Boys' Life 1922-07: Vol 12 Iss 7

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QUE BOY SCOUTS’ MAGAZINE i OF- DOORS ADVENTURE MAGAZINE FOR BOYS PRICE 20 CENTS In_ this Issue — J. Allan Dunn— Wilbur S. Boyer—Berton Braley —Joseph B. Ames — Dan Beard— Stewart Edward White — Irving Crump — Homer Croy— and many others

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“Jim Morse Among the Cannibals By J. Allan Dunn ] O you remember Jim Morse, and Captain. Burr, and the Admiral (the parrot that was almost human)? They are all coming back in BOYS’ LIFE in the very near future in the very best story that J. Allan Dunn has ever written. It is entitled “Jim Morse Among the Cannibals’ and you can believe that there is thrill and adventure a-plenty in this serial. You remember how they rescued the white girl from the ferocious Karons? Well, since then she has grown to be a very charming young lady. She has been living in a missionary MING TONS 0 vy Ce This is a drawing of school in New Guinea and Jim and Captain Burr have been father im Morse, the Cap- and brother to her. But she is captured by the Cannibals and spirited ite 8m re away into the heart of the wilds of New Guinea. Jim and the oa ee Captain and the Admiral go after her and the weird adventures, hair- breadth escapes, thrills, fights, and adventures they pass through before they can locate the missing girl, are enough to make a fellow’s hair turn gray just reading about them. It’s the best story for boys that has been written in years and BOYS’ LIFE counts itself extremely fortunate in being able to publish it as Watch for it; it will begin soon. Once you get started, you will never want to a serial. miss a single installment. “Roy Blakeley’s Funny-Bone Hike’ By Percy K. Fitzhugh The Admiral mend it to fellows who are worry- ing about examinations or why their wireless sets won't work. But we want to issue a warning right here. If you have a split lip or a sore throat or any other affliction that hurts when you laugh, skip those pages in BOYS’ LIFE until you are well. If you don’t we won't be responsible for o3 the consequences. Roy Blakeley will be back again in an early is- sue and he and the rest of his troop will romp right along * through six issues in a mad pro- cession of foolishness. | OY BLAKELEY, Pee-wee and the rest of those regular fellows had such a dandy time on the Bee-line Hike which you just finished in the last issue that we have persuaded Mr. Fitzhugh to send them on another hike just as interesting. This time they take a funny-bone hike and believe us, funny should be spelled in capital letters in this case. You remem- ber how tickled you were over the Bee-line Hike? Well, this new Fitzhugh story is going to tickle you just about twice as hard and twice as often. Charlie Chaplin never pulled any more laughable stunts than these scouts do and he never got into any more ridiculous situations or more hu- morous trouble than they manage $: to get into. Every word of it is a scream. We especially recom- py 3 ; Pay, AN Great Short Stories a Radio Jnformation The coming issues of BOYS’ LIFE ‘ Bp ’ Thomas N. Wrenn, who is a are going wh pared a in ~_ fe, wat. AN a Fy a te "7 practical radio man and has been stories. nciuded among them wi ye AM) Sia NAY, .. 5 oa . a7 es an P ~ . stories of adventure, stories of daring, a al (A) Ai : ; ph _ — To Pog built tales of achievement, animal stories, AY) , } applances of all inds and all athletic stories, and side-splitting hu- varieties, is going to conduct the morous yarns. These are all by the This is Artist Bert Salg’s Idea of Roy Blakeley, Pee-wee best series of articles for amateur very best authors who are writing for ; ; j - a d , : - . S Harris and the rest. Roy is trying to tell you how good Mr. radio fans that has ever been oys. Fitshugh's new story really is written. If there is anything about radio you want to know, he Boy Scouts of America, will be able to tell you. If you follow his advice as it appears Publishers and Owners of BOYS’ LIFE, —_— — Wines f , 2 i 200 Fifth Avenue, New York City: ys ar} rom month to month in the magazine and build your outfit Enclosed I send you Two Dollars ($2.00) as pz en full for 12 bers 90C : , rs 7 . the eetet Scout Magazine BOYS’ LIFE Couhenhen ‘with : — number accordingly, you will find one day that you have about the best n consideration of my sending this remittance promptly, you are to mail me ia ° . . . without further cost the 256 page, illustrated, Boy Scout Diary. set in your nel orho é J y OR IF YOU PREFER—IMMEDIATE SPECIAL OFFER 8 MONTHS—$1.00 tuff * h — = od and ae wwe rs rer — stult when other fellows are c awing the air for he p. you are Name occecese poéeneteens ee aeiess oe . * r - s a wireless fan you cannoé afford to miss a single one of these articles. Address ; P ‘ ere @anadian pesvege 25¢ extra Foreign postage 50c extra

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July, 1922 THE BOY SCOUTS’ MAGAZINE THE OUT-OF-DOORS ADVENTURE MAGAZINE FOR BOYS WAS HE FOOLISH? Oy eq | momentarily dizzy, Mrs. Mary Peto fell from the platform of a New York subway station during rush hour just as a train was thundering into the station. She struck her head on the rail, and lay stunned for a moment. Men and women on the _ platform screamed, but the only boy in the crowd, Louis Stiakes, sixteen and a student in Commercial High School, had presence of mind enough to jump down to the tracks and lift the woman -up on the platform while the train rumbled toward him, despite the grinding of brake shoes from which sparks were flying. The train stopped within four feet of the boy. As he climbed out of the pit a man seized him by the arm and dragged him to the platform. “You little fool, you. What did you do that for?’ he ex- claimed excitedly, but the boy only smiled at the question. HERO MEDAL FOR A DOG. Jack, a dog owned by Ruth Laberge, of Manchester, New Hampshire, has been awarded a medal for bravery and an at- tempt to save a life. Jack saw another dog fall into a flooded stream. He saw that the animal was being swept away to de- struction. Eagerly he raced down the bank until he got below the struggling dog, then dashed out into the current. The smaller dog went down before the would-be res- cuer could reach him and Jack almost lost his life trying to get back to shore him- self. Someone witnessed the dog’s bravery and recommended him for a medal. Jack, who is part shepherd and part terrier, was awarded a medal by the Animal Rescue League. HE DOESN'T HAVE TO WEAR 'EM. An Airedale, belonging to a man by the name of Wingerd, of Chambersburgh, Pa., has a pen- chant for finding spectacles. Every time any one looses a pair and has a difficult time lo- cating them they send for the dog. He starts on the hunt and never returns without. them. ATE TOO MUCH—LOST HIS JOB. Arthur Wiburn, machinist at the naval torpedo station in Washington was re- quired not to have a waist larger than twenty-four inches in diameter. Arthur’s job entailed, among other things, crawling through torpedo tubes of submarines and destroyers. But lately Arthur has been eating heavily and the other day, because of his girth (he now weighs 200 pounds) he had more than ordinary difficulty get- ting out of a torpedo tube that he started to crawl through. He got wedged inside and had a tight + es getting out. After ” aie, Teen Tramp! In the heart of ev'ry Scout there is honor for the flag, And a tho’t of all its glory of the past, And each Scout has made a vow that his faith will never lag, He will serve that starry banner to the last. Chorus: Tramp, tramp, tramp, the Scouts are marching! Under smiling skies above; By the red and white and blue We will hold forever true To the glory of the country that we love! In our work or in our play, in the city or the glen, We are building up the body and the brain; And we build the spirit, too, which shall make us into men Who can keep the flag forever without stain. As we serve the Scouting law, so we serve our mighty land, And we march along together to the goal, With our bodies clean and strong, and our minds that understand And a faith that holds us loyal, heart and soul. By Berton Braley Listening In BEING PREPARED. Frank McCarthy, a New York scout, never suspected when he was learning first aid that he might be called upon to use his scout training to save the life of a member of his family. Recently he found his dad overcome by gas fumes and almost dead. He shouted down the dumb-waiter shaft for someone to get an ambulance, and while they were getting it he began to apply artificial respira- tion. An ambulance pulmotor finally brought the patient back to conscious- ness, but the ambulance doctor said that if it had not been for Frank’s first aid the man would have been beyond saving by the time the ambulance reached there. WHAT SORT OF TOOTH PASTE DID HE USE? Out in Nebraska has been unearthed an ape’s tooth, a molar, that scientists esti- mate has been buried 500,000 years. They assert that it is a remarkably strong tooth IT TAKES STUDY TO DIG A DITCH. - William Wood, of Fairmount, Indiana, 86 years old, has spent the greater part of that time in ditches. He digs them for a living. “It’s healthy, out-of-doors work,” says he, “‘and a fellow has to be an expert and study all about ditches to be a good ditch digger.” 500-POUND NEST. Philadelphia’s Academy of Netural Science has just acquired the nest of a bald eagle that measures seven and one- half feet in diameter and weighs 500 pounds. It is the largest bird’s nest of which there is any record. “MOVIE STUFF!” John J. Cotter, an Erie engineer, while driving his train at a high rate of speed, saw on the track ahead of his train a baby just able to toddle. He slammed on the air and the brakes spat fire, but he knew the train would never stop be- ‘mind and his character” the cab and hurried along the running board of the locomotive to the pilot. Then, climbing down to the cow-catcher, he leaned over and reached ahead of the engine, sweeping the child up in his arms as the locomotive thundered over the spot where the baby, paralyzed with fear, had been. ‘Movie stuff’ he called it when his friends congratulated him on his quick thinking and quick acting. WINS TWO HONORS. Lester R. Watson, not content with carrying off an annual prize of $1200 for “his quality of at Columbia University, also won the Rolker prize awarded to him because he was “deemed by his classmates the most worthy of special distinction because of scholarship, par- ticipation in student activities and prominence in athletic sports.” COURAGE IN A COOK. A circus cook was the only man who had courage enough to tackle an escaped lion empty-handed when the beast ran amuck in the streets of Buffalo. He flung himself on the lion’s back in an effort to keep the beast back from the crowd, and he held on for a long time despite the fact that the lion dragged him many yards. ANOTHER WIRELESS HERO. A. W. Hardwick, the chief wireless operator on the ill-fated British steamer “Egypt” that went down in a collision in a fog, went down with his ship still flash- ing an S.O.S. for assistance and despite the fact that his helpers urged him to quit his post and jump overboard with the life belt they had brought him. He went down, was shot to the surface in the vortex created by the sinking liner, but. when he was picked up he was too far gone from exhaustion to be saved- And while he was bravely facing death and sticking to his post, the fear-mad- dened Lascars and East Indians of the crew were fighting women and children and men in evening clothes for posses- sion of the life boats. More than sixty perished in the wreck. : The ship's printer, named Genner, gave his life to save a woman, survivors said. Genner, who left a wife and child at Dover, put on a life belt after the col- lision and was about to jump into the sea when he saw a woman running up and down the bridge begging for help. Gen- ner approached her, put his life belt about her and said: “Madame, | do not know how to swim, but take it anyway.” Genner was drowned. P Dr. Bramner, the ship’s doctor, and the second officer kept afloat with a plank while rs for aid that was long in coming. r- Bramner finally weak- ened and Lis “i give up “Good-bye,” he said, and sank. “Pm done for,” that he lost his job. to have lasted that long. fore it hit the child, so he climbed out of WARREN G. HARDING W. G. McADOO 20 Editorial Board cents a copy—$2.00 a year H P , Vice- i maocary Svecieat Honorary Vice-President On a a Duta Jet, Sag tote will be no geen et to WILLIAM D. MURRAY , ? COLIN H. LIVINGSTONE members of the Boy Scouts o merica, on gage subscrip- peg —— President tions to Boys’ Lire; $2.00 a year to everybody. FRANK PRESBREY Honorary Vice-Presidents ; 5 Editorial Staff mee D. PRATT Copyright, 1922, by the Boy Scouts of America. Entered as Dae SOGTEe SOAR weep Sev Yack N.Y ‘unter the Act ot Werh 34. 1s DAN BEARD Honorary Vice-President. and JAMES E. WEST Acceptance for mailing at special rate postage provided for in IRVING CRUMP National Scout Commissioner Chief Scout Executive Section 1103, Act of October 3d, 1917, June 13th, .1918. E. O'CONNOR HENRY VAN DYKE Bus FRANKLIN K. MATHIEWS Western m Advertising, Mas Manager Art Editor FRANK J. RIGNEY siness Director FREDERIC L. COLVER Agvessaing Ky.) tal ‘Cuan Manager H. M. CLYMER

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’ The Boy Scouts’ Magazine EM’ BROWN woke up suddenly on his pallet in the attic. Lights were showing through the chinks in the flooring, heavy planks that bore the marks of the adze and formed at once bare floor and unplastered ceiling to the frontier cabin. Voices came up to him, a deep murmur of men talking earnestly. He had known his father expected company, sensed something of mystery in the fact that he had been packed off to bed at an early hour, that his mother and sister had retreated before their usual time to the second room of the ground floor. He did not count the lean-to kitchen as a regular room. “War, I tell ye. It means war!” He knew that booming voice. It belonged to the man who was second to only one in Lem’s estimation of a hero. The first was Ethan Allen, leader of the Green Mountain Boys. And this was Seth Warner, his lieutenant. There was a price on both their heads because they had resisted the Governor and the Council of New York in their attempt to oust the settlers on Lake Champlain from their hard-won clearings and holdings in favor of land speculators. The boundaries of New York had been arbitrarily changed by the schemes of these land grabbers and the settlers, hitherto quiet and loyal, threatened by the loss of their homes, had resisted with their sinews, their muskets and their determined wills under the Vermont leader, Ethan Allen. They had held the New Hampshire Grants while appeal was made to the king; they held it still while the speculating invaders tried to take possession of the lands unjustly given them under New York patents. Leave or purchase had been the order. Get out or buy the lands granted you that you have redeemed from the wilderness, from forest and morass by the sweat of your brow. Within the year a reward had been offered by Governor Tryon of New York for the apprehension of Allen, Warner and others, including Lem’s own father. An order had been issued for them to surrender themselves within thirty days under penalty of death. They had retorted by offering a reward for the arrest of the Attorney General of New York, they had cast bullets and replenished powder supplies and told Tryon to come and ad of Lake Champla By J. Allan Dunn Illustrated by Harold Anderson ment. But they’re overruled by this German George and his crowd that’s bent on using these colonies to fatten their revenoos. “T don’t mind bein’ taxed, but I want to have my say-so about ’em through a man elected from my district. And I say that every red-blooded Englishman who came here to find liberty of speech and act and conscience, or was born here later, feels the same way I do.” The words came plainly, so did the strong murmurs of assent. “Taxes an’ violations of the Charters, one atop the other. Look at us. What they’re tryin’ to do to us they’re tryin’ to do to all the colonies. “They’ve appealed, same as we appealed, and here comes Gage with his British Army and tries to make slaves of us. Same as Tryon would do if he could’) The time’s come for action. Don’t they know it? They know they’ve trod on us too hard and so they try to take away our arms. That handful of men last month, there on Lexington Common, when they fired against the British troops, they started our army, the Ameri- can army. They started something that won't stop till we’ve won free an’ clear. Our army’s growin’ now, day an’ night. It’s scattered, I grant ye, but they'll git together. There’s a man down south who can lead it.” “Who’s that ?” “Colonel George Washington of Virginia. There’s a man for ye. Brains as well as bravery. He can think as well as fight. He’s the kind who can take our handful an’ make an army of Gideon out of it. The Second Continental Congress is meetin’ in Philadelphia right now an’ they’ll app’int him Commander in Chief of the Colonial Forces of America. You mark my words.” “He can’t fight without money, without guns and powder. The Lexington militia fell back. We can’t fight all England. The tail can’t wag the dog.” EM’ changed his position as he saw Warner leap to his feet and shake a finger in the speaker’s face, though the latter was out of sight. But Lem’ heard the scrape of a take them. The same spirit that had made the militiamen turn out on Lexington Com- mon in defiance of the at- tempt of General Gage to disarm the colonists of Mas- sachusetts had first flamed up in these stalwarts from the Green Mountains, prompt to defend their rights and liber- ties against the Tory, Tryon. But Lem’ knew all these matters. They had been dis- cussed before him. He was almost a man. He did a man’s work, for all he was but fifteen. He could handle a musket as well as his father. It was not for this he had been sent early to the attic. Lem’ had no thought of eavesdropping. He was not disobedient. But the spirit of the men downstairs was also in him and now the word “War’ in the heavy bass of Seth Warner brought him wide awake, tingling, eager. The chinks were biggest where the big chimney came through the floor. He padded on his bare feet and knelt down by the widest of them. There were seven men about the fire. He could see only the legs of four of them, recog- nizing one pair in tanned buckskin leggings as belong- ing to his father. The three men in the center he could see distinctly. Seth Warner was in the middle, his tanned face lit up by the fire, his grey eyes catching the flames, his big fist pounding his knee. “War, I tell ye. It’s bin comin’ for fifteen years, ever since George the Third come to the throne.” “You’re talkin’ treason, Seth. Better go easy.” “Treason! Treason, you say, Simpson? ‘Then treason let it be. I’m standin’ for the rights of an Englishman, an’ if a German king tries to take ’em from me I say I’m within my rights to stand up for ’em. I tell you there’s plenty of Englishmen back in the Old Country feel the same way I do. Right in Parlia- 1922 The Man With His Hands Tied Behind Him ONY was in the steerage of a his old home in Europe he had been kicked and cuffed and often—very often— was hungry. crusts of bread; one day he had gone even to a garbage can on the street and fished around until he had found a bit of decayed fruit. That was the kind of life he had led—and now he was coming to America! America meant some- thing to him. But he knew very little about it; even the name George Washington was vague. He had been a general; cities had been named after him; that was all he knew. But Tony knew that America was a place where a boy could go swimming and where no one had to go to bed hungry. The Statue of Liberty rose before him. He knew what it was—a cousin who had come to America had sent him a post card picture of it. Tony had carried it around with him, wrapped up in a bit of paper that the grocer had given him. But Tony had to work so hard that he had sweat it through until the picture was discolored —but he still had it. Tony compared them— yes, this was Americal! The ship stopped; Tony with his father and mother got off; men herded them down long run- ways, looked at their eyes, put swabs up their noses, pinned numbers on their backs —Ellis Island. After a time Tony was landed; actually had his feet on the soil. It was a wonderful feeling. That was where I met him; this poor little im- migrant boy. We walked up the street. Tony looked at the huge skyscrapers— he could see their tops only by throwing back his head and opening his mouth; the hustle, the bustle, the great crowds—and nobody hungry; nobody pok- ing in garbage cans. It was splendid. It was worth coming to. Tony did not talk much; there was too much to look at; too much to see. His father and mother still had their old-fashioned bags and boxes tied with cords. Tony had never seen a real trunk. We came to an open space and sat down. His father and mother were tired—the boxes and bags were heavy; his parents were con- tent to rest, but Tony was more active; he stood up, booked around. “‘What is that?” he asked and pointed to a bronze statue of a man with his hands tied be- hind him. In the course of my work I had passed the statue many times, but I was busy—or thought I was. had given it scarcely a glance. It was common to me; I saw it every day. But now I began to see it in a different way. I began to translate for Tony the story of the man with his hands tied behind him. It was during the War of Independence, I ex- plained, when America was trying to free itself from England. Tony had never heard of such a ship coming to America. In By Homer Croy He had lived on- ‘enemy. war. He thought that America had always been just as it is. It meant nothing to him, but he was interested. I began to warm up to the story. I could see the spark kindling in his eyes—to be free meant something to Tony. The English were in New York, I said, right here where he was now, and George Washington was trying to drive them out. The English were also on Long Island and had our troops in a trap. Every day George Washington expected the En- glish to attack, but they delayed. There was the agony of suspense. For two days and nights George Washington did not sleep and most of the time he was on his horse. More than anything else he wanted to know the plans of the enemy; then he could prepare himself, move his troops to meet the attack. In the American army was a young man named Nathan Hale—a handsome, daring fellow. He had been a prize student at Yale and had taught school. He was an athlete. He had a good head and a good body. He could put one hand on the top of a six foot fence and vault over it—clear it without touching. He was that strong. He had kicked a football over the trees in what is now the Bowery—and in those days a football was round, heavy and awkward; not easy to kick as it is today. He could study tremendously and play just as hard. In the army he had risen to Captain and was the pride of all his former class mates and friends. He was destined to be a great man. And then George Washington wanted some one to discover the plans of the enemy. This meant that the person must be a spy. All knew what being a spy meant. e does not go in uniform, but in disguise; if caught there is but one end. Nathan Hale knew this—it made him all the more determined to go. Even George Washington and the whole American army could not force a person to be a spy. They could force him to become a soldier, but not a spy. A person had to volunteer this of his own free will. No one can force a person to do the big things of life —they must come from within. “I will go, I will be a spy,” said Nathan Hale and prepared himself. He took off his Captain’s uniform, he destroyed his papers, he gave away his silver shoe buckles and then in the disguise of a country school teacher went across Long Island Sound by boat and had himself put ashore in the midst of the He made arrangements for the boat to come back at a certain time; he would be there with the data and thus escape. He now started along the roads, among the troops, gathering in- formation as to their entrenchments, their num- bers, their positions and plans for attack; when stopped and questioned he explained that he was a teacher looking for students among the few American families left, and on seeming to be so innocent and guileless was allowed each time to (Continued on page 52) swiftly set-back chair. | “Simpson, you're a reg’lar Tory. You never blew hot an’ now you blow cold. They didn’t run at Lexington, did they? They kept fightin’. They hung on their flanks with others j’inin’ them all the way to Boston, right up to the guns of the men-of- war at Charlestown. They didn’t go home, did they? No, they’re camped now at Cambridge. They’ve started the siege of Boston an’ they'll take it if it takes ’em a year to do it. I only wish I was there with ‘em.” “Why ain’t ye?” Simpson’s voice trembled a little as he put the sneering query. “It ain’t for the same rea- son you hold, Simpson. Why ? Because there are other plans afoot. Boston ain’t the only place to start in stingin’ ’em. We ain’t an army yet. We're like a lot of wasps in differ- ent swarms. We'll sting ’em in a dozen places till they’re spinnin’ round an’ slappin’ all directions to once. I can be of more use somewheres else. That’s why.” “Well, I ain’t sayin’ you’re not right. I was just wantin’ to go slow an’ safe. That’s all.” “We may have to go slow, but it’s no time for playin’ safe. You talked about big guns an’ powder just now, Simpson. Well, there’s big guns in Fort Ticonderoga, three miles away from where we sit. There’s more down to Crown Point. Cannon an’ stores. Take those forts, hold ’em or destroy ’em, an’ you open the door to Canada. A back door, if you like, but any door is good to git in through to sting the enemy.” “Ticonderoga!” Three or four men spoke at once. There were doubts expressed, but all voices held spirited reaction to the bold proposi- tion. Lem’ knew the fortress well. Ticonderoga, that the French had first called Fort Carillon because the music of the nearby waterfalls re-

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4 them of a Mont- minded peal of bells calm had held it. Abercrombie with fifteen thousand men had stormed it in vain and lost two thousand. Amherst the next year had conquered. But now, since the cession of Canada to England, the fort weakly garri- soned. There were the big guns, the naval munitions, the supplies, but Lem’ knew there were on- ly less than fifty all told — men, women and children—in the garrison. He knew all of them, going there to sell supplies of eggs, poultry and vegetables, raised on their own farm. He knew Delaplace, the commander. He knew every embra- sure, every foot of the fort. was [': was surely a weak place in the enemy’s armor. The enemy! For the first time he realized that there was one. A young patriot had been suddenly grant- ed a country and a tyrant of foreign blood was trying to oppress free-born En- glishmen—now Americans. Young as he was, and believing Warner’s words implicitly, responding to: his determination and his declaration of independence, Lem’ foresaw that the colonies were determined to separate from the mother coun- try and establish their own laws for equality. There was a lot of talk those days on such matters and he had heard much of it. The yeast was in his blood and now it fermented. Ticonderoga, and then Crown Point, with its garrison also reduced to a mere guard. Still, there were enough to serve the great guns he had seen frowning from their ports, to use the mounds of shot, the magazine of powder. Belching death, thundering defiance, what could men with muskets, however desperate, however heroic, do against those guns? His trust in Warner was not shaken. The Green Mountain Men had never failed, and he was one of them. If they would let him play the part of a man! Now his father was speaking. “Have you heard from Allen? him, I reckon?” “I’m waitin’ to hear. It ain’t only Allen. There’s Jim Easton, Assemblyman for Massachusetts, head of the Minute Men in Pittsfield, where he keeps Easton’s Tavern. There’s Arnold, down in Connecticut. He’s tryin’ to git the Provincial Congress to give him a commission to raise He’s figurin’ on four hundred. “But we can’t wait. Lexington an’ Concord an’ Boston’s stirred ’em up. They'll strengthen the garrisons. We've got to strike now, inside of a week. Allen’ll be here by then. He told me to sound you. He'll need all of ye. Green Mountain Boys! Are ye ready? Will ye fight, not just for your own land, like we have done, but will ye strike a lick for your country? Nip the British Lion in th’ flank before he wakes up. Will ye?” There was a hoarse roar of declaration, more chains pushed back. Lem’ was pounding softly on the floor him- self, but they did not hear him. He changed ear to eye. The men were standing up now, shaking hands. “So,” said Warner, “we're all in it together. I don’t have to tell ye not to talk about it. It ain’t goin’ to be healthy for any of us to talk about it. I’ve talked too much as it is. It’s action we’re after, an’, till the time comes for action, I reckon we'll all keep quiet.” “How we goin’ to know when?” “Gettin’ warmed up, air ye, Simpson? That’s good. Well, I can’t tell ye right now. But I'll git word to ye, probably through Brown here. I’m stayin’ here tonight ; I'll talk over ways an’ means with him a bit after you’ve gone.” Soon after the men said goodnight and were gone. Lem’ sat up with his arms about his knees. His teeth were chat- tering, partly with excitement and partly because the wind sneaked in through one crudely fitted window and out of another and, despite the warmth coming from the fire- heated room below, the air was cold, for it was early May, Talked this over with men for the job.

Lem’ dodged as best he could and the butt gashed his forehead. The blood spurted and he felt faint but he clung on. with snow still in patches heré and there and the leaves not quite out, though all the birds had come north. He started to go back to the warmth of his pallet bed when some words of Warner’s pulled him down to the chink again. “I don’t trust that Simpson overly, Brown. He’s the sort that always wants to be sure his side is goin’ to win, else he goes over to t’other. An’ he ain’t over an’ above anx- ious to be in th’ fightin’ line.” “There’s times a man has to fight, even when he knows he’s goin’ to git licked,” said Lem’s father. “Sure, if he’s a man. Any poor trash can whoop for the winners. It takes sand to fight for what you know’s right when th’ might’s agen ye. Simpson ain’t that kind. He’ll need watchin’. He wouldn’t dare give us away right off, mebbe, fear we’d find out one way or another an’ suspect him. But what he don’t know he can’t ever tell. I’m back to Bennington, to Allen. We'll rendezvous at Castleton with you folks. You be there by noon of the seventh an’ wait for us. Pass the word an’ slip off quiet. If you leave th’ evenin’ of the fifth you should make it fine.” HE speaker gave a prodigious yawn and Lem’ wondered how he could show such a sign of sleep when he found that he was doing the same thing. A reaction had come after the tremendous excitement. His brain was dimly trying to wrestle with problems too heavy for it, as he might have tugged at a too large log. The talk below ceased abruptly. There was the noise of boots falling. His father would sleep on the floor and the guest on the settle, both wrapped in quilts in front of the fire. Another log was bumped on against the hickory backlog and the crackle of sparks rushed up the chimney close by Lem’. He went back to bed weary, not merely with sleep but with his mind weighted down. One thought stood out, persisted to the last moment of consciousness. “There's times a man has to fight even if he knows he’s goin’ to git licked.” His father had said that and Lem’ was proud of him. Warner had endorsed it. The senior Brown was a smallish man who had not been very successful and was a bit slack in his methods. Not like Allen or Warner, big, strong, active men, both of them. Leaders. Cast in heroic mould. Lem’ knew his father’s shortcomings and had to make up, himself, for a few of them, with extra toil. But what his dad had said was something fine. Lem’ did not know that it takes the best and bravest to lead forlorn hopes and wrest victory from sullen-browed defeat. He did not know what a forlorn hope was. But he knew that his father had said something that was right. Lem’ himself had fought one bigger, stronger boy a dozen times when he knew a thrashing was certain, because he wasn’t going to let the other pick on him. And he was growing less and less afraid of the bully. That was how the present thing figured out. The colonists were being

BOYS’ LIFE picked on—and so— a a The orange light of the .sun_ was streaming through the attic and a robin was calling insistent- ly the next thing Lem’ knew. He rubbed his eyes, feel- ing different. There was something that had happened or that he had dreamed. No —it had happened. With a swift rush of remembrance he threw on his things and was down the ladder with quick, quiet steps, for the long form of their overnight guest and Lem’s hero was still prone on the settle, while his father was snoring away. His mother stood in the lean-to door with a warning finger on her lips. Lem’ ven- tured one look at the face of Warner and slipped out of doors to bring up the wood, to milk the cow, hunt for eggs and perform his morning chores. His proud moment came when he sat at table with Warner and watched his hero engulf griddle cakes, honey, bacon and coffee with a prodigious appetite. His pride swelled again when Warner spoke directly to him. “The lad’s growin’ fast, Brown. He’s goin’ to be a big man.” “Takes after his mother’s folks in that.” “An’ goin’ to be a big farmer, eh, Lem’.” “T’d rather be a soldier.” “Eh, what’s that? <A_ soldier?” went up and his gray eyes held the lad’s. goin’ to fight? Tryon?” “No, sir,” said Lem’ sturdily. “The British.” “Humph! We're a long way from Boston, son.” “But not from Ticonderoga, sir.” Warner’s eyebrows “Who are you [EM had not meant to be so precipitate. He flushed red with the words, but they were out of his mouth before he knew he was going to utter them. Warner looked at his father and then back at him. “What do you know about Ticonderoga?” Warner chal- lenged, and his voice was stern as his eyes. “He slept in the attic. I s’posed he was asleep. of listenin’.” “It was you woke me up, sir,” said Lem’ to Warner. “I heard you say ‘War!’ and I couldn’t go to sleep after that.” Something of the lad’s hero worship and his brave spirit showed in his attitude and Warner was quick to judge and, being human, not averse to sincere praise. His face softened and Lem’, emboldened, went on. “I can keep my mouth shut, sir. Can’t I go with you? I can shoot, can’t I, dad?” “You'll stay home with yore mother.” “Someone should be around, you know, Lem’,” said War- ner. “Someone who knows how to shoot. Taking Ticon- deroga ain’t goin’ to be all one-sided. Some of us might not come back. I reckon you’d better do what yore father says. He knows what’s best for ye.” “Then can I watch Simpson?” said Lem’ despairingly. “T heard you say to watch Simpson. An’ he’s friendly over to the Fort. I see him quite often when I go there to sell stuff.” “You do, do ye? Wal! Mightn’t be a bad idee, Brown, to have th’ lad keep an eye on him. Looks like he could be trusted.” “You can trust him all right.” “He wouldn’t be expectin’ Lem’ to know anything. often d’ye go to th’ Fort?” “About twice a week. Whenever we got eggs or Maw kills a chicken.” “Reckon you could kill a chicken or so extry for th’ cause, Brown?” “Sure.” “Then let th’ lad go over there every day ’tween now an” the fifth. An’ if you see Simpson talkin’ confidential with Delaplace or any of th’ officers, you come home an’ tell July ’*Stead How

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The Boy Scouts’ Magazine yore dad. Be careful and don’t let him see you watchin’. “No, sir.” Lem’ glowed with importance. He was smart enough and he fancied he knew what was wanted. This was his first assignment. He was really a soldier. He did not mean to let his vigilance over Simpson stop at the Fort. He would prove his worth. He did not like Simpson. He had seen him beating his horse when it was tied, kicking his dog. He was reputed harsh to his wife and children. It would be pleasant duty to’ watch Simpson. When Warner laid a hand on his shoulder Lem’ felt as if he had already won his spurs. He did not put it to himself just that way for his reading was limited and he knew nothing of knighthood, but he felt that Warner believed him worthy of trust and of a task and he went about for the rest of the morning with his 66 COTT singles in the thirteenth inning, driving home Meusel, breaking the tie, sewing up the game for the Yankees. Great Scott!” That was the way the telegraph instrument clicked off the latest achievement of the brilliant little shortstop of the New It was only another one of many thrilling plays that he had figured in during that thirteen- inning contest when the St. Louis Browns and the New York Yankees were fighting it out for the leadership of the league in May. Incidentally, it was the eight hundred and sixtieth consecutive big league game that Everett Scott, popularly known as “Deacon” 860 games in succession That is a record no other big It means nearly ten years York team of the American League. Scott, had played in. Think of that! without missing a single game! league ball player has ever achieved. of baseball. After that thirteen-inning game I had the pleasure of sitting on the back steps of the club house up at the Polo Grounds while Scott was waiting for Babe Ruth to get out of the shower bath so he could get some of the “diamond” dust scrubbed out of his We could hear the Bambino inside wallowing around in pores. the shower, making a noise like a hippopotamus. “That shower after a game like this is just about the finest kind Perhaps he It all goes to help a fellow keep in the pink of condition, and that’s the most important thing in the world to a baseball player or any other athlete. I know because I’ve been an athlete for nearly twenty years—track, basketball and baseball. of a tonic,” said Scott. “Listen to Babe in there. isn’t enjoying it. And I learned mighty young to keep my- self in condition. But I guess that goes for everything else besides athletics. A business man has to be just as careful of himself as we do. Perhaps he may not be as rigid about exercise, but he has to take care of his diet, his teeth, his body generally, and he must get enough sleep. “Of them all I think that the question of sleep is the most important for -every- one, whether he is a business man or an athlete. It is particularly important for boys. I remember when I was in high school I got my first lesson in the im- portance of enough sleep. I was on the track team. I was also studying mighty hard for my ‘exams.’ I was also trying to see how much fun I could squeeze into a day, and between them all I had some- thing coming to me, only I didn’t realize it until it arrived. “7D have my fun first. Then when I was tired out I’d go into the house and fool around a little while, and along about eleven o’clock I’d get out my books and start to cram. I'd stick at it until one, two, three o’clock in the morning, and you can bet I didn’t let my folks know much about it. We had a track meeting coming off, too, about then and I was to run. I ran, all right—among the alsos. The Prof. who was coaching us afterward told me a few things about what he thought of me and he put his finger right on the trouble first shot. “Your eyes look so heavy I’m ready to bet a hat you haven’t had enough sleep a single night in weeks. Go home and go to bed!’ “I did, and after that I didn’t try to burn the candle at both ends. I got enough sleep. That set me to thinking a lot about how a fellow should treat his body. If a little thing like lack of sleep would upset me so, perhaps there were other things that might have an influence on my physical condition. “Of course, I knew that a fellow had to be careful of his eating. I always had been. But I discovered later on that being careful about what I eat was not all that was necessary. I found that how much I ate counted a great deal. I had to learn temperance in eating. Now two good meals are enough for me and that is all I eat a day. In fact, that is now the training diet of all big leaguers. I eat a big breakfast at about nine o'clock, and then I do not 1922 shoulders very square and his eyes bright, whistling. Also he got out his gun and cleaned and oiled it, inspected his little private stock of bullets and powder and wads. It was a squirrel rifle and Lem’ could put out the eye of a squirrel as far as he could see it. He hoped he was going to get a chance to use that gun. Daydreams were with him all day. He saw himself fighting in the Continental Army by and bye, winning his place in the ranks, perhaps noticed by Colonel George Washington, whom he pictured as a very gallant and glittering personage in a cocked hat on a prancing horse, pointing a shining sword. Nothing happened at the Fort. The commander’s wife bought his chicken and, asked when he could bring another, pleased when he answered tomorrow. He saw reat year. out. Everett abroad. i In the pyr pathvi of the : * ? strip the ae og shortstop his “home” is — uniform coac ing and below his young in the son how uniform to pick his team up a hot ne grounder eat again until after the game, and it’s some meal. “Of course, I do not smoke. Never have and never in- tend to as long as I continue to be an athlete. Smoking is just about the worst punishment you can give your body and hope that it will stand up under it and serve you well in athletics. “It may sound strange, but I discovered that the eultiva- tion of good, simple habits help a lot toward keeping you fit. For instance, cleaning one’s teeth is a habit that will go a long way toward keeping a fellow in the pink of con- dition. Clean teeth mean a clean stomach, clean disposition, clean brain, clean blood. I am mighty careful about my 5 nothing of Simpson though he lingered about, noting the red-coated sentries with their pipe-clayed belts, marking again the great guns with the pyramids of shot beside them, the ropes and the rammers, the thickness of the walls. If they took this place—and they were going to take it—it must be by surprise. Perhaps in the night. But there were the sentries. If they could get in some- how without being challenged! It was exciting. He was in the camp of the enemy, spying out their weakness. Only he could not find any weakness. He saw Com- mander Delaplace drill the little garrison, never glancing his way. Lem’ did not guess it but Delaplace did not attach any serious importance to the affair at Concord or Lexington. (Continued on page 47) By Irving Crump Illustrated with Photographs teeth and I make it a habit to go to a dentist at least three times a Yes, I’ve lost some teeth, but not because they have rotted I lost some once when a kid in school tripped me and I fell so that a corner of a desk knocked out the front ones. lot to have those teeth back. “- I'd give a D now that we are talking of good habits I think that the cultivation of one habit in particular has helped me to make a record of playing more consecutive games than any fellow in the big leagues. Just about the time I was thinking things over, after I lost out in the track meet because I didn’t get enough sleep, I decided that thereafter I- was going to be regular about the hour I went to bed. After that I got to be regular about the hour I got up in the morning. Pretty soon this extended to being regular at school, and in summers when I worked in a foundry I was regular there, too. This ‘being regular’ thing got to be a sort of a hobby— second nature, almost—and the result was I never missed a day in school and went right through high school without an absent mark except during a period when I had the measles. Boston team for nine years aud I never missed a single game. I’m being -just as regular as a member of the Yankees and I intend to be as long as I stay in the game. “Another ‘regular habit’ I formed pretty early and still con- tinue to stick to is the habit of saving money. That you may not think very helpful in keeping me physically fit. haps it doesn’t help my muscles any, but it does help to make me have that comfortable feeling of having money in my jeans when- I played on the Perhaps not. Per- ever I want it. There’s mental comfort in that, for you know how unpleasant it is to always go around feeling broke or in debt. And when a fellow hasn’t men- tal comfort you can be sure he isn’t going to be physically up to his best. Yes, sirree, I save as much money as I can, and some day when I am too old to play baseball you just take a run out in the Middle West and you'll see me in my own foundry, making a living that way. “Sounds like the hippopotamus was out of the shower bath now. Guess I’ll go in and clean up. ~So long. See you later.” And the shortstop who had driven in the winning run bounced up the club-house steps, peeling off his shirtashe ran. Pres- ently I heard him splashing around in the shower with real enjoyment. And as I listened I could not help but think that his son (for he has a boy of his own, eight years old) is a mighty fortunate boy to have such a dad. -I saw the youngster up at the Polo Grounds catching flies that his dad and Babe Ruth were batting to him one-handed. VERETT SCOTT is almost as much of a boy as his son is. He is so keen for athletics that he doesn’t stop when the baseball season is over. He starts in playing basketball then, playing ‘on the Ironton team all winter long. Scott began playing baseball with the Blufton (Indiana) High School team when he was sixteen years old. Let me see—that is thirteen years ago. And he was so good that several managers were trying to get him out of high school right away. But they did not succeed. He stayed until he finished and then he went to Kokomo, Indiana, in the Northern Indiana League. But he did not stay there long, for scouts from the big league teams had their eyes on him and quite suddenly he was moving in fast company. Then he went to Boston, and was just about the steadiest shortstop that Boston had ever had. He played a brilliant game and showed that he had something more than base- ball under his hat, for soon he was made captain of the team. And he made a real captain; in fact, he was so good that the Yankees did everything they could to induce the Boston team to part with him. And finally they suc- ceeded, so now the one-time Blufton High School boy is playing with the team that is likely to fight it out this year for the world’s championship.

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pupils had formed a democracy T was a promising courtyard, that of the Rose- vale Apartments. Eighty tenants, in spite of hundred per cent increases in three years, must Monty. “Everything bounces off your turret. Now, just answer me this: What’s all this money for?” “Weddin’ present fo’ Miss Haines ’cause we’re glad to git rid of her,” answered Sam with an expansive grin. “That ain’t the reason,” pro- tested Snoot Snyder feelingly. “She isn’t so rank—for a teach- er,” declared Monty; “but that’s not what you fellows are kick- ing about. You don’t want any boss—isn’t that it? Well, this | money is for one big thing, hey? I’m not going to get any good out of it, and you're not going to, because even if we told her now, there’s oniy five days be- fore vacation and she’s going to leave us, so it won’t do any good getting on the right side of her. Now, how did we say was the best way to do this business?” “Like the Pilgums,” answered Sam, rolling his eyes about to see if the others appreciated that he knew the lesson. “Well, there you are,” declared Monty tri- still have loose change for enterprising young- umphantly. “No king, no boss. We're all sters in their early teens to coax down. So figured Bape equal. You elect me governor. Everything Monty Tulliver, blue-eyed and angel-faced, as he > goes in together and we all own it together like gave his companion a vigorous shove into the ‘= democrats instead of having a tyrant Czar or center of the paved area, modestly keeping him- —j Kaiser to cop all the credit.” self out of sight in the narrow entrance-way. mS “Ah don’t take no stock in all that foolish- Tony Mario stood tongue-tied and weak-kneed, al- SS ness,” grumbled Sam. “The Pilgums got some most inclined to beat a retreat into the welcome SN . eats out o’ what they done. They don’t go blow wings. va it all in on a woman.” “Sing! Hurry up, sing!” ordered the stage-manager “There you go again,” said the disgusted Monty. “You in a strained whisper. “Wabble, you dumb-bell, wabble !” Fearing Monty’s sharp tongue more than the possible volley from the windows above of articles beyond redemp- tion, the son of Italy raised his shaky voice in song: “Just break the noose to mudder . . .” Montgomery Tulliver bumped his own curly head, as light as flax, against the brick wall beside him. “Solid bronze!” he groaned, but wisely permitted the artist to finish the chorus before voicing his scathing opinion: “Cut out the sob stuff and jazz it a bit. Give ’em ‘Mammy’.” In the middle of the chorus, Monty pitched into the air a handful of pennies, which fell jingling upon the pave- ment around Tony’s feet. The manager cocked his ear expectantly. No answering ring. He tossed out a dime. A nickel followed. More pennies. A smile of pleasure spread over his face as he caught the familiar jingle of a coin other than his own. With artistic irregularity he threw away his money, and had the relieved satisfaction of listening to the tinkle of Rosevale coin in “Avalon.” By the time the singer had reached the end of the “Long, Long Trail,” the promoter in the wings was satisfied that the audience had reached its limit of appreciation. “Come off the trail, Canary, and gather the berries,” he directed, sliding down to a sitting posture on the pavement and emptying the pockets of his corduroys in order to figure his investment. Later, he and Tony walked out upon the street, where they were joined by four eager comrades. “Dollar and eleven cents,” announced Monty, pocketing the money. “Next we'll try the Ambrosia around the corner. Come on, Tony.” “Hol’ on,” objected the musical Italian, who had paused to pull a pebble out of his shoe through a hole in the side, “why must youse all the time keep the money?” “Somebody’s got to keep it, haven’t they?” “Each oughter keep what he earns,” declared Sam Nick- son, son of the colored janitor of the Ambrosia. “Sure,” agreed Tony. NOOT Snyder and Felix Hoffmeyer joined in the protest with no uncertain voices; while Dick Peeley, whose father was chauffeur of a coal-truck, diplomatically guessed it looked that way, a sentiment that would enable him to flop to the winning side with righteous indignation that anyone could have considered any other. Montgomery Tulliver surveyed his companions with dis- gust. “A fine bunch of democrats!” he sneered. Miss Haines think of her lessons now?” They winced under his scorn, for, though they would have vigorously denied it, they felt his superiority, evi- denced by possession of the only whole pair of trousers in the gang. “Hist’ry teachers don’t know everythin’,” grumbled black Sam. “She talks democrat, but she boss us like a—like a boss.” “She can’t teach you everything, that’s sure,” retorted “What would keep changing your mind like changing your shirt.” “No, I don’t,” bridled Sam; “I kin change my mind.” “Say, Monty,” broke in Tony, “you don’t earn a cent and you keep all the money.” “I don’t earn a cent?” repeated Monty indignantly. “What do you mean?” “I sing, and the people throw down the money,” ex- plained Tony. 66%70U think that’s all, hey? All you do is sing, and not a red cent comes down. But when Mrs. Rosen- stein hears my pennies clink on the pavement she just tilts her ears front and listens some more. By and by she begins to think Mrs. Flaherty must be throwing the real thing and she don’t want any Irish to be sweller than a Rosenstein, so she leans out the window and hollers, ‘Here’s a dime, boy,’ so everybody can hear her, and says good-by to a cent. And Mrs. Flaherty can’t stand that so she lets go of a dime like it was nothing but a pants button, and the rest of the flats have got to unloosen or get talked about. And it was all account of me.” “You always take the easy job,” contributed Felix Hoff- meyer. “Not one rainy day you go from the subway for umbrellas.” “Of all the nerve!” exclaimed Monty, “after all my work! Didn’t I think up the thing?” “All us fellers took folks home under umbrellas before,” said Felix. “That wasn’t new. All you done was make us all give what we earned to you for Haines’ present, and you stood around at the top of the subway and handed out umbrellas and never got your feet wet.” “And Ah mos’ run my legs off,” complained Sam, “and what fo’? Nothin’! Miss Haines ’ll think you an’ Snoot done more ’n me. Sometimes when Ah’m scootin’ back with a lot o’ ’brellas I see Snoot lookin’ in a bakery win- der killin’ time. Tain’t fair, this here democrat business.” “Well, we'll make Snoot pay a fine next time,” said Monty, conciliatingly. ‘“That’s the way to do when every- thing goes into the same pot. Now, if each feller was working for himself, we’d form a labor union and fine the feller that worked too fast. But me? Say, how much did any one of you make before in a day with an umbrella? And what did I do? Soon as we become democrats and all pitched in together, I got up a plan that beat Rockefeller’s. You were always afraid some cus- tomer would swipe your umbrella, so you went along with it each trip. But when I took hold, we begged, borrowed and bought umbrellas and I trusted the customers, and I took their names and ad- dresses, and you could run out and get four or five umbrellas back on a trip, and look how the money piled in. By right, I earned more than half of it; but I did it for the gang and I’m not complaining.” “That’s right,” spoke up Dick Peeley for the first time; “that is what I say.” Then he ‘Sam invested in a mouth organ BOYS’ LIFE By Wilbur S. Boyer Illustrated by Frank J. Rigney subsided for the day. “Jes’ the samee, it ain’t fair,” grumbled Sam. “You don’t have to run so hard yo’ legs git the twitches when you go to bed.” “He always picks out the easy job,” added Tony. “Let’s leave it to Haines,” suggested Monty, despairing to convince his companions of the virtue of executive ability and mental labor. “Now you're talkin’!” cried Sam, showing his teeth in a broad smile. ‘When she hears what we’s goin’ to do, mebbe she won’t give us no lessons an’ she'll read story- books to us.” “No, we won’t tell her what it’s for. That’s to be a surprise. We've only got to stand her five days more.” M35 HAINES was delighted when informed that six of her pupils had organized a democracy and wanted her advice; so delighted that she did not wait to hear the specific question. “There are difficulties even in the working of self- government,” she enthused. “In a pure democracy, all the people get together and decide disputes by a majority vote. In the early days of the colonies they did this at town meetings.” “But sometimes the majority is mutton-heads,” objected Monty. “Perhaps, Montgomery, the majority is not always right,” admitted the teacher, “but experience teaches them, and it’s better than trusting to the judgment of some ab- solute monarch. What is the object of this democracy?” “Earnin’ money for somethin’,” broke in Snoot. “What for?” “That’s a secret,” answered Monty with a grin. “We don’t like to tell nobody,” put in Sam, who craved recognition. “Maybe somebody would make us stop,” added Monty; who had vague ideas of a certain law respecting presents to teachers. The answers set the teacher to thinking. What could it be that someone might want to stop? A wild orgy of candy, soda, ice-cream and the movies—a riotous expedition to the charms of Coney Island? It might be well as the ethical mentor of her pupils, especially considering the stratum of society to which this particular group belonged, and the probable level of the entertainment they would seek, to lure them from iniquity. “Will you let me offer a suggestion?” she began. None had the temerity to refuse. “I know a beautiful spot beside a stream of the clearest, loveliest water! There is a grove of sweet-smelling pines where you can lie and watch the clouds skimming over the tree-tops; or on a hot day a fellow can jump into the water and cool off; or you can fish, or go hunting for red squirrels and woodchucks.” “Yessum,” interrupted Sam with wide eyes, “Ah’ve heard about dat place befo’—You gotter die to git there.” “No, I’m not speaking of Heaven,” laughed the lady. “It is a place on my uncle’s farm. If he knew you were my pupils he would give you permission to camp; and you could get your milk, butter, eggs, and vegetables for less than he receives in the market.” As she continued, giving her uncle’s name and address, describing how to reach this land of promise, picturing in glowing words the pleasures of a two weeks’ stay there, Monty could catch the longing looks of his companions. Monty felt himself carried away by the voice of the siren, but took a grip on himself. “Let’s take a vote on it,” hastily spoke up Dick Peeley. “Sure!” piped in Felix. “No siree!” declared Monty em- phatically. “You can’t keep chang- ing your vote.” “’Tain’t fair Miss Haines,” pro- tested Snoot Snyder. “He always makes the rules.” “Monty !” admonished the teacher, now firmly convinced that it was Montgomery Tulliver who had led her precious charges into planning some mysterious career of iniquity, and that it was her duty to lend a helping hand to the others, in whose minds her timely words had raised nobler thoughts, “you have no right to —— July Sa at ag art alo wa mo an in ; stil the

