The Wolf Patrol: A Tale of Baden-Powell's Boy ScoutsFinnemore, John
General
The Wolf Patrol: A Tale of Baden-Powell's Boy Scouts
Finnemore, John
Adventure and adventurers -- Juvenile fiction; Boy Scouts -- Juvenile fiction
The scouts' eyes glistened, and they were easily induced to accept the
kindly offer, and so they glided on their way towards the town,
chatting together like old friends. Mrs. Slade pulled up for a moment
at the ash plantation, and Chippy sprang out with the tomahawk. In
five minutes he was back with a tough, straight ash-stick, which he
trimmed and whittled with his knife as they made the last mile into the
city.
At the wharf where the barge was to lie for the night they met Mr.
Slade, a short, thick-set man, with a short, broad face between a fur
cap and a belcher handkerchief. He was to the full as good-natured as
his wife, and cordially re-echoed her invitation for the scouts to
sleep in their cabin. The wharfinger's house was near at hand, so that
the owners of the barge would not be far away.
The scouts stowed their haversacks and staves away in the cabin of the
barge, shut it up, and locked it with the key which Mrs. Slade had lent
to them, and left the key at the wharfinger's house. Then they put on
their jackets and went for a stroll round the streets of the quaint old
city. The long summer evening was dying as they stood below the fine
west front of the cathedral, and watched the swallows skimming about
the noble towers. Near at hand was a post-office, where Dick
triumphantly scribbled, 'At Newminster. All well,' on a card, and
dropped it into the letter-box.
'Supper and turn in now, Chippy,' he said,
'Righto,' murmured the Raven. 'We must be off early to-morrow. Road
home 'ull work out three or four mile more'n the road 'ere.'
'That's a fact,' said Dick; 'but we'll turn up at Bardon by Saturday
night without setting foot in a train yet. Now, Chippy, what shall we
have for supper? We've got jolly good lodgings for nothing: we can
afford something extra for supper.'
They were going down the street which would lead them back to the
wharf, and the Raven paused in front of a butcher's shop.
'Can we sport a pound o' sausages?' he said. 'They'd mek' a good feed
to-night, and we'd have one or two left for brekfast again.'
'Good,' said Dick, and they laid down eightpence for a pound of
sausages, and threepence for a small loaf, and returned to the barge.
Here they fried their sausages and made some tea, for the fire in the
stove was not out, and the good-natured bargewoman had left them a
small bucketful of coke to make it up again.
After supper they carefully put out the fire, and turned in on the two
bunks which lay one on either side of the little cabin. Here, wrapped
in their blankets, they slept like tops till five o'clock in the
morning.
Chippy was the first to wake, and he got up and thrust his head out at
the hatch. His movements aroused his comrade, and Dick sprang to the
floor.
'Lucky we've been in 'ere,' said Chippy. 'It's been pourin' o' rain in
the night.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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