The Banner Boy Scouts Afloat
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George A. Warren >> The Banner Boy Scouts Afloat
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15 The Banner Boy Scouts Afloat
OR
The Secret of Cedar Island
By GEORGE A. WARREN
1913
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I THE MYSTERIOUS BOXES
II GLORIOUS NEWS
III FOR CEDAR ISLAND--GHOST OR NO GHOST
IV LAYING IN THE STORES
V JUST AFTER THE CLOCK STRUCK TEN
VI THE GREAT CRUISE OF THE SCOUTS BEGUN
VII STUCK FAST IN THE MUD
VIII WHAT THE WATER GAUGE SHOWED
IX ON THE SWIFT RADWAY
X DODGING THE SNAGS AND THE SNARES
XI THE CAMP ON CEDAR ISLAND
XII WAS IT A BURSTING METEOR?
XIII THE FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND
XIV TRYING TO FIGURE IT ALL OUT
XV ORDERED OFF
XVI UNDER COVER OF DARKNESS
XVII PITCHING TENTS IN THE "SINK"
XVIII WHAT LAY IN THE BRUSH
XIX LAYING PLANS
XX THE EXPLORING PARTY
XXI A MYSTERY OF THE OPEN GLADE
XXII THE WIGWAG MESSAGE
XXIII STILL FLOUNDERING IN THE MIRE
XXIV THE DISCOVERY
XXV TIME TO GO BACK
XXVI HONORABLE SCARS
XXVII ANOTHER THREATENING PERIL
XXVIII PREPARED FOR THE WORST
XXIX LIFTING THE LID
XXX GOOD-BYE TO CEDAR ISLAND
XXXI A SCOUT'S DUTY
XXXII CONCLUSION
PREFACE
Dear Boys:--
It is with the greatest pleasure that I present you with the third volume
of the "Banner Boy Scouts Series." This is a complete story in itself;
and yet most of the leading characters you, who have already read the
first and second volumes, will easily remember. I trust you will heartily
welcome the appearance once more on the stage of Paul, Jack, Bobolink and
all the other good fellows belonging to Stanhope Troop of Boy Scouts.
Those of you who are old friends will recollect that while the Red Fox
Patrol was forming, the boys had a most strenuous time, what with a deep
mystery in their midst, and the bitter strife resulting from their
competition with rival troops belonging to neighboring towns. How the
beautiful banner was cleverly won by Stanhope, I related in the first
volume, called: "The Banner Boy Scouts."
In the succeeding story the Stanhope Scouts went on their first long
hike, to camp in the open. The remarkable adventures they met with
while enjoying this experience; as well as the stirring account of how
they recovered a box of valuable papers that had been stolen from the
office of Joe Clausin's father, form the main theme of "The Banner Boy
Scouts on a Tour."
And now, in this third book, I have endeavored to interest you in another
series of happenings that befell these wide-awake boys before their
summer vacation was over. I hope you will, after reading this story
through to the last line, agree with me that what the young assistant
scout master, Paul Morrison, and his chums of Stanhope Troop endured
while afloat all went to make them better and truer scouts in every sense
of the word.
Cordially yours
GEORGE A. WARREN.
CHAPTER I
THE MYSTERIOUS BOXES
"What are you limping for, Bobolink?"
"Oh! shucks! I see there's no use trying to hide anything from your sharp
eyes, Jack Stormways. Guess I just about walked my feet off today, goin'
fishin' with our patrol leader, away over to the Radway River, and about
six miles up."
"Have any luck, Bobolink?" instantly demanded the third member of the
group of three half-grown boys, who were passing after nightfall through
some of the partly deserted streets on the outskirts of the thriving town
of Stanhope; and whose name it might be stated was Tom Betts.
"Well, I should say, yes. Between us we got seven fine bass, and a
pickerel. By the way, I caught that pickerel; Paul, he looked after the
bass end of the string, and like the bully chap he is divided with me;"
and the boy who limped chuckled as he said this, showing that he could
appreciate a joke, even when it was on himself.
About everybody in town called him Bobolink; and what boy could do
otherwise, seeing that his real name was Robert O. Link?
As the trio of lads were all dressed in the khaki suits known all over
the world nowadays as typifying Boy Scouts, it could be readily taken for
granted that they belonged to the Stanhope Troop.
Already were there three full patrols enlisted, and wearing uniforms;
while a fourth was in process of forming. The ones already in the field
were known as, first, the Red Fox, to which these three lads belonged;
then the Gray Fox, and finally the Black Fox. But as they had about
exhausted the color roster of the fox family, the chances were that the
next patrol would have to start on a new line when casting about for a
name that would stamp their identity, and serve as a totem.