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The Boy Scouts’ Magazine orce your will on your companions. They are free to change their minds as often as they wish. You ought to be ashamed of yourself! Why don’t you work with them? “You have no right to rule them like a tyrant. You have one vote, and only one, the same as any of the others. It’s people like you, twisting the laws of democracy to suit their own ends, that drive others to become socialists and Bolshevists.” HE went on to explain; but she might as well have saved her energies. The word “Bolshevists,” used to shock them into close attention, merely served to rouse their resentment; and in her enthusiasm and earnestness she rattled on with a discourse far over their heads. Monty concluded it would be unwise to broach the subject originally contemplated, and the others forgot about it. “Called us Bolshevists!” exclaimed Snoot indignantly when the democracy gathered under the awning of the candy store across the street from the school. “Ah knowed she wasn’t a real democrat,” pronounced Sam. “Never liked her, anyhow,” declared Dick. “She shouldn’t get a cent’s worth of our money after that,” said Snoot. “Oh, that isn’t fair,’ protested Monty. been working for.” “Put it to a vote,” cried Felix. her uncle’s farm.” And thus it came about, in spite of Monty’s protest, that democracy pitched camp in the grove of pines that their teacher had selected for them. Miss Haines’ good word in the ear of skeptical parents had won consent to the project, though Tony’s mother held out longest, entertaining fears that her offspring might suffer for lack of home care, and only surrendered when her attention was called to the teacher’s neat patch- ing of Tony's coat and the pair of shoes he had fallen heir to in place of the airy footwear he had been sporting heretofore. It was an excited sextet that pitched the borrowed tent that Monday afternoon on the spot pointed out by Uncle Abe Haines, whose resemblance to Uncle Sam seemed per- fectly natural to the city boys prepared for strange sights in this foreign land. Willingly they worked, piling in straw for bedding, cutting up dead limbs for fire-wood, building a fireplace, and stowing supplies they had jackassed up a mile from the village. The evening meal of bacon and potatoes, cooked by Sam with all the pride and importance of his race, was voted much, oh! much better than anything ever cooked at home, all loyally blind to the fact that a large percent- age of the potatoes were as black as the cook. When around ten o’clock six boys squeezed under the canvas along with the boxes and bags and blankets, the interior was packed as tight as a jar of mixed pickles; yet unani- mously they declared that there was no other life like it, and each swore he could roll right over and drop to sleep in a twinkling. “That’s all we’ve “Let’s go camping on HE necessity for bunking in like a package of spoons was not conducive to slumber, even if the deathlike stillness broken only by tree-toads, crickets, and other mysterious denizens of the wilds had not worked upon the nerves of youth from the labyrinths of steel and stone. At daybreak a pair of reckless red squirrels racing close around the tent and scampering noisi- ly up a near-by pine tree Monty essayed twisting the cap off a luscious berry and dropped the fruit into the yellow bowl 1922 made the campers jump and shake with apprehension at thoughts of wildcats. Morale was at a low ebb when the adventurers, driven out by the cold of the morning, started a fire to drive away the chill and huddled around. While the rising sun and a breakfast of oatmeal and coffee brought about a semblance of enthusiasm, and the pride of each made him sneer at what he was positive had been the cowardly fears of the other$, they were all in a fault-finding mood. Each reluctantly conceded that he should wash his own dishes, but the good ship Dem- ocracy was almost wrecked by the oat-meal pot. Sam cooked breakfast and refused to wash the utensils. “Ah ain’t no slave,” he reiter- ated. “Of course not,” agreed Monty when the debate had reached the acrimonious stage. ‘Each fellow has got to do his share. Felix washes pots and pans for break- fast, Pete helps Sam get din- ner, Tony cleans up after dinner, and Snoot after supper.” “And you get out of every- thin’?” shouted Snoot. “No, I’ve got to go to the Haines’ farm and make arrange- ments for milk and eggs and vegetables, haven’t I?” “Bet on him takin’ the easy job!” sneered Pete. Rebellion had only been shunted aside by skilful argu- ment when the governor shouldered a potato-sack for his half-mile jaunt. He walked in upon Aunt Minerva hull- ing strawberries. Aunt Minerva Haines gathered the table vegetables, cooked for a table of eight—seven of them royal trencher- men—besides feeding the chickens, making the beds, clean- ing house, washing, ironing, and attending to various other little household duties. The rest of her time was free, for Uncle Abe and his six hands managed the other farm labors without her assistance, even filling for her the wood- box, the ice-chest and the hot-water tank of the kitchen stove. T= lady of the house welcomed her niece’s pupil with sincere pleasure, for it marked an epoch in her life. Few were the visitors to break the monotony. “Clara wrote you was comin’,” she announced. just see what we can snoop out for you. There’s plenty of sass. Bugs got into the swiss chard and we had to cut it down, but there’s heaps of redishes and salad and peas. Can’t let you have no pertaters—old ones just about gone and new ones not ready yet, but you can get those to the store. Take a cheer here and wait till I finish hullin’ these here strawberries and we'll go out to the garden and take a look around. What did you say your name was, sonny ?” Monty told her; and drawn out by persistent questions he told of his companions and of the strange life of boys of the city pavements, going into vivid details when he realized how starved the old lady was for a friendly voice and news of the outer world. Meanwhile, finding him- self fidgeting under her cross-examination, he essayed twisting the green cap off a luscious berry and with mag- nificent self-denial dropped the fruit into the yellow bowl. Aunt Minerva gave no sign of noting his act. On flew her hands and tongue. The boy decapitated another berry and supplied another paragraph as.interesting as he could make it. When Monty started to return to camp, he had a full sack on his back, and the full heart of a dear old lady was also concealed some- where about, for she had given it to him. That friendship proved very valuable. At noon of the third day came the revolution. Returning with a bagful from a pro- longed and pleasant visit to Aunt Minerva, Monty found the camp at- mosphere ominously heavy. Democ- racy had its say right after the Irish stew was wrecked. “Say,” began Snoot, “there’s goin’ to be a_ bully show in town this afternoon— jazz-band and “We'll jugglers and a couple o’ funny ~ men — fifty — cents.” “That’s three dollars for the dancers and° six of us,” re- minded Monty; { “and everyone of | you will want | eats and drinks, and a five spot A, A tI \ A j “Each orter keep what he earns” will go flooey. “This democracy isn’t made of money.” Snoot looked around at his comrades. “I told you so,” he reminded them triumphantly. “Now, see here, Monty, us fellers is tired of bein’ bossed.” He looked appealingly to his followers for support. “That’s right,” agreed Felix with a show of bravado. “Sure,” affirmed Dick, while Sam and Tony hastened to chime in. “Well?” demanded Monty. “Tt’s this way,” went on Snoot rapidly, gaining courage with each sentence: “we came out here for fun, and all we get is work and a lot o’ don’ts. You say we can't have this and we can’t have that, just like a Czar, and you talk so slick you make us mad because we can’t talk back good enough. We oughter bounced you after Haines called us Bolshevists. We want to go to this show, and we want a chance to buy the stuff and say what we've gotter eat and what we'll do.” “Why, I never told you what you must do in camp,” protested Monty, “except what’s got to be done in a camp to be decent, and what’s got to be done to make our money last. Somebody’s got to manage things.” “No they don’t,” declared Snoot. “We’re goin’ to be equal. We ain’t goin’ to go around and get fed a soda when you say we can afford it—like an orphan asylum. We want all the money divided equal; then when we want something, each will chip in, and if a feller wants a banana he can put his hand in his pocket and get it. We're going to be real democrats. Everytime we want to know what to do, we’re going to vote. There ain’t going to be no boss.” Monty tried to reason. “Don’t listen to ’im,” bag.” “*Tain’t no use, Monty,” said Snoot, “we’ve hashed it all over and we’ve decided ahead of time not to let you talk us out of it. We know you kin beat us talkin’, but here’s where talkin’ don’t count.” “Don’t forget the umbrellas,” reminded Dick in a loud whisper. “Oh, yes,” said Snoot. “We've decided it’s got to be the same with the umbrellas. We've all gotter be equals. Each one’s gotter take turns standin’ in out o’ the wet, and the money’s goin’ to be divided up each night. Work counts—not thinkin’ up ways for the others to work.” cautioned Sam. “He’s a wind- ONTY surveyed the revolutionists for a moment, then from his pockets drew out the common funds and an account book. “Will you fellows buy my share of the umbrella busi- ness?” he asked as he started to figure. “Buy nothin’ !” cried Felix. “This is a democracy,” explained Snoot, breathing more freely at the easy victory. “You belong, or you don’t. If you don’t want to stay in with us, you can get out.” ; -“Well, there’s time to think that over,” observed Monty philosophically. “All those in favor of going to the show, say ‘yes cried Snoot. There was only one negative. “It’s late now,” said Dick. “Monty can wash the dishes.” (Continued on page 49) ay

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“Three years!” The Tadpole’s face grew red HE Tadpole wheeled around, utter disgust on his face. “Oh, all right,” he exploded, “I'll bunt ’em all.” Mr. Howard’s voice did not waver. “Hardly necessary,” he replied, “I merely want you to hit the ball, not slug it.” “But it was a floater.” “And you missed it,” the coach retorted. have got to learn team work and to play safe. third and a hit would have brought him in.” “Hunt's on second; I wanted to score ‘em both.” “You get one run at a time and you'll beat St. Jo’s; get your heart set on home runs and cheering friends and neither of us’ll have much to be proud of. Now play the game and play it safe.” Yet The Tadpole had more than theory behind him. His flashy, open field running would have carried Norton to victory the preceding fall but for Jim Turner’s tackling and St. Jo’s dogged, grim attack. The spring before he had hit around .330 and his fielding had been of the sort that kept the cheering section breathless. Now he was being made to play safe instead of scintillate. In the locker room he said grumpily, “Don’t see the sense of being captain when I never have the final say,” he grumbled to Dick Hunt. “Old Safety First’s methods haven't won many preliminary games.” “Somethin’ in that,” mumbled Dick over his shoe lace. “But he says the St. Jo’s game’s what counts and that he’s developin’ the nine for that.” “That’s what peeves me,” exploded The Tadpole. “He’s developing my nine backwards. He’s one bum coach and he’ll never last here another year. I’ve never played on an eleven or nine that beat St. Jo’s and they’ve had every break in every game for five years—added to all the luck.” “What you need to do,” grinned Dick, “is go climb a tree and quack like a blue jay. You've let this St. Jo’s game get your nerve.” “Maybe you're right,” he generously admitted, “once in a while you ought to be. Only I'd like to know if this coach thing has any sort of a plan under his hair.” “Why not suggest you'd like his brain diagramed?” The Tadpole snorted. “Talk about climbing trees,” he exclaimed. “You go and stick one in each ear. I've listened to him until I’m ready to bawl. ‘Don’t slug it,’” he mimicked ; “ ‘Play safe.’ Gee, but if I ever get a chance I'll go wild on the bases or slam the ball into the week after next.” “Where do you get that stuff? It’s all right to rave to me, I know you never do know what you're talking about. But what'll become of the nine if the rest hear you preach- ing mutiny? You're as popular as Howard ain’t and they'll all follow your lead. But if you lose another St. Jo’s game you're going to have a lot more explaining than you're going to get away with.” “Go hire a hall,” advised The Tadpole. “I’m going to run the nine. If sister Howard doesn’t like it, he can go get him a job knitting ear muffs.” For the moment The Tadpole quite believed what he said. There was no question about his being desperate. His nine had not done well. There had been brilliancy, plenty of it, but there had also been frightful blunders, due to the fact that nine boys, instead of the Norton nine, faced opponents. “You fellows Jack’s on "THE Tadpole, because he was a born ball player, had to recognize this. But, with the St. Jo’s game only a few days away, he could see no sense in sticking to a sinking ship. A slashing, aggressive attack was the one thing he and his nine could win with. He went out onto the diamond the next afternoon ready to argue with the coach. But Mr. Howard was so calm, so ready to listen, so sure everything would come out all right, that The Tadpole did not have the heart to force a clash. And, within ten minutes, he was repaid. The nine seemed to have found itself. Play after play went off with machine-like precision. Mr. Howard, hammering the grounders at the infield, began to smile contentedly. His hopes had been long in bearing fruit, Then came a sharp crack as Mr. Howard drove one toward second. Ina flash The Tadpole was under way. It was exactly the sort of ball on which he could make one of his spectacular plays—a quick stab, a twist, a toss to second to start an imaginary double. And he did it like lightning. But then he stood flat footed, his jaw sagging. The ball was rolling into center field and Dick Hunt was standing, red faced, beside him. “Hunt's ball,” called the coach, “you should have covered second. Quit trying to do it all and play safe.” He deserved it and, because he did, it hurt. The wording of the call down was what made him see red. But he remembered that he was captain. His expression hardly changed. “Sorry,” he called. “Try it again.” This time the ball came sizzling, but nearer short. The Tadpoie knew the coach had not driven where he had wanted to, knew that this was really his play and took the ball on the run. But, as he straightened to make his throw, there was a thud and he went sprawling. Hunt had followed orders, instead of using his head, and they had collided. The Tadpole, still on the ground, began to describe fervently the second baseman’s intellectual equipment, It furnished the much needed vent for his suppressed emotions but it did Dick’s jarred equanimity no particle of good. On the next play he made a raw error, recovered, threw wild to first and the whole infield went ballooning. Mr. Howard, outwardly calm, was hoping, against hope, that his example might steady them back into their new- found stride. But things got worse instead of better and, as he left the diamond, he knew something must be done unless Norton was to return home Saturday with another defeat added to her too long list. As he had planned everything, so he planned his next move, then went to The Tadpole’s room. “You and I are responsible for Norton’s nine?” he be- gan deliberately. “Are you satisfied with the results we’ve attained ?” “No,” retorted Tad instantly. “Neither am I. Where have we failed?” It was so frank, so unexpected, that the captain gulped. He had no desire to tell a master to his face that he could see no good in him. But Mr. Howard laughed grimly. “We're both out to win,” he stated. “Say what you think and say it from the shoulder.” “I—I—” stammered The Tadpole, hopelessly embar- rassed. “Oh, say it,” commanded the coach. “You don’t like me, or my methods; I’m not especially partial to you or yours. Now we both feel bettcr. Let’s have it all.” VEN his few enemies admitted Tad was game to the core. “You're dead right, then,” he stated. “But I’ll tell the world I think more of you this minute than I ever thought I could.” “Good enough! Shoot ahead.” “T believe in taking a chance.” “And I don’t.” “You certainly haven’t let us take any to date. made the obvious play every time.” “Very well. What next?” “T’ve played with most of this nine in a St. Jo’s game and I’ve seen ’em play wonderful ball and take every chance there was.” “But you did not see them win.” “No,” admitted The Tadpole. luck.” “T don’t believe in luck.” “But there are breaks in every game, sir.” “Exactly. But something besides chance makes them.” “My sort of game provides ’em,” declared The Tadpole. “And St. Jo’s has taken advantage of them,” stated the coach promptly. “Why? Because team work has been what they’ve insisted on for years. Norton’s gone in for individual stars. It’s a bad system; the Doctor recognized it. That’s one reason he’s given me three years in which to change it.” “Three years!” The Tadpole’s face grew red. this game means nothing to you?” “It means quite as much to me as to you; but if you think it means my job, it doesn’t.” We're beginning to get somewhere. We've “But St. Jo’s had the “Then BOYS’ LIFE he Other Side of the Mirror By Brewer Corcoran Illustrated by Brown Martin It so completely upset Tad’s theories that he made a wild attempt to get his feet on solid earth again. “Then you're risking my nine and its chances in order to work out your own plans,” he declared. “You've three years to win; this is my last chance.” “Same old individual stuff!” exclaimed Mr. Howard. “No team work. Can’t you get it, Tad? Can’t you forget yourself and forget me and remember we're both working for Norton?” “T’ve never done anything else,” retorted Tad hotly. “Maybe that’s another point on which we differ. I think we can get together on it, though. We both want that St. Jo’s game.” o Tw “But you’re not hopeful,” added the coach with a smile. “All right. Now get this. We've got a nine which hasn't been successful. That’s no news to St. Jo’s. They’re going into the game confident of an easy victory. What St. Jo’s thinks is their business. But I’ve tried to make them think what I’ve wanted them to think. And that is that we’re sending up a nine which can and will play a steady, safe, conservative game. Give us two or three earned runs, give us no errors in judgment, give us play- ers who will obey signals instantly, and we'll win. They'll be looking for the obvious; we’ll be in a position to pull the unexpected.” “Now you're counting on the breaks you don’t believe in!” cried The Tadpole triumphantly. “I’m counting on the one break I’ve been working two months to provide,” he corrected. “But I’ve got to have team work first.” The Tadpole’s face was a study as the strategy slowly sank home. “But what—” he faltered, “what—” Mr. Howard shook his head. “I can’t answer that. It’s a matter of being prepared to grab opportunity. To do that the nine must be a unit. We've got to hold them safe, then out-general them. And to do that you and I have got to have perfect team work. That means confi- dence in each other, Tad.” He stopped and looked him squarely in the eye. “How big are you?” he demanded abruptly. “THE Tadpole’s athletic success was not due to any thick- ness of skull. He surged to his feet, his jaw square. “Not as big as you,” he answered gruffly, “but willing to grow. Why didn’t you have this out with me before?” Mr. Howard smiled. “Because I haven’t liked you until to-night when I found you were man enough not to sulk under fire.” “That’s straight talk. But I don’t think you played it exactly safe for once. I was some hot at first.” The man laughed. “What turns out safe, is safe. Do we trust each other now?” “Till the last man’s out.” The final practice was a revelation and the nine went up to St. Jo’s with a confidence they had never expected to feel. As they came out onto the diamond Gem Graham ran over to welcome them. “Glad to see you back again,” he said, shaking The Tadpole’s hand. “Great day for a murder.” “Merest trifle too dark,” retorted Tad instantly. “Hello, Turner! If you try to tackle me to- day I'll spike you!” “You won't get near enough,” laughed his old rival. “I’m playing first. Sorry you’ve had such a bum season, old. chap.” “Haven’t had much luck,” he ad- mitted, frankly. “Hope you haven’t picked all the four-leaf clovers out there.” Turner laughed good naturedly. Gem Graham swooped into it and July i ei ee the 192

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The Boy Scouts’ Magazine “Come on over and speak to Mr. Campbell; see he’s talking with your new coach. Like him?” The Tadpole’s eyes twinkled. “Better than you will,” he flashed back. It was the same old feeling of friendly rivalry which had always existed between the schools. Yet all three boys had been on tiptoe for the slightest hint which could have been turned to value in the game. There friendship ceased. It was war to the knife when play was called, but always fair, always sportsmanlike. “They’re going to slug the ball,” prophesied The Tad- pole, as he got up to begin the last of the scoreless second. “Let ’em,” retorted Mr. Howard. “They’re after the jump.” He turned to Ted Holden, his pitcher. “Play safe,” he ordered. ‘“They’re hitting at the first ones. Wait ‘em out.” But Mr. Campbell was no beginner at the game. With the weaker end of his batting order up, he too, ordered a waiting game. Holden promptly pitched himself into a hole. He passed the first man. A screaming single filled first and third. The new batter raced to the plate. “Get this chap!” called Tad. Biff Averill, in front of St. Jo’s cheering stand, was giving an imitation of a windmill having a fit. “Get into it!” he howled. “Cheer this nine!” Holden sneaked over a strike and felt a little easier. It had worked so well he tried the same curve again. The answering crack was anything but comforting. Averill turned a somersault as the ball arched out toward deep left. The man on third hesitated, ran back. As the fly sank into Davis’ glove he was off. Even Averill’s voice was drowned in the St. Jo’s cheers. The Tadpole was racing out to relay the throw. As he caught it and wheeled he saw the man almost home, the one from first sprinting at top speed. For the first time in his life he played safe. “Out at second!” bawled the umpire. “Safe at the plate!” echoed Biff. “Oh, you beautiful run! Everybody, hats off to that big, fat run!” N the St. Jo’s bench all was joyous. It was not only the one run lead which made them pound each other’s backs. Norton had played true to form, had refused to take the desperate chance. And Call, St. Jo’s pitcher, was going like clockwork. “Too easy!” grinned Graham. “We'll give ’em a taste of real base running and send ’em into the clouds.” They got no opportunity, either then or in the third. 3ut Gem opened his half of the fourth with a clean single. The Tadpole saw Turner coming to the plate. “Watch this gink!” he commanded. “Here’s where the game goes on the ice,” shrilled Ave- rill.. “Long cheer for the old combination.” It came with a roar. The two had broken up three Norton games already. But Turner was not listening to the noise. His eyes were on Holden, but he knew Graham was edging off first, that The Tadpole was creeping in. He had matched wits with him before, knew how danger- ous he was, believed he had guessed their play and flashed a signal to Gem. “Strike one!” called the umpire. “Next one’s goin’ over the fence,” prophesied Biff. The Tadpole stood motionless. He had expected the hit- and-run. He refused to credit what he had seen. “Ball one!” Again Turner had stood motionless. other wide one. tried the corner. St. Jo’s came to its feet at Averill’s yell. The delayed hit-and-run was under way. ; 5 But so were Dick Hunt and fee ~ The Tadpole. Tad scooped the grounder in full career, wheeled, saw d Holden risked an- But with two and one against him, he

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” * t. ~. a j bs = a i the Tadpole’s foot shot under his reaching hand 1922

Gem gather himself to slide, took the desperate chance. The umpire’s “Safe!” increased the pandemonium. Biff Averill was turning cartwheels as Dick’s throw reached first too late to cut off Turner. The Tadpole’s head sank. Graham had had too big a lead. He should have played safe on Turner. Now St. Jo’s two best men were on and none were out. He dared not think how his desire to play his own game might react on his men. “Bring ’em home!” urged St. fo’s as Miller came up. “Hit ’er out!” R. CAMPBELL was watch- ing the Norton captain. He knew him of old, knew his high- strung temperament. Such a play must tell him now. But, to his aston- ishment, he saw him smash his fist into his glove. “No more stuff like that fellows,” he heard him call. “Play it safe. Get this man.” They did. They got both Miller and Turner. But it was because the screaming liner stuck in Dick Hunt’s glove and he made the double play alone. A high foul brought safety. “Tough luck!” owned Biff. “Let’s have a little something in the way of real noise now, crowd.” The Tadpole, coming in to begin the fifth, walked straight to Mr. Howard. “Some bone!” he ac- knowledged. “I’ve—” “You’ve got the nine on its toes,” broke inthe coach. “Results count. Getarunnow. Noth- ing to worry about; play safe.” For the first time the expression brought Tad a desire to do something besides murder. Mr. Howard was unshaken. His own confidence came surging back. Yet getting that needed run was something of an order. Not only that inning, but the sixth and seventh slipped past scoreless. Kid Call was pitching the game of his life. “Nothin’ to it, ole son!” encouraged Gem, as they began the eighth. “They’re better than we thought, but they’re not good enough. Go after ’em.” - “T’ll’tend to their little cases, Gemmie! Game’s on toast.” Turner, hearing, looked at the pitcher sharply, started to speak, thought better of it. He knew Norton; there was no need in breaking Call’s confidence by imparting that knowledge too soon. But The Kid, with the cheering sweet in his ears and a one-run lead, was having visions of a shut-out. He flashed two called strikes across the plate. “Call for Mr. Call!” triumphed Averill. A ball, then the third strike. “Eatin’ out of his hand!” sighed Biff. “Just like they were juicy cream puffs.” “He’s goin’ good,” mumbled The Tadpole. “Just right,” agreed Mr. Howard, then gave an order to Breck. The Kid had turned Joe Breck back twice with his out. He would expect more. Therefore he shot an in, waist high. Before the Kid came to, Joe was safe on second and Norton was doing all the cheering. Foster up, set his teeth, “Look out for a bunt!” warned someone in the St. Jo’s stand. But Graham, familiar with Norton’s game, needed no such coaching. Already his infield was play- ing close. “Score the run!” begged Norton. “Hit it! Hit it!” Foster was watching Call. Also The Tadpole, near third. He waited until the count was two and one. “Fine work, Kid, ole boy!” encouraged Gem. As Call’s arm went back, Foster caught the. expected signal, saw Breck start from second, eased his grip for the sacrifice. But the crafty Graham had guessed correctly. He had ordered a wide ball. Unless Fos- ter could reach it, he knew Joe was out standing up. He lunged desper- ately. The Norton stand whirled to its feet. “Run! Come on, Joe! Come on!” Breck was coming. And the lit- tle Texas leaguer was sailing softly over the shortstop’s head. St. Jo’s was dumb. The break had gone to Norton. And Norton was tak-

He made the double play alone 9 ing full advantage of it. As Foster pounded in to first, Breck, with the tying run in his pocket, threw caution to the wind and hurled himself headlong under Graham’s feet. The Tadpole tried to be calm. “Give us some more such luck,” he said to Mr. Howard, “and we'll win.” “You mean more such base running, Tad. Bring Foster home now, Tom.” “Who put out the sun?” muttered Biff Averill, then turned to the stand. “Long cheer for Call!” he com- manded. “Show him what we think of him.” But The Kid was seeing red. His shut-out had been spoiled by a fluke. If he had had speed before, it was as nothing to what he un- corked now. The next two men never touched the ball. “Wow! Wow!” screamed Biff. “The ball’s afire. Three-alarm for The Kid!” “We'll get him next inning,” stated Mr. How- ard coolly. ‘“He’s mad and he’s tired.” “Doesn’t show it,” retorted The Tadpole. “Come on, fellows. And play every ball safe!” They had to. The top of the list was up. If they could come through this, the last of the ninth would be easier. Holden went slowly to the box. He had no intention of being food for a St. Jo’s orgy. He worked Graham to the limit, then had to take his chance. The center fielder barely speared the sizzling drive. Turner came up. “Over the fence isn’t out, Jim,” called Biff. “Take a chance.” But even Biff applauded when Hunt cut down Turner’s smash. Miller, the third of the St. Jo’s killers, drove one almost into the box. Not a man had reached first. “Norton! Norton!” howled the visiting crowd. Biff pushed a mop of hair out of his eyes. “Guess I’d better get on the job,” he said. “Any of you folks know how to cheer?” They proved they did as The Tadpole was selecting a bat to open the ninth. A hand touched his arm. “You've played my game,” said the coach in a low tone; “now play yours. They expect routine; they’re set for a drive. Bunt.” The Tadpole gulped with surprise. Then, as suddenly, he straightened. He saw the climax of the carefully planned campaign just ahead. He, who had fought against it every inch, was to be the apex of the attack. With the St. Jo’s cheering ringing in his ears, he walked to the plate. Norton drowned it with her welcome to her captain. “Look out for this guy,” warned Turner, with a friendly smile at his old rival; “he’s apt to mix the dope.” The Tadpole saw the shortstop hesitate, then come in a few feet. St. Jo’s followed Turner’s slightest hint. It was brain against brain. Call thought to tempt him with a wide one. Tad, awake to opportunity, swung at it with all his might. “Strike one!” called the umpire. A quick frown flashed across Mr. Howard’s face. He had expected his order to be obeyed. “Hit it! Knock off the cover!” begged the Norton crowd. “Tad! Tad!” ALL had been a bit afraid of this chap. But now he decided he was set to smash at anything. Therefore he gave him another wide one. The Tadpole grinned, let it pass. Call tried the next for a corner. “Ball tuh!” snapped the umpire. Again the pitcher’s arm swept over his head. The ball came low and fast. The Tadpole pounced on it like a cat and was off like a streak of light. “Yow! Yow!” yelled Norton. “Told ’em to watch you,” growled Turner, as The Tad- pole dusted his shirt at first. “Good bunt, though.” “Thanks, ole top. Good game.” He saw Dick at the plate, caught his signal and edged off as far as he dared. “Get him!” yelled Averill. “Double play.” “He’s goin’ to bunt,” warned Turner sharply. Call, too, suspected that. But the warning rattled him. He had in- tended to cut the inside corner. He grooved the plate. They got Hunt at first, but The Tadpole went to second. Norton was really cheering now. With the winning run on second, Morris had been ordered to hit. His best was a fly to right. The Tadpole managed to make third. But it was close, too close. . “Two down!” called Graham. “Play for first.” looked over his infield, nodded. “Plenty of time, Kid.” “Long yell for the nine!” shouted Averill. “Now!” Across the diamond ripped the St. Jo’s cheer. What if the half-wild Tadpole was on third? Two were out, The Kid was cool and deliberate and Davis, at the plate, no dangerous hitter. The Kid sneaked over a strike. But Davis seemed un- flustered. He let the next one go. It was a ball. Of a sudden he saw a movement on the coaching line he could not credit. He tried to keep his face expressionless as he flashed a glance at Mr. Howard. Confirmation came in the slow, sure smile. Davis set his teeth. His hands felt cold (Continued on page 48) He

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At the end of it was an old shoe NLY one thing was lacking to make the little river town of Gainsborough the finest place in the world for a boy to live in, and that was the thing which bothered Lyn Walton, Every Friday all the rub- bish carts from the town would drive out on the concrete highway bridge a quarter of a mile below and let go their contents into the deep, rapid river. “Other towns farther down do it,” Lyn had once heard Mayor Hardwick tell his father; “so why shouldn’t we? It’s the cheapest way of getting rid of the stuff, and as long as I’m mayor of this town the people can count on things being done cheaply and efficiently.” The mayor, a little man with a bald head, swelled his chest out like a pouter pigeon’s. He was rather proud of that chest, and, indeed, of his whole person. The good people of Gainsborough regarded him as an exceptional man; he could wear a full dress suit and appear at ease in it. He was the man for mayor. Of course he was right about the rubbish—he was al- ways right—but, then, he was no fisherman. If he were, he would feel as Lyn and most of the other boys felt and realize that the tin cans, the bundles of old newspapers, the worn-out brooms and mops and brushes and the other articles that splashed from the high bridge were spoiling the finest sport in the world; they were rapidly driving the fish from the deep, dark eddies half a mile below the town. For even fish have feelings; the sight of tin cans makes them nervous, especially salmon, and of what use are old newspapers to a wall-eyed pike, or worn-out tooth-brushes to a sucker? Above the town the river ran too rapidly among the rocks to make good fshing. So that was the situation which Lyn faced one sun-lit day in early summer, and which prevented the town of Gainsborough from being the finest ? di } place in the world { for a boy to live in. “Hey, Lyn, com- < \ ing fishing ?” Lyn sat up in the tall grass along the bank and spied the cheerful face of Ralph Iverson, his closest friend at the high school. “I'd surely like to,” he said. For even if the old river had held nothing except blind, toothless eels Lyn would never- theless have en- joyed sitting in a boat at one end of

“Look out! Look out!” Shrieked both boys at once

a hand-line. His surname was not Walton for nothing. RALPH had plenty of bait. Lyn needed only five min- utes to run to the house and get his rod. And at the end of ten minutes the boys were drifting downstream in Ralph’s old rowboat. Near the great bridge the current ran like a mill race between the heavy piers ; there was no need of rowing. “There,” Lyn said a few minutes later and pointed back at the rapidly receding bridge, “that’s what makes me sore! A bridge is to walk across, isn’t it? Who ever heard tell of dumping rubbish from it?” “Well, they do it,” replied Ralph quite as positively as if he had often done it himself. “And stuff from dye fac- tories is just as bad as rubbish. They do that, too.” “I wish you and I knew of a way to stop it, Ralph—the rubbish, I mean. Mayor Hardwick’s the man who could stop it if he wanted to. You bet if I were mayor—” But when the boys anchored at the head of a large eddy and baited their lines, the office of mayor suddenly lost much of its importance. Lyn caught a calico bass a few seconds after he had made his first cast. “O boy!” he ex- claimed. “They’re hungry, Ralph.” “You're right!” said Ralph, rapidly reeling in his line. Then, “Huh!” he exclaimed in disappointment. At the end of it was an old shoe; perhaps it was hungry though, for its tongue was out. A moment later Lyn felt his line tighten; he pulled in at first quickly, then slowly. At the end of it was another shoe. He turned round and glared at the bridge. During the next fifteen minutes the boys had never a nibble. Finally they dropped downstream to another eddy, and there Lyn pulled up part of an old lantern. “This is the limit,” he said with disgust. But really it was nowhere near the limit, for after they had fished the eddy for a while without catching anything, and began to troll in mid-stream, Ralph got his line caught in a sodden pair of khaki overalls; he could not help grinning when, in taking them off his hook, he observed the trade-mark, “Walrus.” we _

A the rest of the afternoon the boys fished the main stream and the eddies on both sides, but although they did have several genuine strikes they caught no more fish. Finally, when each had pulled in various articles of rubbish and broken his line several times on submerged obstacles of a doubtful nature, they decided to row back to town. Even Ralph had lost some of his usual good nature. “Tt’s a shame to spoil a river with all this rubbish,” he said warmly. “Of course the current will carry these things away in time, but every week a lot more gets dumped in. What can you do?” “I say we go and see the mayor,” said Lyn. this new line—it’s ruined!” “What does he care about fishing ?” “Well—he ought to care. I’m going to see him!” Lyn was hot with rowing, especially that part of his neck which was directly beneath his collar. “I'll go with you, then,” said Ralph; “but it won’t do much good, I’m afraid.” The next day was Friday. Not until after supper did the boys decide to go to the mayor’s office, and then they went a good deal more timidly than they had thought they should go when they had made their decision the day before. “Look at

They found the mayor dressed in his evening clothes and wearing his high silk hat. He was on the point of going out but stopped at the sight of the two boys. “Well, my lads,” he said with the smile that had helped him to become mayor, “what can I do for you? How’s your dad, Lyn?” “Dad’s all right, thank you,” Lyn replied quickly. For a moment or two he hesitated; then, thinking of his new oiled-silk line, half of which lay at the bottom of the river, he said, “We came—that is, Ralph and I did—to—well, to tell you what a mess all that rubbish is making of the river—” “The rubbish that’s dumped from the bridge,” added Ralph. “It’s cer- tainly spoiled the fishing around ~ Gainsborough.” Mayor Hardwick looked grave for BOYS’ LIFE : bi sh By Russell Gordon Carter Illustrated by Bert L. Salg a moment; then he smiled quickly and shook his head. “This is a complaint, I take it,” he said. “Well, others have complained also; but I don’t know just what we can do about it. I’m sorry it spoils the fishing, but it saves the town money, and, after all, I guess that’s of more importance.” “It spoils the river,” said Lyn, and then turned a fiery red. “Well, well,” said the mayor and walked toward the door. “I’m glad you dropped in. Come and see me again some time,” he added, extending his hand, the hand that was quite as valuable as his smile. “Sometime when | have a little more time.” Out on the street the boys looked at each other. “Gosh,” said Ralph, and that was all that either said as they walked down.to the edge of the river. There they seated themselves on a flat rock overlooking the rowboats and launches that were moored to the little wharf. “He was all dressed up, wasn’t he?” said Ralph. you notice the high stovepipe?” “Huh,” said Lyn. “Did FOR perhaps ten minutes they sat there, watching the strong current sweep the dead grass and twigs down The sun had just sunk toward the great high bridge. behind the pines _ that fringed the town. At the right, moving along the road that led up to the bridge, was a line of trucks and wagons, piled high. Neither had to ask what was in them; each knew that in a few minutes there would be another week's load of rubbish falling to- ward the water—to spoil the fishing. Both boys were busy with their gloomy thoughts when they heard a step be- hind them, and, turning, they saw the mayor. “Wouldn’t you boys like to go along up to Ripple- ton with me in my launch?” he said. “Glad to have you. You could bring her back alone; I expect to stay overnight.” Then Lyn remembered that there was to be a ban- quet and a meeting of the mayors of the county, and understood why Mayor Hardwick was in _ full dress; he was to be one of the speakers. “Sure,” said Ralph. “Hey, Lyn, how about it?” “All right.” “Well, hop right in. That’s right. Lyn, you can Ye steer if you like.” PMN A They had some difficulty Ss, il sal in starting the little launch, The mayor's face showed but after a few minutes %¢¢ through the dirt and they were successful, and ashes soon it was put, putting out toward the main channel. The mayor sat comfort- ably on one of the cushioned seats in the bow; the boys were in the stern, Lyn with his hands on the wheel. “I intended to go up by machine,” continued the mayor, ‘but my car needed repairs. Jones couldn’t do it in time. Good fellow, Jones, but slow. Some day we'll have a trolley line—why, what’s wrong?” For the little engine had missed several strokes and then stopped. “She’s gone dead, sir,” said Ralph, and tried to start it. “Acted as if there was water in the gasoline,” said Lyn. But for at least once Lyn was wrong. There was no water in the gasoline. How could there be, when there was no gasoline in the tank? If the mayor had not been so much occupied with memorizing the speech that his secretary had written for him, he might have remembered that the last time he came down from Rippleton he had moored his boat and hurried home without examining the tank. It was Ralph who discovered what was the matter. “No gas!” he exclaimed. “We're being carried downstream!” said the mayor. “And we haven’t any oars!” added Lyn. The stern of the boat had swung round, and the mayor was staring straight in front of him, wide-eyed. The July

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he in at ed nd id he wi nk wed and ort- OysS yor, ime. gine t it. Lyn. ; no here been his ered had ning “No ayor The Tuly The Boy Scouts’ Magazine boys turned their heads suddenly and beheld a sight that made their eyes open as wide as the mayor’s. The boat was drifting rapidly toward the stretch of water between the second and third pillars of the bridge, and from the down stream side of it at that point a fitful stream of icose rubbish was pouring. “Gosh!” cried Ralph and, thrusting his hands over the side of the boat, began to paddle with all his might. N a moment the two others were doing the same, but if the launch changed its course at all, it was not enough to count for anything. The current was swift, and there was a slight down-stream wind. “Hey!” cried the mayor, standing up and waving at the bridge. “Hey! Hey!” The boys also took up the cry. But what with the rushing of the water against the piers, the splash, splash of rubbish as it struck the water, and the noise of wheels and hoofs on the planks of the bridge, the shouts made no impression on the men whose duty was to dispose of the week’s rubbish. Now the launch was scarcely a hundred yards from the piers, and the occupants could distinguish some of the articles that were falling. There was the lid of an old wash boiler, which fell like a Boche plane that had been shot down; there was a roll of dirty torn carpet, which, lacking the magic of Aladdin’s, struck the water and sank. And all the while a stream of dirt and dust and smaller objects rained down. Benath the bridge the three in the boat shouted again; then the mayor turned up the collar of his coat. He was well known for his foresight. Lyn and Ralph, huddled in the stern, were the first casualties. A paper bag full of ashes struck Lyn on the shoulder and broke; from that moment he might have passed for Murch the Miller’s son. A.piece of wet cloth that once might have been a shirt flopped down on Ralph’s head and did its best to smother him. He got it off just in time to see the mayor start back as a stream of tin cans, and other things, clattered into the boat. By that time Lyn had got some of the ashes out of his eyes. He saw a pasteboard box that contained potato The Black Wolf Pack T was a terrible shock to me, said our Scoutmaster 4 as he fingered a beaded buckskin bag. Old > Blink 3roosmore was responsible. It was a malicious thing for him to do. He meant it to be mean too,—wanted to hurt me,—to wound my feelings and make me ashamed, And all because he nursed a grudge against Dad,—I mean Mr. Crawford. It started because of that defective spark plug in the engine of the roadster. Strange what a tiny thing such as a crack in a porcelain jacket around an old spark plug can os in the way of changing the course of a fellow’s whole ife. My last period in the afternoon at high school was a study period and I cut it because I had several things to do down town. I hurried home and took the roadster, and on my way our Mother—I mean Mrs. Crawford—gave me an armful of books to return to the library and a list of errands she wanted me to do. While motoring down town [ noticed that one cylinder was missing occasionally and I told myself I would change that spark plug as soon as | got home. I made all the stops I had planned and even drove around to the church because I wanted to look in at the parish house where some of my scouts (I was the assistant scoutmaster of Troop 6 of Marlborough) were putting up decorations for the very first Fathers and Sons dinner ever given which we were to have on Washington’s birth- day. That was in 1911, As I was leaving I looked at my new wrist watch and discovered that it was a quarter of five. “Just in time to catch Dad and drive him home from the office,” I said to myself, for I knew that he left the office of his big paper mill down at the docks at five o’clock. I jumped into the car and bowled along down Spring Street and the Front Street hill and arrived at the mill office at exactly five. Dad wasn’t in sight so I decided to turn around and wait for him at the curb. That is how the trouble started. I got part way around on the hill when that cylinder began missing a lot and next thing I knew the motor stalled and there was I with my car cross- wise on the hill blocking traffic—and traffic is heavy on Front Street hill about five o’clock because all the mills are rushing their trucks down to the piers with the last loads of merchandise before the down-river boats leave at six o’clock. In about two minutes I was holding up a line of trucks a block long and those drivers were saying a lot of things that were not very complimentary to me and not printed in Sunday School papers. And old Blink Broosmore was right up at the head of the line with a truck load of cases 1922 ‘straight peelings land squarely on the mayor’s silk hat and knock it into the water; some of the peelings lay plastered on his bald head; some hung like earings from both his ears. Then the body of a cat that had no more lives to give for its country catapulted smack into the mayor’s lap, though not with- out first rubbing its fur against the front of his shirt. For a moment the mayor sat there stupidly, as if the cat were a special pet of his; then, “We've got to keep this thing dark” although his wife needed a set of furs—for the weather was warm—he uttered a cry of disgust and flung it to the catfish. “Look out! Look out!” shrieked both boys at once. “LOOK OUT!” from the box factory and the look on his face was about as ugly as a mud turtle’s. Then, to make matters worse, my starter wouldn’t work at the critical moment, and I had to get out to crank the engine. What a howl of indignation went up from those stalled truck drivers. I felt like a bad two-cent piece in a drawer full of five-dol- lar gold pieces. Guess my face was red behind my ears. And then old Blink made the unkindest remark of all,— no he didn’t make it to me; he just yelled it out to a couple of other truck drivers. “That’s what happens with these make-believe dudes,” he shouted. ‘“That’s the kid old Skinflint Crawford took out of an orphan asylum. He’s a nobody that old Craw- ford took up with because he was too mean t’ have t’ Lord bless him with one o’ his own. That’s straight, fellers. I was Crawford’s gardener when it happened an’—” LD Blink stopped and got red and then white and I could see the other truckmen looking uncomfortable. I looked up and there was Dad Crawford on the curb boring holes into Blink with those cold gray eyes of his and looking as white as marble. No one said a word. It seemed as if the whole street became hushed and silent. I got the car around to the curb somehow and Dad got in and the line of trucks trundled by with every driver looking straight ahead and some of them grinning ner- yously and apparently feeling mighty uncomfortable. But that wasn’t a patch to the way I felt and I could see by the lack of color and set ex- pression of Dad’s face and the way he stared ahead of him ing a word feeling very about it, too. without say- that he was unhappy Looked as if he : had stepped out of one of Reming- ton’s pictures Sy, 1 There was a sudden harsh swish, and part of a sewing- machine bearing a musical name missed the bow of the boat by scarcely more than an inch. The mayor plunged forward on his knees and accidentally thrust one hand into a greasy lard can; the boys sank back in their seats. And the launch drifted safely through the barrage. “Gosh,” said Ralph, “that was a close—’ ‘Then he spied the mayor’s earrings and began vigorously to rub his eyes. Lyn had been rubbing his ever since the bag of ashes struck his shoulder. Now he looked at the cat-hairs cling- ing to the studs in the mayor’s shirt, and rubbed harder than ever. The mayor himself was obliged to rub his eyes several times, though he could use only one hand. [tt was a sorry-looking boat that the current carried upon a point on the right bank almost a mile below the bridge. There were tin cans of all shapes and sizes scat- tered in the bottom of her. There was a toothless comb on the cushioned seat beside the mayor—an appropriate gift, since he was bald. There was an old set of broken false teeth on top of the engine, as if threatening to bite anyone who might try to start it. There were ashes, potato parings, bits of paper, bits of cloth, part of an alarm clock, a couple of linen collars, and a red tomato that had missed the mayor’s shirt but struck his right patent-leather pump; there were hairpins, spools, the handle of an umbrella, the cane seat of a chair, a bent saucepan, a Christmas wreath, and a picture of the landing of the Pilgrims—indeed, there was probably a greater variety of things in the launch than those same Pilgrims had brought over in the Mayflower. “Well, this is a mess, isn’t it?” said the mayor as he stepped out on the shore and removed one of his earrings. Neither boy denied that it was. Ralph was grinning frankly now. Lyn was thoughtful, though he still rubbed his eyes frequently. The mayor’s face showed red through the dirt and ashes. He coughed; he spluttered; he mopped his fore- head. Then he said, “We’ve got to keep this thing dark; it wouldn’t do for it to get out. We'd be ridiculous.” Ralph nodded and grinned. Lyn only nodded. (Continued on fage 52) By Dan Beard Illustrated by Charles Livingston Bull and S. H. Wainwright There was something behind it all—something that raised in my mind vague doubts and very unpleasant thoughts. Dad never spoke a word all the way home, and, needless to say, I did not either—I couldn’t; my whole world seemed to have been turned upside down in the space of half an hour. Was it true that I was not Donald Crawford? Was it possible that Alexander Crawford, this fine, big, broad-shouldered kindly man beside me was not my real father? Was it a fact that that noble, gen- erous, happy woman whom [ called mamma was not my mother at all? Each of those questions took shape in my mind and each was like a stab in the heart, for Blink Broosmore had answered them all and Alexander Craw- ford, though he must know how anxious I was to have Blink denied, did not speak to refute him, We rolled up the drive and Dad stepped out, still silent, but he did smile wistfully at me as he closed the car door. “Put it away Don, and hurry in for dinner,” he said and I felt certain I detected a break in his voice. I felt sorry —sorry for him and sorry for myself, and as I put the car in the garage, I had a hard time trying to see things clear- ly ; my eyes would get blurred and a lump would get into my throat in spite of me. As I dressed for dinner I’ felt half dazed. I hardly realized what I was doing, and I had to stop and pull myself together before I started downstairs to the dining room, for I knew if I did not have myself well in hand I would blubber like a big chump. Mother and Dad were waiting for me and I could s¢e by Mother’s sad expression and the troubled look in her eyes that Dad had told her of the whole occurrence. And that only added to my unhappiness because I felt for a cer- tainty that all that Blink Broosmore had shouted must be true. For the first time in my memory Dad forgot to say grace, and none of us ate with any apparent relish and none of us tried to make conversation. It was a painful sort of a meal and I wanted to have it over with as soon as I could. It seemed hours before Nora cleared the table and served Dad’s demi-tasse, I guess I then looked him full in the eyes for the first time since the occurrence on Front Street. “That was a very unkind thing for Blink Broosmore to do,” said Dad, and I knew by the firmness ‘and evenness of his voice that he had gained full control of his feelings. “Ts—is—oh, did he tell the truth, Dad?” I gulped help- lessly and for the life of me I could not keep back the tears. “Unfortunately, Donald, there is just enough truth in it make it burn,” said Dad, anu I could see Mother wince as if she had heen struck, and turn away her face.

