CHAPTER I.

THE CAMP ON THE HURRICANE.

“The same old hard luck seems to follow our scout master wherever we go, Hugh!”

“It surely looks that way, Billy, for a fact.”

“After taking all the trouble to hunt around the country for a new camping place where the Oakvale Troop could open their summer campaign, here the scout master has to be called back home with his mother coming down sick.”

“It was too bad, Billy, and Lieutenant Denmead looked as if he had met with a bitter disappointment. Having his old mother ill would be bad enough at any time, but to have it happen just now seemed doubly hard. I know he looked forward to a week or so of rest and recreation up here.”

“Well, all my sympathy is with the lieutenant; I’m not wasting any on the bunch of scouts gathered here around these tents, let me tell you, Hugh. They’ll be just as well looked after by our efficient assistant scout master.”

“It’s nice of you to say that, Billy, even if not true. I’ll try my level best to please you, but if I succeed it will only be because I’ve got such a splendid lot of fellows to work with.”

“What d’ye think of the place our scout master picked out for us, Hugh?”

“Couldn’t be much better, it seems to me, Billy. We’ve got mountain scenery and running water. We can take long hikes to the top of the range there; and at the same time get to a town inside of an hour if we want to. The combination is pretty nearly perfect I should say in so far as that goes.”

The stout boy in khaki, Billy Worth, looked quickly up at the face of his companion, Hugh Hardin. Evidently there must have been some little intonation connected with the last part of the other’s remark that aroused a sudden suspicion in his mind.

“Something you don’t appear to like about it, Hugh,” he remarked. “Has it anything to do with this rapid river, which might be dangerous to a fellow not knowing how to swim, or take care of himself?”

“I wasn’t thinking about that just then, Billy; and besides, all the boys, so far as I know, are good swimmers—unless it’s that new recruit, Harold Tremaine; and we’ve got to find out considerable about him on this trip.”

“Then perhaps you happen to know something about the farmers of this section, and that they’ll raise a kick against scouts crossing their fields; how about that guess, Mr. Scout Master?”

“Still shy more or less, Billy,” the other told him. “To relieve your mind, since I see you’re bound to get the truth, I’ll tell you what it is. I understand that a couple of miles away toward the west of this place, there’s a big establishment or cement works where they employ a couple of hundred workmen.”

“Why, yes, I believe that’s so,” interrupted Billy. “It’s called the Samson Cement Company, seems to me. But what’s that got to do with us scouts, Hugh?”

“I hope it isn’t going to have anything to do with us,” came the reply, as something like a slight frown appeared on Hugh’s forehead. “But it happens that there’s some sort of trouble going on at the works.”

“A strike, do you mean?” ejaculated Billy, becoming deeply interested at once, for he was a boy who delighted in action and adventure of all kinds.

“Yes, and they say that it’s developing into a bitter struggle, too. The men are mostly foreigners, and their wives are worse than the workers. If strike-breakers are brought up from Boston, as there was talk of the company doing, there might possibly be a pitched battle between the strikers and the guards who act as deputies.”

“Whew! You don’t say!” cried Billy, with a whistle that marked his interest in the news. “But, Hugh, if we make it a point to keep away from that section of country in our hikes there’s no reason why we should get mixed up in any of this ugly business, that I can see.”

“Perhaps not,” the scout master continued, “but if these ignorant foreigners begin to feel the pinch of hunger pretty soon, they may take to raiding orchards and fields of the farmers, and then there will be the mischief to pay. They don’t bother much about the rights of property when they can see no sign of officers around. And if they happen to discover some of our troop, they may think from our uniforms we’re members of the State Militia, sent secretly to camp here so as to arrest them when they get to acting vicious.”

“Hugh, I can see now where we _might_ get into trouble. If Lieutenant Denmead had dreamed of anything like this, the chances are he would never have selected a camp so near the cement works. It’s too late to make a change of base now, I reckon.”

“Yes, we’ve got things all nicely fixed for a stay, Billy, and we’ll have to try and not get mixed up in any of this strike business.”

“That reminds me that I saw three men walking up that country road a while back when I was taking a look around; and, Hugh, they were foreigners, as sure as anything. We may have to keep watch nights so as not to suffer from a raid on our stores.”

“Oh! I don’t think that would happen,” said Hugh, immediately. “These men are ignorant and foreigners but we mustn’t believe them to be a nest of thieves. Only when they see their women and children suffering from lack of proper food they might be tempted to resort to violence. In one way you could hardly blame the men for taking what don’t belong to them in order to save the lives so precious to them.”