An efficient scout master had been secured in the person of a young man
by the name of Mr. Gordon, who cheerfully accompanied the lads on their
outings, and attended many of their meetings. But being a traveling
salesman, Mr. Gordon often had to be away from home for weeks at a time.
When these lapses occurred, his duties fell upon the shoulders of Paul
Morrison, who not only filled the position of leader to the Red Fox
Patrol, but being a first-class scout, had received his commission from
Headquarters that entitled him to act as assistant scout master to the
whole troop during the absence of Mr. Gordon.
"How did you like it up on the Radway?" continued the one who had made
the first inquiry, Jack Stormways, whose father owned a lumber yard and
planing mill just outside the limits of the town, which was really the
goal of their present after-supper walk.
"Great place, all right," replied Bobolink. "Paul kept calling my
attention to all the things worth seeing. He seems to think a heap of the
old Radway. For my part, I rather fancy our own tight little river, the
Bushkill."
"Well, d'ye know, that's one reason I asked how you liked it," Jack went
on. "Paul seemed so much taken with that region over there, I've begun to
get a notion in my head he's fixing a big surprise, and that perhaps at
the meeting to-night he may spring it on us."
"Tell me about that, will you?" exclaimed Bobolink, who was given to
certain harmless slang ways whenever he became in the least excited, as
at present. "Now that you've been and gone and given me a pointer, I c'n
just begin to get a line on a few of the questions he asked me. Well,
I'm willing to leave it to Paul. He always thinks of the whole shooting
match when trying to give the troop a bully good time. Just remember
what we went through with when we camped out up on Rattlesnake Mountain,
will you?"
"That's right," declared Tom Betts, eagerly; "say, didn't we have the
time of our lives, though?"
"And yet Paul said only today that as we had so long a time before
vacation ends this year, a chance might pop up for another trip,"
Bobolink remarked, significantly.
"Did, eh? Well, don't that go to prove what I said; and you just wait
till we get back to the meeting room in the church. Paul's just bursting
with some sort of secret, and I reckon he'll just have to tell us
to-night," and Jack laughed good-naturedly as he still led his two
comrades on toward the retired lane, where his father's big mill adjoined
the storage place for lumber; convenient to the river, and at the same
time near the railroad, so that a spur track could enter the yard.
Besides these three boys five others constituted the Red Fox Patrol of
Stanhope Troop. In the first story of this series, which appeared under
the name of "The Banner Boy Scouts; Or, The Struggle for Leadership,"
the reader was told about the formation of the Red Fox Patrol, and how
some of the boys learned a lesson in scout methods of returning good for
evil; also how a cross old farmer was taught that he owed a duty to the
community in which he lived, as well as to himself. In that story it was
also disclosed how a resident of the town offered a beautiful banner to
that troop which excelled in an open tournament also participated in by
two other troops of Boy Scouts from the towns of Aldine and Manchester;
the former on the east bank of the Bushkill, about six miles up-stream,
and the latter a bustling manufacturing place about seven miles down, and
also on the same bank as Aldine.
In this competition, after a lively duel between the three wide awake
troops, Stanhope won handsomely; and had therefore been given the banner,
which Wallace Carberry proudly carried at the head of the procession
whenever they paraded.
The second book, "The Banner Boy Scouts on a Tour; Or, The Mystery of
Rattlesnake Mountain," was given over almost exclusively to descriptions
of the wonderful things that came to pass when Stanhope Troop spent a
part of their vacation camping out in order that those who were backward
in their knowledge of how to take care of themselves when in the open
should have a good chance to learn many of the secrets of Nature.
So many strange things happened to the boys when up on Rattlesnake
Mountain that it would be utterly impossible to even mention them here;
but if you wish to know all about the mystery they solved, and the
numerous other exciting events that befell them, you must get the
second volume.
There was to be a special meeting, which the acting scout master had
called for this evening; and Bobolink, Jack, and Tom Betts expected to
be back from their errand in time to answer to their names when the roll
was called.
It was only to oblige Jack that the other two had left home half an hour
earlier than was really necessary. Jack had asked them, over the
telephone, to drop around, as he had to go out to his father's mill
before he could attend the meeting in the church, where a room in the
basement had been kindly loaned to them by the trustees.
"What's all this mean about you going to the mill at this queer old
hour?" Bobolink was saying, as the three boys continued to walk on
abreast, the speaker carrying the silver-plated bugle which he knew how
to manipulate so well when the occasion allowed its use.
