Chapter VIII: Foreword: To Boy-Men, (8)

So one night I had the alarm given that the enemy were near, and ordered the men to double out at once to a spot a short distance outside the camp.

The ground was covered with prickly grass and camel-thorn. How those fellows hopped and skipped to get to the place. But they took care not to go to bed barefooted again.

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HUT BUILDING.

In places where you can get the use of a wood for your camp, it saves the cost of a tent if you can make yourself a hut.

The important point in making a hut is to thatch it so closely and well with heather, straw, or twigs of fir, etc., that it is watertight.

The double lean-to, already described, makes the simplest form of hut--and if you like to make it more roomy, you can dig out the floor a couple of feet. But this is always a messy proceeding, and unhealthy, as upturned earth is very liable to give fever.

In addition to the articles of camp equipment which are mentioned in _Scouting for Boys_ as being easily made by the Scout himself, there are several others which can be made during the long winter evenings, and these will be of great use to you when you go into camp in the summer, or they can be sold to other fellows wanting such things.

The following is taken, from Mr. H. Kephart's _Book of Camping:_

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HORN DRINKING CUPS.

"Get a cow's horn from a friendly butcher, a little over a foot long. Measure with a stick how far up it is hollow. Then, saw off the tip just below where it becomes solid, except a strip of the solid part, which should be left attached to the hollow part, about an inch wide and five inches long, quarter of an inch thick; this strip will form the handle of the cup."

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THE AXE.

Of course a backwoodsman has to be pretty useful with his axe; and to become a good axeman a fellow must know, firstly, how the thing ought to be done, and, secondly, he must then have lots of practice in doing it before he can be considered any good.

Bad workmen complain of their tools, but before starting to work be sure that your tool is a good one.

Your axe should be a "felling" axe, of which the head will weigh nearly three pounds. See that the handle or "helve" is perfectly straight and true in line with the head and the edge. To do this look along the helve with the edge of the head turned upwards. If the edge is not true to the bevel, your cuts will go all astray.

Then see that your axe is sharp--really sharp, not merely with a good edge on it. A slightly blunt axe is no more good for cutting down a tree than a very blunt knife is for cutting a pencil. You should know how to sharpen it on a grindstone, learn this now, while you are in civilisation, where grindstones can be found and there are men to show you.

When out in camp in India, for "pig sticking" (that is hunting wild boar with spears) we found how very necessary it was to keep our spears as sharp as a razor, and every time we killed a boar we would sharpen up our spear-heads again ready for the next fight.

We could not carry grindstones about with us, but we carried a small fine file, with which we were able to touch up the edge; and that is what many an old backwoodsman does for his axe, he carries a small file with him.

There is a saying with these men that "you may lend your last dollar to a friend, but never lend him your axe--unless you know that he is a good axeman and will not blunt it."

The tenderfoot will go banging about with an axe, chopping at roots and branches on the ground, and blunting the axe at every stroke on earth and stones; and when his arms tire, if he has not meanwhile chopped his own foot, he will throw the axe down, leaving it lying all anyhow on the ground, probably where it will catch and cut the toe of someone moving about after dark.

When you want to leave your axe, strike straight down with it into a tree stump, and leave it sticking there till required again,

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USING THE AXE.

In using an axe, the tenderfoot generally tries to cover his bad aim by the extra strength of his blows. If an old hand is looking on he is smiling to himself and thinking how blown and what a backache he got himself the first time that he did it.

Don't try to put force into the blow; merely be careful about aiming it so that it falls exactly where you want it, the swing and weight of the axe itself do the rest.

A good axeman uses his axe equally well left-handed or right. It is all a matter of practice, and most valuable.

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FELLING A TREE.

The way to cut down a tree is to cut first a big chunk out of the side to which you want the tree to fall, and then to cut into the opposite side to fell it.

Begin your Notch 1, or the "kerf," as it is called, by chopping two marks, the upper one, A, at a distance above the other, B, equal to half the thickness of the tree.

Then cut alternately, first a horizontal cut at B, then a sideways, downward cut at A, and jerk out the chunk between the two; go on doing this till you get to the centre of the tree. The reason for making A and B so far apart is that if you begin with too narrow a kerf your axe gets wedged in the cut more easily.

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CUTTING THE KERF.

When you have cut your kerf half through the tree, you then fell the tree by cutting in on the opposite side, only about three inches above the level of B,

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THINGS TO LOOK OUT FOR.

Before starting to fell your tree, first clear away all small branches and bushes which might interfere with the swing of your axe, and therefore spoil your aim.

Also clear away any brambles or undergrowth that might trip you at the critical moment.

Cut out chunks when you are at it, not a lot of little chips, which are signs to anyone coming there later that a tenderfoot has been at work. It is all a matter of aiming your stroke well.

