billy.

'What d'ye say to a drop o' milk?' he said. 'We could manage that, I shouldn't wonder. When I wor' up in the wood I seen a man milkin' some cows t'other side o' the coppice, an' now as I wor' luggin' these sticks back I seen him a-comin' down the bank. Theer he goes.'

Chippy pointed, and Dick saw a man crossing the common with two shining milk-pails hanging from a yoke. At this warm season of the year the cows were out day and night, and the man had clearly come to milk them on the spot, and thus make a single journey instead of the double one involved in fetching them home and driving them back to the feeding-ground.

Dick turned out twopence, and Chippy pursued the retreating milkman. He returned, carrying the billy carefully.

'He wor' a good sort,' cried Chippy. 'He gied me brimmin' good measure for the money.'

The scouts now made a cheerful supper. Chippy broiled the trout in the ashes; Mrs. Hardy's sandwiches were very good, and the milk was heated in the billy and drunk hot from their tin cups.

Supper was nearly over when a small, reddish-coated creature came slipping through the grass towards them.

'There's a weasel,' said Dick, and the scouts watched it.

The little creature came quite near the fire, loping along, its nose down as if following a track. Then it paused, raised its head on the long snake-like neck, and looked boldly at the two boys, its small bright eyes glittering with a fierce light.

'Pretty cheeky,' said Dick, and threw a scrap of wood at it. The weasel gave a cry, more of anger than alarm, and glided away.

Within twenty minutes they saw a second weasel running along under the brake, nosing in every hole, and pausing now and again to raise its head and look round sharply on every hand.

'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.'

There was, luckily, no wind, or the scouts might not have been so jubilant; it was a heavy summer rain, pouring down strong and straight. The boys were pretty wet before they had got their shelter rigged up, but the fire was strong and warm, though it hissed vigorously as the heavy drops fell from the branches of the fir.

'Any chance of putting the fire out, do you think?' said Dick.

'Not if we keep plenty o' stuff on it,' replied his chum. 'Hark 'ow it's patterin' on the blankets!'

'They'll be jolly wet, and take some drying,' said Dick. 'Still, better for them to get wet than for us.'

'We ain't cut a trench,' said Chippy.

'To carry off the water,' cried Dick. 'No, we haven't. But we can dig that from cover, just round the patch we want to sit on.'

They went to work with their knives, and cut a trench six inches deep round the pile of bedding on which they were seated, and then had no fear of being flooded out with rain-water.

Down came the rain faster and heavier. The whole air was filled with the hissing, rushing noise of the great drops falling on the trees, the bushes, the open ground, but the scouts sat tight under their blanket lean-to, and fed the fire steadily from the heap of sticks and stems which the Raven had piled up.

'Weasels for weather-prophets for me arter this,' grunted Chippy; and Dick nodded his head.

'It was my Uncle Jim who told me that about the weasels,' said Dick. 'He said they're always very active before stormy weather.'

'Just about fits it this time, anyway,' remarked the Raven. The mention of Mr. Elliott brought to mind their chums in Bardon.

'I wonder how our patrols are getting on without us, Chippy?' said Dick.

'Oh, it'll gie the corporals a chance to try their 'ands at leadin',' returned the Raven. 'I wish they could just see us now. They'd gie their skins to jine us.'

'Rather,' laughed Dick; 'this is just about all right.'

It is possible that some persons might not have agreed with him, and at one o'clock in the morning might have preferred their beds to squatting on a heap of brushwood under the shelter of a blanket, the hissing fire making the only cheery spot in the blackness of the cloud- and rain-wrapped moorland. But the scouts would not have changed their situation for quarters in Buckingham Palace. There was the real touch about this. It seemed almost as romantic as a bivouac on a battlefield.

'Well, s'pose we try for a bit more sleep,' said the prudent Raven; 'long march to-morrer, yer know.'

'We've got to keep the fire up,' said Dick; 'it would never do to let that out.'

'O' course not,' replied Chippy; 'we must take turns to watch. Now, who gets fust sleep – long or short?'

He held up two twigs which he had plucked from the bedding; the ends were concealed in his hand.

'Short gets first sleep,' said Dick.

'Aw' right,' replied the Raven; 'you draw.'

Dick drew, and found he had the long draw.