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12 “Then why—why? Oh! who am I?” I cried, for the whole thing had completely unnerved me. “Don dear, we do not know to a certainty,” said Mother struggling with her emotions. “But now that you are partly aware of the situation, I think there is a way you can find out, at least as much as we know,” said Dad getting up and going into the library. HROUGH the doorway I could see him fumbling at the safe that he kept there be- side the desk. Presently he drew out a battered and dented red tin box and a bundle of papers. These he brought into the dining room and laid on the table. Then he drew up a chair, cleared his throat, rather loudly it seemed to me, and began. “Don, we always wanted a child, and why the Lord never blessed us with one of our own we do not know. Anyway, we wanted one so badly that we decided to adopt one. That was seven- teen years ago, wasn't it Mother?” Mother nodded. “Dr. Raymond, the physician at the county in- stitution knew our desires and, being an old friend of the family, he volunteered to find us a good healthy baby that we could adopt and call our own. Not a week later you appeared on the scene. Dr. Raymond told us that a wagon drawn by a raw-boned horse, and loaded with household goods, drew up to the orphanage and a tired and worn-out looking old lady got out with a lusty year-old child in one arm and this box and these papers under the other. “At the office of the asylum she explained how she and her husband were moving from a Con- necticut town to a little farm they had bought in Pennsylvania. Somewhere at a cross-road near Derby, Connecticut, they had found the baby and this box and bundle of papers in a basket under a bush with a card attached to the basket request- ing that the finder adopt and take care of the baby. “Of course, they could not pass the infant by, but the woman explained that they were toc poor and too old to adopt the child so they had gone miles out of their way to find an orphanage and leave the baby there, along with the box and papers. “When Dr. Raymond heard the story and saw you, for you were the baby, he got me on the telephone and told me all about you. And that night he brought you here, and you were such a chubby, bright, interesting little fellow that Mother and I fell in love with you immediately and decided to adopt you, which we did accord- ing to law. So you are our legal child, Don, and all that, although we are not your real parents.” OMEHOW that made me feel a little happier. Dad and Mother did have a claim on me at least. That was something. “It was not until after Dr. Raymond had left,” went on Father, “that Mother and I examined the box and papers that had come with you. Here they are.” Dad took up a worn and age-yellowed envelope ad- dressed in a bold hand, To the Finder. Inside was the following brief message. To the Finder :— The mother of this child, Donald Mullen, is dead. I, his father, cannot give him the care he should have. Will you, the finder, adopt him, care for him, and bring him up to be an honest, trustworthy man, and win the eternal gratitude of his mother and Donald Mullen, his father. “Then my name is—or was Mullen,” I exclaimed. “According to that,” said Dad softly, “but when you became our son we kept your first name and discarded the family name, of course.” “But—but what has become of my father, Donald Mul- len?” I asked. “My boy, we have tried both for your sake and for our own to find out. We have followed up and searched every possible clue and—but wait, here are other papers of im- terest and after you have read them I will tell you all we have done to locate your real father and afterwards we will talk the whole situation over.” As Dad was speaking he passed over the battered tin box. On the lid was in- scribed the simple lines, The contents of this box belongs to the boy. If you are honest you will see that it comes into his hands at the proper time. If you- are dishonest, then God help the boy and God help you! D. Mullen. It was some time before I could make up my mind to force the lid. When I did the first thing that my eyes fell upon was this buckskin bag of unmistakable Indian design, beautifully decorated with bead work and highly colored porcupine quills cunningly worked into a good luck design. As I picked up the bag I saw that it was sealed with wax and to it was attached a card on which was penned : BOYS’ LIFE What will become of me I do not know. I have one brother left in the world, Fay Mullen, and he is out in Piute Pass in the Rockies grubbing for gold. I am going out to join him for I know the only way I can forget my grief and get hold of myself once more is to bury myself in the wilderness. Fay has sent me a bag of double eagles to pay my expenses west. That is all the money I have in the To my son:— Here is all the wealth I possess. It isn’t much. The bag with its contents was sent to me by my brother, Fay, who is out in the Rockies. He gave it to me to pay my expenses out there to join him. I am leaving it for you. It may help you over some rocky places if it ever gets into your hands, and I trust the good Lord that it does. Lovingly, Your Father. The bag. gave forth the unmistakable clink of gold coins as I dropped it on the table. That message from my father, whom I had never seen, made my heart heavy and again that lump gathered in my throat, for I could feel the heartache that the writing of that note must have caused him. I had not the courage to break the seal of the bag and examine its contents. I pushed it aside and took from the box another time- yellowed envelope addressed to My Son Donald Inside I found the following: Dear Boy :— I cannot determine whether I am giving you a mean deal or whether this is all for your good. Your mother, Barbara Parker Mullen, is dead, God bless her! She has been dead now six months. It seems to me like eternity. I have tried to take care of you as she would have cared for you but I am afraid I have lost heart, and my courage, and I am afraid my faith has slipped from me. I fear that I am a broken- spirited failure. The passing of your mother has taken everything out of me. I am no longer fit or able to care for you and I must pass you on to someone else and trust your welfare to God. For neither your mother nor I have any relatives left who are able to take care of you. What will become of you I cannot guess. I can only hope for the best. But by the time you are old enough to read and understand this message you will, I hope, have forgiven me or praised me for my effort to find you a home, world. I am not going to use it. I will work my way west and leave the gold for you. It is the least and probably the last that I can do for you. If, when you read this, you have any de- sire to know who you really are, I will leave you the following information. Your mother, a wonderful woman, was Barbara Parker of Litchfield, Connecticut, daughter of Judge Arnold Parker of Litch- field, now deceased. I am Donald Mullen, the eldest of three brothers; Fay Mullen is the next of age and Patrick Mullen, the gunsmith of Maiden Lane, New York, is the youngest. We were born in Byron Bridge, Ireland, and we three came to this country after our parents died. You come of an honest, worthwhile people on my side, and of the best American blood on your mother’s Donald, and I ask only that you live an honest, honorable life and have faith in your country and your God, and He will be with you to the end. Good-bye, boy. Lovingly, Your Father. READ the letter aloud but I confess that my voice broke toward the end and I choked up until reading was difficult. For some time after I finished, we three sat in silence. The thoughts and mental pictures of that broken man parting with his baby son seven-: teen years before made me most unhappy. Dad broke the silence. “Well, now you are acquainted with the whole situation, what do you think?” “T scarcely know what to think,” said I. “I wish I could see my poor father; I wonder if he is still alive. Certainly with the information at hand it should not be impossible for me to trace him or some relatives of my mother. Do you not think so?” “That is what I thought, Don, for when you were three years old I began to wonder about your father’s whereabouts. I wanted to meet him and perhaps help him if I could. To that end I began a search for him and for ten years I have had detectives and private individuals following up every possible lead. Yet, with all my effort, the search has amounted to nothing. Your father’s trail ended at a Spokane outfitting store. I could not locate anyone nearer to you than an old maiden great-aunt of your mother’s although I have had every clue investigated. “The only relative of your father’s that I could get any information about was his youngest brother, Patrick Mul- len, your uncle and a famous gunsmith of Maiden Lane, New York. He is dead now but his reputation for mak- ing an exceptionally fine hand-forged gun lives on even to-day. Patrick Mullen died just before I began my search for your father, but in digging around for facts about him, I learned that he had made a limited number of very fine guns, on each of which he had stamped his full name, “Patrick Mullen.” Other guns of an inferior quality that he made bore the simple stamp of P. Mullen. The old man was very proud of each “Patrick Mullen” that he turned out and like a true artist that he was he kept track of each one, sold them only to men he knew and when the owner died he bought the gun back him- self so that he always knew its whereabouts. “In that way all of the 101 “Patrick Mullens” he made came back to him, save one. There is one of the com- plete number still missing and no one seems to know where it is. This is more remarkable because the missing gun is a flint lock rifle of the style of seventy years ago. That gun has always struck me as being a valuable clue in our search, because it is the only rifle ever made by the old gunsmith and I have a feeling that that missing “Patrick Mullen” may have been given-to your father by the brother, and that may account for the fact that among the papers of Patrick Mullen there is no record of its where- abouts. “This is in a measure confirmed by the report that the man outfitting Spokane had a long old-fashioned rifle, and collectors say there used to be an expert in antique arms by the name of Mullen.” The suggestion made me tremendously excited. Be- yond a doubt in my mind that missing “Patrick Mul- len” was my father’s gun. I imagined him parting with everything else save the unique gun his famous brother had made for him. Why he should wish for a flint lock rifle was an unanswerable question but someone wanted July

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The Boy Scouts’ Magazine that sort of a gun or it would not have been made, and my father’s letters showed him to be a man of sentiment, and impractical,—just the sort of fellow to use a flint lock when he might just as well have had a modern breech- loading high power rifle. “T believe you’ve hit it, Dad,” I exclaimed. “Bet a cookie that that gun does belong to my father and if we can find it we will probably find him too, wouldn’t that be bully!” “I feel the same way too, Don. But finding that missing gun will be as difficult as finding your father. I have searched the country over for it and made a wonderful collection of flint lock guns, as you see by looking at yonder gun rack; I have had dozens of arms collectors and detec- tives looking for guns of that description but no Patrick Mullen rifle has turned up anywhere. There have, of course, been many false clues and many queer rifles offered to me and I have put a great many thousands of dollars into the search, and my collection of flint locks is the best in the land, Don. But so far nothing but fail- ures seem to have rewarded my search—no, I’m wrong, there is one man out west—out in the little jerk-water town of Grave Stone, who insists that there is a wild man living in a lonely, almost inacessible valley in the mountains, who shoots a gun which looks like the one for which I am searching. For a number of years this man of mystery it seems, has been appearing and reappearing, according to big Pete Darlinkel, my informant, but even Pete has never got in personal touch with this eccentric hermit. Neither have several detectives I have sent out there for that purpose. The detectives seem to be all right in towns and cities and are undoubtedly brave men, but something out there appears to frighten them and they lose interest the moment they cut the trail of the Wild Hunter. I begin to think this wild man is a myth, too. Strange, though, that just a week ago I received another letter from Pete Darlinkel. Wait, I’ll find it.” He returned from the library presently with a letter which he opened and passed over to me. It read: Dear Mr. Crawford: Maybe you hain’t interested no more but thet tha’ old Doppelganger, the Wild Hunter, the spooky old critter, has been seen agin. i wuz on the top of the painted Butte yesterday squinten over the valley with one i look’n for elk and look’n up tother i for Big horn on the mountain, when i spied the old duffer snoop’en along in one of the parks an’ he had the same long hair and long rifle he uster have. He sure is a ghost or else he’s ms a nut or an old timer gone locoed. He j sends the chills down my backbone every time i sots my eyes on him. Your obedients sarvant, Big Pete. HERE was something about that crude letter that stirred me deeply. Could this strange freak that Big Pete saw from the top of the painted Butte possess that Patrick Mullen rifle? If so did he know anything about the where- abouts of my father? Or—(the suggestion made me gulp) could he by chance be my real dad? It is not uncommon for people suffering from a mental breakdown to flee to the country or wilderness and there live the life of a recluse, and from my father’s last letter it was evident that he had had a nervous breakdown from anxiety and brooding over the loss of my mother to whom he evidently was devotedly attached ; it might therefore be possible that this strange, wild man himself was my father, an unpleasant possibility. At any rate, I felt that I could not rest, at least until I discovered to.a certainty the name of the maker of the long rifle said to be carried by the wild hunter and I told Dad just how I felt about it. “IT knew you would feel that way, son,” said he. “I have often wanted to go west for the very same purpose and I knew that when I told you everything you would want to go too. I intended to lay all the facts before you when you were twenty- one but now that Blink Broosmore has taken it upon himself to inform you and his truck-driving friends of the mystery surrounding your real parentage, I guess it is best you know all there is to be known about the situation. The rest I'll leave to you. In fact, it would please me a great deal if you would run down this last vague clue to see if your father really is still alive. Go, Donald, and God bless you, and take that bag of gold with you unopened, -for it may now stand your father in good stead, and if you do find him, bring him here and I promise you he will never want for 1922 a thing, nor will you, my son, for you are still my boy, whatever your real parentage may be.” CHAPTER II HE stage pulled up in front of a typical western saloon, post office and general store. There was the usual crowd of prospectors, gamblers, cowpunchers and trappers assembled to meet the incoming stage. When I scrambled off the top of the old-fashioned coach, and be- fore I had time to shake the alkali dust from my clothes, or moisten my dry and cracked lips, a typical western bully approached me roaring the verses of a song with which he evidently intended to terrify me: “He blowed into Lanigan swinging a gun An’ swearing, Declaring Red Rivers ’ud run Down Alkali Valley, An’ oceans of gore ‘ud wash sudden death On the sage brush shore, Aw he shot a big hole—” He got no further with the song; another man stepped out -from the crowd. A very tall, powerful man who would have attracted attention in any garb in any place by his distinguished appearance. With little ceremony he rudely brushed the roughneck to one side and my instinct told me the handsome stranger could be no other than Big Pete Darlinkel. My! my! what a man he was! Looked as if he just stepped out of one of Remington’s pictures, or Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show, or slipped from between the leaves of a volume of Captain Mayne Reid’s “Scalp Hunters’— Big Pete was evidently a hold-over from another age. He would have fitted perfectly and with nicety in a pic- ture of Davy Crockett’s men down in old Texas, He seemed, however, perfectly at home in this border town, and I noted that the most hard-boiled and toughest men in the crowd treated him with marked respect and deference. Pete was a wilderness dandy, and evidently was as care- ful of his clothes as a West Point Cadet. In dress he affected the old-fashioned picturesque garb of the moun- tains. His appearance filled me with wonder and ad- miration; he stood six feet two or three inches in his moccasins, straight as an arrow and lithe as a cat. 13 His costume consisted of a tunic of dressed deer-skin, smoked to the softness of the finest flannels. He wore it belted in at the waist, but open at the breast and throat where it fell back like a sailor’s collar into a short cape cov- ering the shoulders. Underneath was the undershirt of dressed fawn skin; his leggings and moccasins were of the same material as his hunting shirt, and on his head he wore a fox skin cap; the fox’s head, ornamented with glass eyes, ornamented the front and the tail hung like a droop- ing plume over the left shoulder. Big Pete Darlinkel was a blonde, and his golden hair hung in sunny curls upon his massive. shoulders; a light mustache, soft yellow beard, with a pair of the deepest, clearest, most innocent baby-like blue eyes, all made a face such as a woman might have after years of exposure to sun and wind. Not only were Big Pete’s revolvers gold mounted, but the shaft of his keen-edged knife was rich with figures, rings and stars filed from gold coins and set in the horn. The very stock of his long, single-barrelled rifle was inlaid like an Arab’s gun, and as for his buckskin hunting suit, it was a mass of embroidery and colored quills from his beaded moccasins to the fringed cape of his shirt. Big Pete was a dandy, fond of display; yet in spite of all this he wore absolutely nothing for decoration alone, but every article of use about his person was ornamented to an oriental degree. Gaudy and rich as his costume was when viewed in detail, as a whole it harmonized not only with Pete, his hair, his complexion, his weapons, but with whatever natural objects surrounded him. Big Pete seemed also to know me instinctively and ap- proached with a graceful and swinging step, and, holding out his hand, he greeted me in a low, soft, well-modulated voice with: “Howdy, kid; yes, I’m Big Pete, and allow you are thet tenderfoot duck from New York what wants to shoot big game, an’ reckon you'd like to meet the wild mountain man? Well, he’s a queer one, I tell you. He’s got us all buffaloed out this-a-way; most of us don’t care to meet him close up, and we give him wide range when he cuts his trail.” peace was Big Pete’s greeting. Of course, I had not told him of my real interest in this mysterious man of the mountains, only suggesting that I would like to do some big game shooting and see the spooky hunter. “Well,” I answered, “I would like to get a record elk head to take home to Dad. As for the mountain wild man, I wish you'd tell me more about him; he is awfully interesting.” “Tell you more? Well, sho’, I reckon I can tell you more than most people round these parts, for he makes my game park his stampin’ grounds every once in a while, an’ let me tell you he hunts some peculiar, he do. He’s half man and half wolf—but, shucks! I won’t spoil the show. You will see how he hunts for yourself if you stay here long. Glory be, but he’s got me some bashful and shy. But mosey along and I'll hist yore stuff on this yere cayuse while you let them tha’ dogs out of their chicken-coop boxes. You can cache your duds; we're off for the hills. I'll yarn about this Wild Hunter while we hit the trail.” An hour spent in Grave Stone gave me an opportunity to wash myself and change my clothes for some that would be more substantial for out-of-door wear, start several letters east telling of my safe arriv- al, buy the few things I had overlooked, store my surplus clothes with the post- master at the general store, and repack my kit for pony travel. Then after watch- ing Big Pete skilfully throw the diamond hitch, we were off for the hills and our first camp. I hoped that I was on my way to find my real father.and unravel the mystery that surrounded my strange baby- hood. But I little guessed what adventures I was to have or the strange things I was to see before my quest was ended. We travelled fast for five days literally rushing along the mountain trails, for Big Pete refused to stop and hunt or even fish until we reached his “huntin’ grounds.” At the end of the fifth day we reached a narrow opening of a big valley or “park” in the midst of a wild tumble of mountains. Big Pete said he was right “t’ hum now” and he decided we would pitch our tent in the entrance to the park. “Tha’s plenty of signs ’round too an’ if we loosen t’ dogs p’raps we kin stir up (Continued on Page 53)

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14 “They’re Our Buddies!” LONG time ago, when I was a yellow-haired boy— I’m bald and a bit old now—the Wild West Show of Buffalo Bill came to town, and I was one of those lucky persons handled by its creators alone. The tremendous spread of canvas, the vast amount of “hand work,” the intricate detail, the necessity for hundreds—yes, even thousands—of who could set the alarm clock, and then, in answer to its call, watched the circus arrive with- out even budging out of bed. For I lived near the “show lot” where all the big circuses gave their exhibits, and I felt that life held something more for me than for the ordinary boy. I say, I could watch the show BOYS’ LIFE By Courtney Ryley Cooper upon the best friend that the circus possesses, the boy: You'll hear the call early in the morning, even before the switch engines have ceased clanging, and the steel runs have been shoved to the ground by the cookhouse crew and without leaving bed. But I didn’t. No boy does. And it happened that during the course of the morning, wan- dering about, I came upon a canvasman bending over a ripped portion of the circus tent where it lay stretched on the ground, striving aimlessly to sew the rent with a broken needle. “Hello, kid!” he greeted me. “Run home and get me a good needle, will you?” “Gi’ mea ticket to the show ?” I asked in reply. “No—I can’t. They don’t let us working fellows give tickets away.” Just the same, I got the needle, and on my return the canvasman looked up with a grin. “You kids are the best friends we've got!” he announced, and razorbacks, that the cookhouse and range wagons may be run from the flatcars and trans- ported to the circus lot to the preparation for breakfast. You'll hear it from the leather lungs of the boss canvasman and his assistant, busy in the rounding up of the “big top” crew in the semi-darkness, from the lips of the head me- nagerie men down at the big cars which convey the ele- phants or “bulls,” the horses or “ring stock” and the smaller hay-eating animals of the me- nagerie, known as the “led stock.” You'll hear it echoing all along the lengthy sections of the circus train, the same message voiced in different tongues: “Hey, boys! Step lively there! Want to go to the cir- cus?” ‘And the call is always an- swered. As the long pole and “stringer” wagons pull away from the circus train, drawn by their broad-backed draught stock of from eight to twelve horses, you'll find perched upon those wagons the inevitable clusters of town urchins, be- ginning their work of the day. As the “led stock” starts on its I ran home to tell the news— that a circusman had said that boys were the best But there came a sniff from my sister, “He only said that because he wanted the needle,” came her ultimatum. didn’t give you a ticket.” “T notice he WENTY years later I stood on the steps of my private car, and, strangely enough, it was one of the managerial cars of the show of which Buffalo Bill formed the chief feature. Things had changed a bit since the olden days when I salvaged the needle. Now I counted Buffalo Bill as my friend and comrade, the destinies of six hundred people and two great trains of circus paraphernalia were under my partial control and—— “Kid,” I said, as a boy passed and I leaned out from the vestibule, “run over to the circus lot and ask the boss canvasman if he’s going to be able to get the tent up on time for the afternoon show. We got in here late, you know.” “Yes, sir!” and the boy was gone. Five minutes later he returned, panting: “He’s going to get it up all right.” “Thanks,” I said, and grinned. “You kids are the best friends we've got.” Then something crossed my mind—a picture of twenty years before. I reached into a pocket for my pad of re- served seat passes. “Guess you've got a friend?” I asked, and the boy nodded. A moment later he was running away shouting—and clasp- ing tight at tickets for two grandstand seats. Nor was it all memory that prompted the gift of three dollars’ worth of seats for a ten-cent errand. It was the general knowledge that I had spoken the truth, and that this boy represented other boys—boys who not a week before had saved the whole circus, who had made it pos- sible for the doors to open, and the thronging mass of people, representing thousands and thousands of dollars, to crowd through the main gates and in to the perform- ance. More, were it not for the boys of the United States, the boys who cluster about the long circus trains in the gray of morning, who rally to the call of the boss canvas- man, and stay by him through thick and thin until the last stringer is laid and the last duty done—the big circuses of the country would not be able to run at all! Therefore, is it any wonder that we call them our buddies? The boy, collectively, and that includes youngsters from twelve to eighteen years in age, are counted upon by the circus as a part of their equipment, in just as important a sense as the railroad cars themselves, or the tents or the performers and executive staff. And for this reason: The present-day circus is too gigantic a thing to be Every circus depends upon the boys of the town to put it on the lots. hands ready to grasp this piece. of trapping or that bit of rope, are too great in expanse to be coped with by the ordinary amount of labor which can be carried on the long trains. Often, too, it is impossible to procure that labor— the inroads of harvest time in Kansas, the lure of high wages at the various mines when the shows strike the metal belts, the constant drift and flow of men makes it next to impossible at times to procure the number of workers needed daily to erect the numberless tents which cluster about the “big top” and to put into place the tier upon tier of seats needed for the influx of the matinee and night crowds. But the show cannot stop for that. It is an in- exorable rule of circusdom that the show must go on—on in spite of rain, in spite of fire and flood, in spite of wrecks, of illness or death. The promises are on every billboard, and the circus takes its promises seriously. I have seen a performance in action, the clowns laughing, the band playing to the full extent of its seemingly brass- coated lungs, the crowds on the seats cheering and ap- plauding—and above, on the muddy-colored canvas of the big top, the stains of the life blood of faithful workmen who were killed the night before during a “blowdown,” loyal, gallant souls, struggling to the last that the promise of the circus be fulfilled, fighting to the death against the elements that the show might go on. EE the shortage or absence of workmen cannot and must not stop the circus. Nor does it—for there is always one element that can be depended upon, always one group of persons who will not fail—the boys. And it is to them that the circus looks for aid in all times, and for salvation in the hour of need. What do they do? Theirs are the willing tasks that can be achieved better by youthful hands than by stronger ones, theirs the enthusiasm that even the loyal “roughneck”— and those coarse men of the circus are loyal—cannot fulfill in as good a measure. On every circus, at the time the regular admission tickets are printed and the gilded: passes put into their pads and apportioned to the various agents and members of the executive staff, great piles of square, white tickets are also given out, to the bosses of the work- ing crews. And these tickets—passes in truth—are labeled with something fraught with meaning: “BOY'S TICKET.” They are the tickets that some day during the long sea- son, some gloomy hour in the progress of the big show, may save the circus! But first to the ordinary dependence Here is good photographic evidence of that fact, and Mr. Cooper, an old circus man himself, tells you in the story just how some boys have helped out in situations that might have proved serious for the circus tramp to the lot, you'll find the leaders to be the youngsters who have arisen long before daybreak “to see the circus come in.” As the canvas wagons depart, they, too, will have their apportionment of youthful workers, and more than once, standing beside the boss canvasman on some gloomy, drizzling morning, I’ve seen him nod his head and heard the cheery remark that all circusmen yearn for: “Oh, we'll get up in good time today! The lot’s a little sandy and it’s a long haul, but we'll make it. There are plenty of boys!” [NX that last sentence lies the explanation. It means that the difficulties which the weather has placed upon the circus have been overcome by an outside influence, that the obstacles in the path of the show have been met and con- quered through an ever-ready ally-—the boys. How willing they are! When the big top, or main tent, is stretched, preparatory to the raising, boys are side by side with the regular workmen of the circus, pulling and tugging away at the heavy sheets of tenting, so that they may be laced into place about the bale-rings of the center-poles. When the “stringer” and “jack” and “plank wagons,” carrying the various portions of the seating arrangement, pull into position it is the boys who drag the loads from the pile into which they are tossed and lug them into place under the canvas. When there is ‘straw to be sprinkled over wet or muddy ground, you'll find there long strings of youngsters hurrying along at a “double,” their arms full of straw, an endless chain of activity, all working toward the end that the circus grounds may be inviting for the circus throngs, all imbued within a mo- ment, it seems, with that rule of circusdom—‘“the show must go on!” The morning is the rush time of the circus. In only a few hours the big show must be unloaded from the trains which have brought it from the last town, and hauled a distance varying from a quarter of a mile to three miles to the circus grounds. From twelve to fifteen tents must be laid out and raised, the cookhouse, the horse tents, the blacksmith shop, the menagerie tents, the sideshow, the dressing “tops,” the “juice joints” or lemonade stands, and the “big top” itself, alone covering a space ranging from three to five hundred feet long and from a hundred and fifty to two hundred and fifty feet wide. Into this big top must be placed seating arrangements for from five thou- sand to fifteen thousand persons—and did you ever stop to consider what a tremendous throng fifteen thousand per- sons really is? It means that enough seats must be put (Concluded on-page 41) July

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The Boy Scouts’ Magazine By Frank Farrington Illustrated by Leslie Crump ‘6 HO’S that guy?” exclaimed Shark Meehen to the rest of the Hoxey School boys lounging about the doors of the gym’ with him. “That guy” was a student who was passing, a new student, despite the fact that this was the middle of the year. He wore immaculate clothes, pressed and creased to perfection. He wore spats and a derby hat, a wonderful red necktie and heavy, horn-rimmed glasses with thick bows. He was just a little mincing in gait and he had the look of a bookworm, a regular dig. At first no one replied to Meehen’s question, though all observed with grins the passing figure. At last Micky Harper said, “Oh, I guess I know who he is. I overheard someone talking to Prexy when I was waiting outside of his office and it was a woman, probably this guy’s mother, and she said she knew Montmorency, that’s what she called him, would be able to keep up with the class and that he was so far ahead of most boys that she had not thought it was worth while to bring him until the middle of the year, and she hoped he would get in with the best class of students because it was due to his family.” This explanation was met with a hoot of derision, but it did not cause the object of the derision even to turn his head in their direction. “Montmorency!” someone exclaimed. ‘“Mother’s pet’s got a fine chance of getting in with the Dumble Hall crowd.” “The best class of students, she said,’ remarked Tom Dixon, who evidently did not belong to the Dumble Hallers. “If the Dumble Hallers are students, the Hope- well Dorm’ fellows must be bookworms. I never saw a Dumble Hall fellow studying yet and I’ve been here three years.” It may be said right here that Tom Dixon was one of the most popular fellows in the Hoxey Preparatory School and he steered a middle course, being equally friendly with both the easy going Dumble Hall men and their rivals, the harder working fellows of Hopewell Dormi- tory, across the campus. Tom alone was able to make fun of either side without getting either side down on him. Both sides claimed him as an ally and he was likely to side with either. In the long run he played no favorites and he roomed in neither of the two buildings. . The young man who had passed turned out to be Mont- morency Randolph, the new student whose mother thought he could start in at the end of the mid-year recess and hold his own with the rest of the students. For a week his mother stayed at the hotel near the school and Montmorency stayed with her. In the mean- time the question of where he should room, whether in Dumble or Hopewell, was con- sidered by both of them and by President Dean. HETHER as a result of a tip from headquarters or not, I cannot say, but at the end of the week, Tom Dixon who had made himself friendly with the newcomer, had advised him to select Hope- well Dormitory, and Montmorency, who had already seén enough and heard enough to appreciate Tom’s position in the school, ac- cepted his advice and told his mother of his decision, and he stuck to it in spite of the fact that she urged him to change to Dumble Hall because she had seen that the latter dormitory housed the better dressed and the more sophisticated looking set. “Tom Dixon says I’ll like ‘it best and do the best work, Mother, if I’m in Hopewell, and I’m going in there if you are willing,” and to Hopewell Dormitory he went, to room with “Tiger” Bliss, a digger who was also, in season, a good football half- back. Monty, as Montmorency soon was called, was not a phenomenon for long. Most of the boys soon became used to his appear- ance and since he never obtruded himself or his opinions, they would have let him alone as he found his niche and settled into it, had it not been for Shark Meehen and Micky Harper, who would not let Monty drop out of sight. To Shark Meehen, Monty was always “That guy,” and never was addressed as anything more than “Hay there, you.” Shark seemed to have taken a personal dislike to Monty at first sight and he did not let up on him. He did everything possible to make the newcomer ridiculous. Micky Harper would probably have let the matter drop had it not been for Shark. Micky could be mean enough when he tried, but usually he would not take the trouble to try. He was so much under the control of Shark, how- ever, that he too did everything he could to make Monty uncomfortable. They caricatured him. They mocked him. They guyed and “kidded” him. They capitalized the remarks his mother had unfortunately made in Micky’s hearing. Through all this Monty remained silent. He did not try to stand up for himself. He must have known he was too small and slight to fight either of the two fellows who nagged him. They were both so much bigger that it really almost put them in the position of picking on a smaller boy. Time did slip along, though, and Monty made some friends in his inoffensive way. He was found to be instinctively a gentleman and in- defatigably a student. He studied early and late, and it may have been the fact that he came in at the half year and matched Micky Harper point for point in his classes, that helped to keep that careless student irritated at him. With the coming of spring the various branches of outdoor sport began and the rivalry between the two dormitories was expressed in games and series of matches, encouraged as a means of developing players for the later and more im- portant interscholastic events. Monty apparently took no interest in athletics. The nearest he seemed to come to sport was in the way of occasional long walks on which he went by himself. He did not develop into much of a mixer, even as he grew better acquainted with the fellows about him. Tom Dixon was as much of a friend as any outside of his room-mate, but then Tom was everyone’s friend, though he was the intimate of none. Tom endeavored to get Monty to try golf or tennis or basket ball or some other game, but Monty, though he opened his eyes a little at the mention of tennis, gave no indication that he cared to mix in athletics. At last a day came when Hopewell Dorm’ was looking for someone to fight out a singles match at tennis with Dumble Hall. There seemed to be no one who would have what Tiger Bliss called a “Chinaman’s chance” of even making a game of it against Shark Meehen, who had for a . 27 “Did you ever swing a racket, Monty?” asked his room- mate two years been far and away the best tennis player in the school. “Didn’t you ever swing a racket, Monty?” Tiger asked his room-mate. “T used to play a little back home,” Monty replied. a good game.” “You're right, it’s a good game, and we don’t want to see those Dumble Hallers take the match by default. How much can you play?” “It’s - was like pulling teeth to extract any information from Monty, but Tiger’s father was a dentist and Tiger stuck to him, and as a result of that conversation, he re~ ported to Tom Dixon that he had a man who would take on Meehen, just to keep him from getting the match by default. The match was scheduled to take place on a Saturday at 5 p. m. and it was given little or no attention by those who saw it announced on the bulletin board, because it was a foregone conclusion that it would be so one-sided as to be without interest. The afternoon came and with it not more than a cor- poral’s guard of observers in addition to the proper officials. Showers were imminent and all anyone seemed to be interested in was in getting the match played off and out of the way, off from the schedule before rain should in- terfere. The match opened with Meehen serving and his attitude was one of the utmost confidence, even of scorn. He ignored Monty as much as possible. He served easily, even patronizingly, as if it was an. imposition to ask him to play so inferior a player. Monty, his big spectacles making him look owl-eyed and his tennis clothes adding nothing to his diminutive stature, began by returning each service with meticulous care, but with no particular dash or snap. Nevertheless he seemed to manage to win points. He twice returned the service just over the net and when he got his opponent up close, he lobbed over his head, and before Meehen realized just what had happened, the first game was at deuce. Then Shark braced up and pulled the game out. The spectators began to feel a little interest. The second game opened with Monty serving. There was no speed to his service, but he dropped the ball in unexpected corners of the service court. He was foxy. He tricked Meehen and he took the game. Shark began to see that he was dealing with no inex- perienced greenhorn and he put on more steam and took his own service handily. After that each player took his service game. But the likelihood of rain developed into a certainty, and the set had barely reached five-all, with the students rapidly gathering on the sidelines, when the (Continued on page 44)

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ANTING, breathless, cold sweat dampen- ing his forehead, Jim Melvin backed against the high, blank wall of the Chi- nese warehouse and faced with fear and desperation that slowly closing circle of evil, slant-eyed, yellow faces, From a cut in one temple the blood oozed slowly, trickling down his cheek to stain the torn collar of his flannel shirt. Fairly reeling with fatigue and shock, the discovery that the narrow alley into which he had plunged blindly was merely a shallow pocket leading only to the closed warehouse gates had utterly un- nerved him. Indeed, there had been no time to really col- lect his scattered wits from the moment of his rude awakening in that filthy corner near the wharves where he had taken refuge late the night before. Startled out of an exhausted sleep by the tightening rasp of a rope about his throat, the boy leaped up panic-stricken, strik- ing out wildly with both fists, and the coolie who had intended merely to play a rough joke on this ragged “foreign devil” received a smashing blow in the face which turned him instantly into a raging beast. The rest was swift and inevitable. In a few seconds a crowd gathered, made up of the scum of Singapore that lounges round the docks. Stones flew, knives glittered in the early morn- ing sun, harsh, guttural voices shrieked threats and curses in many tongues. The victim, so evidently a friendless derelict, had not the least chance, and when he fled, as he did almost in- stantly, the mob was close upon his heels. As a pack of hounds pursues the crafty fox, they surged after him through the crooked streets and alleys, making fierce turmoil and gathering as they went more vicious human flotsam from the byways. Unfortunately Mel- vin was no fox. Ignorant of the tortuous in- tricacies of these waterside thoroughfares, he saw what seemed like a welcome refuge and dashed into it promptly, without a single pre- monition that he was running into a trap in- stead. And now, like some wild animal at bay, he crouched against the fatal barrier, searching with a despairing gaze that sea of brutal faces for a trace of humanity or pity—but in vain. HERE were half-naked coolies, slant-eyed, yellow, lithe, sloe-eyed Malays, here and there a low-caste Hindoo; the faces were all stamped with that same expectant look of brutal cruelty. Savages at heart, the thin veneer of civilization with which they had learned to conceal their natural instincts had van- ished. They very evidently enjoyed this baiting of a help- less boy and as evidently meant to carry it through to the bitter end. Naturally the coolie who had been struck led the throng. Squat, muscular, his coarse yellow face stamped with evil passion, he leaped forward and, catching Melvin by one arm, twisted it with a sudden cruel force which wrung a stifled cry of pain from the tortured boy. An instant later a heavy blow from the fellow’s clenched fist sent Jim to his knees, dazed and reeling. Instinctively he flung up his free arm to guard his face, but it was of no avail. Two other coolies grabbed him and held him helpless, while the first kicked and beat him brutally until at length another sharp cry of agony was forced through his clenched teeth, To Melvin, half blinded, with senses swimming, the circle of cruel, gloating native faces about him were like hideous, grotesque masks, looming larger and larger into his failing consciousness through a blurring mist of pain. At length they seemed to be merely heads floating in the air, and their sudden, violent agitation caused him no definite sur- prise Even when that torturing agony in his arm abruptly ceased, he only felt in some vague way that his nerves had grown insensible to pain. It was the sound of a sharp, angry voice speaking English which at length roused him from his lethargy. “Curs! You beasts! Drop him—quick !” N instant later a tall, well-knit figure clad in white A stood over the boy. His lean, brown face under the pith helmet was furious, and as he jabbed a blunt-nosed automatic against the shrinking flesh of the coolie ring- leader his eyes flashed. “Move!” he snapped curtly. finger’d slip—you devil!” Promptly the fellow shrank back, eyes raging, yet afraid. The rest of the mob had melted away, only a few bolder “IT only wish my trigger “Move!” he snapped curtly ones lingering about the opening of the alley. His gaze still holding the ringleader, the stranger bent a little and, slipping a muscular arm around Melvin, lifted him to his feet. “Are you badly hurt?” he asked in a gentle voice which contrasted curiously with the angry harshness of a mo- ment before. Jim shook his head. “I—don’t—think so,” he shakily. “It was my wrist mostly, and—and—” The other nodded understandingly. “Good! We'd bet- ter be moving, then. This isn’t a very healthy part of town to stir up a rumpus with the natives.” answered E did not remove his arm and Jim was more than glad of its support ; he was still weak and shaken, and aching from a score of bruises. Slowly the two passed along the alley toward the slightly wider street beyond. For a moment it seemed as if two vicious-looking Malays, fingers gripping the hilts of snaky, curving creeses, meant to try and bar their way, But the man met their threatening glances with a steady, narrow-lidded stare and a slight upward twitch of the weapon in his right hand, which ap- parently caused the natives to change their minds. Once past them there was no further attemot at inter- ference and within ten minutes they had reached the water- front and paused beside the entrance to one of the busy docks. “I’m going to take you aboard the steamer and have the ship’s doctor look after your cuts,” said the stranger. “We don’t sail for over an hour, so there'll be plenty of time. My name is John Ballard, by the way.” “Mine’s Jim Melvin,” returned the boy. “I—TI can’t tell you how—awfully obliged Iam to you. They would have—” “Don’t bother about that,” cut in Ballard, as he led the way onto the dock, “I’m mighty glad to have been on hand. You see, I know this scum pretty well, and when 1 heard you cry out I thought it was something more than just a native squabble. After you’re rested you can tell me how you came to be in such a fix.” BOYS’ LIFE By Joseph B. Ames Illustrated by Clinton Balmer H® led the way directly to a comfortable cabin, somewhat cluttered with several pieces of well-worn luggage. Here the ship’s doctor was summoned and made short work of Melvin’s worst cuts and abrasions. As soon as he had gone the boy gave a brief account of the disastrous events which had followed his awakening that morning. When he had finished Ballard’s gaze rested on his face with thought- ful, penetrating scrutiny. Drawn and haggard as it was with pain and anxiety, and—Ballard shrewdly suspected—lack of food, it was a pleasant face with a good mouth and chin and clear, steady eyes set wide apart. Indeed, there was something about the boy and his manner of speaking which attracted the man strongly and aroused in him a puzzled curiosity. “But what were you doing around the docks at night?” he asked suddenly. “You don’t be- long in Singapore, do you?” “No, sir,’ Melvin answered slowly. “I—I came from Calcutta on one of those third-rate coasting steamers. We docked day before yes- terday and the captain asked me to go ashore on an errand for him. When I came back the ship was—gone. I’d paid for my passage to Hong- kong, and—and I believe it was just a trick to get rid of me.” Ballard’s face darkened. “Very likely. Most of those fellows are thieves or worse. He prob- ably pocketed your passage money. What then?” The boy flushed. “My—my money was stolen in the crowd about the wharf.” He hesitated a moment. “It wasn’t very much,” he added slowly. “You see, my father and I lived in India for years. He was a buyer for a New York Oriental firm which failed a few weeks before he died. There was very little money, and—and I tried for weeks to get work and couldn’t. So finally I spent nearly all that was left in a cheap passage to Hongkong. I thought perhaps I could find something to do there, and anyhow it was a little nearer—home.” “But haven’t you any relatives in America who could help you?” “Not that I know of. We've lived over here ever since I can remember. Dad had some cousins somewhere in the States, but he—he died so suddenly that there wasn’t time—” He paused and bit his lips, and though he kept himself well in hand, there was a look in his eyes which affected Ballard keenly. It was an expression of mingled grief and suppressed ter- ror, which Ballard, knowing the East so well, understood perfectly. It told of desperate, unavailing struggles to keep his head above water—of slipping, sinking, smother- ing in that turbulent, poisonous human flood where life is the cheapest thing on earth, and a foreigner without means or influence almost always goes under sooner or later. For a grown man the situation would be bad enough, but for a boy of sixteen or so, as he judged this one to be— Ballard frowned, and, springing up, took a swift turn or two across the cluttered cabin. Watching him wistfully, Melvin flushed and rose hastily to his feet. “It’s time I was going,” he said abruptly. “I can’t ever thank you enough for what you’ve done, but—” “Wait a second.” Ballard jerked out his watch. “Jove! Not much more than five minutes. Listen! I’ve a proposi- tion to make to you. I’m on my way to New Guinea to do some research work, and I can very easily use an assistant. Do you want the job?” AZED, bewildered, the boy stared at him for a moment in stunned silence. “You mean,” he gasped at length, “you want me to—to—” “Yes. You look strong and healthy, and you haven't any ties. We'll be gone a year or more, and I’ve got to have someone of my own sort that I can trust. The pay isn’t anything wonderful, and the life may be pretty rough at times, but on the whole—” “Rough!” burst out Melvin. “You think I’d mind rough- ness after—after He blinked fiercely and his hand clenched. “You’re not making me this offer because you’re —sorry ?” Smiling a little, Ballard shook his head. “I couldn’t afford to do that,” he said. “I really do need someone bad. I had a chap picked out, but at the last minute he threw me over. You see”—his smile deepened—‘“I’ve been looking you over ever since I ran into you in that alley back there, and I’ve an idea we'll get along very well to- gether. How about it?” July

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The Boy Scouts’ Magazine HE boy’s shoulders squared and a look of amazing relief came into his face, smoothing out the haggard lines and bringing back a pleasant touch of boyishness which must have been long banished. “Of course, I’ll come if you really want me,” he an- swered swiftly. “It—it’s like finding a perfectly good life preserver when you're going down for the third time. Gee!’ he added suddenly, “Why, I haven’t any clothes, or anything—” From the deck above a warning whistle shrieked rau- cously. Ballard laughed. “Don’t let that worry you,” he said. “I'll fix you up somehow out of my junk.” He held out his hand, “Shake, old man. We’re partners now, and I don’t believe we'll ever have cause to regret it.” It was a sentiment with which Jim Melvin agreed fer- vently, and he made a silent vow to do his part and more. He had liked Ballard from the first, and as the days passed and he came to know him better a keen admiration grew up within him for the young man who, though not more than twenty-six or seven, apparently regarded the business ahead of them with the cool, calm, matter-of-fact efficiency of a seasoned veteran. That the venture would be fraught with serious difficul- ties and perhaps even peril Jim learned in the course of the many talks which enlivened the long, hot days that followed the sailing of the Ocean Queen from Singapore. Stretched out in their steamer chairs on the shady side of the deck, or strolling about in the cool of the evening, there was little else to do but talk, and before the ship put in at Batavia the two were very well acquainted. In this wise Jim learned that it was Ballard’s third trip to the Malaysian Islands. Of independent means, though not possessing great wealth, the young man had for years been making a scientific study of the habits, customs, legends and languages of the various island tribes, in which he seemed tremendously interested. UITTING Batavia, the Ocean Queen, a trader of moderate tonnage carrying only a few passengers, pursued her more or less leisurely way through the Java Sea. Putting in at several island ports, she finally reached Macassar in the Celebes and thence laid her course for Port Moresby, fifteen hundred miles or more distant, where Ballard and his young friend would disembark. From the first the weather had been typical of the tropics at that season. All day the sun beat fiercely out of a cloudless sky until the pitch fairly bubbled in the deck seams, and in spite of the thinnest clothing the heat was” almost intolerable. At dusk, however, a breeze usually sprang up, lasting well through the night, reviving exhausted passengers and crew, and making it possible to get through another torrid day. Some forty-eight hours out of Macassar, however, a gale struck them in that sudden Pacific fashion which came near proving the end of the Ocean Queen and everyone on board. As Ballard strongly sus- pected, it was really a hurricane, and all that saved them from going down was the fact that they were nearer the edge than the center of the disturbance. As it was, the vessel was caught up and carried along irresistibly, and for the better part of an afternoon and half the night she battled desperately for her life against the furious wind and colossal seas. Jim, whose only experience with the ocean had been that long-ago voyage from Vancouver to Hongkong, was awestruck and alarmed, but he did his best to emulate Ballard’s coolness. Battened below deck and unable to stir without being flung about by the ship’s violent pitching, they spent most of the time in their cabin. Sleep, of course, was out of the question; without being roped in they could not even have kept their berths. Spreading the mattresses on the floor, they braced themselves against the solid woodwork and endeavored by conversation to forget the discom- fort of their perilous situation. HORTLY after midnight Ballard commented on what seemed to him a definite lessening of the tempest. An hour later the cessation of motion was blissfully evident, and he left the cabin to find out how things were going and whether the ship had sus- tained any damage. He presently returned with the news that the second mate and three of the Kanaka crew had been washed overboard, part of the bridge had been smashed by the powerful waves, and the hull severely strained and leaking in several places. “They’ve started the pumps, though, and have the water well under control,” he added reassuringly. “It must have been a mighty close thing, all right, and I’d hate to think what another hour or two of that wrenching might have done. However, Captain Briggs says we're riding out of it, and there’s no more dan- ger, so we may as well make up the bunks and try to get a little sleep.” ; It was good advice, of course, but Jim Melvin did not find it easy to follow. Tired as he was, his nerves 1922 were distinctly jumpy and it seemed hours before he finally dozed off, lulled by the growing steadiness of the vessel. His next conscious realization was of a terrific crash which flung him clear of the bunk to sprawl full length on the floor. It was followed by a crushing, grinding, colos- sal upheaval of the vessel’s hull, a shuddering tremor, a sickening downward lurch. And then, as the boy crouched there stunned and bewildered, screams rose from far and near—hoarse, bellowing, shrill with fright; doors began to slam and feet padded swiftly along the corridor outside. Suddenly Ballard’s hand, fumbling through the darkness, touched his shoulder. “Slip on a few clothes,” the man said in a tense, strained veice. “Hurry!” Jim obeyed as quickly as he could. It was pitch dark, for the electric light failed to respond to repeated pressing of the button, and nothing seemed to be where it ought to be. His hands were shaking nervously, but he finally managed to retrieve and drag on a pair of trousers, shirt and rubber-soled shoes and follow Ballard into the corridor. HE passage was pitch dark and listed oddly toward the forward companionway. Ballard hesitated an in- stant and then, catching Jim by one arm, hurried in the opposite direction. Part way along a cabin door was jerked open and a shadowy figure, moaning and disheveled, pushed past them and ran forward. He disappeared in the darkness, and with a grunt Ballard dived down a short side passage, climbed a strangely tilted stair and, with Meivin close at his heels, gained the after deck. The sky was clear save for a few tattered remnants of cloud which streamed across the yellow crescent moon. The ship sloped perilously forward and from the bowels of her there came strange, terrifying noises—the screech of ripping iron, the sharp crack of parting timbers, a hiss- ing roar of steam from broken pipes. Whatever she had struck, whether floating derelict or uncharted reef, the Occan Queen was very evidently doomed. Where the two stood the deck was deserted, but forward around the starboard boats there surged a mob of fighting, screaming men, the sight of which turned Jim’s blood cold. There were naked, dark-skinned Kanakas, wild-eyed and panic-stricken ; sooty-faced stokers with bare, brawny arms and chests; disheveled passengers, half-clothed stewards— all struggling together like madmen for a place in the boats. Against them the few officers had small chance of lowering and filling these in any sort of order. Indeed, even as the two Americans stood there aghast, the mob made a sudden concerted rush at a boat just swinging out in its davits. Twice a pistol spat viciously, but it might Baliard swung the boy in and followed hastily 17 have been loaded with blank cartridges for all the effect it had. The crowd surged on and over the blue-clad figures dimly visible in the moonlight. In an instant the boat was - filled far beyond its capacity, and then, through some acci- dent or an evil design on the part of the thwarted ones, the block ropes parted suddenly and the stern, swinging down abruptly, spilled the whole raving, screaming load of humanity into the sea. Jim gave a stifled cry of horror and Ballard gripped his arm. “Come around to the port side,’ “There’s no chance here. he Those devils—” said hoarsely. { UT as they were passing the companionway a man with an armful of bundles darting up from below collided with Melvin and was almost knocked off his feet, As Ballard reached out and steadied him he recognized the face of Daggett, their table steward. “Mr. Ballard!” gasped the man. He hesitated an instant and stumbled on toward the stern. “Come on!” he cried jerkily over one shoulder. “We’ve gotaboat. . . . There’s roont,. . . Hurry!” The two needed no urging. Darting after the steward, they came suddenly upon a grimed and burly stoker stand- ing beside the port aft of the deck house. ‘Tied to the railing beside him was a rope which dangled down into a small boat that held two occupants, The stoker greeted their appearance with a snarl. “It’s only Mr. Ballard and the boy, Harry,” panted the steward. “We’ve room enough—” “There ain’t room for the whole bloody shipload,” growled the fellow. “Gimme them.” He snatched the parcels from Daggett’s arms and tossed them down into the boat. “Look sharp, now!” Daggett quickly seized the rope and scrambled over the side. It was not much of a drop, for the ship was peril- ously low in the water and seemed to be settling visibly. The stoker went next and he was scarcely out of sight before Ballard swung the boy over and followed hastily himself. They all landed in a confused heap and immediately the boat was thrust off and the oarsmen pulled furiously away from the sinking ship. Jim managed to crawl forward a little and presently found himself beside the stoker, pull- ing vigorously on an oar which had been thrust into his hands. They were not more than a hundred yards away from the Ocean Queen when there came a sudden, violent explosion that shook the vessel from stem to stern. A cloud of steam belched from the open hatchways, the bow settled abruptly, throwing the stern for an instant clean out of the water. A moment later, amidst a fresh burst of frenzied screaming from the deck, the shat- tered hull slid out of sight beneath the waves. For a space Jim was fully occupied in struggling against the furious suction which caught their boat and threatened to drag it down. When this had passed he heard Ballard speaking. “But oughtn’t we go back and see if we can’t pick up some of those poor wretches?” he cried impulsively. “Back me eye!” growled one of the oarsmen, ‘“What- show would we have against that mob, I arsk ye? They’d swamp us in two jerks. Pull, you bloody swab!” he added to his seat mate. “We don’t want to waste no time getting away from here.” VIDENTLY Ballard must have realized the rea- sonableness of the fellow’s point of view, for he made no further protest and silence fell upon the boat. Jim rowed mechanically, his mind still numbed by the suddenness and horror of the catastrophe. Indeed, the whole thing seemed more like an awful nightmare than something which had really happened before his eyes. It was incredible that everyone on board save themselves could have perished. Now and-then as they rose on the crest of the sea he strained his eyes over that waste of water in search of other boats which might possibly have gotten away in time. But the height of the waves and the uncertain light made it difficult to distinguish anything more than a hundred yards or so away. Presently the boy learned from the broken talk of those about him that the disaster had been caused by a collision with the floating hull of a good-sized steamer. All her upper works had been swept away and she lay so low in the water that the warning cry of the lookout and the terrific impact of collision came always simultaneously, Two of the men, Soames and Clancy, had the good fortune to be on deck and managed to lower the quarter-boat just ahead of that frenzied rush of terri- fied humanity. They let her drift back alongside the deserted stern, where they were joined by the stoker, Midkiff, and Daggett. It was the latter’s hurried dash below for provisions which alone saved Ballard and Melvin from the fate that had overtaken the bulk of passengers and crew. . . . Jim wondered with an (Continued on page 43)

