The Banner Boy Scouts Afloat Part 1

The Banner Boy Scouts Afloat.

by George A. Warren.

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 compet.i.tion 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 a.s.sistant 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'

fis.h.i.+n' 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 pa.s.sing 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 ba.s.s, and a pickerel. By the way, I caught that pickerel; Paul, he looked after the ba.s.s 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 ident.i.ty, 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-cla.s.s scout, had received his commission from Headquarters that ent.i.tled him to act as a.s.sistant 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 const.i.tuted 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 Leaders.h.i.+p,"

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 partic.i.p.ated 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 compet.i.tion, 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 pa.s.s 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 bas.e.m.e.nt 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."