From where the two boys reclined at their ease, they could look at the tents of waterproofed canvas that had been pitched with such skill as scouts learn to show after they have had frequent practice. Several lads were bustling around, tidying up the camp, looking after the fires and apparently making ready for rather a lengthy and enjoyable stay.

Close by ran the river, a brawling stream of quite some size, and also deep in places. It was said to contain plenty of fish, so that the scouts anticipated enjoying more than one chowder during their stay on its high bank. While they had no boat with them, that was not going to debar them from making frequent use of the stream for bathing purposes.

Hugh and Billy belonged to the Wolf Patrol of the Oakvale Troop. They were among the charter members or “early settlers” as Billy called them, having helped organize the initial patrol.

By degrees there had come other patrols, known as the Hawks, the Otters, the Fox, and the Owls, and the members of all of these were now in camp on the Hurricane River. The first mentioned patrol had for leader Walter Osborne; Alec Sands had charge of the lively Otters; while Don Miller was looked up to as the head of the Fox adjunct.

A retired army officer had taken charge of the troop, and devoted much of his time to building up the organization, having the development of boy character as his impetus. On this particular occasion, as we have learned from the conversation between Hugh and Billy, Lieutenant Denmead had been called away, which he had undoubtedly regretted very much, just after their camp was started.

In other seasons some of these enterprising scouts had managed to enjoy certain outings which have been described at length in the earlier volumes of this series. For the full particulars of these happenings, the reader will have to be referred to those books, every one of which will be found teeming with adventure, useful information, accounts of scout activities, and all such things as boys with red blood in their veins love to read about.

Some of them had seen service with the genuine army signal corps; on another occasion they had been enabled to work in conjunction with the maneuvers of the State Militia on their annual training trip, when a mock battle was fought in which the scouts took a prominent part.

A few of the boys on a visit to Florida had a chance to assist the life-savers of the coast in rescuing survivors from a wreck; then there was another time when some of them accompanied the Naval Reserve Corps aboard a war vessel placed at their disposal by the National Government, which gave the lads a splendid opportunity to pick up much valuable information connected with naval affairs.

Under the energetic leadership of Hugh Hardin, the scouts had undertaken to clean up their town in order to assist the Women’s Civic Organization, which alone and unaided had found the task beyond their power. That triumph alone would have been enough to make the scouts respected in the community, even if they had not in numerous other ways proved their efficiency.

The latest exploit in which some of the Wolf Patrol members were concerned had taken place at some distance away from the home town. They chanced to be sent to Lawrence on business early in the spring at just the time when there came a terrible rain, and a flood that put the whole country under water. Being kept from returning home by a break in the railroad embankment, Hugh and his chums proved themselves energetic workers, and by enthusing the local troop of scouts to work like beavers in rescuing imperiled persons, they not only did a vast amount of good but revived the flagging interest of the organization, so that from that day Lawrence Boy Scout stock boomed.

With all these successful doings scattered along the pages of their short history, the scouts of Oakvale had reason to feel proud of the badges some of them wore. From scout headquarters in New York City had come medals such as are only given to those who save human life at peril to themselves; for the enthusiastic Lawrence people had seen to it that a record of the achievements of the wide-awake visitors to their town on that momentous occasion was forwarded to the proper officials, with a request that their efforts be duly recognized in the proper way.

“Hello! Sounds to me like some of the boys have started to bathe, even if the sun is burning hot for a June day!” remarked Billy Worth, as sounds of splashing, accompanied by boisterous sounds, came to their ears.

Hugh sat up and looked a trifle anxious.

“I’m sorry they were in such a rushing hurry,” he remarked. “I meant to give them one more caution about risking that fierce current out there. The river is unusually high for early summer, on account of recent rains, and I would hate to get caught in that swirl myself, stout swimmer that I am.”

“Same here, Hugh!” declared Billy Worth, as he started to get on his feet. “Let’s walk over there, and you can tell the fellows what you think about it. I’m more concerned about that new tenderfoot, Tremaine, than any of the old members. He seems to be a bundle of nerves, and inclined to be rash. That’s just the kind of chap to take chances, so as to make the rest think him some punkins.”

“All right! Come on, Billy. I’ll feel easier in my mind——”

Hugh stopped short in what he was saying. A sudden chorus of excited cries rang out, coming from the river where the scouts were bathing.

“Scoot for it, Hugh!” barked Billy, often called “Billy the Wolf” by his chums. “I reckon what we were just talking about has happened. I heard someone shriek that Tremaine was drowning! I’m at your heels, Hugh, all right!”