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HO were these marauders that had disturbed his sleep? Jim wondered if this was to be a nightly occurrence and what would be the next variety of strange sounds to startle him. Again he lost consciousness and was not awakened until broad daylight, by something running over his bed. He opened his eyes in time to hear a red squirrel utter a short cry of alarm and to see it dart up the nearest tree. There it perched in true squirrel fashion, with back against the trunk, and began to scold. Both fore- feet held against its breast, it chat- tered and chattered until it had worked itself into such a frenzy that it actually stamped its forefeet with rage, and, by short spasmodic dashes, started down the trunk as though about to make an attack. The instant the boy moved, however, it let out a series of alarm notes and scampered up the tree to continue its tirade. The young naturalist watched the animal until wearied and then crawled out of his blankets. After a plunge in the chilly water he dressed, cooked and ate his breakfast, and, packing up, pushed off and paddled eastward. The sight of two small bass in shal- low water reminded him of his fishing tackle, so he dug out of his duffel-bag a troller and spoon hook and, tying it to the line, tossed it over the side of the canoe. Letting out about fifty feet of line, he held the line between his teeth and paddled on, keeping fairly close to the north shore. Lying in front of him were his field glasses, focused for instant use. He had reached the east of First Lake and had turned into the narrow passage leading into Second Lake when he felt a yank at the line. Dropping the paddle into the canoe, he seized it and began slowly pulling in. From the strain he knew that he had a siz- able fish and an instant later a black bass, weighing about a pound and a half, broke water. Jim played it until it was exhausted, then lifted it into the canoe. Second and Third Lakes are small and he soon came to the narrow, crooked passage into Fourth Lake. Here for the first time he saw the work of beaver. Poplar branches and limbs from two to six feet in length and from one to four inches in diameter, robbed of their bark, lay on the shore or rested on the bottom in shallow water near the bank. Several poplar trees, their trunks five inches through, had been gnawed in two a foot or so from the ground, and their tops had toppled over into the water. Most of this was old work and the limbs and part of the tops had been cut off by the beaver, leaving only a short part of the main trunk, still attached to the stub by two inches of uncut wood. Two of the trees appeared to be freshly cut, for their leaves were not withered and only a few of the branches had been taken. FTER leaving First Lake Jim had seen several houses— “camps,” they were called—and in Third Lake a large hotel and a number of boarding houses and camps; but now as. he entered Fourth Lake he saw the shore on both sides dotted with solitary buildings and clusters of camps, boarding houses and hotels. He did not much like this. Civilization and wild life do not mix. The coming of one means the disappearance of the other, and the boy wished he had stayed back in First Lake. Near the head of Fourth Lake, about a mile from Cedar Island, are two rocky islets divided by a water passage, which in one spot is scarcely wide and deep enough to ad- mit a rowboat. Jim took possession of one of these islands for the night, gathered enough dry driftwood for his campfire, cooked and ate his supper and unrolled his sleep- ing bag and prepared for a good night’s rest. No sooner had he finished washing the dishes than pianos, phonographs and other musical instruments broke loose from the surrounding buildings. Then canoes and boats began to appear from all directions. Between the floating vocal soloists and'the various musi- cal instruments in the camps, boarding houses and hotels, Jim did not get much more sleep than he had secured the night before, when the animals kept him awake. Plainly it was no place for a boy with love for the wilds, and Jim had already laid plans for an early morning start. Although the sun had not broken over the eastern moun- tain tops, it was broad daylight when he left his island camp and started out on his third day of adventure and study. He paddled the three miles, passing Cedar Island, to the head of Fourth Lake, and was opposite the hotel at the mouth of the Inlet when a grizzled old guide, who had watched him approach, sauntered down to the bank and } . W yy” @ g py e hailed him with a grin on his whiskered old face. “Where’s your pardner?” “Oh, I have no partner. I’m traveling alone,” Jim replied. The guide had reached the dock and Jim drew along- side. It was too early for the city guests of the hotel to be abroad and Jim thought it a good opportunity to get from the guide some inside information about the country. “You're a pretty young kid to be traveling these parts alone. Ever been up here before?” questioned the guide. Answering, the boy explained the object of his trip. “Well, you ain’t going to find much nature stuff around here. Too many city folks about. Ought’er get over into Forked Lake; that’s the place. Wild as God made it almost. It’s on Whitney’s reserve, though, and he’s leary about lettin’ people on there—leary of forest fires, you know; but there’s a little state land at both ends of the lake where you can camp. You'll see a lot of animals over there. Deer is thick. They’re comin’ to water now to get away from the flies and feed on lily pads. Haven’t you seen any yet?” “No, not yet. I saw trails and tracks about my camp on First Lake,” answered Jim. “Haven't they ‘snorted’ you yet?” “Snorted me?” “Yes, snorted you. When they come down at night and wind your camp, they snort and puff and ‘whistle’ and raise the Old Harry, then run off and stop and stamp their feet, and snort and puff some more. If you didn’t know what it was it might scare the life half out of you.” “Oh, I’ve heard them. So that was the noise that got me up in the middle of the night. Yes, I was snorted, but I thought it was a bear,” said the boy. “A bear?” ejaculated the guide. “Well, you’re just like all of them, It’s the same old story You'd think the coun- try was full of bears, to hear these city folks talk, and they spend their time prowlin’ about hotels and growlin’ all night. Scarcely a week passes that a tooth-brush dude don’t see a bear, yet us guides figure we’re lucky if we run on to one once a season. They’re scared to death of ’um, but the truth is they run the minute they see you.” “You may be able to tell me something else.” This from Jim. “What kind of an animal is it that makes an awful splash in the lake at night?” “Oh! That’s a beaver. The country’s full of them now, since the state planted ’um. See ’um and their dams and houses on most any creek you run up. They'll chaw down iS The stupid thing wedged itself in the bow BOYS’ LIFE By J. Alden Loring Illustrated by George L. Wolf more trees in a night than the whole wood-choppers’ union would in a week, the way men work now days. You'll get acquainted with ’um plenty nuff over on Forked; they’s sure thick over there. What you got refur-ence to is their whacking the water when they scents danger and dives. They gives the water a thundering rap with their tail just as they dives. What yer got there?” Pointing to Jim’s belt hatchet, a tiny thing that a friend had brought him from England, and smaller than the smallest belt hatchet made in this country. “That’s my belt hatchet,” Jim smiled as he drew it from the scabbard. The guide looked it over critically. “W-a-l-l,” he drawled, “a feller ought’er be able to cut enough wood with that hatchet to keep himself warm, and if he didn’t he’d keep warm cuttin’ wood.” Jim could not help laughing at the quaint remark. The conversation drifted on until the guide, after looking over the canoe’s contents, inquired: “Where’s your yoke?” “Yoke! I don’t understand you.” “Why, your yoke. The thing you use totin’ your canoe across the ‘car- ries.’ You'll have a hard time of it without a yoke. Come here; I’ll show you what I mean,” and he led the way. - tied the canoe to the dock, got out and followed the man to the hotel boat-house. The guide brought out a contrivance about three feet long, oval shaped in the middle, and taper- ing to extensions on each end eight inches in length and two inches in diameter. The underside of the oval was hollowed out to fit a person’s shoulders and a half circle was cut out of the center on one side to fit about the neck. “That’s the thing. You spread the sides of your canoe, spring the ends of the yoke into these sockets, turn the canoe over, get under it and slip your deck and shoulders into the yoke and hike out, balancing the canoe with your hands. You'll kill yourself trying to pack over these carries without one. You’ve got a half-mile carry right ahead of you, a short two-mile carry from Seventh Lake into Eighth and almost three miles from Eighth to Brown’s Inlet, that runs into Raquette Lake, and then another half-mile from Raquette into Forked. If you’re handy with that ‘hatchet,’ as you call it, you can hew out one that’ll answer the purpose in half a day, and you'll find it time well spent, take it from me.” Thanking the old guide for his information and advice, the young naturalist continued his journey through the Inlet to Fifth Lake and the head of the carry into Sixth Lake. Unloading the canoe, he packed the outfit over in two trips, and then returned for the canoe. Turning it over, he got under it and, balancing it on his head and hands, started out. He had not gone far before he realized the wisdom of the guide’s advice concerning a yoke. When after frequent rests he reached the end of the carry, his scalp sore and bruised from constant bumping and chafing the bottom of the canoe, he vowed that before he “took” the next carry he would own a yoke. Sixth Lake in itself is small. A dam at the lower end raises the water and backs it three miles up Seventh Lake inlet, so that small steamboats are able to land at the be- ginning of the carry. As the canoe passed into Seventh Lake, Jim began scouring about in quest of timber from which to make a yoke. Throughout the trip he had no- ticed logs of various lengths stranded along the shore, some left high and dry as the lake receded. One of these was what he wanted and at last he found it—a dry spruce log, four feet long and eight inches through. He lifted it into the canoe and went on. The flooding of the country to the sides of Seventh Lake inlet had killed the timber, and the channel wound through a forest of dead stubs and fallen tree-trunks, a capital place for pickerel. Again the boy rigged up his fishing tackle and cast the spoon overboard. Although he was stopped several times by the hook catching on logs and sunken tree-tops, he landed a nice fish before reaching the carry. The open spot here afforded a good camping place, so he unloaded the canoe, cooked his mid-day meal and pre- pared to spend the remainder of the day making a yoke. July

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The Loy Scouts’ Magazine One end of the log had begun to check or crack through the center. With wooden wedges, his camp axe and hatchet, the boy managed to split it in halves the entire length. After roughly shaping the yoke with the axe, he began working out the hollow for the shoulders with his tiny belt hatchet, and by supper time had finished a crude but serviceable yoke and fitted it to the canoe. The evening meal finished, he tested the yoke by carrying the canoe over the carry and cached it in the forest at the end of the trail, then returned to camp for the night. The camping site was one that had been used by other travelers for years past, so animals had learned to keep away, consequently Jim got in his first good night’s sleep. two trips the next morning he toted over his camp equipment, stacked it on the bank and went after the cached canoe. On turning it over he was surprised to find that during the night some animal had gnawed the gun- wale in several places and the frame of the wicker-work back seat was likewise damaged. Just then he heard something scratching in the bow, and, glancing in that direction, spied a large black animal that had evidently taken up its quarters there for the day, but had been rudely awakened when the canoe was moved. Running to where he had left his duffel, Jim grabbed his gun and rushed back. By this time the animal had crawled up and wedged itself into the extreme end of the bow. Crouching low, Jim could see a black stern and a heavy, thick-set, tapering tail, covered with long black hair and white horny quills with dark-colored points. It was sufficient to identify the creature as a porcupine. From what he had read about them, he did not think it dangerous; still, opinions differed. Some claimed that por- cupines “threw” their quills at a foe, otMers that they did not. Here was a fine opportunity to settle the question. Armed with a long stick, the inquisitive young naturalist took a position in front of the canoe’s bow, peeked over and poked the animal on the back. Up went the quills on its back until they stuck out like an animated pin-cushion, and it struck blindly to right and left with its armed club- shaped tail; some of the quills stuck fast in the sides of N a sweatshop on Spring Street, New York, is a boy employed in running a pleating machine. Monotonously all day he sits there feeding the hungry machine which never stops, never seems to grow tired. The floor is littered with bits of cloth, ribbons and odds and ends left by the ceaseless machines. The machines roar from morning till night; a piece of cloth moves a few inches, a bobbin turns, a needle flies up and down—it is all that ever happens. It makes men old before their time, it withers the brain, it dries up ambition—and yet there is Solomon. Solomon is the boy sitting at one of the ma- chines. Solomon does not seem different from the other men and boys in the shop, nor, for that matter, from the thousands of sweatshop men and boys in other parts of the city, but Congress thinks he is. Soon Congress, will honor him, make speeches about him, acclaim his name, but Solomon will not be there. He cannot leave his rav- enous machine. Solomon was not always in a sweatshop on Spring Street. He was worse off. He was in Poland where he was ground down, where he had no chance. But now he is in America where he can get ahead, where he can do things . . . the whirring machines do not matter. They whirr only eight hours a day. Solomon Dabinski was born in a town with an unpro- nounceable name in Poland. The name is Wloclawek, if you wish to wrestle with it. His father was a tailor, the family was large and Solomon had to go to work. He found work in mechanical dentistry; that is, the making of plates and false teeth for dentists. The money he had to turn over to the support of the family. There were other boys working in the trade of mechanical dentistry, but they were content with their wages. They could not see beyond their pocketbooks. Solomon kept on going to school. And then a wonderful thing happened. A Boy Scout troop was organized in Wloclawek and Solomon was in- vited to join. The meeting place was a stifling room with a family cooking in the rear; the boys could not afford to buy the books; they could not afford to buy the scout hat. Instead they wore an old blue high hat which set up on their heads like a bucket. An American boy seeing them straggling down the street would hardly know that they were scouts. And then Solomon’s father made him very happy—he tailored for him a khaki uniform. Solomon was the only boy in the troop who had a uniform. He was looked upon as an aristocrat. He had a full uniform —all except the hat. They had no tents, no camp equip- ment, no blankets, but they had something else that was very precious—-the true spirit of scouts. They went hiking, but they could not stay out all night. They had no place 1922 the canoe and came out of the body, others fell out on the bottom. Jim experimented with his captive until convinced that it lacked power to “throw” its quills and then tried to dislodge it. With the blade of the paddle thrust down against its nose he forced it back a foot or so, but as the paddle slipped to-one side the stupid thing, instead of scrambling out of the canoe, pushed by the paddle and again wedged itself in the bow. Several times this occurred. The sides of the canoe bristled with quills and the bottom was strewn thick with them. Jim saw that it was useless to attempt to dislodge the animal in that manner, so he turned the canoe over, lifted the bow high and shook it until Mr. Porky tumbled out. Striking the ground, it stood there gazing about, a stupid- looking, thick-set creature, Excepting its tail, it was al- most as wide as it was long. Off it lumbered, climbing clumsily over the logs and through the brush, Jim put the canoe down, overtook it, and the thing stopped, ducked its head, bristled. its spines and stood there, as much as to say: “Come on, I’m ready for action.” Jim did not move, so in a few seconds the porcupine started on, slowly at first, as though half expecting an attack, but, finding that it was not molested, quickened its pace. It was no trouble for the boy to circle it with the intention of getting to its head. “There warn’t no such thing as getting to its head,” for when its retreat was cut off it simply changed ends and took its attitude of defense. No matter how quickly the boy jumped to one side or the other, porky flopped with equal rapidity and stood waiting an attack. Jim played with the porcupine until his curiosity had been satisfied and then watched it lumber through the timber. ETURNING to the canoe, he turned it back, more carefully inspected the damage. Wherever his sweaty hands had come in constant contact with the woodwork the porcupine had gnawed. The canoe was somewhat marred, but not damaged for service, so the boy good- naturedly credited the animal’s work to rent, due nature for invading her estate. Porcupines are no exception to most animals in their mon of Avenue to sleep, little to eat. The only way by which many of the scouts could be distinguished was by the colored handker- chiefs they wore around their necks. Even these were not all of one color—pieces of cloth were too hard to get. But proudly they wore them. A scout could not take off his handkerchief at the end of the day unless he had done some kind deed. He had to go to bed with the handker- chief on. Next morning it gave him something to think about. It dogged him all day, it fluttered before him until he simply had to do somebody a good turn. Solomon rose to be Patrol Leader; and all the time he was going to school. He would not give that up. While he was studying Kosciusko, the great Polish general who came over to help America, he read the story of George Solomon Dabinski, whose patriotic prize-winning essay on George Washington will be read before Congress. Solomon will be operating a pleating machine in a New York factory when the essay is being read 19 fondness for salt, but “porky,” being stupid and less shy than deer, who will not frequent a camp until long after its occupants have left, is apt to invade your camp any night; he is a night and a cloudy day prowler. He will eat up your shoes, gnaw the stock of your gun or chew off the handle of your paddle or fishing rod,.for he loves that salt left from your perspiring hands and he sees no harm in satisfying this natural desire on anything he may find. You are apt to awaken any time and find him ram- bling about in your tent or in your grub box. But a “porky” banquet consists of an old pork barrel that has been left in a deserted lumber camp. Once he has found one, he will never desert it until only the iron hoops are left. Back of the mess shack, where the cook has thrown the brine, porky and the deer, from visits ex- tending over years of time, will reduce the ground to tram- pled and rooted barrenness, and, should it be a moist loca- tion, into a mud hole. }IGHTH LAKE is about three miles long, and it is the same distance across the carry (more like a wood road ) to Brown’s Inlet which runs into Raquette Lake. As a whole, the traveling was good, but there were several swampy places covered with cut logs (“corduroy,” it is called) and small streams that were bridged. Most of the corduroy had rotted badly and the bridges had been washed out, leaving only the “stringers.” It was ticklish work balancing a canoe on one’s shoulders and walking a slippery, mossy log, but the boy managed to get his effects over without accident. The canoe, of course, was the most diffi- cult of all, being long and unwieldly. At the far end the trail passed through a long stretch of marshy ground and a dense’ thicket of willow and tag alder. By the time Jim had everything over he was some tired boy, and satisfied to camp for the night and freshen up for an early morning start. If there is anywhere in the Adirondacks a “crookeder” stream than Brown’s Inlet, Jim did not happen to strike it. Sometimes the creek headed back toward his night’s camp, then it turned sharply in the opposite direction. (Continued on page 29) By Lee Bone i Washington. Poland had been overrun’ many times and Germany had taken possession of it during the World War. Oh, Solomon knew what it was to be the under dog! The story of Washington fighting to throw off the oppres- sion of England appealed to him. He read it over’again and again. Kosciusko and Washington became his two great heroes. He began to read more about this country— the country where everybody had a chance. . He saw pic- tures of the American Boy Scouts; they all had enough to eat; they had uniforms. He wanted to know more about this country, but nobody could tell him. He knew no one who had ever been to America, And then one day while he was sitting at his bench it flashed over him, “Why not go to America, where everybody has a chance?” He felt aglow. But how? That was the question—how? He had no money, he could not speak a word of English. He began to work harder than ever; he began to save his money, and with some that his father gave him he started for America. April-1, 1921, on the steamship Polonia, at the age of eighteen, he landed in America. ‘HE skyscrapers, the great masses of people, the subway —it was wonderful. But he found that he grew hungry just as he had in Poland. Now that he was here, what was he going to do? The question stared him in the face, bleared at him, screwed up its eyes at him. Then he made a very queer move. A good many people would have said it was foolish. He looked around for a school where he could study English. At last he found one—the Christo- dora House, New York. They had night classes and they didn’t charge anything. It was wonderful. America was a splendid country; it gave you a chance to work and you could go to school free of charge. He learned a dozen words the first night: man, box, dog, watch, door. He kept repeating them over and over to himself. The next day he started to look for work. But in me- chanical dentistry business was slack; he went from shop to shop; it was the same story. For six weeks he tramped the streets, but there was no work. Three times a week he went to English classes and as he walked up and down the streets he kept repeating the new words to himself. He was now using two-syllable words: window, book- case, subway. In the heart of the East Side—Avenue C— he found an aunt and went to live with her while he looked for work. The aunt could understand a little English, but she disliked to speak it. Yiddish was easier. She asked Solomon questions in Yiddish, but he answered in English. He was determined to learn the language of his new country. At last he found work making metal frames for pocket- (Concluded on page 50)

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BOYS’ LIFE The Indians were unremitting in their attempts to burn the stockade CHAPTER XII EARLY seven months went by peace- fully as far as Indians were concerned. Then on a still hot midsummer Sunday afternoon, following the customary Bible read- ing that replaced church, Jemima Boone and_ her friends Elizabeth and Frances Callaway took one of the elm or birch bark canoes and started out down the river. They had gone but a short distance when their craft struck a little sandbar running out from a point. This was no unusual occurrence, especially at such times of low water; and the three girls laughingly argued as to which should step off into the shallow water to shove the light craft adrift. At this instant, five Indians darted from the thick cane brake at the water’s edge and seized them. So sudden and unexpected was this appearance that the girls,were dragged from the canoe and into the thick cover before they had gathered their scattered wits: and once there the threat of the tomahawk was enough to keep them silent. It is related that “Miss Betsy”, the oldest, managed to smack one of the Indians on the head with her paddle before it was snatched from her hands. The Indians rushed their captives at full speed up a thickly wooded ravine to the top of the high forested hills that roughly parallel the river. There they took a more leisurely gait and struck out across country with the inten- tion of hitting the “Warrior’s Trace” that led to the Ohio River. The absence of the girls caused no uneasiness until milk- ing time; which fact afforded the savages several hours’ start. Then the alarm was sounded by one of the hunters who had paddled down river to meet them. The aban- doned canoe and the plain trail to be read near the banks of the river clearly enough told the story. Immediately the fort was in a turmoil. Men were summoned; and shortly two parties set out—about twenty men in all—one mounted under the command of Callaway, the other afoot under Boone. Callaway with his horsemen pushed off to a crossing of the Licking River in hopes of intercepting the fugitives, if—as seemed probable—they should cross there. Boone and eight men, three of whom were lovers of the girls, were to follow the trail, It was now so late that little could be done that night, except follow the plain tracks to the point where the In- dians began to cover it. Even these expert woodsmen could not pursue in these dark forests after night had fallen. But next morning by daylight they were on the scent and for thirty miles they puzzled out a trail blinded by every savage ingenuity. It is a striking example of the wood- craft of these men; for they not only followed the trail, but they must have followed it at high speed to have trav- eled faster than the Indians in flight. They were consider- ably helped by the ingenuity of the girls, who tore off bits of their clothing and left them on bushes whenever they could do so without discovery by the Indians’ sharp eyes; broke twigs, or dragged their feet. To do this without the knowledge of men as keen as Indian warriors was a triumph in itself. Boone now decided that the Indians would be traveling less cautiously, so he boldly struck across country in what he considered the probable direction of flight; thus gaining some miles, if his reasoning was correct. It proved to be so. The tracks were discovered in a buffalo path, and there was now no attempt at covering the trail. Much encouraged, they pushed on more rapidly. Ten miles further on they caught sight of the Indians making camp. This was a welcome sight; but the next procedure had to be carried out with the greatest caution. No one knew better than Boone that the Indians’ first act, in event of a surprise, would be to attempt to murder the captives. The girls, “tattered, torn and despairing,” were huddled at the foot of a tree only a few feet from the fire. OONE selected three of the most skilful of his men, and the four crept inch by inch nearer the fire. They were advancing against the sharpest, the most highly trained senses in the world, and every man there knew that a single false move, a solitary broken twig, even the rustle of a leaf would the next instant be followed by the crash of tomahawks on the poor girls’ defenseless skulls. They held their breaths in an agony of suspense. The advance seemed to consume hours, Finally at the signal the four men fired, and the others rushed forward with yells. Two of the Indians were killed and the other three were so com- pletely surprised that, as one of the participants writes, “we sent them off without their moccasins, and not one of them with so much as a knife or a tomahawk.” When the rescuers returned in triumph to Boonesborough they found that another band of warriors had during their absence burned an outlying cabin belonging to Nathaniel Hart and ruined his young apple trees. Hart was with the rescuing expedition. The scouts and hunters began to bring in news of other small parties of Indians around all the other settlements. They were nowhere in any large numbers; but, on the other hand, the small forces were everywhere. It became evident that the old period of security was over. The outlying settlers moved into the stockade, only venturing forth armed to tend their crops and their animals. Everywhere in the forest the Indians prowled singly or in small parties, watching for white men to shoot as one would watch for deer. They avoided con- test as much as they could, lurking behind stump, rock or tree until a sure and unexpected shot could be had. All night a solitary savage would lie behind some ambush to take a shot at the first man to emerge from the fort in the morning, and then with a wild yell, whatever the result, would disappear into the forest. Everywhere the settler found his cattle and horses driven off and his sheep and hogs shot down with arrows; for, although the Indians were by now well armed with rifles, they carried bows and arrows for this purpose in order to save precious ammunition. F course, the usual precipitate emigration of the more timid at once began. Three hundred were said to have returned across the mountains, and the entire military force of Kentucky was reduced to about a hundred. There were only twenty-two armed men left in Boonesborough. Nevertheless, all was not dark and gloomy. Three weeks after the rescue just described Squire Boone, in his capac- ity of Baptist Elde-, was called upon to officiate at the marriage of Samuel Henderson and Betsy Callaway. This was the first wedding in Kentucky. Incidentally, within the year Frances Callaway and Jemima Boone married John Holder and Flanders Callaway, two of the young men es - we - SP a8, SS pee wey By Stewart Edward White > ee i ee Illustrated by Remington Schuyler who had helped rescue them. At the wedding of “Miss Betsy” there was “dancing to fiddle music by the light of tallow dips, and a treat of home-grown watermelons of which the whole station was proud.” For some time thus the fires of warfare smouldered on the frontier. British agents were everywhere inciting the Shawnees and Cherokees. The employment of savages and the adoption of a species of warfare that could not fail to be horrible was a blot on the British name, and is the chief reason why the natural antagonism of the Revo- lution was deepened to a hatred that has lasted beyond its normal span. In the meantime the proprietary government of Judge Henderson came to an end. It was in direct conflict with the rights of the older colonies; illegal; and in the end irksome. Had Henderson been content to have sold his land outright to the settlers he might have kept their sup- port, but he made the mistake of charging them a certain rental each year in addition to the purchase price. This the independent borderers did not like, so when the colony of Virginia refused further to recognize Henderson’s gov- ernment there were no very strong objections raised. The Judge filled an important role in the history of our West. That winter was a bad one, what with the ever-increas- ing Indian attacks, the bad news from the war, the con- stantly dwindling numbers of the whites, and the dread of what was probably to follow when spring, the usual time for the opening of the warpath, should arrive. Every few days brought accounts of fresh attacks, more deaths, Ten men met at Licking Creek by Indians and defeated; three killed. A large party attacked McClelland’s fort, killing and wounding several men. Two men killed at the Shawa- nese spring. The Indians attempted to cut off a small party from the fort; four men wounded and cattle killed. A small party attacked and scalped Hugh Wilson. A large party attacked the stragglers around the fort. Such are a few of the entries in a diary of the time. N these difficult circumstances Boone’s figure towers commandingly. He was described as having a “quick perception of expedients, much prudence and caution, un- yielding perseverance and determined valor, combined with superior strength and activity of person.” Certainly he was looked to for advice, for encouragement, for help, and for leadership in every crisis. He had little assistance in the point of numbers, but great help in the quality of the men who remained. There were twenty-two riflemen at Boonesborough, sixty-five at Harrodsburgh and fifteen at Logans; that was all. Boone organized a small scout corps whose business it was to keep in the forest, two by two, feeling cautiously in all directions for the enemy, reading the signs, and coming in to the settlements only for fresh supplies of ammunition or to report. Simon Kenton was the most skilful of these, and one of the boldest. He was a big, powerful man, standing well over six feet tall in his moccasins, with blonde hair, a frank, open countenance. Next to Boone he was perhaps the greatest scout of them all; and he fell short of Boone, not in skill or in courage, but in coolness and judgment. His life in the forest at this time was like a romance, sleeping out without fire, skulking through the woodland, July

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The Boy Scouts’ Magazine hovering on the flanks of his enemies, striking when the moment seemed right, and thoroughly enjoying it all. Sev- eral times he was taken prisoner. Eleven times he ran the gauntlet. Again and again he was within an inch of tor- ture and death, but always either escaped or was reprieved. Once the famous renegade Simon Girty recognized and took pity on him. And to him, and his brother scouts and rangers in the forest, was due much of the credit for the persistence of the whites. Again and again their timely warnings assembled the settlers in the stockades before the szvages could accomplish their surprise. The two men assigned by Boone as scouts for Boones- borough itself were Simon Kenton and Thomas Brooks. They: had a big job, and they did it well, but two men could not always cover an entire countryside. Early in March a party of Shawnees under a celebrated chief named Blackfish were lurking just outside the clearing waiting for a chance. Kenton had known of their presence in the country, and was close on their trail, but could not arrive at the fort before them. He was too well acquainted with Indians to try to get in until after dark, when he succeeded in slipping safely past, but too late to prevent the killing of two of the garrison, On the twenty-fourth of April again the Indians surrounded the fort a hundred strong, and just at a time when Kenton was at home for some pur- pose. For some good reason that we do not know the white men thought this a small party, Men like Boone and Kenton were not easily deceived, and they knew the va- rious Indian stratagems well. One of the simplest was to lure the garrison out of a fort in pursuit of a small party and then ambush it with a larger. Boone knew this as you know your alphabet. Therefore, there must have been some very good reason never recorded why he. was de- ceived on this occasion. It looks as though the wily Black- tish must have outdone himself. A T any rate, a man named Daniel Goodman was walk- 4 4% ing alone across the clearing outside the fort when an Indian, with a yell of triumph, leaped forward from behind a tree and tomahawked and scalped him. Unfortunately for the exulting savage Simon Kenton happened to be standing near the fort gate, and, as always with these scouts, he carried his rifle across his forearm. It was a long, quick shot, but Kenton dropped his man. At the report a half dozen savages rose like quail and scattered for cover, Immediately the men of the garrison dashed in pursuit. It is probable, from the fact that Kenton was in the fort, that he had brought news of the customary small band, and that the large war party had followed in after their decoys. At any rate, the white men were suddenly fired upon from all sides, and at once rushed upon by over- whelming numbers of savages. If the Indians had known enough to keep to rifle fire they would probably have killed every man; but the powerful white men, fighting in a com- pact group, were able to force their way back to the clear- ing. Kenton killed three Indians with his own hand. At the first fire Boone fell with a shattered ankle. In- stantly an Indian leaped from behind a tree, his tomahawk upraised. Twojumps took him to the pros- trateman. In another instant the weapon would have crashed into Boone’s skull; but Simon Kenton, ever ready, killed the Indian with one of his famous quick snap-shots. Then the scout lifted his help- less captain with one arm, and with the other fought his way back to the fort gate. It is recorded that when he laid Boone down the great hunter said, “Well, Simon, you are a fine fel- low”; and it is fur- ther recorded that Kenton was as elated and proud of this as a dog with two tails. Which little incident is an illuminating commentary on both men. Having failed in their stratagem, the Indians withdrew. The broken ankle 1922 laid Boone up for several months. Nevertheless, he was able to direct many a day and night defense from his room. You would think that a strict defensive would have suited the most exacting; but once these bold riflemen actually ventured clear to the Ohio River, had two little skirmishes and won both of them. This was just to show the enemy that they were still going strong; for, with their small numbers, they could not hope to accomplish much else. Two weeks later the Indians made a really serious at- tempt. Kenton and Brooks this time managed to bring warning, so there was no surprise. But the savages came in great numbers, and evidently under good leadership, for they sent detachments to make demonstration against the other two stations in order to prevent their dispatching reinforcemens. HEN commenced a most vigorous attack that continued without intermission for forty-eight hours. The Indians were as ten to one, and they kept up an incessant fire, and were unremitting in attempts to burn down the stockade. The forest resounded with wild yells and the roll of mus- ketry. Inside, the little force had not a moment’s rest. The portholes must be continuously manned, the fire con- tinuously maintained so that no savage would be able to creep forward. The women fought side by side with the men, taking their turn at the portholes, melting bullets, loading the rifles and handing them forward, caring for the wounded, cooking the food. All the wiles and stratagems of siege warfare they had to guess and forestall. At the end of the forty-eight hours the Indians suddenly and quietly withdrew. After it had been thoroughly estab- lished by the scouts that this was not another stratagem the gates were thrown open and the famished cattle and the wearied defenders poured forth into the blessed open. There were many similar attacks on the three remain- ing forts; all very much alike, but all exciting enough to the defenders, you may be sure. In the frontier annals are many striking tales of heroism. For example, one of these border stockades was once surrounded so suddenly and after so long a period of immunity that the settlers were caught with their water reservoirs nearly empty. As yet the Indians had not made their attack, nor even de- clared themselves, and were lurking in the forests round about awaiting the opportunity for a surprise. They did not yet know that the settlers were aware of their pres- ence. Here was a terrible situation: without water the siege that was to follow was sure to prove fatal, not only because of thirst, but because without water it would be impossible to quench flames. At this juncture the women made a proposal. “It is certain death for men to try to reach the spring,” said they. “On the other hand, the Indians believe that they are yet undiscovered, so perhaps they would not at- tack us. It is usual for the women to get water, and if we go to the spring as we always do they will then surely Five Indians darted from the thick cane brake 21 think we do not know of their presence. And as they hope to surprise the fort, they probably will let us go and come.” It took a long argument to convince the men. They could not bear the idea of sending their wives, their daugh- ters, their sweethearts out unprotected fairly into the hands of a cruel and merciless foe. Nevertheless, this was the only possible way; and at length it was agreed. So the women and girls, down even to the little things of five and six, took every utensil that would carry water and sauntered out from the fort to the spring. All must look natural. The least sign of fear or a suspicion that all was not as usual would bring on an instant attack. They must walk slowly, in little groups, talking and laugh- ing carelessly. At the spring they must fill their utensils in Cue order, without haste, keeping up still their careless talk; and then at last they must return leisurely to the fort, not in the compact group that would give them comfort, but straggling naturally along. All the time they felt the glaring bright stare of the savages concealed behind the leaves of the thick under- growth, sometimes so close that the mere outstretching of an arm would have sufficed to bring down the fatal toma- hawk. Behind the logs of the palisades the white men, too, watched in an agony, holding their breaths with suspense, ready at the first whoop to rush forth to sell their lives as dearly as possible. The very forest seemed to have fallen silent with the deadly portent. Yet these women and chil- dren played out their parts to perfection, so naturally and easily as to deceive an audience the most critical and hos- tile in the world. Only when they had reached the very shadow of the stockade did some of the littlest girls begin to crowd forward against their mothers’ skirts. Another incident at another place was not quite so happy. The stockade, after suffering considerable privation, was overjoyed to see approaching a relief expedition of men and pack horses, bringing with them munitions and pro- visions. So delighted were the settlers that they fired off all their guns at once by way of salute. This scared the horses so badly that they broke loose and ran away, pro- visions and all, and were never recovered! On the 25th of July, however, the bad times were for the moment ended by the arrival of a hundred and forty- five men sent by Virginia and North Carolina in answer to Boone’s urgent messages. The Colonies were having their hands full enough with the British at this time, and could ill spare even this small body of troops, but it was felt that the borderers had earned a little respite! CHAPTER XIII HAT respite they utilized in characteristic fashion. After assuring themselves a supply of' meat by the kunting they had of late to accomplish by stealth, the hardy frontiersmen set out in numerous small expeditions to hunt Indians. These were literally hunting expeditions, and the men conducting them lurked in the forest as wolves lurk for prey. Many were the single com- bats: the stratagems, the surprises, the bold forays, It was about this time that Simon Ken- ton with two men, scouting in the heart of the Indians’ own country north of the Ohio River, actually managed at night to steal all-the horses from an Indian vil- lage, about a hundred and fifty in number. In spite of the en- cumbrance of driving such a band through wooded country they reached the banks of the Ohio safely on the morning of the second day. The river at that point was very wide and deep, and unfortunately a gale was blowing that raised quite a heavy sea. Kenton and his companions could not induce the animals to face the swim. They could, of course, have escaped easily enough, but with characteristic reck- less obstinacy they kept on trying at dif- ferent points. in this (Cont’d on page 42)

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When Pelton tried to put on the nose bag she struck out at him and knocked it out of his hand HY a quiet chap like Pelton should pick out a rip-snortin’, biting, kicking animal like the little black mare for his mount was a puzzler for about every man in the troop at the time. We had come down to Nogales short of horses and Uncle Sam had shipped enough over from Texas to make our quota. The black mare was one of them. And from the time four men got her down the plank from the horse- car she had given nothing but trouble. Most horses have enough sense to mind after a while. They seem to realize that when it comes to matching their brains with a man’s there is nothing to it and the quicker they stop trying the better off they are. But the black mare was a different breed of cats. In fact, she was like a cat, while most horses are like dogs, only of course they don’t know so much and haven't so much affec- tion in their make-up. But the black mare was like a cat. She was a wild ani- mal and always would be, we figured, and you couldn't make a tame one out of her any more than you could a cat. Not as much, for if you let a cat alone it won’t bother you, but you couldn’t go past the mare but what she would lash out at you with her hind heels, and if you approached bow on she would strike out with her forefeet or try to bite you. That was the kind of an animal young Pelton chose for his mount. To be sure he didn’t have many to choose from—a score or so—for he was a Johnny and most of the men already had horses assigned to them. Nobody knew Pelton very well. He never spoke unless he was spoken to. He was as shy as a girl and why he ‘ joined the outfit we never knew. He wasn’t a horseman though he liked horses, and would be some day. But he was a hard worker and never shirked so the men of his squad always had a good word for him. When it came his choice and he picked out the black mare all the men gave him the laugh except Burke. Burke was closer to him than the rest and tried to make him change his mind. “You’re no bronco-buster, Pel,” he said. “She'll kill you surest thing you know. She’s got all these horse- killers buffaloed. Even Beninger, the horseshoer, won’t touch her until she’s hog-tied. You can’t feed her without a tent-pin in one hand.” Pelton got almost talkative for once. “That’s just the trouble,” he said. “Everyone that goes near her has to beat her up. The minute she shows fight they fight back. Somebody started that with her when she was young and she’s never forgotten it.” “No, nor she never will,” Burke came back. “I’m not so sure about that,” answered Pelton. “She’s been shut up in a box-car for two or three days and half-fed and watered, then when she gets here a bunch of roughnecks jump on her, shut her wind off, and drag her out into this fly-bitten country. Then they give her a bad name and everybody treats her like an outlaw. I tell you she’s scared and homesick. What she wants is a little kindness.” Burke saw there was no use arguing and threw up his hands. “I guess you won’t be kind to her but once,” he said, “and after that you won’t need a horse.” io looked at first as though Burke was right, for when Pelton tried to put the nose bag on the mare the first time she struck out at him and knocked the bag out of his hand. She knew she had done wrong, too, for she pulled back from the picket line as though she ex- pected to get hit. “Yah,” said Burke, who had come along to see the fun. ‘What did 1 tell you?” “That’s my mistake, not hers,” Pelton said. “She’s a lady. She’s never had one of these old cavalry nose bags jammed up into her muzzle.” He picked up the bag and poured the oats out on the ground under the picket line. Then he stood back. The mare snorted about a bit as though wondering why no one beat her up and then she sidled up to the grain and began to eat it as though she hadn't been fed for a month. “How about that?” Pelton said. “It’s all right,” Burke came back, “if the captain don’t see it. Oats cost money down here and she'll waste as much as she eats.” But she didn’t. She had a muzzle as dainty as a kitten’s and she cleaned up every last oat. “Wait until you try to groom her,” was all Burke could say. And Pelton was up against it then. She wouldn’t stand for the currycomb at all. Pelton tried the brush on her. She let him scratch her back with this, but when he tried to run down her forearms she struck out at him. But she didn’t hit him. Pelton claimed she didn’t try to—that she was just giving him warning. So he just puttered around her back and flanks and scratched her poll. When she began to get nervous he let up and waited as patient as Job until she calmed down. But she wasn’t half groomed when the captain passed by on inspection. “Do you call those fetlocks clean?” he said to Pelton as he stopped. “No, sir,” said Pelton, saluting. The Old Man eyed Pelton, cold as a fish. “Then why aren’t they?” he asked, not being as well acquainted with the mare as the Top who had passed her for inspection. “She’s a bit nervous yet, sir,’ stammered poor Pelton. The captain gave him one look. “Thorne,” he called to one of the “old timers”. this man how to groom a horse.” “Show HORNE knew the mare but he knew the Old Man too, and I guess he was more afraid of the Old Man than he was the mare. He took Pelton’s brush, and sidled up to the mare. He gave her a stroke or two with the brush on the flank. Then he ran on down. He didn’t get any further than the hock. The mare just reached around and took a nip at his back. She didn’t get any skin but there was some olive drab between her teeth. Thorne jumped away and looked at the captain. captain looked around for the top sergeant. “Who gave this green man that horse?” he asked the Top. “He picked her out himself, sir,’ answered the Top, kind of sheepish. “_-And you let him have her,” the captain cinched it. “You take her away from him before you’re one short on the roll call.” The The raiders were picking us up fast Then Pelton saluted again, being green, and said “May T say a word, sir?” The Old Man threw a quick look at him. re BOYS’ LIFE By Edwin Cole Illustrated by Will James “What is it?” he asked short and sharp. “If you'll only give me a week or two I’ll guarantee to have her eating out of my hand, sir. She’s got a—a good heart, sir.” Somebody choked over that and the captain laughed and then of course everybody else did. That softened the Old Man up. “You've got the right spirit, Pelton,” he said, “and I'll let you try your luck. But look out she doesn’t take in a finger or two when she’s eating out of your hand.” Everybody laughed at that again, it being the captain’s joke, and Pelton was as pleased as could be. I don’t intend to tell you all the things Pelton did to please that mare. The ordinary man would have given it up as a bad job a dozen times. The first time he tried to put a bitt in her mouth he nearly lost an arm, but he rubbed a little salt on the bitt and she took it like a kid takes candy. One morning he showed up at mess with as fine a black eye as you ever saw. But it wasn’t the mare that gave him that, although she was the cause of it. We found out later that he had caught one of the picket guard using a pitchfork on her after she had let drive at him and when the guard had been relieved Pelton had sailed into him. He was no match for the guard but that made no differ- ence. He showed he had the right spirit and the men let his mare alone after that. i was not long before we found out that the mare had something to make up for her bad manners. We went out for horse exercise and one of the lead-horses in Pel- ton’s squad got away and ran past:the troop. Pelton put after it without waiting for orders, He went by the cap- tain at the head of the troop like a black smudge and in two jumps had caught the runaway’s halter-rope and halted it. The Old Man was snappy himself and it pleased him. “Good work, Pelton!” he said, as Pelton led the horse back to its place and he eyed the little mare from tip to tail. . And she was worth looking at by this time. Pelton had her shining like black satin and her mane was brushed as fine as a girl’s hair. She held her head as high as a princess. “Too near a thoroughbred to be a good cavalry horse,” Beninger the horse-shoer said of her. “She’s got too many nerves. She'll wear herself out.” “Wait and see,” was all Pelton answered to this. It was about a month later that we got word to move out to Auvaca. There had been the threat of a raid out there and the mine owners and cattle-men had asked for help. They expected visitors any minute, the word was, and an hour after we got it we were on our way. The regular road circled around the mountains and was about ninety miles but there was a rough trail over the mountains that cut this almost in half. The captain got a guide who knew this trail and set out with the first and second platoons, sending the other platoons and the wagons around the regular way with the lieutenant. I was sergeant of the first platoon and Pelton was a No. 2 man in my first four, It was noon when we started. The rest of the squadron was taking their siesta and we wished we were. For it was August and the sun struck down like a knife-blade and the alkali dust choked you so that you had to fight not to reach out for your canteen every five minutes. The trail led up through a valley that narrowed to a canyon after a few miles, and then climbed into the mountains. Horses and men were dripping wet with perspiration in no time but the captain pushed right on in spite of the heat, trotting where the going would stand it and walking over the worst places. The trail narrowed down until we were riding by twos. - The captain on his big bay Border Boy rode with the guide. I followed him with Jonesy, the trumpeter. Burke, No. 1 man of my first four, and Pelton rode behind us and the rest of the two pla- toons were strung out in the rear. The guide had a little pinto that scrambled over the rocks like a goat. The captain was underweight for a big horse like Border Boy and his mount carried him as light as though he wasn’t there. I had old Buster under me. He wasn’t much for speed or looks, but he had the stamina and you could always count on him to finish what he tackled. We made ten-minute halts every hour to save ourselves and the horses, and we were all glad of them. It seemed as though we had hardly dismounted and stretched our legs before the call came to mount up again. July

