The Wolf Patrol: A Tale of Baden-Powell's Boy ScoutsFinnemore, John
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The Wolf Patrol: A Tale of Baden-Powell's Boy Scouts
Finnemore, John
Adventure and adventurers -- Juvenile fiction; Boy Scouts -- Juvenile fiction
'Not they,' returned Chippy. 'I know more about them sorts o' boots
than wot you do. It's a scout's job to twig everythin', an' I twigged
the screws in his boots. I knowed they worn't common, an' a day or two
arter I asked a snob' (a local term for a cobbler) 'about it. I done
one or two odd jobs for 'im to get 'im to talk, and then I sez to 'im,
"D'yer ever screw tips on heels?" "No," he sez, "never. We screw tips
on the toes sometimes, for there ain't much depth o' leather theer.
But on heels there's plenty of leather to drive nails into, an' that's
a lot quicker."'
'By Jingo, Chippy!' murmured Dick; 'we shall have to get you the Wolf
badge.'
'Not me,' grunted Chippy; 'yer must do a lot more than that to get the
"Wolf" name, I should fancy. But wot about this work? Wot about
Albert?'
He turned to business again, knitting his brows and staring hard at the
track their man had left.
'The thing gets queerer still, if it is the man Albert,' said Dick.
'Why should he be here, all this distance from Locking?'
'Six mile good,' put in the Raven.
'Yes,' went on Dick, 'full six miles, and then taking off his boots and
stealing about like a thief or an escaped convict, as we thought.'
'Foller 'im up,' said Chippy shortly.
'Right,' said Dick, 'we'll see this out;' and the scouts began once
more to work along the trail.
For more than half a mile they followed quite easily. There were many
bare patches among the grass, and the heavy shower which had fallen at
midday proved a good friend to them, the damp soil giving many
excellent impressions of the heavy steps of the man whom they pursued.
The boys had now gained a very lonely part of the heath, for the
fugitive appeared to be making for the most secluded corner of the vast
expanse. They had been steadily working away from the part where the
patrols had been searching, and the distance between them and the
rendezvous at the railway-station increased with every stride.
Chippy was leading, and Dick was guarding the rear. The former looked
out the track, the latter watched before and behind and on either side:
by sharing the duties thus they covered the whole field of a scout's
work--the finding of the trail and the guarding against surprise.
Looking out in this fashion, Dick saw a crow come sailing on outspread
wings, down, down from a great height. The crow was skimming straight
towards a small solitary pine sixty or seventy yards before them, as if
aiming to settle among the topmost branches; but just as it was about
to alight, it gave a startled, gobbling quaw-quaw-quaw, flapped its
wings swiftly, and shot away at a sharp angle, and continued its flight
across the heath.
Dick reached out his patrol flag and touched Chippy. The latter
paused, and the two scouts put their heads together while Dick
whispered what he had seen. 'There's someone about,' concluded Dick.
'The bird was going to settle, but it was scared and flew away.'
'S'pose I 'ave a look?' suggested Chippy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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