'Wot's the time?' asked Chippy.

'Just turned one.'

'Right; then I'll sleep till three. Then you wake me, and I'll tek' a turn till five. Then we must be movin', for to-morrer's a long day.'

'To-day's a long day, you mean,' laughed Dick.

'So it is,' replied the Raven. 'It's to-day a'ready – o' course it is.'

He was about to coil himself round like a dog upon the hearth, when he cast a quick glance on the heap of firewood.

'Not enough theer,' he said; 'an' I ain't a-goin' to have ye hoppin' round on yer game foot.'

He sprang up again, and, in spite of Dick's protestations, caught up the axe and a flaming brand from the fire, and went down to the burnt gorse-patch, and hacked away till he had as many of the long stems as he could drag.

'They're a bit wet outside,' he said, as he returned; 'but they'll ketch all right if ye keep a good fire up, and theer's a plenty to last till I've finished my nap. Then I can fill in my time wi' cuttin' any amount.'

He curled himself up again, and was asleep in a moment.

Dick's watch was only two hours, but it seemed a long, long time. He kept a rousing fire going, such a fire as the rain could make no impression upon, and lost itself in the glowing depths in an angry spluttering. Once the heat made him so drowsy that he dreaded the terrible disgrace of falling asleep on his post. So he stuck his head from under the shelter, and washed the sleep out of his eyes in the slashing downpour. But even after that he was half asleep again, when a sluice of cold water came in at the point where the blankets overlapped, and very obligingly ran down his neck, and fetched him up with a jump. Now he had a job to do in arranging their cover, and he moved the ground rail a little back, and drew the blankets tauter. The simple shelter did its work nobly. It is true that towards the bottom the weight of water caused the blankets to sag, and there was a steady drip at that point; but it was beyond the spot where the scouts were crouching, and the sharp slant of the upper part ran the water safely over their heads.

Chippy woke upon the stroke of three in a manner which seemed to Dick perfectly miraculous.

'How did you do it?' asked the latter. 'I should never have awakened of myself in that style.'

'Yer must fix it on yer mind,' replied the Raven, 'and then somehow or other yer eyes open at the right time.'

'Well,' laughed Dick, 'I'm afraid it's no use my trying to fix five o'clock in my mind. You'll have to wake me, Chippy.'

'I'll wake ye fast enough,' returned the Raven. 'Now roll yerself up, an' go to bye-bye. It'll be broad daylight soon. Most likely the rain will stop at sun-up.'

Day was breaking, but grey and chill, and the rain still poured down in lines which scarcely slanted. The scouts, however, were quite warm, for there was no wind, and the leaping fire sent ample heat into the nook where they lay.

Dick placed his haversack for a pillow, and laid his head on it. The sleep he had been fighting off descended on him in power, and he knew no more until Chippy shook his arm and aroused him at five o'clock.

His eyes opened on a very different scene from that he had last gazed upon. The rain was over; the morning was bright with glowing sunshine; the new-bathed country looked deliciously fresh and green; a most balmy and fragrant breeze was blowing; and in copse and bush a hundred birds were singing, while the lark led them all from the depths of the blue sky.

'What a jolly morning!' cried Dick.

'Aw' right, ain't it?' grinned the Raven. 'The rain stopped a little arter four, an' the sun come out, an' it's been a-gettin' better an' better.'

Suddenly Dick looked up. The blankets had gone. Chippy laughed.

'Look behind,' he said.

Dick looked, and saw that the Raven had been very busy. He had built a fresh fire with a heap of glowing embers from the old one; the billy had served him as an improvised shovel. Over this fire he had erected a cage of bent sticks, and the blankets were stretched on the framework and drying in style; the steam was rising from them in clouds.

'That's great,' said his chum; 'I wondered more than once in the night what we should do with sopping wet blankets.'

'They'll be all right in a while again.' And the Raven gave them a turn. 'Now we've got to wire in and hunt up a brekfus.'

Dick turned out the haversack which held the food they had left, but it made a very poor apology for a meal.

'I could put that lot in a holler tooth, an' never know I'd had aught,' said Chippy. 'This scoutin' life mek's yer uncommon peckish.'

'Rather,' cried the Wolf, who was as hungry as the animal after which his patrol was named; and the two boys began to scout for their last wild, free breakfast-table.