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The Boy Scout’s Magazine I had to look my platoon over to see that their horses hadn’t picked up any stones at each halt. When I came to Pelton his mare lifted her feet one after the other for him as gentle as a kitten. “How’s that, Sergeant?” he asked, as proud as a peacock. “She’s too tired to fight back” I jol- lied him. “Try her yourself, if you think so,” he offered. Just for fun I did make a stab to raise a forefoot. Round came ~ her teeth to nip me and I dodged away. “No! No! Betty,” Pelton said to her as though she was a child. He patted her neck and _ whis- pered in her ear. She tossed her head and quieted down. “Now try it, Sarge,” Pelton said. I tried it again and her foot came up as gentle as a lamb’s. By the middle of “What did the mountains you say to her?”’”’ § asked. “T told her you were a friend of mine,” answered Pelton with a grin. By the middle of the after- noon we were doing circus- stunts in the mountains, hold- ing on to our horses’ manes to keep from slipping over the croups as we climbed up faces of rock and leaning back to the horizontal as we slid down chutes. “Did you say this was a trail?” I heard the captain ask the guide once, when we were picking our way single file on a ledge along a mountainside where stray cattle in the valley below looked like small dogs. “This is the easy part of it,” the guide, an old cow- punch, threw back at him. I thought he was joking at the time but as we went on I saw he meant it. He ad- mitted afterward that he hadn’t been over it in years, and I guess no one else had. : “Tell the men they can blindfold their horses if they balk, Sergeant,” the captain called back to me. I passed the word back and Burke asked “Can we blindfold our- selves too?” This brought a laugh and bucked the men up. Bor by supper time, when we had dropped down into a little valley and halted for a half-hour, the country had begun to tell on our horses. They weren’t built for this work, most of them, being ten or eleven hundred pound cavalry mounts with big feet. Some had gone lame and some had worked themselves into nervous wrecks. Bradin, the top sergeant, who had been riding in the rear, talked it over with the captain as we ate our sand- wiches. “There have been two or three bad stumbles already, sir,” I heard him say. “One of the men nearly went down that thousand-foot drop. The pinto of the guide’s has a kind of a running walk that keeps our horses falling back. Then when they close up at the trot over those rocks and gullies something is apt to happen.” The captain turned to the guide. “Any way of keeping that cayuse of yours at a regular walk?” he asked. “Reckon not,” said the guide with a grin. “He was born that way.” The captain shrugged his shoulders. “How much farther is it?” he asked. “Close on to twenty-five miles,” answered the guide, “but the last ten is mostly sand.” The captain thought a minute over that. “We've got to push on,” he said after a while. “You'll have to weed out the worst ones and follow on as best you can with them, Sergeant.” There were upwards up a dozen horses that he picked out for stone-bruises, sore-backs, or one thing or another. As we started out after the captain and the guide Jonesy was still beside me and Burke and Pelton in their places behind. Forty-five miles don’t seem very far in an automo- bile on a smooth road: It’s been done plenty of times on a stretch by a cavalry troop, too, with ordinary going. But when most of it is steeple-chasing over cathedral moun- 1922 the afternoon we were doing circus-stunts in tains and tight-rope walking along broken _ ledges where a mis-step means good-bye it’s a little different. Anyway, a man’s legs are built to stand side by side, and splitting them apart for hour after hour over a horse is & enough in itself to make a man favor side- saddles. To lounge in the saddle is the mark of a poor cavalryman, besides being against orders. So you sit mile after mile in the samfe position until your thigh-bones ache like a toothache and every jog of your | horse shoots a pain ’way through to the top of your head. HAT was what we did that day and we didn’t have a chance to vary the pace with a canter now and then, which helps a lot, until the last few miles. But this is supposed to be the story of the Black Mare and I mustn’t get side-tracked. The captain and the guide rode on with- out saying a word to each other. Down a mountain, through a canyon and up another mountain we kept on going. At the top of each mountain we looked for the valley of Auvaca Creek beyond, but it was never there. Instead there was always another mountain. Then word came up from the rear that a horse was down and couldn’t get up. We had just pitched down into a little hollow in the hills. This horse had gone down on both knees as he struck the sand and I guess it felt so good that he gave his rider time to slip off and then rolled over and stayed there. “Check up your platoon, Sergeant,” the captain said as he came back from looking at what was left of the troop. Beni take an hour’s rest and push on again with what is left” We thinned out all right. The poor horses hung their heads to the sand. There wasn’t a half-dozen in my platoon that looked as though they could last another mile. Beninger, the horse-shoer, came along, pulling off broken and loosened shoes. “How’s old Baldy standing the racket?” I asked him, speaking of his horse. “All in, Sergeant,” he answered. heart to ride him the last two miles. him. How’s Buster?” — “He’s still here and that’s about all,” I had to admit, for Buster was hanging his head as though he had lost his last friend. “Well, I'll be hanged!” said Beninger. But he wasn’t talking about Buster. He had reached down to look over the Black Mare’s shoes and she had lashed out at him as peppery as ever. ; Pelton grinned at him. “Her feet are all right, Ben,” he said. “In fact, she’s all right all over. I’m sorry about Baldy.” And she was all right, that little Black Mare. was fire in her eyes and she was polishing her teeth. She may have been sweating, but she didn’t look as though she had started a hair. Pelton was looking pretty chipper, too, I thought. “Easiest horse you ever rode, Sarge,” he said to me as I looked at him. “Like a rock- ing-chair. She’s got a lope just like the guide’s pinto.” I gave him a long “T haven’t had the I’ve been leading There look. “You'd better not let the captain know it,” I grunted. “He'll take her away for himself.” Pelton shut right up at that, for Border Boy was as bad off as Buster anyway. Anybody could see that. The guide’s pinto had kept him jigging, which wasn’t a natural pace for him, and now he was blowing sand. But he came back after an hour’s rest as did ten other 23 horses. Poor Jonesy was out of it. His Prince was too old to stand the pace. Burke’s horse had developed a sore back and he was left behind. I was afraid I might be left in charge of the cripples, but Dowd, sergeant of the second platoon, had picked up a stone and his horse gone lame before he knew it. “My orders are to get there tonight,” the captain said to me as we mounted up. “And I’m going to obey orders if I'm the only man in the troop to do it.” I kind of chuckled at that, but I said to myself: “You won't get there alone. There’s one horse I think and an- other I know will stay with you.” It was getting dark then, but there was only one more hill to climb and then we would strike the big valley, so the guide said. I guess he had saved the worst hill for the last. There was nothing to do but give your horse his head and hang on for dear life, for before we had got over it night had dropped down on us like a bandage over your eyes and all you could make out was the croup of the horse ahead. ORDER BOY was the horse ahead of me. We were going single file with the guide in the lead. We were climbing over the rocks of a canyon that led to the valley below when the big bay sort of faded out of sight and the captain cried out. His horse had stumbled and gone down with him, 1 knew. I was off my horse and ran forward. Border Boy was trying to get to his feet and I heard the captain groan again. The guide had dismounted, too, and had grabbed Border Boy’s head about the time I pulled the captain from under him. “Nothing much,” he said through his teeth. “He fell on my thigh and I wrenched it trying to get out from under.” That was all, but it was enough. The captain couldn’t stand on his feet without our holding him. “Put me on that horse,” he said, savage with pain. ride in if it kills me.” “I reckon you won’t, Captain,” said the guide, as cool as you please. “For one reason that horse won’t carry you, and for another I won’t take you.” He said more then than he had all day before. “No use killin’ a whole troop jes’ because some of them mine-owners has got the high- sterics. I ain’t no military man, but what good is a half a dozen petered-out men and horses goin’ to do ’em anyhow? “You stay here. In the morning I'll send out a buck- board for you. I ’low you won’t be ridin’ a horse for some weeks to come.” I didn’t know what the captain would do and say to that. He was used to having his own way, but the guide owed Uncle Sam’s army nothing and had the upper hand. Be- sides, I guess he was afraid he would faint away with that leg, for, as the guide said, it was weeks before he got over it. “How many horses have you got left that can make it, Sergeant?” he asked, getting his breath. “T guess mine and Pelton’s can, sir, and that’s about all.” “Pelton’s! That little runt of a black mare?” “That’s the one, sir,” I answered. He grunted. “Well, you and Pelton go on with the guide and if your mounts give out—walk,” he added, savagely. So we went on, the guide leading the way, me next and Pelton bringing up the rear. “Tl GUESS old Buster would have gone down, too, if the rocks had lasted much longer, but when it seemed as though Winwdares™ lii~, 225 Pelton was holding in his black mare to keep from leaving us behind he couldn’t keep a leg under him we came out of a defile into the sand of the valley, and I for one was mighty glad of it, except that the pinto of the guide struck up his run- ning walk again and Buster would fall behind until I “sicked” him into a wooden-legged trot to catch up. We must have pushed on a mile beyond the defile when a (Continued on page 33) Sons: Sens ers ee

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“KIWI,” so the dictionary says, is a bird which has small wings but, although it flaps them a great deal and makes much noise about it, is unable to lift itself off the ground. Reliable sources also state that this bird has a propensity for investigating that which does not concern itself in the least and commenting at great length upon its discoveries. Shortly after the Air Service was organized, this word took on a new mean- ing when it was once applied to a non-flying officer by a righteously exasperated pilot. The argument and the term used soon became known throughout the Air Service and with one accord, unofficially, of course, non-flying officers became designated as “Kiwis.” Many arguments, and not a few fights, resulted on this appellation, but the flyers were successful and the name remains to this day. Lieutenant Richard Burns was a “Kiwi” but differed from the usual classification in that he had not always been a non-flying officer. At one time he was one of the best known pilots in the service but an unfortunate crash in Texas shortly after the signing of the armistice had severely injured him. Then, in order to save the life of the man who had been with him in the wreck Burns had made a night flight while still in his injured condition. The combination had left him with a severe nervous shock and when he recovered he was found no longer fitted for flying duty. His nerve was shattered. The desire to fly remained but from the time the airplane which he was in left the ground, Burns found himself in constant terror of the air. After being in a machine for a few minutes he would become panic stricken and would have to land. He had tried many times to overcome this fear but had failed. At last he nad become resigned and had settled to the more conservative routine of a non-flying officer. Sometimes this life galled him but a love of aviation had kept him at it. Airplanes, although the objects of his greatest fear, were also the objects of his greatest regard. They were an integral part of his life. There was another reason why Burns remained in the Air Service. It was a reason that no one, not even his dearest friend, knew—the hope that some day he would regain his nerve and be able to continue flying with the confidence of old. His associates knew that Burns en- tertained a wholesome fear of the air but none of them realized how he suffered because of it. To them Burns was a man who had, uuluckily, lost his nerve. That was too bad. But he had lost it in a manner that deserved the highest praise when he saved the life of Captain Edward Clark. That, in their eyes, should be consolation enough. Burns realized this but was not satisfied. It was not losing his nerve that bothered him. It was his inability to regain it and this he regarded as a mark of cowardice. He considered himself as being “Yellow” and loathed himself because of it. EGARDLESS of what others may think, in order to be satisfied a man must justify himself in his own eyes. To an honorable man that is everything worth while. Burns felt that he must triumph over his fear of the air and, being a man whose character was four-square, was acutely miserable because of his lack of success. It was not because he had not tried. Long before he accepted the conservative life of a ground officer Burns had gritted his teeth and, white faced but determined, had taken a plane into the air and put it through every pos- sible evolution that an airplane could perform. From each of these flights he had landed with his fear increased, rather than abated. Now, after reading endless books on psychology and devour- Brooks By Mather I believe it will help you, too. Come along Old Chap.” Burns finally yielded to his comrade’s urging and, donning helmet and goggles, seated himself in the rear cockpit of the Dehaviland, and the Captain took the big plane off the flying field of the Fairfield Supply Depot. Burns shivered and clutched the edge of the fuselage in a grip of steel as the pilot banked the plane and headed it northward. It was an hour before he recovered con- fidence sufficiently to relax even though Captain Adkins, well aware of Burns’s fear of the air, flew the plane as smoothly as possible and kept his usual exuberant nature well in check. In another hour, during which Burns was fairly comfortable, they sighted the artillery camp. The pilot side slipped the plane down to the edge of the field, a proceeding that served to start anew the panic of his passenger, and landed. Burns was heartily thankful to be on the ground once more and, as was usual on these occasions, was miserable because of it. He said nothing of his fears to the pilot, however, and appeared almost eager to go when luncheon at the Officers Mess was over. He was a trifle less afraid when the big plane shot into the air and headed toward the artillery range, but was still far from being confident. As soon as the plane was a thousand feet in the air, Captain Adkins unwound the long, phospher-bronze an- tenna wire from the small drum at his side and let it hang below the plane in a shining arc. After testing the wireless set while near the station to be sure that it was func- tioning properly, the pilot climbed the plane to three thou- sand feet and, locating the target, signalled to the battery to ire. URNS saw a flashing tongue of flame shoot from th: mouth of one of the guns, and glanced quickly over io the target, a line of dummy trenches five miles from the battery. In approximately half a minute he saw a black spot appear to the right of the leading trench. It was as though some giant had dropped a spot of ink from his fountain pen onto the wonderful, warmly tinted map below. Looking forward at the pilot Burns saw _ the Captain’s right arm moving methodically as he manipu- lated the key of the wireless set, signalling the error to the battery. Then he caught his breath as the pilot, for- getting for a moment the nature of his passenger, turned the plane in a sudden wing-over as he changed direction. When he recovered his poise Burns noticed another plane cruising placidly a short distance above them and recognized it as the machine which would direct the shoot on the next target, after the present one had been an- nihilated. The long antenna, trailing behind and down- ward from the plane, showed that it was ready to take part in the manoeuver. Then tongues of fire shot from all four of the guns and it was again time to watch the This time there were four blots, one of them a perfect hit. Again the pilot signalled the corrections to the battery and the guns fired. This time the blots were closely grouped. The Captain nodded in a satisfied manner and signalled “fire at will.” A short time later the entire battery seemed to catch on fire and the strip of meadow land on which was the target steadily changed color from the green of spring to the black of newly ploughed soil. The trenches disappeared before the raking fire of the shrapnel. The pilot signalled “cease firing” and again turned the plane quickly and flew back to a msition over target. BOYS’ LIFE the battery where he could observe the signal panel. Again Burns’ heart leaped to his throat as the plane banked steeply. ‘Lhe old fear of the air, which had become some- what dulled by his interest in the shooting, gripped him with renewed strength. The reappearance of his old enemy sent a wave of disappointment over Burns which was so poignant that he nearly cried aloud. How he envied the man ahead of him the effortless skill and con- fidence with which he handled the airplane. Burns was so miserable that he did not notice the resumption of the firing as the men in the other airplane took charge of the shooting at the new target. The first salvo had been fired when Captain Adkins swung his plane to a position a few hundred feet below the observing machine and maintained his course as he watched the progress of the shoot before Burns looked down. In the next salvo, the battery neatly dropped all four shells on almost the same spot. It was a beautiful bit of shooting and Captain Adkins leaned far over the side of the cockpit, the better to sce it. Burns did likewise, al- though a trifle more cautiously. So absorbed did they be- come that neither man noticed that the pilot unconsciously pulled back on the control stick, causing the Dehaviland to climb. To a machine traveling better than a hundred miles.an hour it is a small matter to climb a few hundred feet, and before the pilot looked up the plane had covered more than two of the three hundred feet which separated it from the plane above. Just at this moment the pilot of the observing plane decided to turn, crossing just above the climbing plane, and the one pound lead weight that dangled at the end of the tentacle-like antenna struck the whirling propeller of Captain Adkins plane with a crash. AZED by the suddenness with which it happened, Burns saw the pilot sag weakly forward with the blood spurting from his head where it had been struck by the weight which had been thrown back in the air stream. The motor was roaring with a deafening volume for the propeller was shattered and it was running free. The vibration caused by the terrific speed threatened to tear the motor from its bed. The metal shod tip of one of the propeller blades had been thrown back and had cleanly severed the aileron balance wire, which was whipping back over the top wing, rendering the control surfaces at the wing tips useless. This much Burns saw before the plane reeled and commenced spinning. Then he was back in Texas and the Rio Grande river was revolving swiftly below. On one of the banks was a small field of sugar cane that was rushing up to meet him. Each tassel showed clearly for a second. There came the sickening realization that he was going to crash Death loomed close and the sudden knowledge of its nearness seemed to snap something in the back of Burns's head. He was conscious of doing a great many things in a hurry. Then the grinding roar of the motor died away. For a moment the shrieking of the wires dominated everything as the plane plunged downward. But not for long. Smoothly the spinning motion stopped and the tone of the wires became less shrill for the nose was slowly swinging up to the clear line of the horizon, the skilful use of the rudder compensating for the lack of the ailerons in balanc- ing the plane. As the machine settled into an easy glide Burns blinked in wonder for on the dash ahead of him both ignition switches were in the “off” position and his hands and feet were on the duplicate controls in the rear cockpit and—they did not tremb!>. He could not bank the plane as the ailerons were ing information on _ shell ——— shock, as well as_ trying countless remedies, he was no nearer his goal than be- fore. He was thinking of this as he slowly considered an invitation from Captain Ad- kins, a close friend, to view the artillery practice at Fort Meyers from the air. Cap- Adk'ns was command- them your choice and your reasons for it. A New Contest If you take a book to camp—WVhat book will you take to camp? Which of the volumes in the bookcase shown on page 46 would you take to camp, and why would you choose that particular one? Write a letter to The Editors of BOYS’ LIFE, telling ’ For the best of these letters received on or before July | 25th, BOYS’ LIFE will pay $10.00, for the next best $5.00 and for any others published $3.00 | each. The prize winning letters will be published in the August issue of BOYS’ LIFE. useless but he edged it slightly over to an open pas- ture and landed as lightly as if landing propellerless air- nlanes was a part of his daily routine. As the machine stopped rolling Captain Adkins opened his eyes and _ at- tempted to sit up. On the second attempt he was suc- tain ing the squadron _ that —— aS cessful and his recovery worked with the artillery CONTEST RULES. st'mulated by the sight of regiment which = = | 1. Any reader of BOYS’ LIFE under eighteen years of age may compete. oe ee — out 4 giles at after - x Pa, of aE Tr, : ° of the cockpit and c tO — oe ee 2. Letters must be typewritten, or written legibly in ink on one side of the paper and re gene 5 eS noon. : » cecum Se atelin ’ lis side; urns, a man “Come on, old = man,” ee 58 must not exceec 2 va hi , hould transformed, with the look urged the Captain. “It will 3. The name, address and age of the author and, if a scout, his troop number, shou on his face of one who has do you lots of good to get away from this place for a while. There’s no stunting 5. in this, you know. You will have a nice ride out of it. appear in the upper right-hand corner of the first page of manuscript Manuscripts must be marked “For the Take-a-Book-to-Camp Contest.” The Editorial Staff of BOYS’ LIFE will act as judges of the letters submitted. just fought a hard battle and won in spite of great odds. Burns, the pilot, with his old nerve back, a “Kiwi” ———————— no longer. July

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The Boy Scouts’ Magazine Virgin Islands for Photograph of a Young Night Heron Contest Rules on page 35 UP-TO-DATE OLD SCOUTS “ RUN BOYS. HERE $He comes /” PL, OW BROWN, Goldendale, Wash. Stoul WALTER OTTESON, Be yo al * a Adie: PUEBLO HOMES - stout. RD.MALLORY Buckrnan, MIE sett aH: %, ; ChE 2 ithe eee, — IN THE GOOD OLD SUMMERTIME. Stout £x., MERRIT L.OXENHAM, Fed Bark, N.J. ~YOUNG NICHT HERON AT HOME H.BEATIY Chrishansled. SGoix, V1. SHY PoseRs AUCUST WENZEL, Scranior:, Fa. “HELLO FOLKS/* SM, WittiAM Wessel, Brooklyn, WY SCOOT COUNTRY Locomotive ROCK GrEaRRan: shige me Oregore PLATTE LYMAN, mw Basedireg, a: ; NEPTUNE'S FRONT DooR WINTER'S Ww: WoRK nit glen THE LION'S eT ent C Meera, los degetes, Oa, SRAWRLIN MEYER. “Oak Bank Min. Bir LE PAGARD, Ratway,NJ. Mack rier, Hollywood, Gad. FOLLOW ON a UNRISE. ABOVE “THE CLOUD , a ve hy J Parsunm, Honolulu, TH. : Po ee Mv; Des FRANK KELSO, St.Martes, ldaro™ a 1922

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In Honor of Our Volunteers \ HAT we believe to be the ‘Y largest “Get-Together” of volunteer Scout workers ever collected was held at the Hotel Commodore in New York City on the evening of May 23rd with about 1,250 Scout workers from Greater New York City in attendance. The meeting was especially called as an appreciation of the splendid service of the volun- teer workers in Scouting, Scoutmasters, assistants, troop committeemen, local council members, and so forth. Vice- President Mortimer L. Schiff presided. Representatives of each of the five borough coun- cils spoke. Other speakers were Dr. George Vincent, President of the Rockefeller Foundation; Justice Cropsey of the Supreme Court, District Attorney Banton, Douglas Mathewsonand Alrick H. Man. Mr. Banton stated without qualification that he considered Scouting the only movement that was really meeting the boy problem. “Yours is an organ- ization of red-blooded men who are forming character which does not need reforming by the authorities. You are taking decency in infancy and developing it through life.” The whole meeting was splendidly inspiring, and we hope succeeded in showing some of our volunteers that we ap- preciate their devoted service to the Boy Scouts of America. Os ea ee’, Answer Emergency Call WHEN three big forest fires were raging in the vicinity of Philipsburg, Pa., the state troopers had all they could do and more, when a fourth call came in to help save the property threatened by another big conflagration. The Pennsylvania Railroad employees were already working, but, owing to the high wind, were making little headway against the flames, so the Boy Scouts were called in and soon had the fire under control. In commenting on the incident the Philipsburg Journal says, “The boys worked hard and proved their worth as protectors of the forest. Any community should feel proud to have an organization like the Boy Scouts of America.” E. J. Kohn, Sergeant of the State Police, wrote as follows to Captain Horn, a Philipsburg Scoutmaster: “During my experience on the State Force I have witnessed considerable forest fire fighting, but have never witnessed the equal of these scouts in courage, decision and ability. They proved themselves much better than men in obedience and quickness. Their dis- cipline was A No. 1 and there was no buck passing or clacking among them. They went to work carrying out orders and quickly accomplished the extinguishing of the fire. I am taking pleasure in both commending and thanking your scouts for their excellent work.” The Otters of Westfield N Westfield, Mass.. Troop 1 has a patrol known as the “Otter,” principally because its members are all amphibious animals, and the Handbook says, “I know of no other land animal that can swim and dive half so skilfully as the otter.” This Otter Patrol came into being October 25, 1918. By July 4th, 1919, all the eight were first class scouts. On March 10th, 1922, they all qualified at one fell swoop as Eagles. In commenting on this event their Scoutmaster said, “It was a lovely sight to the eyes. Their lithe, straight bodies, their modest demeanor and the quiet pride of attainment made a beautiful demonstration of what Scouting means in its highest efficiency. But what distinguished this line of boys was the way that they looked out of the cor- ner of their eyes at one another, not only with affec- tion and comradeship, but with a feeling of gratitude, each boy saying to the others with his eyes, ‘I wouldn't be here if it hadn’t been for you.’” This last is literally true, for they have all helped each other to pass their tests, have worked together and played together in close understanding for five years. Two of the Patrol, Scouts Logan and Moravec, will soon be Veterans and both have war service medals. Moravec has also an Honor Medal Here is a patrol (the Otters of Westfield, Mass.) that is composed entirely of Eagle Scouts. from the National Court of Honor for having rescued a child from a burning building. Three of the boys are “wire- less nuts,” two are expert horsemen, and all are remarkable swimmers who camp every year on the seashore, chumming with the Coast Guards and generally living up to their pa- tron animal. At the Mohawk Indian Village held at the Eastern States Exposition the Otters gave a special exhibition of camping last September with eight pup tents, a camp kitchen and a self-installed wireless outfit such as they would use in the woods. When Westfield celebrated its two hundred and fiftieth anniversary the Otter Patrol was asked to guard the properties of the historical pageant, and they camped overnight right on the spot, serving as a first aid unit by day. Altogether these Otters are the real thing. Anybody else a patrol story to tell? We like these crack patrols, brim- full of pep and good Scouting. The more of them we can get in touch with the better. These particular Otters whom Mr. George D. Pratt, Treasurer of the Boy Scouts of Recreation f America, greeted by the Chief Scout Executive and _Dr. George J. Fisher on his return from a big game hunt- ing trip in Africa with his son BOYS’ LIFE Edited by James E. West Chief Scout Executive you will see in the picture, from left to right, are by name Howard Hall, Richard Buzby, Richard Ely, Walter Logan, Ellsworth Ungethuem, Leon- ard Terwilliger, William Ring and Edward Moravec. The name. of their Scoutmaster is Smith. Hats off to Mr. Smith, to whom we are indebted for this little story of real scouts. Deaf and Dumb Lads Become Eagles T a recent court of Honor session in Berkeley, Cal., four scouts qualified for Eagle rank, namely, Curtis Knoll of Troop 18, Davis Hatch of Troop 21, Henry Bull and Ray Tabb of Troop 11. The last two mentioned scouts are deaf and dumb (being able to speak only through sign language), but their handicap has not been permitted to check scout ad- vancement, nor have they asked any quarter on that account. Prepare for Eastern States Exposition LANS are being made whereby scouts will again participate in the Eastern States Exposition which takes place in Springfield, Mass., in September. The scouts will conduct a model camp in their re-created Mohawk Indian Village and will perform as usual service as messengers, guards, escorts, etc., and will maintain first aid and information booths. They are Howard Hall, Richard Busby, Richard Ely, Walter Logan, Ellsworth Ungethuem, Leonard Terwilliger, William Ring and Edward Moravec Culver School’s Good Turn HROUGH the courtesy of the Culver (Indiana) Sum- mer Schools a considerable number of Boy Scouts who might not have been able otherwise to have enjoyed the ad- vantages of a sojourn in the Woodcraft or Naval School are doing so as guests of the institution. These schools are open to boys between the ages of 12 and 14 and follow the regular Scouting program under picked leaders, selected not only for their technical knowledge of woodcraft but for their fine character and power to inspire and interpret the true spirit of Scouting. ‘ Gleanings from Headquarters Happenings HE Chief Seascout, James A. Wilder, being on leave of absence, Captain W. Huston Lillard has been appointed Acting Chief Seascout upon conference with General Goethals, Chairman of the National Sea- scout Committee. The Seascout Training Camp at Tabor Academy, Marion, Mass., opens July 5th and will run to August 2nd. The Camp will be run in two sections of two weeks each. Scouts interested in this branch of Scouting are invited to make application at National Headquarters for a place in this camp. Re- cently a pictorial booklet prepared by two of the boys who spent the summer of 1921 at this camp has been published and can be had through the Supply Depart- ment. It describes the work in the camp in an inter- esting manner. Charles Howard Mills, experienced boy worker, has recently been appointed Director of Publicity for the National Council. Mr. Mills was educated at the Uni- versity of Chicago and in 1905 began his work with boys in one of the boys’ clubs of San Francisco. He was also connected with the Municipal recreation work in Los Angeles, then in Chicago, where he became as- sociated with the Hull House activities. He was one of the pioneers in Scouting and helped organize the first Boy Scout work in Chicago. On account of his success in Chicago he was called to Grand Rapids, where he served that municipality in both recreational work and Boy Scout activities for nearly seven years. He served as Commissioner and' Executive and also as a Director of Pub- lic Welfare under commission government in Grand Rapids. From Grand Rapids he went to Kansas City, Missouri, as Director of or the city and acted on the local Scout coun- cil. It was while in Kansas City that he became interested in the motion picture field and later accepted a position (Continued on page 54) July

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The Boy Scout's Magazine

They are not Keds unless the name Keds is on the shoe <= es = =e —— Shoes like the paws

The world’s standard sum- mer shoe. For tennis, canoeing, sailing, and gen- eral outdoor wear. High and low models for boys and girls too. of a boy’s best pal AN you run faster than your dog? Can you jump as high as a dog half your size? Examine your dog’s paws some day. They are soft and springy. That’s one of the reasons why he is so agile. With a pair of Keds your feet become as much as possible like the paws of a dog. Keds are built with —thick rubber soles, pliable, springy, protecting. —tough canvas tops, light and cool. —reinforcements where the wear comes. With Keds like these you will find you can run faster, walk farther, and do better in your sports and games. Wear Keds every day—in school and out. You will notice that many of the strongest fellows wear them from early in the spring until late in the fall. Keds There are high Keds and low Keds and brown Keds and white Keds. You can get Keds with corrugated soles or smooth or suction soles—made of the finest rubber from our own Sumatra plantations. You can get the kind you wish at your dealer’s. If he doesn’t have them, he can get them for you. Look for the name Keds But remember, Keds are made only by the United States Rubber Company, the larg- est and oldest rubber organization in the world. If the name Keds isn’t on the shoes, they aren’t real Keds. Booklet, “Camping,” sent free if you write to Dept. B-4, 1790 Broadway, New York City. United States Rubber Company Trademark Reg. U. S. Pat. Off. Keds were originated and are made only by the United States Rubber Company. The name Keds is on every pair. It is your guarantee of quality and value. One of the Keds models that all the fellows want. Heavy soles, sturdy reinforcements, ankle patch—cor- rugated, smooth or suction sole.

a sacle soe anes 3 ee eR ee

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Dear Dan Bearp: I wish to become a scout official and I wish you would kindly tell me what I would have to do, as I am very much in- terested in Scoutcraft. Kindly reply in your scouting section. Frank HOo.tipay. Italy, Texas. If on the other hand you mean you wish to hold a paid post such as that of scout executive, you should write to the Field Department of the Boy Scouts of America, 200 Fifth Ave,. New York City, stating your qualifications and experience. If on the other hand you mean you wish to serve as scoutmaster of a troop, the process is akin to making rabbit stew. First catch your hare—that is your boys. The regular process of starting a troop is through a church, school or sponsoring group of individuals who gather in can- didates, apply for a charter and select a troop committee of three or more adults, who in turn select and recommend for ap- pointment a man to serve as scoutmaster. The scoutmaster must be at least 21 years of age and an American Citizen. For fur- ther details write National Heaquarters at above address. Dear Dan BEArD: I am not a subscriber to Boys’ Lire but I have read the last two numbers. I am not a Boy Scout but I have wanted to be- come one ever since I was ten years old. There seem to be no other boys around here who are interested in such work. Is there any way that I can become a Boy Scout alone? If so, what must I do, or to whom must I write? Please answer right away so I can join if possible. Yours sincerely, Rice, Kas. LesTteER CHUBBUCK. Yes, boys who want to get into scout- ing can become Pioneer scouts if they can- not affiliate with a regular troop. See answer to J. L. de Lime. Dear Dan BEarp: I would like to organize a boy scout patroi in my school. It would please me very much if you would give me the in- formation regarding boy scouts. I would be very glad if you would help me in organizing the scouts in my school. We were looking in a scout book and saw your name and thought we would write you. Harotp Way. Pearl River, N. Y. I am glad to know that you are inter- ested in scouting and would like to start a scout troop in your school. You can be- gin with one patrol—that is eight boys, provided you can get a man over 21 years of age to act as your Scoutmaster. Send to the National Council Headquarters of the Boy Scouts of America, 200 Fifth Avenue, New York City, for blanks and information as to scouting and how to organize a troop. In the meanwhile study the Boy Scout Handbook and find out as much as you can about scouting for your- self. Then get some older person, your school teacher for instance, to take charge of starting a troop. I know you will be glad and proud to be a scout just as soon as you get into the movement. It is the biggest thing for boys ever invented. Dear Dan BEarp: I have been reading up Boy’’ Lire lately and have taken special notice of vour page, as I call it. I have seen that you answered questions that often arise in a boy’s mind. have been thinking of taking u> Forestry or Dentistry as a pro- fession, but am yet undecided, as there are a few questions that I would like answered ‘by personal letter. Maybe you can help me out. Forest Ranging 1. What is the average pay of a fores- ter? 2. Is it as lonely as some people make it out to be or think it is? 3. Where are there some good schools that teach forestry at a reasonable price? 4. I have a very small leakage of the heart which has never bothered me very much so far. Would this hinder me from being a forester I think that if I lead the life of a forester it would be good for me. Dentistry 1. Is there a good opening for a den- tist ? 2. Does a good dentist get good pay? 3. Do you know any schools that teach dentistry? I am yet undecided what to take up, but if you can answer a few of the above questions I think I can decide. Hoping to hear from you soon, I thank you very much, I remain, Yours very truly, DonaALp K. ALBERTSON. Hughesville, Pa. As to the Forest Ranger’s calling I would suggest that you read the Merit Badge pamphlet on Forestry which dis- cusses your first three questions. The mat- ter of the heart leakage is one that only a competent physician could advise you upon. A Forester must spend days without see- ing a human being. If your heart trouble is one that would make solitude dangerous then this calling would be unwise for you. Why not consult a local dentist? I am sure he would be able to give you more reliable information than I could about openings. There is always an opening, however, for good dentists. They get good pay. The University of Pennsylvania has a good Dentist’s School. Dear Dan BEarp: Having read in your scouting section for March that Scout Ronald thomas has written concerning a Merit Badge for ony Collecting, I wish to advocate his idea. I have many boy friends who are col- lectors, not a few of whom are scouts. At a recent Merit Badge Court, several of these boys asked an Examiner, himself a collector, about this, and he said it would be a fine thing. Stamp collecting teaches a lot of things, chief among these being observation, the Scout’s chief lesson. There is really many more of use but that is the most important to us. Of course, besides learning a lot, there is great fun in collecting. It is called the “King of Hobbies” and the “Hobby of Kings,” many famous men being stamp collectors. If this comes to the attention of non- collectors I hope they will start in at once for they will never regret it. I hope that we may expect in the near future to have a merit badge for “Philately.” Respectfully yours, Scout Harry J. GALLAND. Brooklyn, N. Y. Scouts Galland, Long and Thomas. WHat I am going to say pertains to the passing of tests. Most of the scouts in my patrol are Second Class scouts, and are working sard on their First Class test. But haw did I get them so eager to pass their tests? Most scouts join, pass their tenderfoot test and then look forward to hikes and good times. But you can have them so eager to pass their tests that they will be able to pass them all in a jiffy. This is my idea: Start a contest that will last for about three months; in it have the following points: I am handing on your suggestion as to a Merit Badge in Stamp Collecting (Phil- ately) to the National Committee on 3adges, Awards and Scout Requirements. Stamp collecting is a fine hobby. There is no doubt about that. Dear Dan BEarp: It is kite season as you know and I want to know how to make a box kite. I can make a two and three stick kite and now I want to know how to make a box kite. If it is not too much trouble draw a diagram showing how it should be made. I saw in Boys’ Lire that Scout Ronald Thomas of Chicago, Ill, wants the Boy Scouts of America to have another merit badge (stamp saving), Why not have one on collecting specimens? That seems reasonable and so many of them are doing it anyway. That will let Eagle Scout Leon Wallace win two more merit badges if he has room for them, and Eagle Scout Mar- vin Buller four. I bet both of them are proud to have more merit badges than anybody else. Frank C. WILKES, Jr., Senior Patrol Leader, Troop 14, Montgomery, Ala. P.S.—Did Scout Lloyd Olson draw the prize winning picture for Sigmund Eisner scout uniforms, or did he just send in the idea? I have an idea to send in but I can’t draw the picture of it. Answer in Boys’ Lire if you like. The American Boys’ Handbook tells how to make kites. The Committee on Badges, Awards and Scout Requirements are considering the advisability of both your suggestions as to collections. Scout Olsen sent in a rough sketch idea. Drawing was made at National Headquar- ters. Dear Dan BEarp: In the last number of Boys’ Lire a fel- low scout suggested a merit badge in stamp collecting. I don’t think that a bad idea because I got one to suggest myself. Why couldn’t there be a merit badge in knot tying. Our Scoutmaster and I got the idea when we made a knot-board for the troop. A badge in knot tying would be just the thing to help a scout in some first aid work. It would bring a large number of knots and splices into the field of scout work that will come in handy for life saving. We aren’t heard much of from away up in Chisholm because we are so quiet, but we are getting along fine and have quite a few first class scouts and one Eagle. Scout CHARLIE YARVICE. Chisholm, Minn. Knot tying is already fairly well covered Patrol Leaders’ Contest | Winner Patrol Leader, Weslie Crosier, Troop 2, 169 Pleasant St., Dalton, Mass. i Points 1. Attendance to meetings ...... 10 A ME seth beasskearobese 10 | Ds GE ED co crcbasccecces 5 to 15 4. Passing of second class test .. 50 | 5. Passing of first class test ....100 i 6. Merit badges ............++- 200 ; Then at the end of the three months award some prize, such as a badge or some || medal. H Or compete with another patrol in the the losers give a supper in honor of the winners. BOYS’ LIFE will give each month a ait of $5.00 for the best letter answering the following question: How I solved the most difficult problem I ever had as leader of my patrol. The experience must relate to the handling of the patrol or any part of a patrol down to a single scout Any reader of BOYS’ LIFE under eigh- teen years of age may compete. 3. Description must be typewritten, or written legibly in ink on one side of the pager only. Letters must not exceed 1,000 words. I Contest Rules troop and at the end of the time given make | i | i} 5. The name, address and age of the author and his troop number should appear in the upper right-hand corner of the first page of manuscript. Hi 6. Manuscripts must be marked * “For the Patrol Leaders’ Contest” and must reach us by the first of the second month preced- ing the date of issue. 7. The Editorial Staff of BOYS’ LIFE will act as judges of the letters submitted || and any letter, whether prize winning or | not, is to be available for publication. BOYS’ LIFE Sectior before one reaches the merit badge stage in scouting in connection with the Tender- foot requirements and with bridge build- ing, first aid, etc. Pioneering requires twelve different kinds of knots. However, your suggestion can’ be referred to the Committee on Badges, Awards and Scout Requirements, who are responsible for any changes and additions to the merit badge list. od Dear Dan BEarD: I am a Patrol Leader of the Silver Fox patrol of Troop No. 1 of Woodstock. Am a a second class scout. I have in my patrol seven boys ranging from twelve to fourteen years of age. These boys are all tenderfeet, supposed to be working on their second class work. I guess they believe they have gone far enough in their work to have a rest. Most of them turn out for hikes and other outdoor work. At scout meetings there are at least six of them out, and at our bi-monthly feeds they are all there. We are the only troop in town, the others broke up, and are invited out to parties and other things. People give us jobs. For instance, last summer the Amer- ican Legion had us march in their parade and take tickets at a carnival they had brought for the week. They gave us fifty dollars which helped greatly with our camping. If the boys of the troop don’t take a hold we will not be able to hold the confidence of the people. The main trouble is that at scout meet- ings the boys seem to have a good time fooling and won't pay attention to the scoutmaster. He blows attention and the boys are momentarily silenced, but when he starts talking they start too. There also is a tendency to shoot paper wads and stick pins in each other. This hap- pens in all four of the patrols. I told Mr. Moore about your question box and he recommended writing to you. I have tried to win the offered prize, but seem unable to effect a cure for the noisy boys. We must preserve a little dignity anyway, for we have quite a few men as honorary members, and when they visit scout meetings it wouldn’t look nice to have a war going on and a regular gossip match. Hoping you can advise some method or tell of some other patrol leader’s methods, I thank you in advance. A. FG: Your patrols have become uninterested. Have your hikes and do out of door work for a while, making every meeting inter- esting. Real scouting is an_ outdoor pro- gram. Teach scouting by doing things for a while without much talk. Ask the boys to help plan this program for the next two months. _—__ Dear Dan BEarp: I have been Sy =e my Boys’ Lire O. K. and like it fi Here is a uation TI would like you to answer in your scouting section. Last year a troop was started and I joined, but one by one the kids started to quit until there were only four or five left, and pretty soon the scoutmaster got disheartened and the troop broke up. It is quite a distance to another Catholic troop and I don’t know what to do. Respectfully yours, Don’t get discouraged. Defeat doesn’t down a scout you know. Go and tell your troubles to your Kansas City Scout Ex- ecutive and see if he can’t get over the difficulties, and surely you have some Catholic friend or priest who can help you. The Catholics are standing splendid- ly with the movement everywhere. Per- haps it isn’t too late to revive your troop and get a new scoutmaster. Your own enthusiasm ought to help and there is plenty in scouting for every boy. Dear Dan Bearp: Here is a dreadful knotty problem that isn’t tied with scout knots. I know you have given help to so many needy scouts — you will help me. Here’s the prob- em. Every summer my father, mother and I go up to Lake Vermillion for two (Continued on page 45) July

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The Boy Scouts’ Magazine Woods | w Wisdom ‘of. the a from page 19) Beaver works and signs were found from the point where the canoe had been launched. In bays the boy saw several beaver houses, but he did not stop to ex- amine them for he was anxious to get over into Forked Lake and make a perma- nent camp. The old guide had told him he would find plenty of beaver over there. Under the road bridge and out into Raquette Lake the canoe glided. There was a brisk, favorable wind blowing on Raquette, so. the young naturalist landed, and with his belt hatchet cut a mast for his sail. Trimming it of branches and bark, he drove a wire nail (the head of which had been cut off) into the end and left a quarter inch protruding. Fastening the sail to the mast he slipped it through the hole and into the step. The wind drove the canoe along at a rapid clip. Passing the village of Raquette, he held due north until Outlet Bay was reached, rounded the point and steered a course north-east covering the four or five miles to Forked Lake in record time. Unloading the canoe he left his things, and strolled over the half-mile carry on a tour of inspection. Here he found a care- taker who told him that on the mouth of Brandreth Lake Outlet was state land where he would find a nice camping loca- tion and back of it a spring. With the break of day, Jim did not wait to get breakfast, but broke camp and paddled westward up Forked Lake until he found the camping site. While he was eating breakfast a chip- munk came prowling about. The boy cut a long sapling, split the small end and crowded a piece of bread crust into it. Waiting until the chipmunk had worked within reach, he carefully extended the pole until the bread was only a few inches from its nose. The little animal sniffed at it, flattened out and cautiously crept toward the morsel expecting that a trick was being played on it. When it had positively identified the bread as eatable, it seized and pulled it from the pole which was slowly withdrawn, turned and dart- ed under a log, but soon came out and perching on top of the log, sat up and began eating. There was more than enough for one meal, so the chipmunk started off to cache the surplus. First it was tucked between two rocks, then taken out and deposited under a leaf and after try- ing two or three more places the chip- munk carried it off into the woods. Jim was a great boy for pets. He had counted on making friends with a number of the wood’s people, but this had been his first opportunity. At home he once had a snowy and a great-horned, or hoot owl, given to him by farmers who, knowing his fondness for animals, brought him all kinds of queer creatures. After breakfast the young naturalist began pitching his tent and arranging a permanent camp. The tent up, he gathered balsam boughs, cut off the tips and lapped them over each other until he had a soft mattress for his blankets. By driving four forked stakes into the ground at the same height, and placing a stick in the crotches across each end and covering them lengthwise with boards (picked up along the margin of the lake) he constructed a crude camp table. In much the same way he built a crane over the camp fire from which to hang cooking pails. Crotched stakes were driven a foot or so from each side of the fireplace, across which a long pole was placed. The pails were hung from notches made in the small end of limbs cut from green trees. Each limb had several small branches a few inches apart that had been severed several inches from the mother branch. When the small end hung down, the stubs formed inverted crotches or hooks, to be hooked over the crane. The pails could be raised or lowered by any one of the hooks. Jim stored away a wood supply in the tent for a rainy day, and then took a well earned rest for the remainder of the after- noon, putting in the time watching the birds and feeding his chipmunk friend. (To be continued in August Boys’ Lire) 1922 L Picture ARead! hitif&eas Ver ae Every sport is more sport with a KODAK Your album filled with pictures of good times will be the book you like the best. Whether it’s riding or fishing, tramping or i Kodak as yOu go. There’s a Kodak dealer right around the corner. Ask him to show you how easy picture-making is the Kodak way. Autographic Kodaks $6.50 up Brownies $2.00 up Eastman Kodak Company, Rochester, N.Y. Tie Kodas City

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ANY, many years ago, maybe it was about the year 1776 —and maybe it wasn't—at any rate, it was when the writer was too smali to be a scout but not too small to be a naturalist, he loved all sorts of wild things, and although his daddy was a celebrated shot ard his brothers were all hunters, he did not like to kill things, but he would have been de lighted to, fill his backyard with every live creature the forests contained, including even wolves, bears and pan- thers. The little fellow was firmly convinced that he could han- dle all these wild creatures if he could once get “next to them.” That conviction has been rudely shaken several times since those happy days, and, when an innocent-look- ing bear with an angelic ex- pression ruined his uniform last fall by ripping it with its sharp claws it still fur- ther unsettled his belief and confidence in his ability to gentle all sorts of wild crea- tures. As a small boy, however, he did not meet any sort of wild animals larger than a fox, and with handling the smaller mammals he had very good success, but that is another story. He had no money with which to buy animals, and if he had had the money there were no stores, as there are now, where one may purchase all sorts of queer live things; consequently, if he wanted a menagerie in his backyard he must secure the animals himself. But how. For hours the little fellow might have been seen stretched out on the lawn, his chin on his dirty hands, watching a cat stalking birds. He noted that the cats were very successful —they could catth the wildest birds, birds that a human being could not approach without causing instant flight— so he studied the cats’ actions to learn their methods, and then he made the same discovery that the wildmen of the world had made thousands and thousands of years ago, and that the cat had discovered even before the men had learned the trick. The boy noted that the old cat after a robin on the lawn crouches down and keeps still until the robin is off its guard and then quickly and silently advances until the bird’s suspicions are aroused, when again the cat freezes, that is, becomes motionless. The cat does not make a false move. The cat does not go romping after the bird, it makes no leap until it is within striking distance, and it has the patience of Job! It advances only when prey is not watching. All things being equal, the bird is bound to die. UT in these cases all things were not equal, because a boy with a scout’s heart was there, a boy who wanted to learn how to stalk and also the reason for the success of the feline hunter; but the boy loved not to kill, he loved the birds, and just before the cat could make a spring he would sail his hat at the bird and frighten it away. After a while he thought he would try the cat’s tactics himself. A couple of wild pigeons, passenger pigeons, such as no longer exist on earth, visited the barnyard; beautiful old- rose colored birds with long tails, clean-cut bodies and bright eyes, necks scintillating with metallic reflections— oh, they were wonderful birds, but they are all in the Happy Hunting Ground now. Well, these birds were in- discreet enough to alight not far from the barn, where they were busily picking up chicken-feed, a very unusual thing to do. The boy had seen wild pigeons feeding in the beech trees, but of the millions of wild pigeons observed at various times these were the only two he can remember seeing feeding on the grounds in a barnyard. Here was a glorious opportunity to try the tactics of the cat. The pigeons were at a great disadvantage because they must fly toward the boy to get by him; they could not fly the other way without dashing against the side of the barn —the boy took this in at a glance. As he crept up on the feeding birds they became nervous, stretched their necks and seemed to be ready to fly, but then the lad would freeze, stand immovable, and gradually the birds would again become interested in the chicken-feed. My, that was a glorious hunt! No big game hunt that the writer has N APPEARAN PVERY DANGEROUS: since indulged in can compare with the thrills that he felt on that occasion! As if to help the boy in his purpose the pigeons when alarmed would walk towards each other, stretch their necks around, then go to pecking corn again, apparently as if companionship gave them courage. How long it took to stalk those two beautiful birds I do not know; it may have been hours; the boy felt as if he could have kept it up for days; but at last the opportunity ar- rived, and with arms extended he dashed for the pigeons. He hardly expected to be successful, but did hope that he could catch one of the birds. Imagine his joy when the two birds flew right at his head and he grabbed one flutter- ing bird in each hand! He could not believe that it had really happened, but he had reasoned all along that if a cat could catch birds he could, for he at least had as much sense as a cat! He was prouder of proving his intellectual equality with Tabby than he has ever been since in any intellectual victory at school or with men. Now that he had the two pigeons he had no place to put them. You see the charm of this sort of hurting is that one does not know what one is about to catch; he did not go out for pigeons, their advent was an accident. One thing was evident, the boy could not forever hold those birds, so he inserted the pigeons in the dog- house, put a board at the opening and later made a real door of slats for the kennel. The birds took very kindly to confinement, and later when they by chance escaped they flew around a while and came back to the dog- house. I was telling my good old friend, John Burroughs, about these things and he was intensely interested. He did not see how it was possible for a man to go out and catch a wild bird with the bare hands, until I explained to the great naturalist that probably it was not possible for a man to avow that he is going to catch a bird, start out for that purpose and bring back a live bird. You see, Mr. 3urroughs made the same mistake that is in your mind now of supposing that I would go out anywhere and catch a bird, but that is not possible or true. What I did do was to catch a bird when the opportunity offered. My boyish study of natural history and the habits of animals had taught me to recognize the opportunity when I saw it and the cat had taught me how to take advantage of it. WAS going to say that any of you boys can do this; but I must modify that and say that any boy with a natural aptitude for this sort of thing can learn to do it, just the same as a boy with a talent for drawing can learn to be an artist, one with an ear for music can learn to bea musician, so one with a feeling for wild creatures, a sym- pathy for their wants and thoughts, can learn to stalk and catch them by hand. To do this, you must know what the bird is thinking about when it begins to get restless, other- wise it will take you by surprise and you will miss it. I have caught sparrows, robins, thrushes, wild pigeons, quail, ruffed-grouse, a crow, and all but caught an owl—I mean the big Virginia owl; I have caught lots of little screech owls. Now, the reason I did not catch that big Virginia BOYS’ LIFE By Dan Beard Illustrated by the Author owl was because he had a couple of big catchers him- self, Fig. 1, with long hooked talons on them like those of an eagle, sa when I slipped up on him and looked him over I simply said, “Good-night, boo-boo,” and I struck him with the palm of my hand, knocking him off his perch, and away he flew. After- wards I caught one of the same sort of owls, but that was easy ; the owl had struck a telegraph wire, which felled itto the earth. A rolling-mill hand came along and made the mistake of putting his cowhide-clad foot on the owl, and when I came up the man’s blood was oozing out of the rough shoe. The owl was on its back, clawing up in the air and snapping its beak. Now here is where I saw my op- portunity; the bird was not clawing sideways, this way and that, but straight up and down, so, kneeling down be- side him, I quickly slid my arm between his legs, grasped him by the throat, lifted him up and held him as one would hold a game cock with one leg on each side of my arm, the same as the fox is held in Fig. 2. There was no danger in doing this; the rolling- mill man got hurt because he did not know an opportunity when he saw it, but the owl did. One can catch small, and even comparatively large, mammals the same way. I once picked up a red fox, Fig. 2, that the dogs had driven into a farmhouse, where he had fled under the bed and was lying with his back against the wall in the corner with his mouth open; the fox was frightened to death and I picked him up exactly as I picked up the big owl, took him home with me, put a collar on his neck and kept him, although I must say he never became a very affectionate or trustworthy pet. Now, I would not advise any of you boys to try to catch a red fox, a ’coon or even a muskrat, Fig. 3, until you learn - the habits of these animals very thoroughly. The ’coon can put up a very nasty fight, the muskrat can bite your finger off, and even a ’possum can bite you severely; yet I have caught all these animals without being hurt, and all with my bare hand; but, mind, you, I will not promise to do it again. I will say, however, that if I see the chance where it can be done successfully I will not hesitate to try it. All of which means that to be a stalker you must be a thorough nature student, not a book naturalist; it won’t help you to catch birds in the least if you know the Latin name of every bird in the United States, neither will it prevent you from being terribly cut up with the talons of a bird of prey (Fig. 1) or being stabbed by a heron’s beak (Fig. 4) or hurt by a crow (Fig. 5) because you know all about the bird’s family name, the names of his cousins and his aunts, where he ranges and where he nests, as the books tell you. But what you must know is what that bird is thinking about, just what it can and will do in certain emergencies. Wee boy who is a past master in the art of stalking need never complain of the lack of game; he need never be loaded down with heavy arms and ammunition, But stalk- ing, as you may understand from the foregoing, does not mean the lying in wait all night at some spring or water- hole, or slopping around in a cold, wet blind camouflaged with cat-tails, amidst a flock of wooden ducks, but it does mean infinite patience. Stalking was practiced by the American Indians, and by the American pioneers. The In- dian’s arrows did not shoot as far as the modern high- power guns; he must be close to his game before he could hit it; even a crack shot like George Washington had to be within fifty yards of the buck before he felt that he could hit it. But to stalk a deer or any of the larger game animals you must keep to the windward of it; all these creatures have wonderful noses, and the one scent they dread the most is the scent of man; a taint of man on the breeze will stampede a herd of wild animals. I’ve known it to stampede bear, so you see that there is a lot to learn in this stalking business; the stalker must go with eyes open, ears open and nostrils open, ready at a moment’s notice to turn himself into a stump—that is, to freeze at (Continued on page 45) July

