Chapter VI: The Duty of a Scout

Hugh’s first act was to throw a reassuring arm across the shoulders of Gus Merrivale. The action was intended to quiet his fears and revive hope. Somehow it seemed as though mere personal contact with so magnetic a fellow as Hugh Hardin was usually enough to generate a new feeling of ambition in a despairing scout, for undoubtedly Gus immediately began to show signs of fresh anticipation.

“What do you mean by saying your pal is a goner?” demanded Hugh, looking down at the tramp as he spoke.

The man lifted one of his arms, though the effort caused him to groan with pain.

“Hark to that howling blast, will ye?” he called out. “It’s by far the worst storm I ever stacked up against, and I’ve seen some in my time. The trees, they’re just goin’ over like ten-pins in a bowling alley. It’s awful, that’s what it is, and there’s a mighty slim chance poor Sam could pull through such a fiendish gale if it near did for a strong man like me, and him that weak.”

“You deserted him then, did you?” demanded Billy, filled with indignation.

If such a thing as shame could ever make its presence felt in so hard a face as that of the so-called Casey, it did at that moment.

“Listen, gents!” he called out so as to be heard above the noise with which the storm was beating against the end of the bunk-house. “I stuck by Sam till I knowed it was no more use. I couldn’t lift a hand to help him along any further. So I made up my mind I’d try to find me way back here and get help for me pal. That’s gospel truth, every word of it. Even then I believed I was sticking my own silly neck in danger comin’ back—well, never mind why I thought that way.”

Hugh was looking straight into the man’s face as he said this. Somehow the scout master felt that Casey might actually be telling the truth. Men like him have been known to do wonderfully fine deeds once in a while, though no one would ever expect to find such a diamond in the rough.

He remembered the famous poem of Jim Bludsoe, which only the other day he had been reading—Jim, it may be remembered, was only a rough Mississippi steamboat pilot who might be set down as a fair sample of his kind, and looked upon as a swearing type of river man; yet when the _Belle_ took fire he manfully stuck to his wheel and held the nose of the boat against the bank until every “galoot” had jumped to safety on the bank. Jim lost his own life, it is true, but the memory of his glorious deed has thrilled tens of thousands ever since it was recorded in verse.

Yes, somehow Hugh began to believe that Casey might be built something along those lines. Such a man, to save a comrade, would even risk arrest and imprisonment. He could have found shelter from the storm so far as he himself was concerned. The sick pal, however, needed a safer refuge from the howling gale that might yet turn into one of those dreaded blizzards through means of which so many of his wandering kind have met their fate.

“Tell us all about it,” was what Hugh said. “You hurried away from here after you discovered the car coming along the logging road, headed for the old camp, didn’t you, Casey?”

“Yes, because ye see I thought youse might be some people I wasn’t carin’ much about meetin’ just now,” came the ready reply.

“Go on, then, from that point,” urged the scout master, persistently.

“Well, we went as far as Sam could stand it, and then pulled up, meanin’ to put in the night there. I reckoned that when mornin’ kim along I could sneak back an’ find out the lay of the land, and whether you uns had vamoosed or not. If ye had we meant to climb back here, an’ stay a while longer.”

He stopped to rub his injured side softly and grit his teeth, evidently to suppress the groan that Hugh could see welling to his lips; for the man was undoubtedly in great pain, despite the ointment Arthur had rubbed upon his bruises.

“Then the wind began to rise, and I knowed we was goin’ to have some sort of a storm, which I tell ye I was sorry to see, ’cause bein’ out in one with winter hangin’ fire close by wasn’t appealin’ none to me. We snugged up closer when it got worse and worser. Sam he begged me to go back to the cabin and try to get some help for him. I held out as long as I could, and then I sensed that it’d be the only thing like as not that’d save him, he was that weak, you see. So I says I’d go, an’ I left Sam there among the fallin’ timber.”

“You must have been a pretty good woodsman to find your way back here in the dark, and with such a storm blowing,” remarked Hugh, for the purpose of drawing the other out still more.

“Oh! I used to be a lumberjack a long time ago,” explained Casey. “Once ye larn the tricks o’ the woods they ain’t so easy forgot. I made a bee-line back here, but all the same I came mighty near never arrivin’, with that tree ketchin’ me when it came down with a smash.”

He gritted his teeth again at the recollection of his recent almost miraculous escape. As a lumberman Casey must have been well acquainted with the perils of falling timber. He could figure what small chances a man would have should one of those tall pines topple over on him when driven by a ninety-mile-an-hour gale.

Hugh was thinking seriously. What was their duty under such circumstances? Should some of them risk going out into the stormy night, and try to find the abandoned Sam Merrivale, so as to save his life? He figured that if the erring brother of Gus, weakened by illness as he was, should be left to the full and protracted rigor of the storm there was small chance of his ever surviving the night.

Hugh never had a question to decide that worried him more than this one did. He wanted to do his duty, yet wondered whether it would be right to imperil the lives of himself and one or more of his chums in trying to save so miserable a wretch as Sam Merrivale.