Aim your kerf so that the tree will fall clear of other trees, and not get hung up in their branches.

Then, when your tree falls, look out for the butt. This often jumps back from the stump; never stand directly behind it; many a tenderfoot has been killed that way. When the stem cracks and the tree begins to topple over, move forward in the direction of the fall, and, at the same time outwards, away from the butt.

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FIRE-LIGHTING.

As a backwoodsman you must, of course, be able to cook your own food--you can't lug your mother about with you to do it!

But you cannot cook food straight off without ever having learnt how; and so I advise every Scout to set to work and learn this during the winter months, before the camping season comes on.

You can do a good deal by helping in the kitchen, and seeing how the food is got ready. Also get a baker to show you how to mix dough and to bake bread.

But it is no use merely to be _shown_ how it should be done; the thing is to do it yourself. You will make a few mistakes at first. Your dough will come out like custard, and your porridge will be burnt, and milk smoked, but after one or two trials you will soon find yourself able to cook quite well.

The first thing that is necessary for cooking, even if it is only to boil a billy of tea, is to have a fire, and tenderfoot makes a pretty hash of lighting a fire until he knows how.

Begin in _a_ small way by putting first some dry "kindling" or small splinters and shavings, dry grass, or a _little_ paper, anything that will easily take fire, and over that stack a lot of small dry sticks, standing on end and leaning together, or leaning against a log on the _windward_ side of it.

Remember, dry _sticks_ are very different from _sticks_ when it comes to lighting a fire.

Dry sticks are seldom found on the ground, they are generally best got from a tree. Find a tree with a dead branch or two, break these off, and you will have dry sticks. For "kindling," a number of sticks partly split or splintered with your knife are useful.

Do you know what "punk" is?

Well, "punk," or "tinder," is what _a_ good many backwoodsmen carry about with them for lighting their fires.

It can be a small bit of cotton waste soaked in petrol or spirits, or very dry, baked fungus, or bark fibre, or anything that will catch fire from the slightest spark.

Then, if you have no matches, you can strike a spark with a flint and steel (the back of your knife on a stone will do it), and so set light to your punk.

Or you can do it with a magnifying glass if there is a good sun shining, by making the sunlight pass through the glass on to a small amount of punk, and in a few seconds it will set it smouldering; and you must then gently blow it up into a glow, and finally into a flame, with which you can light the "kindling."

Indians and savages, who have neither matches nor burning-glasses, get fire by rubbing wood together.

The easiest way is by putting a slat of dry wood on the ground and boring a hole through it with a stick of dry wood, twirling the stick by means of a bow string.

The friction of the two woods causes the kind of sawdust which comes from the hole to get red-hot, and if a little punk is then placed on it and blown into, it brings a flame.

So soon as you have got your small kindling fire alight, add bigger dry sticks, upright and leaning together, until you can get a really strong fire going, when logs can be added.

But for a cooking fire, use plenty of sticks at first, as they make the hot ashes and embers which are most necessary for cooking.

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TIPS FOR THE CAMPING SEASON.

If you make your own sleeping bag out of canvas or sacking, remember two points: first, to have its flaps about a yard longer than yourself, so that you can get well into it in case of rain, and secondly: that to keep warm and dry you want more thickness underneath than above you.

The best way is to have a double sheet under you, or, in other words, make your sleeping bag a double one; you can then fill the lower part with straw, and sleep yourself in the upper compartment.

The object of having long flaps is seen in the illustration. The lower one can be rolled with your spare clothes inside it to form your pillow, while the upper one can be supported by a crossbar to form a little roof over your head. In a sleeping bag of this kind, if waterproof, you can sleep out without a tent at all.

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HOW TO MAKE A CAMP BED.

A very simple and comfortable form of camp bed-and one which you can easily rig up and use in your home, or at an inn, if a bedstead is not available-is this: Make a "hasty stretcher" with two staves and a sack, and lay the ends of the staves on a couple of logs, stones, or boxes.

Keep the staves apart by crossbars, and you have a most comfortable bed. But don't forget to put plenty of blankets, and some thick paper, if you are short of blankets underneath you.

This bed is the best possible one to use when you have to camp on damp ground.

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HOW A TENDERFOOT SITS DOWN.

In camp you can generally tell a tenderfoot from an old scout from the way in which he sits down.

A tenderfoot sits right down on the ground, but the old hand, knowing that this is very likely to give you chill and bring on fever, rheumatism, or other ailments, either squats on his heel, or on both heels--which comes all the more easy if you put a stone under each heel as a support, or if you have your back against a tree.

When an old scout sits on the ground, he always takes care either to sit on his hat, or on a bundle of dry heather, or something that will keep him off the actual ground.