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The Boy Scout’s Magazine More than just strength is needed—fine skill, care and judgment are necessary building up your _ strong, lively Vitalics on the tire- making drum, in "Tougher than Elephant hide’ —because of careful workmanship AVE you ever noticed the little number near the valve stem on your Vitalic Tires? It’s the signa- ture of the man who built it. And if any tire should fail in service be-. cause of carelessness on his part, he knows the trouble will be traced right back to him. Do you wonder that he says, “It must be perfect!” Each man is an expert in his line and his job depends upon his ability to keep the wonderful Vitalic record unstained. So, after all, it’s careful workman- ship, as well as the fine, strong 1414 ounce motorcycle fabric and tough, spring rubber that has made Vitalics the standard by which all tires are judged. Everywhere you go—the country over—you will find the most experi- enced riders using sturdy, non-skid Vitalics. And the makers of such splendid bicycles as Black Beauty, Columbia, Dayton, Emblem, Excelsior, Indian, Iver-Johnson, Pierce and Yale have very good reasons for using Vitalics on their better grade wheels. Why should anyone be content with cheaper tires when Vitalics cost so little more and out-wear two of the ordinary kind? CONTINENTAL RUBBER WORKS 1924 Liberty St. Erie, Pa. This little book- let will tell you the complete”® story of Vitalic Bicycle Tires. It’s yours for the 31 ST DG GF DE VITALIC TRADE MARK REGISTERED Bicycle Tires ~ TRADE MARK: “Tougher than ee hide”

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Firemen’s golf. This must be great sport on a hot July day T is believed that the multitude of radio messages which are constantly passing through the air about us also penetrate our own bodies and have a bene- ficial effect similar to that of the electric treatment given by many physicians. We are, of course, unconscious of the electric waves passing through our bodies. The patient who is treated with high frequency current does not feel any sensation as it passes through his body. The electricity waves from the radio stations are of the same nature. According to this theory those who live near the great broadcasting stations receive more benefit than those who are long distances from them. There are many bene- fits arising from this electric treatment. The blood pres- sure may be reduced, the digestive operation is assisted and the number of red corpuscles increased. As the num- ber of broadcasting stations increases a large part of the population may benefit by this treatment. Portraits by Radio HE portrait of the King of Italy was successfully transmitted by long distance radio from the Italian naval wireless station at San Peolo to Bar Harbor, Maine. The message, therefore, tra- versed a con- siderable part of Europe and the entire breadth of the Atlantic Ocean. . The likeness when received in America was remarkably good, and the lines distinctly drawn. Only a part of the lower face was a trifle vague and needed re- touching. The weather con- ditions were very favorable for transmit- ting. It was not _ possible to send from Italy direct to America, so that the mes- sages were sent by way of the German station at Nauen. It is planned to send a num- ber of such pictures in the near future. In a few months it is believed the transmission of radio pictures across the Atlantic will be a commonplace and newspapers will be illustrated daily with photographs taken a few hours be- fore in distant parts of the world. Radio Clubs UNDREDS of amateur radio clubs have been organ- ized in and about New York City since the interest in wireless assumed such proportions. A year ago there were only a few wireless clubs, and these as a rule were widely scattered and unorganized. The new organizations show great activity and have become representative social and scientific clubs. They are especially active in arrang- ing lectures, informal discussions, and doing practical work in the club rooms. Many of them are besides doing * President Harding went calling. He got into Herbert Farmer’s house instead of the house next door, so Herbert met him and directed him to the house he wanted educational work in spreading the intelligent of radio. One club with a membership of 150 members arranged a convention which attracted wide attention in their locality and served to increase the number of radio fans by several thousands. important use Origin of the Indian EW light has been thrown 1 on the origin of the Amer- ican Indian. The mystery as to how they came to this continent has defied all research. In a re- mote section of Idaho a great number of carvings have been discovered cut in lava rocks which seem to be of great age. It is thought that the carvings may have been made as long as 30,000 years ago. Traces of this pre- historic writing have been found which would indicate that the first inhabitants of America were Chinese, and that in countless ages these people became the familiar In- dian. The characters used in writing in these early times seems to bear a strong re- semblance to Chinese letters. There are also carvings of crude pictures of Indian tents. According to one theory the Chinese originally emigrated to America crossing the Pacific by way of the islands of Behring Straits. Air Travel Is Popular E often hear people lament the fact that flying is neglected in America, and that after inventing the aeroplane we let many other countries surpass us. In Europe it is common to disparage foreign progress and hold up America as a model of enterprise. It is the old case of a prophet in his own country. As a matter of statis- tics 275,000 people travelled by air for longer or shorter journeys last year in the United States, a greater number than all Europe can show. There is no air service in the world to compare with the daily flights across the continent of the mail service. To shorten time and render the service more efficient it is planned to estab- lish night lighthouses or beacons so that the night flyers even in thick weather can find their way. Radio Abroad HE radio fan in America does not appreciate his blessings. Here the air is free for all, so far as receiving is concerned, and the cheapness of apparatus makes it possible for anyone to have a station of some kind. In Europe the restrictions are so great that very few can obtain licenses, and the cost of apparatus seems amazingly high to our American standards. There are today only about 8,000 amateur wireless men in Great Britain, while in the United States it is safe to say there are about one thousand times as many. The first step in securing a license in Great Britain is to apply to the postmaster general. He must receive a reference of char- Here is a new form of rudder that has recently been BOYS’ LIFE By F. A. Collins Illustrated with Photographs high. A decent receiving set costs $50, a telephone head- gear about $15, dry batteries $5, accumulators $10 and so on. A simple portable set costs $175 abroad. The Amer- ican prices for equipment of all kinds are considered amaz- ingly cheap and with good reason. Even when thé station is established and in working order there is surprisingly little of interest to hear in the air. Compare the varied broadcasting programs all over the United States with those in Great Britain and the rest of Europe. Once a week a London station is allowed to send out music and speeches for fifteen minutes for the‘ benefit of amateurs. A few other stations broadcast but not regularly. Concerts are also sent out from The Hague and from Germany but they are infrequent. There is no regular programme sent out from Paris. If Great Britain or any European country were to allow broadcasting on any such scale as we have it in America, it would lead to international complications among five or more countries, which would ac- cuse one anoth- er of crowding the air and in- terfering with their neighbors. Radio in Camps LTHOUGH wireless sets have not been unknown in past years in camps the port- able sets re- cently invented will assure ra- dio connections with thousands of summer homes even in remote _ places. A great many of the large camps have installed special amplifiers, so that the concerts and other forms of entertainment broadcasted from various stations can be enjoyed by all around the camp fires. It is of course much simpler as a rule to in- stall such stations in the open than in the cities and obtain better results. There are as a rule plenty of tall trees for raising the antennae. It should be remembered that since the camp stations are likely to be further from the broadcasting stations than in the city the simple crystal sets may not prove as satisfactory as at home. The prob- lem of grounding is also more difficult for there are fewer gas and water pipes, but this can be arranged by driving a pipe well into the ground. The delights of camp life in the open will be greatly increased by the radio telephone. Are Railroads Passing? HE familiar toot of the locomotive whistle may be a curiosity a few years to come. We have all seen the heavily laden automobile trucks rushing along the high- ways. Many engineers believe that the honk of their horns is rapidly replacing the scream of the steam whistle. Today some sixty-two per cent of the invented acter froma house- holder and after much red tape and the payment of a fee of ten shillings may grant permis- sion to set up a re- ceiving station. It is also extremely difficult to get per- mission to install a sending _ station. After the permis- sion has been ob- tained to erect a receiving _ station, the operator must . put up an antenna 100 feet high or 100 feet long and submit detailed plans of his equip- ment to show that he is not interfer- ing with anyone. The price of ap- paratus is very Here is how they photograph a safe cracker’s finger prints so that the police force can have real clues to help solve a crime riddle traffic between some cities is carried by motor truck. A number of small rail- roads have actually gone out of business because of this competition, sold their rolling stock and torn up their tracks. Preparations are being made for the change by spending upwards of a billion dollars this year on our highways. The long distance travel will continue to be carried by trains, however, unless we take to the air. Making the Straw Hat EW of us realize the work which must be done in distant parts of the world years in advance that we may have our straw hats. First of all thousands of coolies must work under the sun in Japan, China or Java to grow the straw. When it is cut the straw is braided, often by children only three or four years old. There are several hundred different weaves which make it posstble to make hats in great variety. Most of the straw comes from Japan, next from China and then Switzerland and Italy. America July

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The Boy Scouts’ Magazine excels in its machinery for making hats from this braided straw. The only trouble is that this machinery cannot be used for any other purpose, and so to keep it busy, straw hats must be made every month in the year. The hat which is made during the winter months is ready for the market by summer, but it is not until a year later, in the following spring, that you buy it at the store. No other people wear so many straw hats as Americans. More than 25,000,000 are used up every year. An Altitude Generator NEW device known as an altitude generator makes it possible to enjoy many of the benefits of a mountain climb without its hardships. The device con- sists of a small booth, much the same as that used for telephoning. It is encased in heavy glass and every crack can be hermet- ically sealed. The “mountain climber” takes a seat in this contrivance which is then carefully closed. A tube leads from the interior through the wall, through which the person in the box may breathe. When the little compartment has been tightly closed, the air is slowly removed by means of a suction pump. The theory is that the pressure on the body is thus removed, just as it would be on climbing to a considerable altitude. The person who makes the “journey” meanwhile sits at leisure without the slightest fatigue. The air supplied may be mixed with an extra amount of oxygen. An hour or so spent in the altitude generator is believed to be an excellent treatment for the lungs. | The Black Mare (Concluded from page 23) row of cotton-woods loomed up ahead. I had just managed to get up alongside the guide at the time; with Pelton riding easy along on his other side. ‘Those cotton- woods mark the creek, boys,” the guide was saying. “A mile be- yond it is Auvaca.” He had no more than got the words out of his mouth when there came a. whin- nying ofa hors se from the cotton-woods. “Pull up!” he half whispered. “I don't like the looks of this.” He didn’t have to depend on the looks of it long either for there came a gutteral shout from the grove that meant “\W ho’s there?” I could tell that much from the sound of it. “Beat it back for the Troop!” sa‘d the guide. “We've run into a bunch of raiders.” Old Buster nearly fell down when I wheeled him about, but it’s funny what you can get out of a horse when you have to. | had him running at a hand-gallop in a minute’ with the guide’s beside me and Pelton hold.ng in his black mare to keep from leaving us behind. Then came a shot followed by a regular fusilade behind us and the sing of bullets. “We don’t mind that,” growled the guide, “if you only stay where you are.” The ra.ders were picking us up fast. I could tell that from the sound. They were shooting as they rode, too, and it ain’t a pleasant sensation to think of stopping lead with your back. “It's no use,” I called out, is all in. Y ou fellows push on.’ “What do you think we are?” Pelton came back, mad as a hatter, and he reined in beside me. “That’s the stuff, boy,” agreed the guide. “Now you and I will stand these fellows off a bit while the sergeant kicks that old ctrow-bait of his up to the pass. Get your run out, boy, and let ’em have all but your | st shot.” He started to pull down his horse and Felton did likewise. I started to rein in. “Keep on goin’,” he yelled at me, “or you'll croak us all.” Well, I had to keep on going, but you can take it from me that it was a whole lot harder than staying. In a minute I heard the two guns going off as fast as the guide and Pelton could pull trigger. Then there came an answer to them like a pack of fire- crackers. “If those two don’t come right along I'll go back and join ’em” I told myself. [ could see the mountains looming up close now. The pass couldn’t be more than a few hundred-yards away. Then I heard a horse’s hoofs behind me. One horse— and my heart fell a mile I can tell you. It came on fast and I knew by the way it held its head it was the Black Mare. Well, if it had to be one, better the guide than young Pelton, I said to my- St lf grimly. “Move to your left! You're almost in the pass!” yelled a voice, and it was the guide! Then I saw that the little Black Mare was carrying double! There wasn't time to ask questions then. \ few more jumps and we were back in the canyon. The guide slipped off the black mare. - “Get down, Sergeant,” he ordered. He was captain now without any mistake. “You and me can hold this pass against the 1922 “My animal whole tribe until m« orning and they see | there are only two of us. ‘As for you, boy, if you can’t get the troop down here a-foot in an hour you're not the man I think you are.” AWN was breaking. We had stood off one rush and the guide had potted one of the Yaqui who had tried to stalk us. “A half hour more and we'll be crow- bait,” said the guide. ‘‘Wonder if that little mare failed the boy.” Then there was a sound of horses’ hoofs in the rocky bed of the canyon be- hind us and in the d.m light I could see the head of the troop rounding a turn. On they came, walking and leading their horses. All, that is, but the captain. He was mounted and I whistled, for as he came up I saw that it was the little black mare that he rode. Well there isn’t much more to be told. I guess the raiders had been keeping a | pretty good watch on us for once the troop arrived they faded away like snow in the warm sun. We had spoiled their party, anyway, we found as we toiled into Auvaca a few | hours later. The captain sent for me and Pelton that evening. He sat in front of his tent all strapped up, but still captain. “Say good-bye to your little black mare, Pelton,” I was mean enough to whisper to the boy as we walked up together. He looked at me with eyes as big and hurt as a girl’s, but he didn’t have time . to answer back before we had come to attention before the Old Man. And, sure enough, as luck would have it he started right in about the mare. “Mighty fine mare of yours, Pelton.” All poor Pelton could say was “I’m glad you liked her, sir.” “Rides as easy as a rocking-chair,” the captain went on. Then he gave me a w ic ked little wink that Pelton did not see “What do you say to a trade with Border Boy?” he asked, as innocent as you please. I knew right then that Pelton had nothing to worry about. The captain would have parted with his right arm before he would have let old Border Boy go. But Pelton hung his head. He couldn't find a word to say. “Well, never mind deciding now,” the captain said, giving me another wink. “I called you boys up to tell you that I’m proud of you for last night’s work, and I speak for the whole outfit. I can’t advance you, Sergeant, at present because there are no vacancies as you know, but I will bear your work in mind. You are to be lance-corporal, Pelton,” he added. Pelton blushed w-th pleasure. Then his face grew long again. “May I say something, sir?” he asked. “Certainly,” said the captain, heartily. “What is it?” “You speaking about trading,” he stam- mered. “I wondered if I could trade my promotion for my horse?” The Old Man let out one roar of laughter and then sobered down quick. “No, you can’t,” he said. “You've learned the big lesson of the cavalryman, and that is to put his horse before him- self. You can have the job and the horse, too. Now go out to the picket line and tell her how much you love her.” And Pelton did. 9 % REMINGTON So Uwe re * SoU. 5 Sg I Hit Him” , .+eee.e Bet he doesn’t.” of “Bet he does.” A shot at a water rat. Or at a crow. Or at Old-Man Gopher-Quick-as-a-Flash. They’reall hardtohit and it’ s a test of skill —that’s a big part of the shooting sport. And they are all pests. * * * Harry is the one who has the rifle. And just notice he is doing the shooting—he’s not lending his rifie to his chums when there is a good shot in sight. Not a bit of it. Have you one of the dandy new Remington .22 autoloading rifles? Or are you tagging along—hoping Harry will lend you his? The new Remington .22 is a real gun—clean cut, accurate, posi- tive, safe. Takes the regular .22 short smokeless greased or Lesmok cartridges, obtainable anywhere. It is the first rifle made to handle this .22 short cartridge successfully. A great addition to camp kit or vacation outfit. Just the thing for an automobile tour. Dad will enjoy it as much as you. The New Remington Solid Breech—completely en- closed. Hammerless —no chance to catch hammer on clothes, fences or twigs. Take-Down—takes down without tools. Safety Devices—cross bo!t safety locks the trigger. Bottom Ejection—empty shells go down .22 Autoloading Rifle Magazine—holds 15 .22 short cartridges and an extra car- tridge in the chambcr. Loads through opening in side of stock. Size—length of barrel, 19 inches; length over all, 37 inches. Length taken down, 19 inches. Packs in a suit case. Weight—about 434 pounds. Send for Model 24 Folder Remington, REMINGTON ARMS COMPANY, Inc. General Offices NEW YORK CITY Established 1816 Remington Products are sold throughout the world

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34 The Use of a Variometer ®” ——— a Seg TTT il Jr wire Fig 1. VARIOMETER COMPLETE HE use of a variometer in lieu of a tuning coil will enable you to obtain much closer tuning. But before describing the variometer we should endeavor to understand something of what is meant by wave- lengths, tuning, frequency, etc. As you know, wireless waves are sent out from the broadcasting stations, and these waves have varying lengths. They all travel at the astounding rate of 300,000,000 meters per second. The number of waves which pass a fixed point in one second is, therefore, proportionate to the length of the waves generated. These waves are measured from crest to crest. The customary broadcasting wave measures 360 meters. It is a relatively short wave. Divide the rate with which these waves move by the length of the wave and you have the frequency. Thus 300,000,000 divided by 360 gives the frequency of the broadcasting wave. The shorter the wave the greater the frequency, while the longer the wave the less the fre- quency. In tuning, the element called the tuner is WV arvora half a turn makes for good or poor results, as the case may be. Hence enough turns must be added to cover all contingencies and the real tuning done with a slider, as in the case of the tuning coil, or by some other means. The addition of an element known as a condenser to the an- tenna wire has an effect opposite to that obtained by the addition of turns of wire to a coil; that is, it cuts down the wave-length of the antenna. Hence, given a tuning ele- ment with a slider for “rough tuning” and a small variable condenser for finer tuning, we should be able to get very good results so far as adjustment to wave-lengths goes. One other thing enters into the matter of tuning. The sharp- ness of tuning depends largely upon the resistance offered by the wires to the incoming electric currents. The lower the resistance the sharper the tuning. Hence, we should use large rather than small wire in winding, for the smaller the wire the higher the resistance and the larger the wire the lower the resistance. The chief trouble with a tuning coil lies in the fact that it cannot be tuned very closely. The variometer, however, gives extremely close tuning, and when used in conjunction with a small variable condenser can only be bettered by the vario-coupler wherein a secondary circuit is added to the system. To make a variometer, obtain two cardboard tubes. Tube 1, called the “stator,” should be 2%4 inches long and 3% inches outside diameter. Tube 2, called the “rotor,” should be 1% inches long and 2% inches outside diameter. Go to the hardware store and buy two paper washers such as are used for water faucets; one wooden knob like the knobs on the tin lids of cooking utensils, one dowel, or “flower” stick, %4 inch in diameter (these sticks are used by garden- used to adjust the apparatus so that it responds Deteclor ers for supporting plants) ; a gimlet for bor- to waves of various lengths. Inasmuch, how- ing %4-inch holes, and some glue. Provide ever, as the range necessary for the reception yourself, in addition, with a similar baseboard of broadcasting waves is practically limited to Varrameler about % inch thick and 4 inches square upon lengths from 300 to 500 meters, the tuner which to mount your apparatus. need not be built to cover waves of other fre- Phones Begin by boring a %-inch hole exactly in quencies. Every antenna possesses what is the middle of one side of the rotor tube, and called a natural wave-length, which simply another 44-inch hole directly opposite the first means that it will respond to some definite one. Through these holes pass a short piece wave—usually a very short one, somewhere Jsert varendle of the dowel stick and leave it there till the between 100 and 150 meters. In order to in- X condenser here winding (which will be described in a mo- crease the range, what is called an “Induc- ¥ i ment) is complete. Bore two smaller holes in tance” is added to the antenna in the form of nm the stator tube, the centers of these holes to a coil of copper wire. The greater the num- = Ground be 7g inch from one end of the tube and ber of turns of wire composing this coil the Fig 2 Hoo-UP a opposite each other. Through these 10les pass another piece of the dowel stick. greater the inductance and the longer the wave it will register. You can make a tuner “fit” any given wave-length by simply adding or subtracting turns of wire from the coil till the signals come in clearest. But this trial and error method of tuning is not only in- convenient, but is impracticable, for the difference of even Stand the stator on end, the top of the stator being the rim nearest the 44-inch holes. Half way between the %-inch holes and ¥% inch from the top rim punch a small hole with a hat pin. Punch a similar hole directly beneath this one and 3% inch from the bottom rim. BOYS’ LIFE Thomas N. Wrenn Illustrated With Diagrams | STATOR Out wire Tre Wire Fig. 3 WiRiING DIAGRAM Stand the rotor on end and at points midway between the 14-inch holes punch two more pinholes, one 1/16 inch from the top rim, the other 1/16 inch from the bottom rim. To wind the tubes begin with the rotor. Pass an end of the wire through the bottom pinhole from the outside and wind on 40 turns of wire—twenty turns on the lower side of the dowel stick, twenty turns on the upper side. You will have to wind closely and evenly to get this number of turns on the tube. When the first twenty are on, do not cut the wire, but simply cross over and continue the wind- ing in the same direction till the second twenty turns are on. Pass the end of the wire through the top pinhole. A drop of glue at each pinhole will serve to keep the wire in place. The stator tube is wound in the same way, only on this tube there are but 34 turns, 17 below the dowel stick and 17 above. Both tubes must be wound in the same direction, which is to say, if one is wound clockwise the other must be wound clockwise. On each tube leave six inches free wire at each of the terminals. These free ends are to be used in making connections. O assemble the variometer glue the bottom rim of the stator firmly to the baseboard. When dry, remove the dowels from both tubes and slip the rotor tube into the stator. Push one of the dowels through the %4-inch hole on the stator and then part way through the corre- sponding %-inch hole in the rotor. Slip the two fiber washers over the inner end of the dowel stick and push the latter first through the opposite hole in the rotor and then through the second hole in the stator. Then wedge the two washers close to the inner sides of the rotor tube and fasten with glue. When properly made, you should be able to rotate the rotor tube freely inside the stator by simply turning the dowel stick. Attach the outgoing, or top, wire of the stator tube to the ingoing, or bottom, wire of the rotor tube, allowing enough wire to permit free, rotation through 180 degrees. Pass the ingoing, or bottom, wire (Continued on page 52) AVING been a Scout for the last five years and a radio “ham” al- most the same number of years, I have found radio admirably fitted Troop Meetings Try Radio By oe Scout Willard J. ii dr. to Scouting. Five years ago, when very broadcasting. A small portable set with i crystal detector is the finest thing in the | world for a patrol or troop to take on a | hike. Recently a troop was organized with a few amateurs ever dreamed of having an audion bulb, the crystal detector was the patrol consisting of radio fans only; the patrol leader often called a meeting by radio and each boy sitting at his own set big “I”; if a fellow could hook up a little cat-whisker and hear a regular DX man about a block away he would think he had accomplished wonders. In those days we fellows used to listen to spark sets, as there were no real C W sets unless belong- ing to some big company, and then they were only in an elementary stage. Since that time many big firms have put in broad- casting stations that have been the great- est factor in waking up the general public of the United States to the enormous possi- bilities of modern radio. There are two distinct classes of radio fans: First: The fan who knows absolutely nothing of radio and who does not wish to know anything, but only to own a set that will bring in a broadcasting station loud enough for himself and his friends to hear. Second: The boy who knows nothing of radio, but who is desirous of learning and of making a set that will at least get some static. America is relying on the boy or the second type of fan for her future radio development. Most boys are denied the privilege of being able to spend a lot of money, and it is my earnest desire to help some boy buy this article who was in the same fix I was in when I started. Most scouts are famil- iar with the Scout handbook. It con- tains an article on wireless that is very useful to the beginner. 1 strongly advise any boy, before going into the game, to become acquainted with some radio fan and go to visit him and see his set before buying or making any material for a set. Also there are many magazines on the market that are very useful in learning some- thing of wireless. A boy living in a city or close to a city having a broadcasting sta- tion such as WJZ or KDKA should begin with a crys- James kt. West, the Chief Scout Executive, was the guest of Eagle Scout Willard J. Slagle, Jr., while in Memphis, Tenn. tal set, but the boy who lives in the country far away froma broadcast- ing station should at least have an audion bulb de- tector. Through the different mag- azines on radio one can select a number of stand- ard companies that handle small parts, and will be able to secure their catalogue for the mere ask- ing. Select your apparatus with care and don’t go haphazard into it, but have a little patience and stick it out and get the best while you are at it. Any vacuum tube on the mar- ket at present is suitable for re- ceiving radio could have his say at the meeting. The ether was full of “When is the next hike ?” “How about a feed?” etc.; but you see, Scouts, that after becoming a radio fan, then, it is certainly the best of fun to apply. what you know of radio to the Scout- ing program. Our camp is about one hun- dred and fifty miles from Memphis, and, since three new broadcasting stations have just been erected, the local council is en- deavoring to get a certain amount of time each day in order to communicate with the camp at which a great number of the local boys are. You can readily see what a big thing this would be if properly put through. In conclusion I would like to say that radio is still in its infancy, and it is up to the amateur of today to develop it, and as a scout is more wideawake than the ordi- nary boy it stands to reason that a scout radio fan is more awake than the ordinary amateur ; so it is up to the scout who is in- terested in radio to bring forth the results which the American people are demanding. All Radio advertisements published in Boys’ LIFE have been examined and ap- proved by an expert in that line. Only worth while goods are offered for sale. You can have confidence in our advertisers. July

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al ily The Boy Scouts’ Magazine NO. 1470. U. S. ARMY PYRAMIDAL TENTS Size 16 x 16 x 11 ft. high. Made of 12}2 oz. Standard Army duek. Although these have been used, we guarantee good condition. This tent has a 3 ft. side wall, Only a lim- ited quantity. Shipping weight 105 Ibs. i $23.50 PI cccsddvcseadeweetsnmmevecnteased SPECIAL arrangements have been made whereby we can supply prac- tically any type of radio receiving set desired including the following: AERIOLA JR. WESTINGHOUSE RECEIVER, 150-700 Meters’ with Brandes Telephones and Spare Crystals. $25.00 AERIOLA SR. WESTINGHOUSE RECEIVER, 190-500 Meters’ with Brandes Telephones, 1 WD-11 Aerio- trone Detector Tube. $65.00 WESTINGHOUSE REGENERA- TIVE VACUUM TUBE RECEIVER, 170-700 Meters—less tubes, etc. $132.50 MARVEL RECEIVER complete with single telephone headset and Aerial Equipment. $14.00 NO. 3012. BOY SCOUT DIARY The miniature handbook, paper bound, contains Scout Oath and Law, Requirements for Tenderfoot, Second Class and First Class Scouts, together with further essential in- formation. Get a copy now. Will last throughcut the year. Price—2Se a copy. NO. 3006. BOY SCOUT HANDBOOK Indispensable to every Boy Scout, Scout Leader and lover of the out-of-doors. Infor- mation by famous experts on Wooderaft, Wild Life, Campcraft, Signaling, First Aid, Life Saving, etc., etc., 488 pages; 575 illus- CORON oo:6 0 nec cnnecsccesescosecesoossns 40 NO. 3350. HANDBOOK FOR SCOUT- MASTERS An ideal Manual for All Leaders of Boys, 612 pages, over 300 illustrations. Problems and methods of dealing with boys. Edited by Dr. H. . Hurt and contributed to by over 1000 Active Scout Leaders. A practical, usable book to utmost service. Each. ...$1.00 BLOW THE BUGLE—SOUND THE HORN—GET UP! GET UP! AT SEVEN IN THE MORN FOR THE BLOWERS WE HAVE BUGLES (AND FIFES, TOO)—DRUMS. EVERYTHING ELSE FOR ALL DAY IN CAMP. NO. 1065. BUGLE Easy to blow and with mellow tone. Key of G with tuning slide to F. Mouthpiece at- tached with chain. Two turns, brass. Ship- Oy WHEE 2 TWbisis ciccisivziosvics $3. NO. 1066A. DRUM FIFE In some oe fife and drum corps have been organized. This instrument is the new U . Army standard model, made of brass, nickel-plated and highly polished, with hard rubber mouthpiece. Easy to blow and superior to wood fifes, as they do not crack. FF fe RR rere $1.00 NO. 1072. SNARE DRUM This is 2 usual type of street drum of regu- lation pattern. aple shell 14-inch size. Finely finished hoops, two calfskin heads with leather braces, and snare strainer. Hickory sticks. Shipping weight, 7 Ibs. $9.00 NO. 1200. WEAR-EVER ALUMINUM COOK KIT Patent fry-pan with handle, cooking pot with cover, drinking cup, and stew pan, which also serves as plate or soup bowl, fork and spoon. Parts nest compactly and do not rattle, all in Khaki Carrying Case, with adjustable strap. Weight 3 Ibs. BER. o ccccccccesccccens $3.50 NO. 1459. U. S. ARMY MESS KIT Made of aluminum. Consists of fry-pan and plate. Prepaid 35¢ NO. 1467. U.S. BELT POUCH Made of heavy canvas, suitable for First Aid outfits, or small articles. 5% x 8% inches. Shipping weight 1 Ib............. 10c NO. 1075. SNARE DRUM Maple shell, 16 inches, similar to No. 1072 but larger. Hickory sticks. Ship. wt. ‘i -00 NO. 1466. WEAR-EVER ALUMINUM CANTEEN An ideal canteen adopted after thorough trial, made of heavy gauged aluminum with heavy khaki cover which keeps water cool. Adjust- able wide carrying strap. Capacity slightly more than one quart. Shipping weight 3 Ts... Bee .0046206006 $3.00 NO. 1466. U. S. ARMY CANTEEN Made of aluminum and holds slightly less than 1 quart. Prepaid...............0.. 35c NO. 1258. FOLDING CANDLE LANTERN é Splendid for Scouts and other campers. Collapses flat for pocket. Stormproof, gal- vanized iron with aluminum reflector. Ship- a | UR” errr 90c NO. 1292. CARBIDE AUTO-LITE Has new and improved features. Equipped with automatic lighter. Has device for regu- lating size of flame and is so made that it cannot clog. Gives a brilliant, steady light without smoke, grease or sparks, Provided with extra carbide container. Shipping weight, 1 Ib $1.28 NO. 1323. FOLDING MAPLE COT Frame made of best grade select maple, nat- ural finish, varnished; steel re-enforcements; covered with 12 ounce double fold brown Duck. Size open 6 ft. 3 in. by 2 ft. 3 in, height 12% in. Can be folded into a com- pact package for carrying. Shipping weight ED? WS 1 échasinsetocetstacaesesens cee $4.00 SCOUT SUPPLY DEPARTMENT BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA 200 FIFTH AVENUE NEW YORK CITY 24. to 48-Hour Service -~ GET UP! NO. 1461. U. S. ARMY WALL TENT 9 x 9. Made of heavy U. S. Army duck. Because of the slight service they have seen we were able to secure them at a frac- tion of their value and are therefore able to offer a correspondingly low price. Complete with poles, ropes and egs. Shippin weight 75 lbs. Price, each............ $20. USED ARMY SHELTER HALVES oh Wo aR These are sold “as are”; they are all in good condition with lots of hard camping in them. Made of heavy khaki duck in the popular ‘“‘Dog” style used in the Army. Tent is divided in two equal parts so that each half can be rolled up like a blanket and conveniently carried over the shoulders of two boys to evenly distribute the weight. When the two sections are fastened to- gether they form a complete tent with am- ple room for two boys. A compact, durable, well-made tent. Size 7 ft. 2 in. wide, 5 ft. 6 in. long and 3 ft. 1 in. high. No. 1422. Shipping weight without poles 6 Ibs. Price per pair...cscccesccecsccees $1.50 ipping weight with poles — No. 1422A. pite FRG, FOr GOR. ccccecvvscccevtes $1 NO. 661. ALL WOOL CAMPING JERSEY An ideal athletic jersey or slip-over sweater for all round outdoor activities. Made of dark khaki. Sizes 34 to 40. Shipping weight 30 aie. * THOU, 00000008450 ebs snnsesse $1.00 NO. 666. NEW WORSTED PLAITED SWEATER A practical sweater for camping and all year- round activities. This is an excellent article from the point of view of softness and wear- ing quality. There is a tremendous ad- vantage in the plaited garments because of their durability in the first place and their warmth in the second place. It is even better than an all worsted garment, because the slight percentage of cotton which it con- tains gives the wearing quality that is lackin in a pure worsted garment. Sweaters o this kind were used exclusively by the Army and Navy during the World War and will meet the requirements of the Boy Scouts and Scout Officials in every particular. eS ROR ROP T $3.50 No. 667—NEW WORSTED PLAITED SWEATER, similar to No. 666—but running - in sizes 38 to 44 inclusive. Price, each.$4.00

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36 BOYS’ LIFE Kabob = UT a long, thin switch | of willow or other | straight branching shrub | or tree. Proceed to peel off the bark and string SSS warming up, it’s a good Department of Camping Edited by L. L. McDonald, National Camp Director | time to look over the old swimming hole and check up around the diving rock for submerged logs lurk- ing below the surface. These are pretty tough customers to bump your Tune Up and Listen In on the July Issue of “The Biggest, Brightest, Best Magazine for Boys in All the World’’ Great RadioSpecial Armstrong Perry’s editorship of THE AMERICAN Boy’s radio depart- ment has made this paper one of the leading radio magazines. Francis J. Andrews, radio instructor in the Aero- nautical School at the University of Detroit, has joined our staff. So great is the clamor for reliable, easily understandable radio facts that the editors of THE AMERICAN Boy have decided to make July a special radio number. In it you will find a great fund of desirable radio information, facts that boys need to know in order to get the right start in radio; a wonderful article on radio construction that makes the building of a receiving set as easy as A B C; articles that tell you how to get the most satisfaction out of your radio set, both for yourself and others. There is a “fact” story of a young fel- low who, beginning with the simple ex- periments every boy tries, used his brains and became one of the most famous (and one of the richest) radio inventors in the whole world. Good radio yarns are not new to AMERICAN Boy readers, but in July we will publish the best one we have seen yet, “The Devil Code,” by Ken- neth Payson Kempton. It’s a mystery story of a strange, jangled radio signal received in mid-ocean which, when un- tangled, proved to be a code message that sent an icy chill down the opera- tor’s spine and made his hair stand up. Don’t miss it! July also contains the announcement of a special radio contest open to every boy whether he is a plain novice, a bug, an amateur or a licensed “op.” Prizes and everything. Get in on this at the beginning and win a prize. Besides all this good radio stuff there will be a raft of extra fine reading. Tune in on this great July number of THE AMERICAN BOY. Get it for the great radio material. Get it for its many hours of fascinat- ing reading. The wave length is 20c at all news-stands, or $2.00 for a full year’s subscription, de- livered. Subscribe for a year or leave a standing order at your news-dealer’s. o— ——— ete eies tetas | merican Bo P * The fhigest est, Beet Magazine w’W for Bows in Al the World THE SPRAGUE PUBLISHING Co. i No. 316 American Bldg., Detroit, Mich. bs ; Enclosed find $2.00, for which THE AMERICAN Bor for one year, beginning with the current issue, to | } 4 | PRBEICsocctc cececccsesee 4 PB incee000s cnscecrenennecegusoenesacensscshecntectntneriatenane over the pointed small end inch squares of bacon, beef, onion and potatoes in the order men- tioned. Potatoes and onions take longest; be sure to slice ’em thin. Sliced eggplant, liver, celery and even small fish can be pre- ( pared in this way. “Hot dogs” are best speared through the end. When some flame is present, salt and pepper before. Salt, in this case, is glazed on the surface and cannot draw the juice. Finally lay the switch across forked sticks or opposite rocks, just above a , bed of glowing coals, rotate from time to time until everything is cooked. Presently you will be slipping piece by piece under your belt more rapidly than any Chinaman ever counted Yen on his abacus board. Radio “Activities” HE wireless bug with its various shaped antennae will be present in our camps this summer in spite of screening, mosquito bar, citronella and smudges to ward off intruders of the bug family. The ever- changing da-dit-da-da will out-hum any winged buzzer such as the bloodthirsty skeeter and be welcomed with open—ears. Just think of the joy of listening in on a rainy night and have the announcer spring the good news of “fair to-morrow, cooler and slight breezes.” Yea, boy! Buzz—buzz—buzz—buzz buzzzzz-z-zt. “What's that—10 o’clock so soon? Kind o’ thought that Chef’s alarm sounded a bit early this morning. We'd better inform him or else we'll be getting a day ahead of the rest of the world.” Tom Jones, who has gone on a five- day boat trip with the pioneer squad, is expected to beach at Pumpkins Cove by 5 o'clock this afternoon. His Dad drops in unexpectedly before leaving on an extended trip. The boat party can be detained an hour later in the morning until Dad has a chance to catch up to have a word with Tom and slip him an- other check to cover expenses for the season. Many camps are away from direct telephone connections. The official wire- less troop in the city might relay any messages from the Scout Executive to the Camp. Important notices will then be posted on the bulletin board long be- fore the R. F. D. mail arrives. If one of the crowd has an amateur license, required by Uncle Sam for send- ing, many interesting stunts can be ar- ranged by scattering groups away from Camps where the sending station 1s located. As fast as the messages are received, they should be relayed and signaled back to the representatives of : the respective groups. s Just think of the fun of such an all- : day competition. The big camps with = their hundreds of boys from large cities =: will have little difficulty in securing : scouts who know how to handle the ap-_ paratus, and they need little assistance. : We are anxious to help the smaller =: camps and particularly those operated = by troops. lf you, as a scout, have not been interested in radio, here is your chance to get in on something good and at the same time be of great help to the officials of your troop. Radio outfits are not nearly so com- plicated as they seem and any group of scouts with a little leadership and help should be able to construct a receiving set which will bring to their camp the radio concerts and talks and the code messages. A little practice and you will be able to read the code, and there is noth- ing more fascinating than to trans- late a code message from a station hun- dreds of miles away, possibly from a ship at sea. The concerts, particularly if what is known as a “loud speaker” is available, eeeveseenscennnennneny voeunnnasnnesiany tverinnianan Jevaveneeuanecenscereveceneensnerscarsunaeanentee will help during the campfire program and on rainy days. The code message will help in the signaling requirements for second and first class rank and for Merit Badges. Possession of an am- ateur license is con- sidered as equivalent to passing the re- quirements for the Wireless Merit Badge as given in the Handbook for Boys. Talk this over with your scoutmaster and the scouts of your troop and patrol and then start things moving—it is not too early. If you run into trouble, write the Sea- scout Radio Commodore at National Head- quarters, 200 Fifth Avenue, New York City. Here’s where you can get some more “dope” on the subject: Write for lists of Amateur Call Letters and Government and Commercial Statements, both obtainable at 15c each from the Superintendent of Documents, Washington, D. C. The Amateur Wireless Handy Book, Cole & Morgan, and The Book of Wireless, by Collins, along with many other amateur books on the subject, will help you build a set. The wireless page in Boys’ Lire is well worth reading, too. Your First Swim— Don’t Make It Your Last! H, boys! we're anxious to fall in for a grand soaping ; and splash after the long, long winter months. While the weather and water 1s eaten » s1pshlpef Wille. y \ WH How | Earned My Camp Money New York, N. Y., March 27, 1922. 3oys’ LIFE, New York, N. Y. DEAR SIRs: The usual cost of a week at camp is seven dollars. Every scout wishes to go to camp, and so it either means a trip to the bank or else he sets out to earn it. So, two weeks ago, I set out to earn my seven dollars. ’Tisn’t as easy as eating pie, but then a scout doesn’t give up. All my prospective employers wished boys to work for the whole day, and then there is great unemployment here. Besides, I go to school in the day and so can only work afternoons and evenings. Many of the stores were having sales to get rid of their surplus stock. They were willing to spend some money in advertising and so had circulars printed and then dis- tributed by small boys. But this scheme secured very little return. I broached my idea to one employer. The scheme was the following: My employer was to secure all the names of prospective customers whom he wished to be aware of his sale. He was to send each an attractive circular enclosed in an en- velope. The advertisement was so worded as to make it appear as a personal letter to each customer. I was to address these envelopes and re- ceive $3.00 for every thousand. If my em- ployer secured no results, I was not to be paid for my work. But the idea worked splendidly and the results were more than was expected. I was able to claim $15.00 for my week’s work, I believe the idea will work well in any city or town and hope other scouts may benefit by this letter. Of course, the idea is not new, but very few business men use it. Sincerely yours, Puitie WEIss. New York City, N. Y. ovvoneensnonevereneenseeteneaey sucvnuorsecuvevenevnnecencerscaceceueceneuenentenasenssenagunn Here’s a camp wrin- kle worth knowing head against and may send you galley-west froma single impact. Your swimming place may have changed in depth, water-logged snags and branches often sink in the very spot of your diving hole and will hold on to and choke you like an octo- pus. A sandy bottom may have changed to a mudhole accumulated during the spring freshets. Sharp rocks, wire, etc., are car- ried along by the winter’s ice, and are as certain to be deposited where they'll “get you” as it is for a piece of buttered bread to fall dry side up. Prevent the possibility of water accidents by carefully sounding your swimming limits with a pole, wade foot for foot to discover accumulated weeds, twigs, glass, tin cans, etc. Tie a rope to the fellow who does the treading or have him follow a boat holding on to the stern. Mark the limits surveyed with poles or floats. Now is the time to look over some good books on life saving and swimming. Prac- tice holds, carries and breaking death grips which are illustrated and described in these and other books, It may be a matter of ten minutes’ study at this time will pull someone out of a real difficulty later on which other- wise might furnish a job for the doctor or undertaker. Do not overload your boat. Remember a light boat is not in- tended for heavy seas; do not stand to change seats away from shore; sit steady and, above all, leave at home “the fool who rocks the boat.” If you should capsize in a canoe, do not waste energy in climbing over and around it; one of you is sure to : get bumped with the gunwales coming down on his head. Hold hands across which ever side is up—usually the bottom. Do not attempt to swim ashore, but direct and help everyone to get a hand on the boat. With concerted effort, paddling with one hand and both legs, = you will soon find the boat moving toward safety. As soon as possible practice righting a canoe in shallow water, bailing it out with your hands and re-entering it from the end. With two persons this operation is less difficult. _ When that day of days arrives for the first swim, rub your stomach with the palm of your hand, scoop up some water, apply it and continue to rub. After this little Indian precaution against cramps you can proceed to submerge. Do not remain in the water until the goose pim- ples turn into icicles and then when you emerge into the breezy atmosphere you start to ss-hh-ii-vv-ee-rr like a profes- sional dancer. Picture a fellow vibrat- ing at 16,000 oscillations per minute standing on one leg and aiming for his trouser leg with the other—it’s some stunt! But that’s you flirting with pros- pects of a bad cold. When you get out, dry and rub your- self down until you begin to glow like a _lightnin’ bug, dress up quickly and hike for supper; keep moving till you get to a warm place to rest. Many colds and “worse” have been contracted from being chilled after an early swim. You cannot expect to do the same stunt you performed last fall without working up your endurance. Be satis- fied with a short swim at first; there will be many more swims in store for you as the water becomes warmer. Select a shallow place to swim in; deep water is cold, even in summer, and, of course, over your head in case you should want to stand up to take a rest. Four hundred of the principal cities in the United States will conduct Boy Scout camps for troops under council jurisdiction. Scouts of neighboring troops, ac- companied by adult officers or scouts with certificates of Pioneer or As- sociate Membership, will be accepted. Address inquiries to Boy Scout Headquarters in the city nearest to your home for information about dates, rates and ti July

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The Boy Scouts’ Magazine World ‘Rectheshond of bd Edited - E. O'Connor [£1 TERS in many different languages come to the Secretary of the World Brotherhood of Boys, who often finds it difficult to have these translated. There are a few members, however, who have been particularly kind in doing this work for the organization, among others Mr. Frederick P. Kehew, of Massachusetts, Mr. Reginald Robert of Canada, and Mr. Sanford J. Greenburger of New York. Recently a letter was forwarded to Mr. Robe rt who, in writing, says of it: “That was some puzzle—and it still is, I mean that letter from Esthonia. It is not Esperanto, Volapuk or Ido, nor French nor German nor Swedish nor Russian nor Spanish, Italian or anything that I’ve been able to find out yet. That it might be Chinese is impossible. “IT have not given up yet. There are two members of the Polyglot Club left for me to see so I still have hope that they can tell.” IX a paper entitled “The Orient,” pub- lished at the Bibl¢ House, Constantinople, appears an account of Founders’ Day at Robert College, in the course of which occurs the following paragraph: “Immediately after the exercises a Scout Rally took place on the campus. Interested specta- tors saw nimble boy scouts build a bridge, climb walls, improvise stretchers and build fires to boil water with two matches and a little kindling only, in a fairly brisk souther- ly wind. The - effi- ciency of the boy scouts has enormously increased under the enthusiastic manage- ment of the Y. M. C. A. Secretary, Mr. Rad- cliff, and their exhibi- tion of accomplishments was indicative of the kind of work they have been doing quietly during the year.” WO scouts, one living in California and the other in Vermont, wish to have a three cornered correspondence with a mem- ber of the World Brotherhood of Boys. They are twelve and thirteen years of age. South Scouts on Cruise. Is there among our readers a boy who would like to become a friend of these two? Sometime ago we received a letter from Lisbon, Portugal, written in French. The writer, who is fifteen years of age, par- ticularly desires to have a correspondent in Austin, Texas. Members desiring to cor- respond with him should, of course, be able to reply in French. A Scoutmaster in Bogata, Texas, has sent us a letter which he asks us to for- ward to a Scoutmaster in North Dakota. He is twenty-two years of age and says that he would like to have about four cor- respondents among young Scoutmasters. From a South African we have received a letter asking to be put in touch with someone who is familiar with life in the Rocky Mountains. He is particularly anx- ious to learn something of the hunter’s life. On his part, he says that he is ac- quainted with real Boer life and can give considerable information in regard to it. Only an older boy would be a suitable correspondent for the writer of this letter. From South Australia we have received the nam more scouts who desire American correspondents. Their ages range from thirteen to seventeen years. From Denmark we have the names of two boys who wish to correspond with Ameri- can scouts. Their ages are fourteen and sixteen years and both write in English. An older member who was put in touch with two chess players through the World Brotherhood of Boys, asks us to insert a note saying that he would like to corre- spond with other members to play chess by correspondence. Two letters from Poland written in Polish and two from Russia written in Esperanto have reached the Secretary. If any of our members are 1922 s of siz Australian familiar with these languages will they send for these letters and translate them for us? A German boy, 15 years of age and a scout, asks American boy; he writes in German. ROM Russia we received recently an interesting letter which, roughly trans- lated, reads as follows: Dear Brothers: | Many countries and oceans’ separate us from each other, but we are near each other with our ambitions, our aims, and our problems. Brothers! I wish | could shake your hand in spite of this barrier. How is your work conducted? Who is your Chief Scout? Is there any literature that you issue? Write to us and we will be very thankful. Here in Russia Scouting began in 1910, and little by little we grew, until from 1917 to 1920 the scouts were persecuted by everyone. However, since 1920 we are again extending our work and have changed our name to Workers and Farm Scouts. Now scout troops are located in almost every city of Ruussia. We have leaders but we lack the literature to spread Scouting. Although we have no general headquarters, we co-oper- ate with each other. We hope the American scouts will help us with their literature. I'll be very thankful if you will send us photographs of your leaders, and for your magazines, etc. Remember, although we are many, still we are one in our ambitions. We are all trying to make the world a bet- ter and cleaner place, to be physically strong, mentally awake and morally straight. So let’s help each other in what- ever ways we can. Every- one, kings, emperors and presidents admit that our or- ganization is saving mankind from degeneration, both mor- ally and physically. So, to- gether we will be able to bring to life our ideals, and your brotherly co-operation will meet our needs. one from all Russian scouts, B.S.— S.—W.C., etc. I hope that you also are aes in finding out about the foreign scouts. Please,dear friends, don’t failto write to us. We remain, your brother scouts, S. M. and Chief Scout S. P. Kosterin. Sca URING a recent trip to Japan, Pro- fessor Starr of the University of Chicago visited Aratano, where he was asked to receive the Boys’ Club and speak a word of greeting to them, being told that they were organized very much like the Boy Scouts of America, to whom they desired to send a message. In Dr. Starr’s own words, the ceremony was as follows: “When we were ready to leave in the morning, the boys were lined up to salute us and to hear my word of greeting. There were about thirty-five of them, ranging from ten. or elevén to fifteen years in age. They were, of course, in Japanese dress. The flags of Japan and the United States were displayed, crossed, behind them. After my words of greeting, their leader, Shigeru Matsuda, stepped forward, made some words of reply and handed me the letter to the Boy Scouts of America. “These boys of Aratano really speak the feeling of the boys of Japan. They love and admire the United States. They hope and will work for peace and friendship between the two nations.” The letter translated reads as follows: “To the Boy Scouts of America: “Our dear friends, members of the boys’ clubs in your country, of whom we think with yearning affection. We, the members of the Boys’ Club of Aratano village, one of the branches of the boys’ club move- ment in Japan, a nation ever the faithful friend of your own, have decided to send you our hearty greeting and prayer for the success and prosperity of your organ- (Concluded on page 45) for a letter from. an | GRIP SURE (>= the shoe that will give you speed and action IJwith safety. The patented suction cups make a boy as surefooted as a mule even in slippery places. Grip Sures are fine for games, hikes and mountain climbing. The advantage they give you will help you win. If your shoe dealer doesn’t carry them in stock, he can get them for you. Grip Sure features 1. Patented Suction Cup Soles 2. Tough resilient rubber 3. Uppers of long fibre Top Notch Duck 4. Trimmings and ankle patches of real leather Here is a great book for boys free SEND for your copy of “Hiking and Camping” by Clint Little. Contains many valuable suggestions to keep you well and husky and to give you speed. Be sure to write us a postal and ask for your copy today. BEACON FALLS RUBBER SHOE COMPANY Dept. F., Beacon Falls, Conn. Look for the Cross TOP NOTCH BEACON fi FALLS RUBBER FOOTWEAR Grip Sure. Regular cut. They are also made in athletic cut which laces to the toe caps. cacces 28 og ee MERE wR ee