The mental combat was short-lived. Hugh could not evade the issue which was presented so squarely to him. He believed that it would be possible to rescue the miserable Sam, providing the other tramp would direct them to the scant refuge where the prodigal son of Mr. Merrivale was doubtless cowering beneath a scanty shelter that served to protect him from the chilling blasts.

Of course they would have to accept a certain amount of risk in carrying out this plan. Hugh felt that for them to remain there in their comfortable quarters, all through the long night, knowing that a fellow human being, and poor Gus’ brother at that, was perishing close by, would be something that would haunt them with shame and regrets as long as they lived.

So he turned again to the tramp, who may possibly have guessed what had been passing through the boy’s mind, for he immediately called out:

“I kin direct ye to the place, all right, mister, and it ain’t so very fur away from here, either; but better think twict afore ye starts to try it. Chances are three to one ye’ll be sorry when ye git a hundred yards away, with them pines a fallin’ like hail all around ye.”

Gus held his breath, and kept those eloquent eyes of his glued fast upon the features of Hugh. It seemed to Gus just then as though the life of his erring brother were hanging by a slender thread. In fact, it depended upon the decision of the scout master. If Hugh decided they would try to find him perhaps Sam might yet be saved; but if the decision were adverse there was scarcely any hope for the lost one.

Hugh did not fail his comrade. He quickly made up his mind where the path of duty led as seen by a scout’s eyes. Doubtless, Gus was thrilled to the bone when he caught the reassuring glance Hugh shot in his direction, for it told what was coming even before a single word had been uttered.

“Suppose you tell us, then, Casey,” said Hugh, soberly, “just how to reach the place where you say you left your pal?”

Gus did not utter a word—he was really too full for that; but he allowed a hand to steal out and clasp that of the scout leader, which he squeezed again and again in a way that told of his gratitude more than mere words could ever have done.

“Ye have got to foller the crick down,” began the injured tramp, “till ye come to where it makes a second bend, turnin’ to the right. It might be all o’ a quarter o’ a mile from here. Then strike out as the rocks run. When ye come to a dip in the same ’tis there ye’ll find Sam alyin’, dead or alive, I can’t say which. But no matter, ye’ll have to fetch him back between ye, ’case he’s too weak to walk.”

“You’ll let me go along, of course, Hugh?” pleaded Gus, still clinging to the other’s hand.

Hugh hardly knew what to do about that. Some one must stay with Casey, and under ordinary conditions he would have detailed Billy and Gus to perform that duty. But he knew how the poor fellow was fairly hungering to be able to do something personally for the brother whom his mother had sent him out to find.

His decision was quickly made. It was very hard to say no when Gus was looking so appealingly into his eyes. After all, three might be better than just a pair of them. And surely Billy ought to be able to take care of the camp while they were away.

“Yes, you can keep company with us, Gus,” he told the other.

“Then I suppose you mean for me to stay behind, and not Arthur?” ventured Billy.

“Arthur will be of more help to me in case we find Sam than you could, Billy,” Hugh told him frankly, “because I depend so much on his first-aid knowledge. And Gus ought to go because you must remember it is his brother who’s out in all that storm.”

So it was settled, considerably to the chagrin of Billy, who was to stay behind; but then he knew the scout master too well to dream of argument when once the other had laid down the law. Obedience to authority and discipline is one of the fundamental rules which every member of a patrol learns early in his career as a scout; it is one of the finest things taught by the organization, and calculated to be of great assistance to boys in later life.

Accordingly, Hugh, Gus and Arthur immediately commenced making preparations looking to sallying forth. They went about this in a matter-of-fact way, just as though they did not know they would literally be taking their lives in their hands by braving that fearful storm.

Hugh did not neglect a single thing, for he was always thorough. He even made sure they carried plenty of matches along, and some food as well.

“Goodness gracious! I hope now you don’t expect to get lost in the woods, and wander around ever so long,” ventured Billy, when he saw this, although secretly he must have also commended the wisdom of the move.

“There’s no telling what may happen in a case like this,” Hugh replied. “Besides, we might find Sam pretty well exhausted, and chilled to the marrow. Then if only we can build a bit of a fire, and warm up this can of soup, it will give him a whole lot of new strength.”

“Wait a minute, Hugh!” cried Billy, excitedly; “here’s a can of soup of new-fangled make. It’s meant to be used when a fellow isn’t able to have _any_ fire, if only he can get a little water. You cut a hole in the outer can, for there are two, one inside the other. The space between is filled with unslacked lime, I guess. Anyhow, as soon as the water gets to it a heat is generated, and in a few minutes you take out the inside can, open it, and you’ll find the contents steaming hot!”

“I’ve read about those modern sportsmen’s supplies,” said Arthur, “but never tried anything along those lines. I’d say it might be a splendid thing for an occasion of this kind. I’ll report to you how it goes, Billy, in case we have to make use of it.”

“Wish you would,” said Billy, eagerly.

Presently the three who were to brave the storm announced themselves ready. There was a hearty hand-shake all around. Then Billy carefully opened the door part way, holding his breath in very awe as the others pushed through the stingy gap.