"Why, you see it's this way," Jack went on to explain. "My father knows a
man of the name of Professor Hackett, though what he's a professor of
you needn't ask me, because I don't know. But he's a bright little
gentleman, all right; and somehow or other he looks like he's just cram
full of some secret that's trying to break out all over him."
Bobolink laughed aloud.
"Well, that's a funny description you give of the gentleman, I must say,
Jack; but go on--what's he got to do with our making this trip to the big
mill tonight?"
"I just guess it's got everything to do with it," replied the other. "You
see, the professor had a number of big cases sent up here on the train,
and they came today, and were taken to the mill; for my father promised
to keep them there a couple of days until the owner could take them away.
What under the sun's in those big boxes I couldn't tell you from Adam;
all I know is that he seems to be mighty much afraid somebody's going to
steal them."
"Wow! and are we going there to stand guard over the blooming old
things?" exclaimed Bobolink in dismay; for he would not want to miss that
special meeting for anything.
"Oh! not quite so bad as that," answered Jack, with a laugh. "But you
see, that professor wrote my father that he wanted him to hire a trusty
man who would stay in the mill over night until he could get up here
from New York and take the boxes away, somewhere or other."
"Oh, that's it, eh? And where do we find the guardian of the treasure? Is
he going to bob up on the road to the mill?" Tom Betts demanded.
"He promised father to be on deck at seven-thirty, and it'll be close on
that by the time we get there, I reckon," Jack continued.
"And what have you got to do about it?" asked Bobolink.
"Let him in, and lock the door after he's on duty," replied Jack,
promptly. "You see, ever since that attempt was made to burn the mill,
when those hoboes, or yeggs, thought they'd find money in the safe, and
had their trouble for their pains, my father has been mighty careful how
he leaves the office unfastened. He couldn't see this man, Hans Waggoner,
who used to work for us, but talked with him over the 'phone, and told
him I'd be there to meet him, and let him in. That's all there is to it,
boys, believe me."
"Only, you don't know what's in those boxes, and you'd give a cookie to
find out?" suggested Bobolink.
"It isn't so bad as that," replied the other. "Of course I'm a little
curious about what they might hold, that they have to be specially
guarded; but I guess it's none of my business, and I'm not going to
monkey around, trying to find out."
"Say, d'ye suppose your dad knows?" asked Tom.
"Sure he must," came from Jack, instantly. "He'd be silly to let anybody
store a lot of cases that might hold dynamite, or any other old
explosive, in his planing mill, without knowing all about 'em; wouldn't
he? But my father don't think it's any of my affair, you see. And
besides, I wouldn't be surprised if that funny little professor had bound
him not to tell anybody about it. They got the boxes in on the sly, and
that's a fact, boys."
"Oh! splash! now you've got me worked up with guessing, and I'll never be
able to sleep till I know all about it," grumbled Bobolink.
"You're just as curious as any old woman I ever heard of," declared Jack.
"He always was," said Tom Betts, with a chuckle, "and I could string off
more'n a few times when that same curiosity hauled Bobolink into a peck
of trouble. But p'raps your father might let out the secret to you, after
the old boxes have been taken away, and then you can ease his mind.
Because it's just like he says, and he'll keep on dreamin' the most
wonderful things about those cases you ever heard tell about. That
imagination of Bobolink is something awful."
"Huh!" grunted the one under discussion, "not much worse than some
others I know about right now; only they c'n keep a tight grip on
theirs, and I'm that simple I just have to blurt everything out. Both of
you fellers'd like to know nearly as much as I would, what that
mysterious little old man has got hid away in those big cases. Of course
you would. But you jump on the lid, and hold it down. It gets away with
me; that's all."
"All the same, it's mighty good of you fellows, coming all the way out
here with me tonight; and even when Bobolink's got a stone bruise on his
heel, or something like that," Jack went on to say, with a vein of
sincere affection in his voice; for the boys making up the Red Fox Patrol
of Stanhope Troop were very fond of each other.
"Oh! rats! what's the good of being a scout if you can't do a comrade a
little favor once in a while?" asked Bobolink, impetuously. "But there's
the mill looming up ahead, Jack, in the dark. Half a moon don't give a
whole lot of light, now, does it; and especially when it's a cloudy night
in the bargain?"
"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Jack.
"What is it; did you see anything?" demanded Tom Betts, hastily.
"I'm not dead sure," admitted Jack; "you see, just as Bobolink said, the
light's mighty poor, and a fellow could easily be mistaken; but I
thought I saw something that looked like a tall man scuttle away around
that corner of the mill, and dodge behind that pile of lumber!"