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38

| BOYS—Here’s the gun for the 4th of July

without ain No Caps No Cartridges No Powder No Danger HE Ronson Repeater brings you all the sport of a real automatic with absolutely no danger. You not only hear it shoot, but you see it shoot, and see the smoke. It flashes—big red flashes— every time you pull the trigger. These flashes make the Ronson Repeater look just like a real gun in action. But this gun is absolutely harmless. Shoot it anywhere in per- fect safety. We know every boy will want to know what makes the flash. But that is a secret, and we can’t tell. Just keep pulling the trigger. You don’t have to cock this gun—it’s a real repeater. Reloaded in a jiffy with Ronson Redskin Reloads, each of which shoots 5000 times, The shape, grip and genuine gun-metal finish are just like a real automatic. The Ronson Repeater is made of pressed steel—it’s strong and long lasting. Don’t wait for your Ronson Repeater—get it now. Ronson Repeaters are going to sell fast for the Fourth. Buy yours before your dealer is sold out. Better get one today, and then you'll have it sure. If you cannot buy one anywhere in your town, use the attached coupon. THE ART METAL WORKS 37 Aronson Square Newark, N. J. For 35 years makers of High EA Metal TER RONSON REPE Trade-mark registered. Patented in U. 8. A. and abroad. — an oe Ronson Redskin Reloads 25° The reloads that you slip into the : Ronson Repeater are absolutely harm- Also made in polished less. Every one is good for 5000 shots! nickel plate at 50c. Bu 1 2 . y several extras when you get your Both are higherin Ronson Repeater. You'll want’em. Price the West and 5 cents each, higher in the West and | Canada. Canada. 1 wwe woe eoeeseeesCUT OUT THIS COUPONe eee eeeeecewe oes THE ART METAL WORKS 37 ARONSON SQUARE, NEWARK, N. J. Enclosed you will find 25c in coin or stamps, for which you are to send me one genuine steel Ronson Repeater in gun- -metal finish, loaded for 5000

flashes. (Enclose 10c extra if you live west of Chicago or in Canada.) Diy mame i5....0.....00...c00.sseeccsseesssseneesseneeseeesessnesssteressaescseeessseerereesseseerssseesssnaerseseeressaesserssssansasnssssossanosnansenes® Street ~ iatiandlindastinneiets esesenael ee Ee Ee en a ae ieicdeatcsusthinnaitiinssctauisies . soils UII ins icichechictcacttaciaiha eta iuneriaaialaliaatalatitiaiee My dealer’s name is..........04....<0+ anna citibiictdindliadaaabiniatapaaaitapetadccncmnnitnte Street heaoccce on ae we ee eee eeeenr ee eB en fF ee eB ewer" 2 22 2 ee8 @& weeneneaeaeaeaeneeeae

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| the steak,

BOYS’ LIFE

66 HE: Bill! Smell that? U-m-m, de- licious !’ “Sure is! What is it anyway?” “Smells like bacon to me. See, there’s a fire over on the side of the hill. Let’s go over.” “Why, it’s the Cave Scout. Hello there!” “Oh, hello, Scouts! What’s the big idea, coming around just at meal time? “Couldn’t help it, Cave Scout. The smell of that frying bacon just drew us over like a magnet pulling iron.” “That’s all right boys, I know how you feel. Just try to imagine living out doors without bacon! Why, bacon—oh, hang it I’m off. Stand back! Give me air!” BACON My eyes have feasted on many a thing Most beautiful to behold, A deer at a brook, a lark on the wing, And mountain peaks crowned with gold, Statues and paintings and bright jewels rare, Vast plains that pygmy a man, Green, virgin forests and wide cities fair— And crisp bacon hot in the pan! My ears have feasted on many a sound That falls enchantingly sweet, Clear notes of bugles where echoes resound, The patter of children’s feet, Pelting of raindrops when snug in my tent, Pine boughs by might wind shaken, The murmur of meadow-brooks indolent— The sissle of frying bacon! My nose has feasted on many a scent Delicate and entrancing, Fragrance of violets lavishly spent Joys of the fields enhancing, Aroma of anise and wintergreen, ‘weetgrass and clover, taken Freshly mowed and cured from the meadow green, And whiffs of frying bacon! Whether: seen at dawn of a misty day, When the chill is in the air, Or heard at the noon-hour sizzling away, Merry and debonair, Or smelled in the cool of a star-lit night IVhen your belt is full of slack, Every real he-camper will swear I’m right, It’s bacon that carries your pack! There! Now I feel better! Yes, it would be hard to get along without bacon. Still, campers must not live by bacon alone —and how do you feel about broiled steak and baked potatoes, hot biscuits, “bouya,” baked beans served out of a bean hole— “Hey, Cave Scout! Have a heart! You'll have our tongues hanging out! But please tell us how to fix some of those things, will you?” Well, broiled steak is the easiest thing in the world to cook outdoors. First of all, when you get your meat from the butcher, insist on its being tender, and have him include a generous portion of suet. Select a flat stone, one somewhat larger than the steak you have to broil. A stone of the “niggerhead” type which has been worn smooth by running water, is best. Wash the stone, wipe it dry and then throw it into a hot, open fire. Keep the fire going until the stone is sizzling hot, about twenty minutes is enough. Then rake out the stone, dust off the ashes, and rub the top side with the suet. Slap on leave it about thirty seconds This sears the surface Broil until well and then turn it. and holds in the juices. browned on both sides. Then eat it. Baked spuds? Simple again. Scoop out a hollow in the ground about four inches deep and big enough to hold the potatoes you wish to bake without putting one on top of another. Build a hot fire in the hole using hardwood if you can get it. Keep the fire going forty-five minutes then scrape out the coals and put in the spuds. Cover them with ashes and keep a fire burning over them. They will be baked in forty-five minutes—a little less than that if the potatoes are small. Test occasion- ally with a hardwood sliver. When done, puncture the skins so the steam can es- cape and they will be more mealy. Hot biscuits are a little more compli- cated but any. scout should make them with a little practice. The following dose will make biscuits for half a dozen scouts— unless they are extra hungry. Mix to- gether dry, two cups of flour, five tea- spoons of baking powder and one teaspoon of salt. Work into this mixture with the tips of your fingers a tablespoon of lard and a tablespoon of butter. Bacon grease will do if you have no lard or butter. Into this mixture gradually pour a cup of milk and water mixed half and half. If you have no milk the water alone will do. As the liquid is gradually added mix with a spoon or knife, but don’t mix any more than necessary to make a soft dough. The more you mix, the tougher the biscuits. Dump the dough on a rolling board which has been dusted with dry flour and roll it out about half an inch thick. A ketchup bottle or a green-peeled stick will serve as a rolling pin. Cut into biscuits with the top of the baking powder can. At this stage of the*game you should have ready a good bed of live, hardwood coals. There are several ways of baking. Put the biscuits in a frying pan, rake out the live coals from the fire and set the pan in the hot ashes. Cover with another pan a little larger and heap the live coals over both. It takes from ten to fifteen minutes for the biscuits to bake. Another method of baking is to prop the frying pan up so that the heat from a glowing bed of coals will reflect against the biscuits. You can bake your dough in one piece in which case it makes a dandy cover for a meat stew. It also tastes bully when covered with a sauce made by crushing with sugar a pan of huckleberries, wild strawberries or wild raspberries. “Why, that sounds like shortcake.” And that’s exactly what it is. “But Cave Scout, what’s ‘bouya’?” “Bouya” is a lumberjack name for stew. The big logging camps of the North, es- pecially in the earlier days, employed many French cooks. The French, you know, have a soup called “bouillon.” This word was too much for the lumberjacks and they changed it to “bouya”’—pronounced boo- ya. And this word “bouya” came to mean any kind of a soup, but more particularly a stew composed of many ingredients. “Bouya,” therefore, is another name for “Mulligan.” One Troop the Cave Scout belonged to was bugs on “bouya”—the fellows al- ways trying out some new combination. And here is how to make one we liked the best. The quantities given will feed four scouts. Cut half a pound of bacon or ham’ into quarter-inch cubes or strips and brown in a frying pan over a hot fire. Re- move the meat and brown in the remaining fat one average sized onion. Peel four average sized potatoes and cut them raw into quarter-inch cubes. Boil with the meat and onions until the potatoes are soft, using only sufficient water to cover. Then add a cup of milk (condensed will do) and a can of sweetcorn. Boil for five minutes stirring often to keep the corn from settling to the bottom where it might scorch. Serve with crackers or buttered toast cubed and heated in a frying pan. “Tell us about the bean-hole, Cave Scout !” In order to have bean-hole beans you must start things the day before you want them. First—suffering tom-cats! What's that! My bacon burning! If I’m not Swift those slices will be spoiled and I don’t know where there Armour! Tue Cave Scout. July

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The Boy Scouts’ Magazine Think and Grin—July Scouts should be always busy. Some scouts must be very busy. A few days ago we got a letter asking who is Old Idle Five Minutes, and what were the rules of his column. The writer of the letter ap- parently has been too busy ever to meet the renowned old plague called Idle Five Minutes who likes to take up a fellow’s spare time and instead of killing the idle five minutes, the wily old boy sees to it that the unwary scout’s whole day is killed. He is a lucky bird who has never met I. F. M. Most of the rest of us know him, however, and here he comes again this month. We who have met him before know the reception rules. Throw everything you have in the way of a good joke at him and then run if you haven’t killed him first shot. ‘ Awards given for the best hits. A Fat Chance Lecturer—Can any of you tell what makes the Tower of Pisa lean? _ Corpulent Ida—I don’t know, sir, or I would take some myself. Checking Up A colored boy walked into a local drug store and asked permission to use the telephone, then he called up Mr. Jones, and the following conversation took place: “Is this you, Mistah Jones?” Yes. “Well, Mistah Jones, I saw yo’ ad in de paper de odder day and yo’ wanted a col- ored boy. Did yo’ get one?” “Ts he giving puffect satisfaction?” “Well, Mistah Jones, providin’ dis col- ored boy don’t give puffect satisfaction, call me at 504.” The colored boy turned and started out and the druggist, who had heard the con- versation, remarked, “You didn’t do any good, did you?” “Yes, Sah,” came the reply. “I’s dat colored boy what’s working down dere. I’s jest checking up to see how I stand.” Periscopic Doctor (to patient): It’s nothing to worry about—just a little boil on the back of the neck. But you must keep your eye on it! Then Die Ceasar Brutus: How many doughnuts did you eat ? Caesar: Et tu, Brute. Ahem! First Scout: I have an awful cold in my head. ; Second Scout: Well, that’s better than nothing. 1922 On the Square Professor | (attempting to be humor- ous): Can any of you tell me where has my polygon? Wisecracker (in rear): Up the geome- tree, sir. Yeah—r Winter cannot jump to Summer with- out a spring, and Summer cannot jump to Winter with- out a fall. Fresh “I asked you to send me some young lettuce.” ‘i “Yes, ma’am. Wasn’t it young enough?” “Young? Why, it was almost old enough to wash and dress itself.” Ruff Stuff “IT sure does pity you,” said a boxer to his opponent. “I was born wid boxing gloves on.” “That may be,” said the other, “and I reckon you’se goin’ to die the same way!!!” High Teacher: Animal life is divided into a low and high grade. Now, Eddie, do you know what is the highest form of animal life? Eddie: Yes, Teacher, the giraffe! Telling Him Straight F. C. S—Did you hear the story about this mountain? Star Scout—No, what is it? F. C. S—It’s all bluff. Bam! My bonnie leaned over the gas tank, The height of its contents to see. And lighted a match to assist him, Oh, bring back my bonnie to me. Huh! Teacher: Bobby, what plants flourish in excessive heat? Bobby: Ice plants. Stumped Teacher—Where were you yesterday? Jim—I had a toothache. Teacher—Does it hurt now? _ Jim—I don’t know. The dentist has %. Timed “When is longhand quicker than short- hand?” “When it is on a clock.” Nosed It Out Joe: I wonder how iron was first dis- covered. Jack: I guess they smelt it. Taking It Tom: Is this the train we take to Springfield ? Sam: If you want to help the locomotive you can try, but I’m going to sit inside. Had Your Iron Today? ” wi | wl \w Scouts! HUMBS down on being the first to lag on Ask Scout Masters! Raisins are carried by arctic explorers, marathon runners, 6-day bicycle racers and others who want quick-acting energy from food that takes little space in pockets or knapsacks. Raisins—75 per cent fruit sugar—furnish 1560 calories of energizing food value per pound. Prac- tically predigested, so this nourishment doesn’t tax digestion and thus heat the blood. Fatigue-resisting food-iron also in this little fruit. Great hot weather food. Sustains you on long Tastes rare! Take a dozen 5c packages on your trips this sum- | mer. Down ’em when you begin to get tired! Put you back on your toes. Ask at your canteens and commissaries for Little Sun-Maids Between-Meal Raisins 5c Everywhere the hikes! hikes. Down ’Em— | —in Little Red Packages The Oologist -.00°t.niern, 0 ogi Eggs—Taxidermy THE OOLAOGIST is the only magazine published in America devoted to these. It is now running a special series of articles on the subject of Bird’s eggs. It is indispensable to those making collections, as its columns are filled ‘with exchange notices. ll Boys should learn about the birds they see on their tramps and camps in the woods. Subscription only 50 cents per year, with a free exchange notice. Sample copy FREE. New Illustrated Price List giving the value of all North American Birds eggs just issued $1.00. Address THE OOLOGIST, Lacon, Illinois ~~ €C ORNETISTS who have trouble with WEAK LIPS or HIGH TONES or other troubles, should send for ‘‘Book of Pointers.’’Sent FREE VIRTUOSO CORNET SCHOOL Buffalo, New York This is the Life You can get anywhere on the strongly made, easy riding and most comfort- able wheel built A 1 — BWeek Soeraarral fe eetcinee tlepaperios wi it = Free nsurance,. Catalog Hrersits o.siss HAVERFORD CYCLE CO.. Dept. 157, Philadelphia. U.s.AJ CANOES 15, 16, 17 and 18 ft. long. Some all wood others canvas covered. HUNTING BOATS ROWBOATS, FISHBOATS, ROWBOATS and CANOES FOR OUTBOARD MOTORS. 2 H.P. and 3 H.P. OUTBOARD MOTOR Catalog Free Order by Mail Serve Yourself and Save Money. Prices Based on Selling Direct to the User. Please state what you are interested in. THOMPSON BROS. BOAT MFG. CO. 321 Ellis Ave. Peshtigo, Wis. MOTOR BOATS 16, 18, 20 and 24 ft. long.

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40 BOYS’ LIFE NEW DEPARTURE The Up-to-the-Minute Boy Rides a Bicycle A Bicycle without a New Departure Coaster Brake is in a class with a radio outfit that can’t pick up broadcasting. The New Departure cer- tainly makes a big difference. You can coast more than half the way. Think of the pedaling that saves! Think of the distance you can cover —with your feet at rest! The fellow who under- stands machinery sees at once what perfect control the New Departure gives you. No matter how steep the hill or how great your speed, you can stop when necessary in a wheel length. New Departure puts safe- ty, pleasure, and a real thrill into bicycle riding. Any dealer can sell you a New Departure equipped bicycle or put one on your old wheel. New Departure Manufacturing Company, Bristol, Conn. Cave Man Stuff ACK near the beginning of things, our pre-historic forebears would have perished from the earth if they had not understood the science of reading ad- vertising. The cavemen didn’t know much about underwear, hair tonic or phonographs, but they did have to eat. The one who could follow the tracks of the game he hunted, or read the meaning of a twisted leaf or broken twig, was best off in life. Then, as now, the most consistent reader of advertising | was best dressed, best fed and most contented. There has been something of an evolution in advertising in the last few thousands of years, but the ovrinciple is just the same. The consistent reader of the advertisements is invariably best informed on what to eat and where to get it; what to weer and how much to pay for it; what to do and how to do it. He’s up on the most important things in life. Consequently he gets most from life. Throughout the ages, advertising has done much to make life livable and pleasant. We owe it much. Let’s mzke the mest cf it. On Nature’s Nature Stunts By Kam Bridge ICK was the only neighbor we had within fifty miles of our camp on Whiskey Creek so far as we know, at least Dick was the only visitor we had. Dick was a chipmunk, and one of the most intelligent little animals I ever knew. Our camp was a little old log cabin set in the edge of a great forest of spruce, fir and tamarack, bordering Whiskey Creek meadows: In the corner next the one door of the cabin, I had built a small table on which we ate our meals; just outside at the left of the door, we had a sawed block, set on end, which we used as a washstand. The woods were full of animal life, mountain lion, bear, deer, elk with now and then a stray moose, blue grouse, pheasant and birds of every kind known to the great northwest country, while among the smaller animals were the snow- shoe rabbit, ermine, pine squirrel and great numbers of the chipmunk family. We had noticed, among the many chip- munks playing around the .cabin, one of unusual large size and this one soon got to coming inside the door, then around the floor under the table, picking up the fallen crumbs. As he became more accustomed to us he would climb on the table and help himself to bits of biscuit or anything that suited his fancy, until he would sit up on his hind legs, hold his feast in his hands and allow us to stroke his striped fat back while he ate. This one we named Dick. Dick would some times, after he had satisfied his hunger, run down the table leg, out the door and jumping on the block outside, sit up and chatter and sing for us, and I want to say to you it was real music to the hungry ears of two forest bound prospectors. His chatter had a rhythm and harmony as sweet as any song bird. Then he would hop down, run just to the south of the cabin, climb to the top of the root end of a fallen tamarack whose great body reached away along the ground for over a hundred feet into the forest. Here he would sit and chatter and call until we could soon hear a rustling in the dry leaves, then chipmunks would appear racing along the fallen tree trunk to where Dick was loudly calling. When enough of his clan had shown up to satisfy his majesty he would jump off the log and with a haughty strut and con- tinuous chatter lead his little band up to the cabin; then began an interesting and remarkable demonstration of leadership. Dick would rush to the door, frisk about on the threshold, talk and chat- ter, his plumed tail waving high, turn and scamper across the floor, up the leg to the table-top keeping up his continuous chat- tering talk, there he would prance and scold and call but at first none of his clan would venture farther than the sill of the door, then rush away in fright. Down Dick would come, out among the chipmunks where he would talk to them singly and collectively, then back to the table again. This plan of coaxing his friends to come inside he tried for some time, when finally he grabbed a_ small piece of biscuit crust and carried it out among the munks where he dropped it to the ground, sat up on his hind legs and seemed to deliver his banquet address. One munk cautiously smelled of the crumb, then nabbed it and with his head high in air started to rush away. Dick, with a harsh vicious chatter, pounced upon him, cuffing him with his little paws, scold- ing loudly all the while, until the munk was glad to drop it and make his get-away, then the bunch quietly nibbled and tasted the biscuit and showed that was to their lik- ing, then Dick chased into the cabin again chattering and calling until at last he had several of the bravest inside the door. Now he furiously attacked a dry bis- cuit with teeth and claws, tearing off crumbs and pieces and pushing these over the edge of the table to the floor where they were eagerly seized by the munks who rushed to the open yard to eat them. This procedure was carried out for sev- eral days, but each time Dick would come alone to see if the feast was spread, and we always had it ready for him. Finding everything ready he would eat his fill, then rush to the tree root and call his people. After a few days Dick was successful in his attempt to get the munks to come to the table top and here again he showed his leadership. A bunch of chipmunks would climb on the table and attack the biscuit pile. Dick would strut among them talking and scold- ing all the time, then all at once one of the pan would show a lack of etiquette that insulted his highness, when he would rush at the offender, scold and cuff him until he was glad to behave. O NE day we cooked navy beans, which seemed to please Dick and his little friends, for they ate most heartily. The next day Bill, my partner, placed the left- over beans in a pan and tried baking them. At one edge of the pan there happened to be too much heat and the beans there were roasted to a dark brown and as hard as a rock. A few of these burned beans we threw just outside the cabin door. Dick came that day as usual, straight into the open door and onto the table where he proceeded to fill up on beans and biscuit. After he had all he wanted he started for his signal post. His chatter suddenly stopped. I stepped to the door to see what happened. In crossing the door yard he had run across the over-baked beans and was busy gathering them up and putting them in a pile at the side of the washstand. I stood and watched him and soon he had them nicely piled at a place to suit him. He would look up at me then push them this way and that with his paws, then run around and growl and scold, run up to the door, then back to his beans, until Bill told me to come away. I went inside and sat down. Soon we heard Dick calling his munks and I looked out in the yard for the bean pile but it was gone. That afternoon we noticed Dick out in the door yard quietly working around by himself. This was unusual as he had never made us an afternoon visit before. There had been scattered around over the smooth door yard, pieces of tinfoil torn from packages of our tobacco and we saw Dick carefully gathering up such pieces as just suited his need, taking them over by the washstand. We went away and left him at his job and when we came back in the evening his pile of tinfoil was nowhere to be seen. Several days after this when Dick had gathered, fed and dispersed his clan, I saw him digging in the dirt at the edge of the washstand. He scratched away the dirt, picked up some object, examined it carefully, placed it back and carefully pushed and patted the dirt closely about it. Dick finished his work and went scam- pering away down his log path and Bill and 1 went out to inquire into his secret. There in the fresh loose dirt we found a little roll of tinfoil and on opening this we found the last of the burned beans. That selfish little lord of the munk fam- ily had stealthily wrapped and stowed away what he regarded as the choicest bits for himself.

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in ad is- ff er re ks m. ne id ng en le. ul to ed yn d- ._ — =e ee "8 The Boy Scouts’ Magazine y’re Our Bud (Concluded from page 14) dies into place to accommodate a whole village, that the people themselves, if placed in a single line, and each one occupy a foot of space, would stretch for nearly three miles! Seats for three miles of humanity! And all raised within a few hours, at a time when every section of the lot is clamoring for aid. The-parade must be made ready. The wagons must be washed and cleansed if they have been in mud the day before. The cages of the cat animals must be cleaned, food must be brought for the greedy elephants, the rough spots of the hippodrome track must be cleared away with hoe and grub-hook, lest a hummock bring death to some rider, or break an axle of the plunging chariots, with the attendant injury to horse, driver—and even spectators. Everything is happening at once, for every hand there is a double burden. And it is then that the boy is more than welcomed. T= seats are placed in position mainly through his aid. The quarterpoles, which support that part of the tent lead- ing from the ridge to the eaves, are raised by him.. The outer poles, support- ing the canvas at the spots where the guy- ropes leave the eaves to be connected to the stakes, stand staunch and true to their duty through the exertion of youthful muscle. The thousand errands of the circus lot are run, the hay and straw are distributed through the menagerie, the ponies are cared for, and It is a fight against time, every moment, every second. Downtown the bands are blaring and the crowds watching the vari- ous samples of tinsel and spangle which the show puts on view to lure the throngs to the circus lot. Minutes are passing. By one o'clock, everything must be ready. 3arking shouts sound from the bosses around the lot—but by a staunch rule of the circus, there is little swearing. For a reason of business efficiericy, to say nothing of the moral side. If there is swearing and coarseness, parents may re- fuse to allow their boys -to help “put up the show.” And without those boys, there may be disaster. One o’clock—drawing nearer, nearer. Then the gates must be opened and the waiting crowds allowed to enter. It seems impossible—yet it is done. I have seen the circus in many a tight place. And I have seen it pulled out of that tight place—by boys! For instance, Astoria, Ore. If you never have been there, let it be known that Astoria is a town built upon stilts. Owing to the tides which back up the Columbia, it was necessary, in building the town, to raise it above the seepage and creeping in- flux of the water, with the result that there is not a vacant lot in the whole city that is on a level with the streets. More, the one lot which could be reached by the circus—it was the Sells Floto—Buffalo Bill Show in 1916—was nearly a foot deep in sand. The menagerie was left on the sort of bridge-viaduct which formed the main street of the town. The show lot was twenty feet below this level, with not a single runway or incline by which the wagons could be taken on the lot itself. Every bit of canvas, every stringer, every piece of paraphernalia, every pole, every chandelier, absolutely everything which went into the making of that circus, must be placed on that lot by hand and carried through the shifting sand from fifty to five hundred feet! It was almost impossible to unload. The elephants, used in pulling and pushing the heavy wagons from the trains, broke through the boarding of the causeways, and squealing, retreated, for an elephant is afraid of an unsound footing. The horses were nearly useless. An hour passed, two —three. The owner of the show, traveling along with it for a few weeks, sought out Bill Curtis, the boss canvasman. “We’re not going to be able to make it!” he announced. Bill smiled. “Yes, we will!” “How 2?” “T’ve got Shorty and Fullhouse out in town, rounding up every boy they can find. They'll pull us through.” And they did! Back came Shorty. Back came Fullhouse, both of them looking like 1922 modern editions of the Pied Piper of Hamelin, followed by throngs of boys, ranging from youngsters of eight and nine to youths of nineteen and twenty. Here and there the groups were placed. Sharp orders were shouted—a military precise- ness of command seemed to have come into the air. Among the waiting volunteers walked Bill Curtis. “It’s up to you, Boys!” he announced time after time. ‘We can’t make it—we’re stuck. Are you going to save the show?” ° The answer was the usual one that a boy would give under such circumstances. Clambering, hurrying forms rushed about the wagons. Skids were placed. A thou- sand hands helped to shunt the big center- poles to the lot and then carry them to place. The stringers, the packs, the can- vas itself—one by one the parts of the big circus went into place, and at two o'clock, only an hour late, the show opened its doors to a crowd that, up to that time, had been the biggest in all its history! And this is the story of the boy in more places than one during the journey of the circus. And let it be said, to the credit of the circus, that it does not forget and that it. does not fail in its part of the promise. The minute the task is done, each straw boss hurries to the superintendent with his list of names, to return a moment later with the reward of faithful duty, the ticket to the show which had been promised in the beginning. Nor is the actual putting up of the show the only manner in which the friendship of the boy is counted upon in the circus world. It is to him that the circus looks to spread the news of its coming, coincident with the placing of the first, glaring bills. Upon him devolves the real enthusiasm of the parade—for what is a clown band or a clown policeman without his throng of boys trailing along in the rear? Is the calliope really worth while if it does not have its crowd of youthful. attendants? Hardly! The boy and his love of the circus have the real job of making a parade enjoyable. For by their interest is gauged the interest of the crowds which line the curbings to watch. More, the boy is counted upon every step of the way. Long before the circus comes to town, he often has done his duty and earned his pass, in helping the billposters with their tasks, or by dis- tributing the thousands of heralds, or leaf- let advertising, by which the show makes its house-to-house canvas. As for the performance— The circus has its reasons for every- thing. If it is a good circus—and most of them try to be good—it will have a performance which is worthwhile, the best that its status in the show world can afford. And you'll notice that if you’ve ever been a boy, the ticket you’ve earned has admitted you to the afternoon per- formance! The reasons were many. In the first place, the circus has been grateful. It wants to pay its debt, and no boy likes to wait from noon until night for his reward. In the second place, it is the enthusiasm of the boy which makes or unmakes the circus performance. The howls of joy, the shouts of laughter when the clowns come tumbling in, are infectious. They spread from the young- sters to the older folk, they travel here and there about the high-piled tiers of seats. The adult grin spreads and devel- cps into a chuckle—and the chuckle to an uproarious laugh. The enjoyment invades everything, and when the performance is over, the thousands troop out with a smile lingering upon their features, with en- joyment in their hearts—and a part of it, at least, was due to that first outbreak of happiness from the boys themselves. So, with all this on their side of the ledger, with story after story in the an- nals of circusdom where boys have saved the show, with the performance dependent in a way upon them, and with their aid relied upon every step of the way, is it any wonder that the modern circus looks upon the boys as a necessary ingredient, to be treated fairly, honorably, and truth- fully, and to be referred to, as one circus man talks to another, in terms of affection? Indeed, it is not—for they’re our buddies} ftory-to-Rider prices. The Easy Payme Styles-Sizes & Colors 445% ger Bicycles afford a choice for every taste and pocket book, Camel-Backs, Roadsters, Racers, Juveniles, Arch-Frames; Girls’ and Ladies’ models, too. You can’t equal, the bicycles or the prices anywhere, For a generation we have devoted all our time to manufacturing bicycles. The enthusiastic ‘‘good will’’ earned. by satisfactory service to over a mil- lion riders in all parts of the world is our best guarantee of service and value to you. 12 Months to Pay You can secure possession and use of your Ranger at once and pay for it in twelve small monthly payments. Our thous- ands of cash customers buy at very low Fac- prices are only slightly more tocover added clerical work, Because you are dealing direct with the makers both Cash and Easy Pay- ment Prices are naturally lower than you can obtain on other bicycles. We send Ranger bicycles all over the country by fast prepaid express, so there will be no delay in receiving the Ranger you select from the big, free catalog we will send you. Safe delivery in perfect condition absolutely guaranteed. ig Free Catalog Over a million customers in all parts of the world save money buying their bicycles and accessories direct by mail from our big Chicago factories. 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The nearest city (with a population of 25,000 or more) which I can convenien‘ly visit to select a Mead Ranger is lf you have a Special Factory Distributor there, send me letter of introduction to him so I can inspect the Rangers and take delivery from there at Factory Prices or on Easy Payment Pian if I prefer. Mead si amr a Jimmy’s Diary: Saturday, June 3rd “Our Boy Scout troop on 16-mile bicycle ride today. Frank Norton got a puncture. I had tube of Neverleak Tire Fluid in my first aid kit. Squeezed Neverleak in his tire and stopt the leak instantly.” Neverleak has saved many a delay. It’s the old favorite—guaranteed satisfactory or money back. 25c. a tube at all bicycle and repair shops. FREES: for handy : Neverleak Pencil Clip. In attractive colors, holds pencil firmly in place. BUFFALO SPECIALTY CO... 111 Ellicott Street \ Buffalo, N. 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instance they cut it too fine: the Indians overtook them; one white was killed, one escaped, and Kenton

onion d ea page Baad Daniel | Soean Wilderness jane Gale

was captured. It is interesting to know that our old acquaintance Blackfish was the chief of the Indians: and that the first thing he did was to make careful in- quiry as to whether Kenton was acting under Boone’s command to steal the horses, or on his own initiative. In one case it was an act of war; in the other just a plain stealing expedition. Kenton replied that he had done it of his own accord; and thereby entered into a long experience of torture and captivity. HESE individual raids and combats had the effect of impressing the Shaw- nees. From the hilltops they had seen Colonel Bowman’s reinforcements march- ing in. The Colonel, suspecting such an audience would be watching, had skil- fully deployed his men in such a manner as to make the most of their numbers. The Shawnees had returned with exag- gerated tales. It must be remembered that as yet the peace treaty was supposed to be in force; however it might actually be broken. The Chieftains were. not yet ready to come out openly on the British side, although they were accepting arms, ammunition and presents. But a new difficulty arose. Again the supply of salt at Boonesborough became exhausted. Owing to the constant alarms of the summer just past the variety of food had decreased until now venison, cornbread and turnips were all that re- mained. This was a monotonous enough diet, but it was particularly insipid with- out salt. Sickness threatened. By Christ- mas the situation became desperate. The long journey over the mountains for such a commodity was appalling; and as it was now midwinter, and as Indians were rarely on the warpath at that time of year, it was agreed that a party of the settlers should try boiling out a supply of salt from the salt springs at Blue Licks. This was no light job. It was necessary to boil down from five to eight hundred gallons of the water to produce a single bushel. So you can imagine the time it would take to get an adequate supply with only make- shift cooking kettles. Boone gathered a party of thirty men from the three forts, partly of the border- ers, partly of the militia reenforcements. With a few pack horses carrying only the kettles, axes and bedding they started out. For food they were to depend entirely upon Boone’s rifle. The winter was a severe one, and even at the salt making around the fire the little party suffered severely. It hindered the work, but after some weeks they sent back three men with the laden pack horses. They got through safely to the great joy of the people. But about the second week in February the work came to an end with dramatic suddenness. The weather was intensely cold; so cold, that when Boone, hunting in a blinding snowstorm, encountered a large party of Indians, he was too be- numbed to outrun the first dash of their young men. With his characteristic good sense he offered no resistance whatever when once he saw that resistance would be useless; but dropping the butt of his long rifle on the ground he laughed good- naturedly as though the joke were on him. Instantly he was surrounded by a large war party, curious, triumphant, overjoyed, for Boone was instantly recognized. In- deed, in this party were his captors of eight years before, who laughed heartily at finding him again in their hands. The Indians shook his hand, patted him on the shoulder, called him “brother,” for so fam- ous was he on the border that the savages would rather have captured him than George Washington himself. In the mean- time Boone’s keen brain, behind his careless exterior, had been swiftly noting details. He saw this was a war party by its paint and equipment, that it was a serious war party by its numbers, and that it was an important war party by its discipline, its ieadership, the presence with it of two Frenchmen and the fact that contrary to all custom it had taken the war path in the dead of winter. There could be no doubt that the expedition had a definite object; and that object could be no other than the capture of Boonesborough. Also there could be no doubt that the Indians must have been made aware that so many of the garrison were away. Indeed, the fact that they apparently had intended to pass by the salt makers without attempting to gather their tempting scalps, proved plainly enough the singlemindedness of their purpose and the danger to Boonesborough. on greeted the chief of the In- dians, our acquaintance Blackfish, with cordiality. His manner under the fierce scrutiny of the crowding warriors showed no trace of fear nor even of uneasiness; nor did he appear to the closest inspection as other than a visitor among them. By some means he managed to convey the idea, and to get it believed, that he was on the whole rather glad to be captured, that he was wearied of fighting and would not be averse to a life of peace with his old enemies. As it was well known through all the tribes that Boone had al- ways fought fairly and justly and without hatred; as his reputation for equitable dealing and wisdom was as well estab- lished as his renown as a fighter, he managed to gain complete credence. He then went on to persuade them that it might not be impossible to arrange that all his people at Boonesborough would rather live farther north, among friendly Indians, than here on the dark and bloody ground, exposed to constant danger and alarm. He proposed that they test him by allowing him to persuade the salt-makers to surrender peaceably. Then he suggest- ed that in the spring when the weather was warmer, they should all. return to Boonesborough properly equipped with horses to carry the women and children. Thus the whole settlement would be con- tent to move north, to live thenceforth as the adopted children of the Shawnees. This he made sound entirely reasonable. After a long conference he succeeded in influencing Blackfish to turn aside for the purpose of gathering in the salt-makers. In return for a promise of good treat- ment for them all Boone guaranteed they would surrender peaceably. When within a short distance of the camp, Boone was permitted by the Indians to advance alone —wh.ch in itself shows confidence in his word—to talk with his comrades. The latter agreed to follow his advice implicit- ly—another evidence of confidence, this time on the part of the white man; and so laid down their arms and surrendered. There was difficulty now. Many of the Shawnee warriors claimed that in this ne- gotiation they had not been consulted : they had come far on the war path, and they were loth to turn back now without scalps A council was called, which lasted two hours. Blackfish struggled vehemently in debate. Boone was asked again to state his plan, which he did through the interpretation of a negro named Pompey, who was now a member of the tribe. At last it came to a vote. The ques- tion never involved the killing of Boone himself, but was as to whether or not the salt-makers should be killed. The war club was passed from one warrior to another. If he struck the ground with it he voted for death; if he passed it silently to his neighbor, he voted for clemency. Fifty-nine struck the earth: sixty-one passed the war club! But though the vote was so close, the decision was accepted as final; and there- after the captives were scrupulously well- treated. TS journeyed back at once to the Indian town of Old Chillicothe, and even Boone says it was an uncomfortable journey, for the weather was still very cold. They arrived on the eleventh day. As usual when returning with captives, the war party stopped outside the town to dress and paint; and to strip a pole on the end of which was hung a “conjuring bag” containing locks of hair from each of the prisoners. Then Blackfish gave three yells, and the band began to sing and to dance around the stripped pole. At once the squaws and boys rushed out to the scene of celebration, while the warriors who had remained at home from the ex- pedition retired in dignity to the council

BOYS’ LIFE

house. The squaws carried in the bag- gage; leaving the ar- riving warriors, in their gala paint, free to make a grand en- trance, and to dance around the town’s war post. This they did for about twenty minutes; after which they

entered the council house with their prisoners. This, and more elaborate ceremonies took place always. Blackfish was exceed- ingly proud of his prisoners. After Chillicothe had admired to its hearts’ content he began to desire further praise. A grand tour was devised, ending at Detroit, then the British headquarters. They took Boone and ten other white men and started out, as a sort of traveling circus with exhibits. Everywhere they received good treatment, and at the end of twenty days arrived in Detroit. LL this time Boone with his infinite patience and _ infinite sagacity never ceased for one moment to impress himself in the good graces of the savages. In this he succeeded better than he expected, rather too well as it turned out. Boone was everything a savage admired. He was quiet and silent: and it must be con- fessed that the average borderer was apt to be noisy and brawling. He was brave; and yet he used the sense of prudence. He was especially endowed with that con- sidered and deliberate wisdom so desired by the red men. But especially he was “always willing to deal with the Indians as having manhood and humanity about them, instead of waging a war of extir- pation, as against wild beasts.” In fact,’so closely did Boone approxi- mate the Indian ideals of virtue; and in so genuinely friendly a man-to-man fash- ion did he always deal with them, that it was said of him that “The Indians could not imagine how Boone could be a perpet- ual foe to them.” Without doubt they believed at this moment—under his careful teaching them so to believe—-that he was so near an Indian in virtue he could not fail to wish to be an Indian in fact! They stayed at Detroit for about a month; camping, as was usual with the Indians, outside the works. At this time Hamilton was commandant, and under him many officers, and with them women of rank. It its small way this was a brilliant society. To the Shawnee chieftain it was a pride- ful matter to have this celebrated prisoner to show off as his property. And the prisoner was indeed celebrated. The En- glish crowded to view him as a curiosity; but seem to have capitulated to the sim- plicity and directness and charm of his character, for almost immediately we see the rough frontiersman being sought and entertained by the most exclusive of these English gentlemen and ladies, people usu- ally profoundly contemptuous of “the un- couth and illiterate backwoodsmen.” Indeed, shortly we see them further giv- ing a more substantial guarantee of their interest. Governor Hamilton himself tried to ransom Boone from his Indian captors, and gradually raised his price to one hun- dred pounds sterling, which was an enorm- ous sum for such a purpose in those days and at the value money then bore. But Blackfish steadily refused. As we have hinted, Boone had only too well succeeded with his captors. He had not only gained their confidence but their affection. Black- fish flatly refused to ransom him at any price. As the British alliance with the Indians was hanging in the balance, Ham- ilton did not dare press the matter. The other white men were freely left as pris- oners of war with the British, a fate in- finitely preferable to what would have happened to them if Boone had not made terms for them. But Boone himself they intended to keep. This attempt at ransom having proved a failure, the English offi- cers made up a sum of money which they offered the prisoner as a gift for his im- mediate necessities. Boone declined this kindly offer with gratitude, but with dig- nity, saying simply that “he looked for- ward through the probabilities of his life, and saw no prospect of his being able to repay.” The savages, with Boone, returned over the hard and difficult journey to Old Chilli- cothe. Then they settled down, and Boone was adopted into the tribe. (To be continued in August Boys’ Lire) July

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vS g- r- in ee n- ce id eS ee — + _ S ern te te oe wee? FF eee The Boy Scouts’ Magazine SKeleton Island (Continued from page 17) unpleasant sinking of his heart, whether they had really escaped that fate or merely delayed it a little. Toward dawn it was possible to stop the small mast and hoist a lugsail, and Jim shipped his oar with a feeling of relief. His muscles were sore from the unaccustomed exercise, and his palms be- ginning to blister. Also he was conscious of a growing hunger which almost equalled his consuming thirst and he watched with the greatest interest the opening of a bag of ship’s biscuit and the broaching of the water beaker. While this was being done the sun rose blindingly above the sea line, turning the vast surface of heaving water into a sheet of molten metal. It sucked up the faint mist, and climbing swiftly into the dazzling blue sky, blazed down upon the little boat, the only moving thing in all that infinite expanse of ocean. The men calculated that with economy their provisions might last a week, but there was only water enough for three or four days. The situation, indeed, could not well be more serious, and while they consumed their slender meal a serious dis- cussion arose as to the proper course to take. re took no part in this. For a time he listened interestedly, but with a grow- ing dislike for Midkiff, who was evidently one of those blustering, loud-mouthed per- sons who stubbornly refuse to consider any opinion save their own. No one disputed the fact that the Ocean Queen had been driven far out of her course by the storm. But Midkiff obstinately contended that this deflection had been due south and that their best chance of making land would be to head northeast. Ballard, backed by what he had learned from Captain Briggs shortly after midnight, knew that the storm had carried them more to the east than south, and held that if they shaped their course southward they would stand a good chance of striking Timor, or some of the many smaller islands which string out from the eastern extremity of Java. But he might as well have tried to move a stone image as to influence Midkiff, and the discussion was assuming an acrimonious tone when Jim, who was standing up supporting him- self by the mast gave a sudden shout. “There’s a ship!” he cried, pointing to the eastward. “I can see her sail.” Instantly the wrangling ceased and sev- eral of the men leaped up and stared eager- ly in that direction. Ballard, with one hand on Melvin’s shoulder, studied the sea line long and intently. “By Jove!” he exclaimed at length, “I believe it’s land.” “Buff!” growled Midkiff, blinking in the glare. “Tell that to your grandmother. It’s nuthin’ but clouds.” Nevertheless, though grudgingly, he yielded to the clamor of the others and the boat was headed for the distant speck. At first this was very faint and indistinct, and might have been almost anything. But presently, when it failed to move, the theory of ship or cloud was abandoned, and at length it resolved itself unmistak- ably into a mass of tall palms. The shimmer of the sea gave them the curious appearance of floating in the air. But as the boat drew slowly nearer, one detail after another emerged from the blinding glare, until at last the whole flat surface of a coral atoll lay before them. It was a wide, irregular, roughly circular ring enclosing a lagoon a mile or more in diameter. Here and there were open spaces, but for the most part it was covered by a dense forest growth. Palms, bread- fruit, cane and a dozen other tropical varieties crowded together above im- penetrable thickets of undergrowth. Be- tween these and the placid, blue lagoon glistened a stretch of hardpacked, sandy beach, and the whole picture was one of such perfect snugness and security, that spontaneous cries of delight burst from the refugees. There was a break in the reef about fifty feet wide, and Clancy, who was at the tiller, steered for it without question. Out- 1922 side, the surf boomed steadily against the coral bulwarks, but the lagoon was quiet as a mill pond, and as they slid through the opening and headed for the nearest | shore, Ballard laughed aloud from relief. relief. “Pretty soft, fellows!” he exclaimed. “I never theught we’d strike anything like | this. I don’t believe——” He paused abruptly and stared intently ahead. They were within twenty yards or so of the shore, and Soames and Daggett were unstepping the mast, which for a mo- ment or two obscured Ballard’s vision. When this had been stowed away, however, he resumed his inspection eagerly, and very swiftly came to a definite decision. Back of the sweep of white sand the trees clustered thickly, but a little to the left of where they were heading, these were broken by a semi-circular clearing which looked distinctly artificial. It was evidently not a recent one. No raw stumps showed amongst the greenery and a luxuriant tangle of vines and under- growth covered the entire surface. But it must have been made by man, and a moment later Ballard gave a sudden ex- clamation of surprise as the roof-lines of a low building came into view. For a few moments the boat was halted while its occupants searched the clearing and the surrounding forest with keen, apprehensive glances. But the place was so clearly deserted that they presently took heart and pulling for the shore, leaped out and dragged the boat well up on the beach. “That’s no native hut,” declared Ballard suddenly, as they pushed through the tangle that blocked their way. “Huh!” grunted Midkiff. “You know a lot, don’t yer? Next thing you'll: be tellin’ us it’s some bloody English lord’s country place.” Ballard’s only response was an impatient shrug and a slight curling of his lips. He was growing distinctly weary of Midkiff’s surliness, but just now was far too inter- ested in what lay before them to enter into any altercation. Thrusting aside the last obstruction, he found himself in front of a long, low log hut with a sloping, palm- thatched roof, much rotted and decayed, the side nearest him pierced by two win- dows and a door. The windows were tightly shuttered, but the door stood partly open. Just what made him hesitate to enter, Ballard could not tell. But pause he did, and the others, cluster- ing about him, seemed to feel the same subtle repellence. For a long moment they stood there a silent, huddled group, staring intently at the shadowy space between the door and the rough-hewn jamb. Then Ballard, with a sudden. impatient move- ment, stepped briskly forward and pushed across the threshold. The door moved back reluctantly with a shriek of rusty hinges which was drowned by Ballard’s startled exclamation. “Great Heavens!” Jim was the first to follow him, and as he peered around his friend’s shoulder, his eyes widened with surprise and horror. The room, a fairly large one, was in the greatest possible disorder. The few pieces of rough home-made furniture lay over- turned, while the floor was covered with scraps of paper, torn magazines, mouldy wearing apparel, broken dishes and rusty tin-ware in the greatest confusion. All this Jim Melvin perceived intuitively, for his gaze was riveted upon the grue- some spectacle just opposite the door. Against the further wall stood a large, roughly made arm-chair, lying in which, in a queer huddled posture the skull sagging sidewise against one gleaming shoulder blade, were the bleached white bones of a «human skeleton! (To be concluded in August Boys’ Lire) The editors of Boys’ Lire are holding checks for photographs published in our Photographic Contest which have been re- turned because of incorrect or incomplete addresses. Will the following communicate with us giving correct address: Carl Leuthi, Kildeer, N. D.; L. Kohnk, Dallas, Tex.; Scout Jack Edwards, 512 No. Fourth Biz, Prize Contest AMERICAN FLYER MEG. CO. 2219 So. Halsted St., Chicago Build an “American Flyer” Backyard Railroad There’s lots of fun in operating, your miniature electric or mechanical railroad out doors, You can get extra track and equipment from your dealer. Build tunnels, bridges and solve all the problems of railroading. $100 in cash prizes. Send us photos of the railroads you build. Every one gets an Engineer’s Cap and 50c worth of equipment. Write for particulars and booklet “How to Build a Backyard Railroad.” Use any equipment. St., Phoenix, Ariz. for Burns Bruises Callouses Chapped Hands Chilblains Cracked Lips Cuts Fever Blisters New York UNGUENTINE is ‘ NK) ‘ ¥ y =, ‘TA pare if i RELIEF {] Jimmie’s Mother Knew! First time Jimmie went camping his Mother put a tube of Unguentine in his pack—and now Jimmie wouldn’t think of going without a tube. SUNBURN? Just put a little on and you can almost FEEL IT HEAL. And when it comes to insect bites, scratches, cuts, bruises or burns, Unguentine is the finest thing in the world. Just put a little on and right away the pain begins to stop. Doctors and Hospitals have been using Unguentine for over a third of a century. Your druggist, too, knows how good it is. That is why he is always glad to recommend it, when people ask for the best “first aid.” SPECIAL TUBE FOR SCOUTS: Just the right size to fit in your pack. Almost as big as the regular tube your Dad buys— and it costs only ten cents if you use the coupon! THE NORWICH PHARMACAL CO. erway New York for Insect Bites Ivy Poisoning Nasal Irritation Rashes Scalds Scratches Sunburn Windburn City Cut out and Mail NOW! The Norwich Pharmacal Company, Norwich, New York: Inclosed find 10c. “Send me the Special Scouts’ Tube and booklet showing many uses for Unguentine