Two ex-Boy Scouts, now officers in the Army, sent me a contribution to our funds lately, as a thanks offering for all the campaigning dodges which they had learnt as Scouts and which had been most helpful to them on active service.

So practise all you can of these tips which I have given: you never know when they may not come in useful to you.

TRAINING AND TRACKING

ZULU TRAINING.

The native boys of the Zulu and Swazi tribes learn to be Scouts before they are allowed to be considered men, and they do it in this way:

When a boy is about fifteen or sixteen, he is taken by the men of his village, stripped of all clothes, and painted white from head to foot, and he is given a shield and one assegai or small spear, and he is turned out of the village and told that he will be killed if anyone catches him while he is still painted white.

So the boy has to go off into the jungle and mountains and hide himself from other men until the white paint wears off, and this generally takes about a month; so that all this time he has to look after himself and stalk game with his one assegai, and kill it and cut it up; he has to light his fire by means of rubbing sticks together in order to cook his meat; he has to make the skin of the animal into a covering for himself; and he has to know what kinds of wild roots, berries, and leaves are good for food as vegetables.

If he is not able to do these things he dies of starvation, or is killed by wild animals.

If he succeeds in keeping himself alive, and is able to find his way back to his village, he returns when the white paint has worn off, and is then received with great rejoicings by his friends and relatives, and is allowed to become a soldier of the tribe, since he has shown that he is able to look after himself.

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TRACKING BY TOUCH.

General Dodge, of the American Army, describes how he once had to pursue a party of Red Indians who had been murdering some people.

The murderers had nearly a week's start, and had gone away on horseback. Rut General Dodge got a splendid tracking-scout named Espinosa to help him. The Indians were all riding unshod horses except one, and after Espinosa had been tracking them for many miles he suddenly got off his horse and pulled four horseshoes out of a hidden crevice in the rocks. The Indian had evidently pulled them off so that they should not leave a track.

For six days they pursued the band, and for a great part of the time there was no sign visible to an ordinary eye, and after going for 150 miles they eventually overtook and captured the whole party. But it was all entirely due to Espinosa's good tracking.

On another occasion some American troops were following up a number of Indians, who had been raiding and murdering whites, and they had some other Red Indian scouts to assist them in tracking.

In order to make a successful attack, they marched by night, and the trackers found the way in the darkness by feeling the tracks of the enemy with their hands, and they went at a fairly good pace for many miles, merely touching the track with their fingers; but suddenly they halted and reported that the track they had been following had been crossed by a fresh track, and on the commanding officer going up, he found the Indians still holding the track with their hands, so that there should be no mistake.

A light was brought, and it was found that the new track was that of a bear which had walked across the trail of the enemy! So the march continued without further incident, and the enemy were surprised, and caught in the early hours of the morning.

I myself led a column through an intricate part of the Matopo Mountains in Rhodesia by night to attack the enemy's stronghold, which I had reconnoitred the previous day. I found the way by feeling my own tracks, sometimes with my hands and sometimes through the soles of my shoes, which had worn very thin; and I never had any difficulty in finding the line.

Tracking, or following up tracks, is called by different names in different countries. Thus, in South Africa you would talk only of "spooring," that is, following up the "spoor"; in India it would be following the "pugs," or "pugging"; in America it is "trailing."

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JACKAL CATCHING.

In India I have seen a certain tribe of gipsies who eat jackals. Now, a jackal is one of the most suspicious animals that lives, and is very difficult to catch in a trap, but these gipsies catch them by calling them in this way: Several men with dogs hide themselves in the grass and bushes round a small field. In the middle of this open place one gipsy imitates the call of the jackals calling to each other; he gets louder and louder till they seem to come together; then they begin to growl and finally tackle each other with violent snapping, snarling, and yelling, and at the same time he shakes a bundle of dried leaves, which sounds like the animals dashing about among grass and reeds.

Then he flings himself down on the ground, and throws up dust in the air, so that he is completely hidden in it, still growling and fighting.

If any jackal is within sound of this, he comes tearing out of the jungle, and dashes into the dust to join in the fight. When he finds a man there, he comes out again in a hurry, but meantime the dogs have been loosed from all sides, and they quickly catch him and kill him.

Mr. William Long, in his very interesting book called _Beasts of the Field_, describes how he once called a moose. The moose is a very huge kind of stag, with an ugly, bulging kind of nose. He lives in the forests of North America and Canada, and is very hard to get near; and is pretty dangerous when he is angry.

Mr. Long was in a canoe fishing when he heard a moose bull calling in the forest--so just for fun he went ashore and cut a strip of bark off a birch tree and rolled it up so as to make a kind of megaphone, With this he proceeded to imitate the roaring grunt of the bull moose. The effect was tremendous; the old moose came tearing down, and even came into the water and tried to get at him--and it was only by hard paddling that in the end he got away.