"Whew!" ejaculated Bobolink, showing the utmost interest, for excitement
appealed to him.
"Say, perhaps Hans has arrived ahead of the half hour," suggested
Tom Betts.
"No, it wasn't Hans, because I know him well, and he's a little runt of a
Dutchman, but a fighter from the word go; and my father knows nobody's
going to get away with those boxes of the professor while Hans and his
musket, that was used in the Civil War, are on guard. That was a tall
man, and he ran like he'd just heard us coming, and wanted to hide. I
guess somebody else is curious about those boxes, besides Bobolink."
CHAPTER II
GLORIOUS NEWS
"Look! there he goes scooting away over past that other pile of lumber!"
said Tom Betts, pointing as he spoke; and both the others caught a
glimpse of a dim figure that was bending over while hurrying away, as if
anxious not to be seen.
"Well, what d'ye think of the nerve of that?" ejaculated Bobolink, making
a move as though in his impetuous way he was sorely tempted to chase
after the disappearing figure of the unknown; only that the more cautious
Jack threw out a hand, and caught hold of his sleeve.
"Never mind him, boys," remarked the son of the lumber man. "Perhaps it
was only a tramp from the railroad, after all, meaning to find a place to
sleep among the lumber piles. But I'm going to tell my father about it,
all the same. Seems to me he ought to have some one like Hans stay here
every night. Some of those hoboes will set fire to things, either by
accident, or because they are mad at the town for not handing enough good
things out to suit their appetites."
They walked on, and in another minute were at the office door. There they
sat down on the stoop to rest and talk; but only a few minutes had passed
when they heard the sound of approaching footsteps; and a small but very
erect figure appeared, carrying an old-fashioned musket of the vintage of
'61 over his shoulder.
"Hello! Hans, on time all right, I see!" called out Jack.
"Dot is me, I dells you, every time. I am punctuality idself. I sets me
der clock, undt figure dot all oudt, so I haf yust der time to valk here.
Der sooner you obens der door, Misder Jack, der sooner I pe on der chob,"
was the reply of the little man who had been hired to watch the mill, and
those strange boxes, during the night.
Evidently Hans was "strictly business." He had been hired to watch, and
he wanted to be earning his wages as quickly as possible.
So Jack used his key, and the four entered the office. It was quite a
good-sized room. The windows were covered with heavy wire netting, and it
seemed strong enough to resist any ordinary degree of force. After that
attempt to rob his safe, Mr. Stormways had taken precautions against a
similar raid.
The watchman also carried a lantern, which he now lighted. No sooner had
this been done than Bobolink uttered an exclamation.
"I reckon now, Jack, that these three big boxes are the ones the
professor wants watched?" he observed, pointing as he spoke to several
cumbersome cases that stood in a group, occupying considerable space.
Tom Betts, also looking, saw that they were unusually well fastened. In
addition to the ordinary nailing, they were bound along the edges with
heavy twisted wire, through which frequent nails had been driven. When
they came to be opened, the job would prove no easy one.
"Yes, those are the ones; and Hans is to spend most all his time right
here in the office," Jack went on to say. "I'm going to ask my father if
he ought not to hire you to be night watchman right along, Hans. This
plant of ours is getting too big a thing to leave unguarded, with so many
tramps coming along the road in the good old summer time. I suppose you'd
like the job, all right?"
"Sure," replied the bustling little man, his eyes sparkling. "I always
did enchoy vorkin' for Misder Stormways. Undt it habbens dot yust now I
am oudt off a chob. Dot vill pe allright. I hopes me idt turns out so.
Undt now, off you like, you could lock der door some. I stay me here
till somepody gomes der mornin' py."
"Oh! you keep the key, Hans," replied Jack. "You might want to chase out
after some one; but father told me to warn you not to be tempted to go
far away. You see, he's storing these cases for a friend, and it seems
that somebody wants to either get at 'em, or steal them. They're what
you're hired to protect, Hans. And now let us out, and lock the door
after we're gone."
Anxious to get to the church before the meeting could be called to order,
the three scouts did not linger, although Hans was such an amusing little
man that they would have liked nothing better than to spend an hour in
his society, listening to stories about his adventures--for the Dutchman
had roamed pretty much all over the world since his boyhood.
"Shucks! I forgot to examine those boxes," lamented Bobolink, when they
were on the way past the end of the lumber yard.
Jack was glancing sharply about, wondering whether that tall, skulking
figure they had glimpsed could be some one who had a peculiar interest in
the boxes stored in the office of the mill until Professor Hackett called
for them; or just an ordinary "Weary Willie," looking for a soft board to
sleep on, before he continued his hike along the railroad track.
But look as he would, he could see no further sign of a trespasser. Of
course that was no sign the unknown might not be within twenty feet of
them, right then. The tall piles of lumber offered splendid hiding-places
if any one was disposed to take advantages of the nooks; Jack had
explored many a snug hole, when roaming through the yard at various
times, and ought to know about it.
"Oh! I took care of that part," chuckled Tom Betts. "I saw you were
talking with Jack and old Hans, so I just stepped up, and walked around
the boxes. There isn't a thing on 'em but the name of the professor, and
Jack's dad's address in Stanhope."
"And they didn't look much like animal cages to me," muttered Bobolink;
upon which both of the others emitted exclamations of surprise, whereupon
the speaker seemed to think he ought to make some sort of explanation, so
he went on hastily: "You see, Jack, I somehow got a silly idea in my mind
that p'raps this little professor was some sort of an animal trainer, and
meant to come up here, just to have things quiet while he did his little
stunts. But that was a punk notion for me, all right; there ain't any
smell of animals about those boxes, not a whiff."
"But what in the wide world gave you that queer notion?" asked Tom.
"Don't know," replied Bobolink, "'less it was what Jack said about
the professor writing up from Coney Island near New York City; that's
the place where all the freaks show every summer. I've been down
there myself."
"Listen to him, would you, Jack, owning up that he's a sure enough freak?
Well, some of us had a little idea that way, Bobolink, but we never
thought you'd admit it so coolly," remarked Tom Betts, laughingly.
"And the wild animal show down there is just immense," the other went on,
not heeding the slur cast upon his reputation; for like many boys,
Bobolink had a pretty tough skin, and was not easily offended; "and I
guess I've thought about what I saw done there heaps of times. So Coney
stands for wild animal trainin' to me. But that guess was away wide of
the mark. Forget it, fellows. Only whenever Jack here learns what was in
those boxes, he must let his chums know. It's little enough to pay for
draggin' a lame scout all the way out here tonight; think so, Jack?"
"I sure do, and you'll have it, if ever I find out," was the reply.
"Perhaps, after they've been taken away by the professor, my father
mightn't mind telling me what was in them. And we'll let it rest at
that, now."
"But you mark me, if Bobolink gets any peace of mind till he learns,"
warned Tom.
Chatting on various matters connected more or less with the doings of the
Boy Scout movement, and what a fine thing it was proving for the youth of
the whole land, Jack and his chums presently brought up at the church
which had the bell tower; and where a splendid meeting room had been
given over for their occupancy in the basement, in which a gymnasium was
fitted up for use in the fall and winter.
In that tower hung a big bell, whose brazen tongue had once upon a time
alarmed the good people of Stanhope by ding-donging at a most unusual
hour. It had come through a prank played upon the scouts by several tough
boys of the town whose enmity Paul Morrison and his chums had been
unfortunate enough to incur. But for the details of that exciting episode
the reader will have to be referred back to the preceding volume.
Jack Stormways never glanced up at that tower but that he was forcibly
reminded of that startling adventure; and a smile would creep over his
face as he remembered some of the most striking features connected with
the event.
In the big room the three scouts found quite a crowd awaiting their
coming. Indeed, it seemed as though nearly every member of the troop had
made it an especial point to attend this meeting just as though they
knew there was something unusual about to come before them for
consideration.
As many of these lads will be apt to figure in the pages of this story,
it might be just as well to listen to the secretary, as he calls the
roster of the Stanhope Troop. Once this duty had devolved upon one of the
original Red Fox Patrol; but with the idea of sharing the
responsibilities in a more general way, it had been transferred to the
shoulders of Phil Towns, who belonged to the second patrol.
RED FOX PATROL
1--Paul Morrison, patrol leader, and also assistant scout master.
2--Jack Stormways.
3--Bobolink, the official bugler.
4--Bluff Shipley, the drummer.
5--Nuthin, whose real name was Albert Cypher.
6--William Carberry, one of the twins.
7--Wallace Carberry, the other.
8--Tom Betts.
GRAY FOX PATROL
1--Jud Elderkin, patrol leader.
2--Joe Clausin.
3--Andy Flinn.
4--Phil Towns.
5--Horace Poole.
6--Bob Tice.
7--Curly Baxter.
8--Cliff Jones, whose entire name was Clifford Ellsworth Fairfax Jones.
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