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Runs from 4 to 40 miles an hou The Shaw Attachment irs any Easy to control, pleasing to ride, econemical to op- erate Thousands in daily : information pe wonderful At- hment and w Super-Motor- bicycle, which we Cots, Haversacks, Mess Kits, teens, Knives, Army Shirts, Leggins, Boots, Shoes, Axes other supplies for Boy Scouts, sports- men and campers. “If the Army Used It, It’s Here’’. Write today for free copy. ARMY & NAVY SUPPLY CO. Dept. T. Box 1835, Richmond, Va. | — A Clisteaaiees Ss ‘Chenes (Concluded from page 15) = == SS BOYS’ LIFE | Don’t toon Your BOYS’ LIFE! rains descended and the floods came and the match had to be called off, all to be played over again, in accordance with the rules made and provided. The match was the talk of the school and as the time for its postponed playing approached, it assumed increased impor- tance, because all the other inter-dormi- tory games of all kinds had been played, and they left the two groups tied, with the tennis singles to give the spring vic- tory to one or the other. When the appointed day again arrived and the two players once more stood op- posite one another, not a member of the student body was missing, and interest was at its highest pitch. HARK MEEHEN had been guilty of boasting a little and he had even been heard telling Monty what he would do to ' him when they met on the court for their final match. The Dumble Hall fellows were supporting their champion to a man, but it must not be thought that they ap- proved of his continued nagging and rag- ging of a student who gave him no cause for such action. They were seated on one side of the court with the Hopewell crowd on the other side and everyone was keyed up for an exciting match, showing it more than the players themselves. Monty won the toss and took the balls. As he served he did not seem to be the same Monty who had taken part in the previous match. He looked taller. He was lighter on his feet. He was more aggressive. He was on his toes every instant, and as the game developed, he played a stronger, faster game and it was plain enough that he was _ thoroughly aroused and working for all he was worth, which obviously was a good deal. It looked as if Shark would have a fight to hold his own. The first ball served scored an ace. It was cut so far around to Shark’s right that he could not get it. The next one had the same twist to it and it cut the center line at the back end. The next had the opposite twist and it struck just. inside the center line on Shark’s back hand. All three were aces and Monty took this game, losing only one point. Shark served and, save for a couple of lucky aces, he won no points. Monty drove the ball accurately down his side lines, passing him first on one side and then on the other. The second game ended and the score was 2—0. Monty’s action on the court was almost lightning. He darted here and there with incredible rapidity. Spectators began to say to themselves that they had noticed he always seemed to be quick on his feet. But it was not merely quickness. He an- ticipated his opponent’s shots. He exhibit- ed a judgment scarcely short of marvel- ous. His headwork matched his footwork. Once in a while Shark was able to pass him, but in spite of occasional failures, Monty kept his game score advancing, He had the first set, a love set. As he met Shark when the two passed in chang- ing courts, the latter said under his breath, “I'll get you this time, you little piker!” It was the only thing Shark could think of to say in the hope of frightening Monty a little. Shark was growing desperate. His vaunted tennis ability was going aglim- mering. He worked hard. He used all the cunning he knew. His strength and his speed were not enough. Right through the second set Monty held him. Two or three games did get to deuce, and once Shark had the advantage in a game of his own serving, but Monty stuck to his ac- curate returns and no lucky combination of aces was enough to give Shark a game. As a matter of fact, Monty’s rapid foot- work often secured a return of what might well have been a safe shot. The second set also ended 6—0 The match was for three sets out of five and in the third set Shark’s anger got the better of his judgment and he became wild. Then Monty did indeed make a monkey of him. Again and again he re- turned the ball close to the net and when Shark got it back over, Monty lobbed it to the back court and sent Shark back after it on a run, and keeping a safe lead in the score, he gave his opponent such a race back and forth over the court as that young man had never dreamed possible. T was apparent to the onlookers that Monty was something more than merely a good tennis player. He was a wizard with the racket. He could do things to the ball that they had never seen done before. His accuracy was wonderful and his speed was deceptive. He was so slight in figure that strength of stroke was not looked for and time and again Shark un- derestimated the speed of the ball, and once at the net his racket was even twisted from his hand as a particularly swift return struck its edge. There was no deceiving Monty with false motions and false starts. There was no passing him for he unerringly out- guessed Shark on the return. There was no drawing him up to the net and then lobbing over his head. He was too ex- perienced a player for such tactics. Shark’s sheer strength of service count- ed nothing for him for the ball came back unless, as rarely occurred, he scored an ace on a sneak serve that failed to rise from the ground. His speed went for naught. He hadn’t the headwork to match that of Monty, and Monty’s headwork was enabling him to wear out Shark who was kept on the run until he was even short of breath at times. All chance for a victory gone, Shark played on only because he must, and the occasional kidding of some of his own supporters angered him the more. Time after time Monty placed the ball in this corner of the court and on its re- turn placed it in the opposite corner, do- ing this with little lobs that made it pos- sible for Shark to get it back, and thus the big fellow was kept going. The third set was gone 3—0O when the ludicrous side of the situation struck some of the spectators. Some of the boys in the Dumble Hall crowd began to laugh as Shark chased Monty’s returns hopelessly back and forth across the court. It did have its funny side, but at the first laugh, Shark grew red, hesitated as if he would make a hot retort and was stopped only because a return came over with a cut on it that gave it an unexpected angle when it bounded. Shark made a sudden effort to reach the ball. He slipped and spread out both arms, much as a swimmer does in a double stroke, and Tom Dixon called, “Swim for it, old top!” The aptness of Tom’s remark brought a general laugh and after an instant Shark sat up and joined in it himself. His anger was over and for the remain- ing games, he took his three love sets defeat good naturedly. After it was over he walked up to the net and shook hands with Monty, exclaiming, “Monty, you're a wonder. Where did you get that stuff. I apologize for all I’ve ever done or said to you that a gentleman should not have been guilty of. You must come over and room in Dumble Hall. We want you.” “That’s good of you,” Monty replied, “but. I guess I’m all right where I am. I hope you fellows will let me come over and see you though, once in a while. I’m not much of a hand to visit, but I'd like to be friends.” “You can be friends with me, kid, if you'll show me how to play tennis the way you play it. How can you start right in like this when you haven’t played all winter ?” “T'll_ show you anything I’ve got,” re- plied Monty. “It isn’t much, but maybe I could give you some practice if we could play together. You see, I didn’t know anybody here that would want to play with |* me, so I’ve been going out twice a week to a country club, where some cousins of mine belong, about half an hour away by trolley. That’s how I got in shape, and Tiger went over with me one day to see if I could play well enough to get into this match.” “Play well enough! Oh boy!” was all Shark could sav. 50 WAYS TO EARN THE COST OF IT Does your subscription for BOYS’ LIFE expire with this issue or in the next few months? Right now is the time to get your renewal fixed up. Then you can settle back for the months ahead; the Biggest and Best Reading Program in BOYS’ LIFE History. See Editorial Notice on Inside Front Cover. Let Dad In On It, Too If you will share your copies with Dad, you'll find that he, too, will want to be sure the renewal is sent ahead of time so that no copies will be missed. Read Wil- bur C. Stone’s letter which follows: GENTLEMEN: Before I made the acquaintance of Boys’ Lire, Mother read her magazines and Dad read his. I didn’t care for magazines at all, but since —I can read nothing until I finish Boys Lire, and—I fight for it—but half the time Dad beats me to it. I made him admit Boys’ Lire had his magazines skinned a mile and proved to him that the method used by Boys’ Lire to teach nature studies and craftsmanship, et cetera, were away ahead of high schools insofar as making knowledge stick in your brain was concerned. Being Patrol Leader, Scribe and Treasurer of a live troop, a real Scout magazine appealed very strongly to me, especially the department de- voted to helps in earning merit badges. How- ever Dad thought his magazines filled the bill as they cover many subjects. Finally I obtained a copy of Boys’ Lire and dropped it on his desk. I was afraid he wouldn’t open it—I was wrong. He opened it and read it from start to finish before he laid it aside. I grinned as Dad looked up. Dad grinned. ‘“‘You win,” he said. “I don’t blame you for wanting that magazine. You’re always trying to make things. Boys’ LIFE will teach you the correct way to go about it.” Now Dad’s my pal because we have bully times discussing the stories and Dad knows things about nature that I never dreamed of until Boys’ Lire brought up the subject. Yours for (BOYS’) life, Vitsur C. Stone. How They Got the Money Here are 50 ways in which boy sub- scribers have secured the money that paid for their BOYS’ LIFE enon Piling wood. Raising a calf. Mowing lawns. Selling papers. Painting fence. Delivering milk. Sweeping church. Keeping chickens. Selling magazines. Cleaning up yards, Carrying out ashes. Distributing samples. Working in the hay. Delivering telegrams. Caddying for golfers, Driving an auto truck Working in an office, Collecting scrap iron. Working in drug store. Sweeping schoolhouse. Farm work in summer, Raising a potato patch. Working in greenhouse. Working for a gardener. Working in lumber yard, Selling garden produce. Working around the home. Working in doctor’s office, Cleaning neighbor’s cellar. Tending cows and milking. Delivering telephone books. Working on baker's wagon. Bringing up coal and wood. Working in a grocery store. Picking turkeys and squabs, Fixing grates of steam roller. Doing janitor work in school. Burying a dog for a neighbor. Sawing wood with the bucksaw. Delivering notices for Preacher. Errands on Saturday afternoon. Writing and translating letters. Making a birdhouse for neighbor. Candling eggs at a produce house, Killing mosquitoes in a man’s office. Working after school at planing mill. Making and selling a model aeroplane. Carrying water, picking strawberries, ete. Operating slicing machine for meat dealer. Mother gave it to me for eating less butter. 50c Will Keep Your Copies Coming You need not wait to earn the whole $2.00. Send 50c (five dimes wrapped securely or better still, 25 two-cent stamps), and you’ll be renew for three months. That gives you plenty of time to earn more. Insure your next three months now. Address: BOYS’ LIFE THE BOY SCOUTS’ MAGAZINE 200 Fifth Ave., New York, N. Y. July

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The Boy Scouts’ Magazine Stalking Wild Animals (Continued from page 30) the sight of game, then to run silently, stooping low in the shadow of a cliff or bank, and dodging like a coyote. Per- sonally, I have never been able to stalk a coyote, whenever I have tried it the animal always kept out of gunshot ahead of me, ever and anon sitting on a rise of the ground, where with its body sil- houetted against the sky it would await my approach, then dive down into the swale and be off again, until I discovered that I was not having fun with the coyote, the coyote was having fun with e. The favorite way of hunting these prairie wolves is by seating oneself on the edge of a waterhole or a spring in the early morning, because coyotes have a habit of stopping for a drink before re- tiring after their night’s hunting trip. I once stalked a buck deer; it was rain- ing and the kerosene cans I -had on my arm struck together and made a noise like a cowbell; the old buck lay so quietly in the brush that I was not quite sure whether it was a real deer or an imagi- nary one, but when I was within fifteen feet of him he shot up in the air as if Dan Beard ‘Scostind Gipetent Department | he had been a spring trap. I don’t know which was the most startled, I or the deer. I sat right down in the mud, the deer stood a fraction of a moment look- ing at me, then his body dropped, his legs bent and he stole away like a shadow. The whole thing was so quick and sudden that it was necessary for me to put my hand on the bed and feel that it was still warm before I could convince myself that I had really stalked the old buck. But if you want to prove yourself to be a. real, genuine stalker, try your skill on stalking a bob-cat or a Canadian lynx, then you are up against a stalker that can outstalk you. Once when I was trout fishing, a lynx seated himself in the road near the brook. I picked up a stone and ran towards him, but he sat quietly in the road looking at me; as I approached him I slackened my pace, when I got real close, that is, as close as I wanted to be, I made up my mind that it would be mean to throw stones at a poor lynx, so I went to the brook, picked up my rod and con- tinued fishing. The truth was I had lost no bob-cat, besides their fur is no good in trout-fishing time. (Continued from page 28) months. The lake, as you might know, is situated among a great many delightful rivers and other lakes. I like to go out on short canoe trips alone, being gone from three days to a week and be right next to nature and rub elbows with her. My father and mother object saying that something might happen or I might get lost, and that they worry while I am gone. Of course I don’t want them to worry, but I am sixteen years old and, beside four years of scout training, I have been in the woods each summer for five years, and feel quite capable of taking care of myself. Maybe they know what’s best and I have got a kind of a big head. I don’t want to have one of these things so I ask what you think is best. Do you think it all right for me to go on these trips alone? If you do, how may I show my father and mother that I am capable of “paddling my. own canoe” so to speak? Here’s another question. If cowhide is used for snowshoes is it necessary to var- nish it when dry? These aren’t exactly questions on scouting but I know no one better fitted to reply than Dan Beard. With many thanks for the helpful advice I know that I shall receive. Yours respectfully, Minneapolis, Minn. Lee FISHER. I sympathize with your pleasure in rub- bing angles with nature and getting off by yourself, but I think it is only natural that in spite of your scout training your parents should bia ft: to your going on extended ization, by the hands of Mr. Frederick Starr. We wish also to express to him our hearty welcome, as he comes to us on the felicitous occasion of our national fes- tival, the 2581 anniversary of the accession of our first Emperor, Jimmu Tenno. We appreciate his visit to Japan and particular- ly his undertaking the pilgrimage of ‘the 88 sacred places of Shikoku’ (our island) on account of his interest in Buddhism, our faith. Gratified by his kindness, we are delighted at the opportunity—first of opening to him our genuine heart-feeling, and second of asking him to convey this letter to you, which he has agreed to do. “On this occasion we are particularly obliged and privileged in having the honor of telling you the true sentiment in our country. r people hold strongly that the highest policy of our government is to make firm the basis for perpetual peace in the world. More especially we feel it our national policy to make the warm friendship existing between our two coun- 1922 "World 1 Brotherhood of Boys” : laa (Concluded from page 37) trips ig Goa A: cha yourself. heii war teen may ant to even the best woodsman. Can’t you compromise by getting your parents to consent to your taking overnight trips while you forego for the present your: preference for the longer excursions which worry them. — DeaR Dan BEARD: I am a subscriber for Boys’ Lire ond have been looking in Dan Beard‘s scouting section for answers to a few questions but have been unable to find them. So I am writing you for the answers. What is the best material for making a canoe to be used on a small creek? I want something that will be light enough to carry. Which would you advise, making one canoe big enough for two and extra light camping ‘luggage, or making two canoes big enough for one? My friend and I are planning on taking a camping trip this summer and want.to make some moccasins. Would it be suit- able to use untanned cowhide? If so, what would be the best way to prepare it and make it pliable? I hope you will be able to answer these questions. Atoka, Okla. Puirip O. MILLER. No canoe of this kind Make 1. Use canvas. is big enough for two and luggage. two canoes. 2. Yes. In the Merit Badge Pamphlet on Leather Working for method. PI cones cx on page 50) aa oe | tries—which was established by our bene- factor, Commander Perry, who opened our nation to the world—ever more cordial, strong and profound, day by day, through the entire future. “We are delighted to express our thanks for the fact that your organization aims also to develop and strengthen the high and noble policy of your. government—the establishment of peace and humanity through the world. “Having thus stated our ideas and sen- timents we extend to you our best wishes and friendly regard. Accept our expres- sion of esteem and our hope for your future. Sincerely yours, SHiceru Matsupa AND THE Boys oF THE ARATANO Boys’ Crus.” If any members of the World Brother- hood of Boys are able to write Japanese and wish to correspond with these Ara- tano boys, we shall be happy to forward their letters. ‘Come On! Ice Wagon” You Can Ride Rings Around the Other Seles When You Have a Speedy Dayton Bicycle the surest way of producing a bicycle that will prove up 100% in service. If that’s the sort of bicycle you want,—speedy, enduring, good look- ing, easy riding—get a Dayton. Be the best mounted boy in your town. Our new booklet “How to Choose a Bicycle” will tell you riany things you ought to know. Write for your copy now. Use the coupon. You will get the “jump” on them every time—and hold the lead too— so little effort is needed to keep the Dayton spinning along. That’s why champion racers ride it—and why the big hope of most boys is to have one of these fast, smooth-running bikes. Every single unit of the Dayton is made in our own immense factory— Cycle Division ° THE DAVIS SEWING MACHINE COMPANY _, #1 Dayton, Ohio oF W. oe pv* rite : os we The Davis for this OW Sewing Machine | Company, | Dayton, Ohio. Please send me, without obligation, our booklet No 22 “How to Choose a icycle” and the 1922 Dayton Catalog. IGT on.0.s.0'06-0:4.6-0.0'0:054.0.0)09:0,.6.6;0,3/0.0 09 £66100 6 60)0,0-0.6.0/9)010 6s s10 ES SS SD RAISE GUINEA Pigs STUDY JOURNALISM, us. We buy all you ra Pay betterthan 4 ena rained Par- colars and booklet ow to seine Eas. New method. nalism at home. ject in which interested. Lafayette Building, Philadelphia, Pa. ADVERTISEMENT WRITING, Salesmanship, and Photographic Jour- Lowest tuition rates. Expert instructors. Write, mentioning sub- Walhamore Institute, What Would You Do? News has just been received that a large band of Indians are on: the war-path and intend to burn down your shack. Not a minute must be lost. What is the first thing to do? What happens when they do attack the camp? Find out the true story of a boy’s life on a western ranch—a story that bristles with action and that holds you breathless. This 347 Page Book aS J “From Cattle Ranch to College” iy Cost Free To You This big book, illustrated by numerous marginal sketches and many actual photographs will be given you for selling to someone else, and sending to us only one NEW yearly subscription for BOYS’ LIFE— remittance $2.00. Address BOYS’ LIFE, The Boy Scouts’ Magazine 200 Fifth Avenue New York, N. Y.

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46 BOYS’ LIFE it. BOY SCOUTS HIKE BOOK Fa BS , eae noah She” s then yh ~~-§ . » PEE-WE SHLNGG Sr ania ’ as BOOK OW . y DON Cort HARRIS , “ on: THE fi. Sec at . : Scout » Be ioe MF BK 20K me BURTON aad : SS] Shamed fi ae? ae at ee 4, : } ” PERCY KEESE FITZHUGI WILLIAM LYuGER ® \ Ne one yr | July

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The Boy Scouts’ Magazine 7 The Lad 0 of Lake C headin = ontinued Asie page nd As for the siege at Boston—Pouf! A handful of farmers! So he told his wife. Gage had five thousand disciplined troops, trained to war. A demonstration, that was all. They needed a lesson. Fort Ticonderoga was on the western side and the southern end of Lake Cham- plain, situated on a stream joining Cham- plain to Lake George. All about were dense forests and morasses with the occasional clearings and pastures of the settlers, gradually enlarging and turning the wilderness into farming country, though the thick woods were a formidable barrier that would long withstand their encroach- ments. Lem’ swung along the next day with his chicken, noting the fragrant blossoms of dogwood, wild cherry and elder, listening to the songs of a myriad birds, watching them marking their plumage, seeing scam- pering rabbits and woodchucks atop their holes, with black snakes gliding for cover. He made the clearing and ascended the slope to the commanding position of the fort within an hour. Beneath the ramparts there extended a slanting glacis of earth topped with turf, so fashioned as to expose assailants to the full benefit of musketry fire. Outside of this was a dry ditch or moat. Through the glacis ran a passage- way called the sally port, through which the defenders might make a rush, protect- ed by the deep sides of the passage and unseen until they emerged. At the end of this, passing through the walls, a heavy gate led to the parade ground. This gate was opened at sunrise and closed at sunset, guarded during daylight by a sentry. Lem’ swinging his chicken, dressed and plucked and wrapped in a clean cloth, ap- proached this man whom he knew well. To his surprise and consternation the sen- try returned his friendly greeting by pre- senting a bayonet at the pit of his stomach. “Off with ye, now!” he cried. “We want none of the like of you round here. Be off with ye before I stir up your breakfast.” “But,” faltered Lem’, taken aback, though his brain was working, “this chicken was ordered by the captain’s lady.” “And the captain himself ordered me to chase you out of here. You're not to come back. We want no Whigs around here. Off with ye.” He made a threatening prod with the bayonet which Lem’ easily eluded, retreat- ing with his despised chicken. “Whigs!” He knew what the word meant. He was proud to be a Whig since Governor Tryon was a Tory. A Tory was loyal to the government. Lem’ was loyal to his own country. But it certainly looked as if Simpson had been at the fort. He hung around for awhile then went home to report to his father. “It can’t be Simpson. He’s sick. Down with malaria. His wife was over to git advice and some yarbs of yore mother.” “I don’t believe he’s sick,” said Lem’. His father said nothing but looked serious. Lem’s mission seemed abruptly ended. He could not go to the fort and the man he was to watch was confined to his bed, if not actually ill. That much was certi- fied by the neighbors. The elder Brown left on the night of the fifth, soon after dark. There was no meet- ing of the Green Mountain Men. Sepa- rately and with various excuses, such as fishing or woodcutting, they left for the rendezvous, forty miles away, over the Ver- mont line, beyond Bombazine Lake trusting that their absence would not be commented upon. It was hardly likely. Their farms were all remote, even from each other and the soldiers never visited them. Unless some spy should carry news, some man prove traitor. Simpson, partly on ac- count of his sickness, had not been told of the time or place of meeting. Brown had communicated Warner’s doubts to the rest. They had called on Simpson, keeping to his bed, or they had sent their women, but they had said nothing more about the Fort. The sick man seemed to have forgotten or lost interest in the affair. Lem’ waited for Simpson to get well, still unconvinced as to the genuine char- acter of his illness. He figured out that the expedition should arrive at Lake Cham- 1922 plain late on the afternoon of the ninth if there was no hitch. He had no doubt as to which way they would come. The prac- tical trails were none too numerous. Near the lake they might adopt a route of their own. He determined to go out along the road to meet them. He still had a linger- ing hope that if he presented himself they might let him go along. For that reason he said nothing to his mother or sister of his intention. He was not needed to guard the house. His mother was as strong and as brave as a man. His sister was a lusty girl who could hold plough and swing ax. He slept little the night of the eighth, for sheer anticipation. He hurried through his chores, with some extra ones added for good measure in case he might not come back as soon as his folks expected him. At noon he was amazed and chagrined to see Simpson walking across the clearing. [t was an honored custom not to allow any visitor, liked or disliked, to leave a house at mealtime without feeding him, and his mother, somewhat formally, for her, invited Simpson, who promptly accepted, despite Lem’s whispered protest. “Where’s yore man?” he asked her as they sat down. “He's gone fishing.” “Bin gone long! “Not very. “Expect him back soon?” “When I see him. He wasn’t certain.” “Now ain’t that funny?” said Simpson, leering at Lem’ and round the table. “I’ve bin to six places an’ the men are all away, dates of leavin’ an’ arrival oncertain. Must have all took the same notion while I was sick. Queer, ain’t it?” “T hadn’t thought so,’ coolly while Lem’ glowered. ’ said Mrs. Brown “Men are notional, come Spring. With some it’s fishin’, with others fever. Both catchin’.” “Ah! Well your yarbs helped me. A heap.” “You been very sick?” blurted out Lem’. He couldn’t help it though he felt that he showed his suspicion and dislike unwisely. “Sick? I’ve bin abed nigh a week. Feelin’ fine now, though. Fine.” He lingered, it seemed to Lem’, purposely and maliciously. The afternoon was half through before he left. “*Member me to yore man, see him,” he said at parting. Mrs. Brown’s face was red as_ she watched him disappear. Lem’ was in a fever of haste. He might miss them. At the last he had to go without his rifle. It was in the main room over the mantel. When he started to get it down his sister challenged his intentions and his mother looked up from her spinning sharply. “T’m just goin’ out for a bit,” he said. “Thought I might see somethin’ to shoot.” “There’s nothin’ worth shootin’ this time of year ’cept woodchucks an’ I’m sick of them,” said his mother. “Better save yore powder an’ bullets.” There were times when Lem’ felt his mother read his mind as if it had been an open book. This, he sensed, was no time for argument. He sauntered out, gained cover and fairly took to his heels making for the hightrail to the Vermont border. It was an early spring and the woods were greening thickly. Ferns were spring- ing up along the trail which was grassed and barely showed the ruts of the infre- quent wagons. Lem’s quick eyes showed him that someone had passed along ahead of him. Where. the soil was moist the tracks of a man’s shoepacks were plain. Something prompted the thought that this was Simpson. His sickness had been a blind or made the most of. He suspected what had happened. He was going to make sure. for the little band of patriots and then hurry to the Fort for warning. Of that Lem’ was certain. The man’s attitude at the meal had confirmed it. He hurried on to overtake him. What could he do. He had no rifle. No weapon. And Simpson had a pistol in his belt. Lem’ had seen that when he opened his coat while eating. Lem’ had not even a knife with him. If he could get a club, waylay him? With when you 47 DID YOU KNOW That all human life would disappear from the world if the B were destroyed? is is one of the many things made clear by The Boy with the U. S. Naturalists By Dr. Francis Roit-Wheeler Witb 42 illustrations, mainly from ry lent by U. S. Government. rice $1.75 This is a book of Birds, although os title is general, The absolute right of birds to our pro- tection is clearly brought out, along with a wealth of interesting facts and exciting adventures. What life is more fascinating to a healthy boy than that of a Forester? The Boy with the U. S. Foresters By Dr. Francis Rolt-Wheeler With 38 illustrations from i, lent by U. S. Government. Price $1.75. This is another particularly A 8 and valuable volume of the noted U. S. SERVICE SERIES, written with the unofficial but accurate oversight of officials of the Government Bureau at Washington. It shows the vital importance of forests, the great care with which the Government must provide for their future, and the adventurous life of those who guard them, told, as is the case with all these books, by making a typical American boy the central figure. For sale by all Booksellers. Published by LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON re, Boy Scout Life Series Published with the approval of The Boy Scouts of America Mr. Mathiews says: “It is a bully bunch of books . . . the sort that help instead of hurt our movement.” Boy Scout Fire Fighters. Crump. Boy Scouts of the Lighthouse Troop. McLane. Boy Scout Trail Blazers. Cheley. Boy Scout Treasure Hunters. Lerrigo. Boy Scouts Afloat. Walden. Boy Scouts Courageous. Mathiews. Boy Scouts to the Rescue. Lerrigo. Boy Scouts On the Trail. Garth. Each book illustrated. $1.00. BARSE & HOPKINS “e%,Yerknd BOYS BOOKS—THE BEST OF THEIR KIND Red Blooded Stories of Adventure, of Sports, of Scouting, of Clean Manliness and Ideals. Every Boy’s Library DON STRONG, PATROL LEADER and Forty Other Titles $1.00. per Copy THE TOM SLADE STORIES Eleven Titles THE ROY BLAKELEY BOOKS Nine Titles THE PEE-WEE HARRIS STORIES Five Titles By Percy Keese Fitzhugh Each Series in Uniform Binding Well Illustrated with Colored Wrappers 50 Cents per Copy All of them bear the stamp of approval of the Boy Scouts of America For Sale Wherever Books Are Sold GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers 1140 Broadway, New York Take a Book to Camp Please choose from this list— they’re good books, recommended by Boy Scout’s Library Adventures in Beaver Stream amp , By A. Radclyffe Dugmore. Price $1.75 A Gunner Aboard the “Yankee” By Russell Doubleday, Price $1.60 The Ransom of Red Chief and Other O. Henry Stories for Boys. Price $1.90 By Everett T. Tomlinson Scouting With Daniel Boone Scouting With Kit Carson Scouting With General Funston Price each, $1.60 At Every Bookstore DOUBLEDAY, PAG E & xo GARDEN CITY, NEW Y Like Lem’ he meant'to watch THE COMPLETE RADIO BOOK By R. F. YATES Radio Editor, N. Y. Evening Mail And L. G. PACENT (Famous Radio Engineer) HE book on radio for which fans have long been wait- ing. Why? Because it is by experts, because they took plenty of time to do it right, because it covers the whole subject—it is the last word on radio. (Pro- fusely illustrated. $2.00.) THE CENTURY CO. 353 Fourth Avenue New York City Real Books for Regular Scouts THE YOUNG TRAILERS By Joseph A, Altsheler Scouting adventures in the wilds when every day brought fresh dangers to be met. $1.7 THE RAISIN CREEK EXPLORING CLUB By Ernest Ingersoll Don’t miss the thrills of these young expe FIRST AID FOR BOYS vy Dr. N. B. Cole and C. H. Ernst Complete First Aid Practice written especially for Boy Scouts. $1.50 THE BOOK OF STARS By A, Frederick Collins The only book containing all requirements of the Scout’s test. $1.50 WHAT BIRD IS THAT? By Frank M. Chapman You can name every bird you see when you have this book. $1.50 THE FOREST RUNNERS By Joseph A, Altsheler Keeps you on your toes to the last page. One of the ‘‘Trailers Series.’ $1.75 THE BOOK OF WIRELESS By A. Frederick Collins Everything you need to know to set up and operate your own wireless. $1.50 SCOTT BURTON ON THE RANGE By Edward G. Cheyney Teems with adventure and first-hand forestry knowledge. $1.75 THE BOY SCOUTS’ BOOK OF CAMPFIRE STORIES A crackerjack collection of stories — adventure, heroism, fun—edited by F. K. Mathiews, Chief Scout Librarian. $2.50 At All Booksellers’ D. APPLETON & COMPANY New York NEW BOOKS FOR BOYS The Boy Scouts’ Life of Lincoln, by Ida M. Tarbell Fully ill. dec. cloth ........ $2.00 Brown Wolf and Other Jack London Stories for Boys, edited by Frank- lin K. Mathiews, Chief Boy Scout Librarian Fully ill. dec. cloth That Year at Lincoln High, by Jo- seph Gollomb is I..6 sib ioc pric exduwiers $1.50 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road, by H. Addington Bruce Os GN 6 Adi 6. cS Bes ee $1.75 Debating for Boys, by William H. Foster Cloth Send your name to the Macmillan Mailing List, /o J, Dept. The Macmillan Company 66 Fifth Avenue New York City HARPER’S CAMPING AND SCOUTING Here is the practical scout book that is recommended to you by your official maga- zine. Take it to camp this It will help you $1.75 summer. pass your tests. Harper & Brothers - New York SS SN

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48 Going Camping? ? Get Your Camp at No Cost or Low Cost F you want camp equipment, do not let old “Can’t afford it’”’ “BOYS’ LIFE,” The Boy Scouts’ provides a way to get camp things in return for a little “‘good turn” ing up NEW yearly subscriptions waiting for “BOYS’ LIFE” in your town. Read each offer carefully. want is not shown, write for the number of BOYS’ LIFE subscriptions required to earn it. Note that all subscriptions must be NEW ones and for a full year. hings stop you a minute. Magazine, time spent in round- If the thing you They must not include your own or be for your own address or be renewals of any previous subscriptions. Write at once to National Headquarters for your Representative’s Card. Address: “BOYS’ LIFE,” 200 Fifth Avenue, New York. IF YOU PREFER MONEY PAYMENT FOR CAMP EXPENSES INSTEAD OF THESE ARTICLES, WRITE FOR INFORMATION. SPOT LIGHT ELECTRIC LAMP. Has long distance. reflector. A push of the thumb produces a_ powerful round spot light with a range of 200 feet. Average 30 to 40 hours’ continuous burning. Sold without battery to = vent damage in transit. Uses any No. 6 dry battery which can be purchased anywhere. Given for selling only one NEW yearly BOYS’ LIFE subscription (not your own) and 35 cents (a total remittance of $2.35), or sent without charge for two new yearly subscriptions. No. 1448. ELECTRIC BELT LAMP. Will do all an ordinary flashlight will do. Can be buttoned on coat or fastened to belt, leaving both hands free. Can be set upright or hung from nail. Complete with battery, Prepaid. Given for sending only 2 New Yearly Subscriptions. (Remittance $4.00.) Or for One New Subscription and 50c. (Total Remittance $2.50.) SPECIAL SCOUT COMBINATION 1. KHAKI WEB BELT. two belt hooks for carrying knife and rope. in inches when ordering.) 2. WHISTLE. Marked with official emblem. 1%” wide, gun metal Scout buckle and (Give loose waist measure By this means Scouts can “2 one another or call help in emergencies. 3. HAKI LAN- YARD. Wear = your whistle or scout knife on it. Lends a “snappy” touch to the scout uni- form. Made of best quality braid, with slid- ing knot and loop for attaching whistle or knife. ALL THREE aarticles given for only One New Yearly Subscription and 25 cents (a total remit- tance of $2.25 TELAWAY COMPASS. ‘ This is a thoroughly reliable compass at a low price. It was designed primarily with Scouts in mind. Case is dull gun metal finish with heavy crystal. Special steel needle, carefully magnetized and fitted Diameter ly, with jeweled center. in. Given for one new yearly sub- scription (remittance $2.00). With slot for $2.50.) and coated with a non-rusting finish. drawing nails. only 2 New Yearly Subscriptions (remittance, $4.00). Or for One New Subscription and 50 cents. FIREMAKING SETS. Long the despair of Scouts who have had to make them for themselves with too often a scarcity of the right kind of material. Set con- sists of bow with leather thong, a drill, and drill socket. Notched fire board and package of tinder. Given for only one new yearly sub- scription and 25 cents (a total remit- tance of $2.25). No. 1002. SCOUT AX. The official ax for the Boy Scouts of America, stamped with the em- blem. Handy at every turn on hike and in camp. Made of one piece of solid steel, hand-forged Hickory handle. Sent prepaid for sending (Total remittance No. 1172. OFFICIAL KHAKI CAMP BLANKET. An economical blanket of exceptional Weight 3% Ibs., wool badge design. collect, weight 5 Ibs. wearing quality. size 58 x 82 inches. Given for ‘sending only 6 New Subscriptions. Stamped with official Shipping charge (Re- mittance $12.00.) Or given for only 3 New Subscriptions and $2.00. (Total $8.00.) No. 1435. inflated 12 x 17 inches, sending only 2 New Subscriptions. Subscription and 50 cents. AIR PILLOW. Good quality waterproof material. folded 5 x 6 inches. (Remittance $4.00.) (Total remittance $2.50.) Size Sent Prepaid. Given for Or for One New For other camp equipment see this and previous issues of “BOYS’ LIFE.” shown. Write for offers on any regular equipment not Address: “BOYS’ LIFE,” The Boy Scouts’ Magazine, 200 Fifth Avenue, New York. | ) Y The | Other ‘Side every stride he grew both more purposeful | and desperate, surer of his conviction con- cerning Simpson, of the hopelessness of the cause if he failed to stop the traitor. Simpson was not a very big man and Lem’ was stout. If he could get the ad- vantage of him he might overpower him. The lad’s muscles bunched and his jaw grew firm. He had to do it. He thought of a stone but he was traveling through semi-swampy ground. ee He came to an open space where the trail dipped and ran through a meadow to climb up again to woods that thickened for a distance. The sun was dropping. Lem’ paused a moment to tighten his belt. Out of the woods across the meadow a figure emerged and came pelting towards him in desperate haste. It was Simpson. He had seen the little command, how far away it was impossible to tell. Now he was coming back to warn the Fort. Prepared, it could never be taken by such a force as they could muster. Lem’s thoughts raced. He felt in his pockets. Boylike, he always carried twine. He had a length of it, strong stuff though fine, used for rabbit nooses. He turned and sprinted back along the trail at top speed. Panting, he selected his spot and fastened one end of the twine ankle high to a tree, carrying it across the trail to another. The grass hid it fairly well. He did not believe Simpson, coming fast, would notice it. Then he crouched in the brush, ready for a spring. On came Simpson, with swinging arms and head down, at a swift trot. Lem’ watched him with hard beating heart, every sinew tense. Simpson’s shins, low down, struck the cord. It parted with a twang but the spy went sprawling and the lad was atop of him like a flash. It was a hard fight, tumbling and pummel- ling, with Simpson beneath and Lem’ rain- ing lusty blows on his face and trying to pin down his arms. Simpson heaved and got atop while Lem’ strove to whirl him with desperate efforts, wriggling, heaving, butting with his knees. He saw Simpson’s bloody face, fiendish with the delay, the wish to maim or kill. He would have to get rid of the boy, drag (Concluded on page 51) ———z=== = of the Mirror Bh escinnd pan page 7) and his heart was in his mouth. In the box, The Kid took his time, his eyes on The Tadpole, dancing off third. “Steady!” warned Graham, “never mind him.” : Biff raised his hand. “Hush!” he warned. “Still!” The Kid’s fingers found their place as his arms swept over his head. Then came a gasp, a quick, frightened yell. The Kid saw. His wind-up faltered. Its swing broke. Hethrew withall his speed. But The Tadpole was coming with equal speed. Head down, spikes flash- ing, lips parted, he was stealing home. The desperateness of such a chance from a nine coached to play safe, had caught St. Jo’s off its guard. There came the thud of ball on mitt. Davis leaped wide. There was a cloud of dust. Gem Graham swooped into it. But The Tadpole’s foot shot under his reach- ing hand‘and hooked across the plate. He was safe, but it was by a hair rather than an inch. As he snapped to his feet he saw the look on Graham's face. But that did not hold him. He raced away to the bench. The coach’s hand was the first to grip his. “You’ve won your first St. Jo’s game, old chap,” he said; “congratulations.” “T have?” gulped The Tadpole. “Why, I only did what you signaled. It was an awful chance, though.” “Tad! Tad!” Norton was wild with victory at last within her grasp. St. Jo’s was still too dumfounded to do more than gasp. Mr. Howard laughed. “What turns out safe, is safe,” he reminded him. “You said we could trust each other. The chance was there; you took it.” “But you made it, sir. It’s what you’d planned and worked for. You out-generaled St. Jo’s; you made the impossible possible.” “Oh, no,” he said; “we’ve made team work pay, that’s all.” BOYS’ LIFE 200 Fifth Avenue, New York, N. Y. You Can Get The New No. 2 Film Pack Fastman Camera Cost Free Making pictures with the wonderful new East- man Hawkeye No. 2 Film Pack (it uses a pack of films instead of a roll) takes all bother out of photography. The operation merely con- sists in pointing the camera, looking at the image in the finder, and pressing the lever. The fixed focus lens—thor- oughly tested with the camera—does away with all the focusing or esti- mating of distance. It is well made, light, durable, and can be operated with- out previous experience. The pictures — snap- shots and time exposures —are clear and sharp, size 244” x 344”, and can be enlarged to any rea- sonable size. “The best value for the least money of any simi- lar type of machine we have ever offered,” writes the Eastman Company. Given for selling and send- ing only 3 NEW yearly sub- scriptions for BOYS’ LIFE (total remittance $6.00) or for only two NEW yearly subscriptions and 25c (total remittance $4.25), or given for only one NEW yearly subscription and 75c (total remittance $2.75). It is easy to interest new boys in BOYS’ LIFE by Sandlinn copies. Try it and earn your camera. Send your order to BOYS’ LIFE, ™ 2 July

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The Boy Scouts’ Magazine will hoclp the game.” science of pitching, catching and playing every position on the team—the secret of defensive signals, the ‘Bluff Peg’’—how to come out of a batting slump. It’s all told in— Wilson's Wonderful New Book mor baseb 17 chapters and over 200 pages of it inside stuff that will help the veteran or beginner. Recommended by the greatest players. Your Money Back— if you see this handsome cloth bound book pe do not want to keep it. Examine it at our risk, Send the coupon. Send only One Dollar i . & Co., 705 N. Sangamon St., C’ s Enclosed is #, for “The stood that if I am not entirely satisfied, I can book, within 5 days, and get my money back. Sei f Basebsll.’’ It is under- lence o' ar ie City EEE =e Address. * ae a ae THos.E Witson & Co ee a, as (ERE RESP ERS 88 8 2. It’s Fun To Know How Far You Go —and how you cover the road on that bike! It’s sport to watch the dial of a Veeder Cy- clometer, ’cause you see how you’re hitting off the miles. Every real- distance bicycle rider wants his mileage straight from a “ CYCLOMETER Goes on hub of front wheel; easy reading from the saddle. Registers up to 10,000 miles by tenths of a mile—then repeats. Sold by all Dealers, or— send $1.50 to THE VEEDER MFG. CO., itech "toom At New Reduced Prices—Sa Complete tourists outfits. Tents, apparel. Shoes, Blankets, New and used Army Goods at money saving prices. Send atonce for BIG FREE CATALOG can earn from $1 to $2 an hour in your ti iting show Quickly and Pay hers Neapeery Bony simple “Instructograph” No canvassing or es teach you how, guarantee you steady work at home no matter where you live, and pay you cash each week. Full particulars and Booklet free AMERICAN SHOW CARD SCHOOL 52Ryrie Building Toronto, Can. Ride a Bicycle 30 Days At Our Expense Write for our ‘‘Bu-Co’’ Bicycle Booklet. Won- derful values. Ride 30 2) days; if not satisfied we refund your money. THE HERMAN BUMILLER CO., 432 XBumiller Bidg., Cincinmati, Ohio vi Scout, and every man yA who hikes, hunts or fishes, should carry a shel- ter tent. Get yours at our special bargain regular Army goods; slightly used; guaranteed free from holes and tears; sent prepaid, without poles, for only $2.25; money back if not fully satisfied. GOTHAM SPORTING GOODS CO. 128 Chambers St. New York, N. Y. ELTER 25 | STENTS “= 1922 Created Equal | (Continued from page 7) “No, he don’t,” said the deposed gov-. ernor, “unless he draws the short stick. If we’re all equal, we'll play equal.” There was no getting around their own argument, and it was a blue Felix that drew the hated short stick. “Gee!” he groaned, “I want to go to the show. Let’s leave ’em till we get back.” Democracy objected. “Give me a quarter and I’ll wash ’em for you,” offered Monty, and Felix could have fallen on his neck for gratitude. The five departed in high spirits. There was no doubt in Monty’s mind that the good ship Democracy was aimed for the rocks, and he had no intention of going down with the vessel. After finish- ing the dishes, he walked over to see Aunt Minerva, and she almost wept with joy when he suggested that he assist her a few hours each day and take his pay in butter, eggs, milk and vegetables. Democracy voted to buy supplies from the store in town because the Haines farm was the opposite way from the village and no ice cream or soda could be bought there. This stumped Monty for a day only. Then a heart-to-heart talk with the store- keeper, who could not fill the order him- self, enabled Monty to turn his farm prod- ucts into cash while Democracy paid the storekeeper middleman’s profits. Monty kept his eyes on his companions in the hours when they were together, but kept his opinions to himself. When Sam came home with a harmonica one evening, Monty was prepared for the discovery next day that Sam could not meet his assess- ment for the day’s supplies. “Who'll pay the storekeeper?” asked Monty. “You lend me the money,” suggested Sam, wheedlingly, “and I’ll pay you when we get back in the ’brella business.” “Borrow it from Snoot,” retorted Monty. RU it developed that Snoot had blown himself to an air-rifle and could spare nothing. No one else felt flush enough to serve as Sam’s banker, so it ended in their owing the money to the storekeeper. It took only three more days to bring about the catastrophe, and it was precipi- tated by the storekeeper’s refusal to de- liver any more goods except for spot cash. “I’m ready to pay my share,” declared Monty, when the woebegone Snoot re- turned empty-handed from town. “Come on, pay up, the rest of you.” “I can pay, too,” said Dick bravely, but something in his face betrayed him. “Have you enough saved to pay your fare home?” asked Monty pointedly. “T’ve just got my fare home,” admitted Tony. “Lordy!” wailed Sam, “I gotter walk home and mah shoes got holes in ’em!” A scrutiny of his comrades’ faces told the complete story of a decided money shortage. “Now, you fellows,” said Monty quietly, “go ahead and vote. Let-us see what good voting is.” “I vote that Monty lend us money to get home, and we'll make it all right with the umbrella business,” moved Snoot, brazenly. Monty smiled sardonically. “We all started equal, didn’t we?” he demanded; “and you’ didn’t want me to run you. Well, I haven't. I’ve been run- ning myself, and I honestly haven’t enough money to pay all your debts and your car- fares home. Now, what have you to say ?” “Gee! we're in a hole!” groaned Felix. “You bet you are,” admitted Monty. “Say,” began Snoot sheepishly. “Won’t you tell us what to do, Monty ?” It was the request Monty had been play- ing for. “Take a vote to see if the others want my advice,” said he. ’ +. The vote was unanimous; and then Monty had his say. “See here,” he commenced. “You thought you could get along just as well without anybody to do the real hard think- ing. Now you find you can’t, and you want Common Sense and Good Sense, twin brothers of the Sense family, are among the most enthusiastic advocates of Shredded Wheat as a regular food. It is whole wheat—100 per cent. Easily digested. Aids digestion and elimination of other foods. A great strength-builder. Never produces “that heavy feeling” after eating. A help, instead of an obstruction to brain work. TRISCUIT is the Shredded Wheat cracker—a real whole wheat toast—and is eaten with butter or soft cheese. The Shredded Wheat Company, Niagara Falls, N. Y. -L-A-S-T (C-A-L-L for Breakfast— in the Mess Hall of the DAN BEARD OUTDOOR SCHOOL To be a Woodcrafter, under the per- sonal guidance of that famous outdoor expert Dan Beard is the proud privilege of but few Selected Boys. Shall we count you in? Located on beautiful Pennsylvania mountain lake. All outdoor activities boys like. Sound mental, physical and spiritual training. No extra charge for tutoring. Expert instruc- tion in woodcraft and nature. Every boy receives continual care and in- dividual attention. Are you a real American boy? Then you should be with us. Are you not a good mixer? Join our school and we will make a REGULAR FEL- LOW of you. Are you weak? Come with us and we will make YOU STRONG. Do you want to be’a Scout? Come with us and we will SHOW YOU HOW. Do you want to be manly? Come to our camp and LEARN THE ART. Use coupon and be,sure to write your name and address plainly. Ask your parents to write for illustrated camp booklet. DAN BEARD OUTDOOR SCHOOL, 87 Bowne Avenue, Flushing, L. I. Please send full information about your Outdoor School and Camp to Seem eee SHEESH HHH HSE HHH EE HERE HEE HEHEHE HEHE EEES EHH HEHEHHHEESEHHEOHEEOES

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50 U. S. GOVERNMENT COMPASS For Sighting and Field Work Heavy Brass, Bronze hinged Case, cover. Slot opening provides means of sighting and determining direction accurately. Polished mirror attached inside cover reflects dial of compass when sight- ing without lowering instrument from eye. Compass is 2” in dia. Marked every 5 de- grees, numbered every 20. Luminous arrows distinguish all directions easily in the dark. For sighting and field work, sports- men, hunters, camp- ers, scouts, tourists, engineers, surveyors, and Radio telephon- | RADIO-LITE—Equigped for Night Work OUR PRICE $# “,' All Compasses Are New VALUE $10 TO $12 $5.50 Sent postpaid in U. S. or Canada with instructions for use. COMPASS CO., P. 0. Box 4536, Phila., Pa. Dept. 15 8 ARTICLES FOR 75c A sensational bargain for auto tourists, hunters, campers, Boy ~any one wanting a coubien. tion camping set at a 5 ea day oe prige only toe, pins we tee fro: —~—— UNITED STATES Dept. 13, 22 E. hiabama St. Ail Mlanta, 6 Ga. ‘English. You’ll Need the HANDBOOK in CAMP GET IT COST FREE Paper binding; revised edi- tion. This book has been thoroughly brought up-to- date, and contains the new requirements for many of the merit badges. Gener- ously illustrated; new cover with a famous Leyendecker design, in four colors. Given for selling only one NEW yearly sub- scription for BOYS’ LIFE (not your own or any renewal order). Total remittance $2.00. BOYS’ LIFE The Boy Scouts’ Magazine 200 Fifth Ave. New York City me to do the thinking for you; but you object if I get as much out of my brains as you do out of your arms and legs. Why should I waste my time with you? If I can earn only just as much as you, what’s the use of my worrying my head over your troubles? I can earn more on my own hook, because I can use my wits to make my muscles earn more. If I’m going to take over your troubles, it’s got to be made worth my while. You don’t want to walk home, and you want something to eat. Is that right?” They all agreed. “First thing, then, this is business, and there’s going to be no democracy in it. I’m boss. What I say, goes!” “Oh, I don’t know About that,” bled Snoot. “One more peep out of you, Snoot Sny- der, and I'll let you stew in your own grease. Snoot subsided in a hurry. “T’ve engaged the berry privilege on the Haines farm. I'll pay you fellows twelve cents a quart to pick berries for me. grum- How many want the job?” A’ grateful Democracy accepted. “In the second place,” went on the speaker “this democracy is bankrupt, and I’m going to be the receiver. I'll keep all the money, pay the bills and debts, and hold the rest for your carfare home. I’m going to keep strict account of what each fellow owes and earns; and when we get back home, I figure there ought to be some- thing left over for even the laziest. And, finally, I guess you’ve gotter admit that brains count most, so if you want me to have anything to do with making money for you any more—the umbrella and con- cert business, for example—my share’s got to be bigger than any other fellow’s. I could take half and you fellows dassent kick; but I’m only going to make my part twice as big as any other’s; and you ought to thank me for being so soft and easy. “Especially,” he added to himself when he was alone, “as I’m going to save up for that present for Miss Haines, because I’m sure not sore on her.” BOYS’ LIFE The ONLY Official BOY SCOUT KNIVES ARE MADE BY NEW YORK KNIFE CO. WALDEN, N. Y. No. 1 OUR LEADER Look on the shank of the blade before you buy for “HAMMER BRAND.” “Made to Cut and Stay Sharp” Schecen of han Cc setae from page 19) books. He was not adept at this and re- ceived poor wages, but it was better than nothing—and all the time he was studying English. On the East Side where he was there were not many people who could speak English so he went to other parts of the city, talked with policemen, subway guards, anybody he could find. He car- ried a dictionary in his pocket; he spelled out the words. And then he got a better job running a pleating machine. When a workman spoke to him he answered in They thought he was queer. They got along perfectly well without jabbering English all the time, so why shouldn’t he? The National Society of Colonial Daughters of Washington offered a prize of a bronze medal for the best patriotic essay submitted in English. One of the subjects assigned was George Washing- ton. Solomon went at it. He was now reading about George Washington in Eng- lish. He had ideas of his own and with his dictionary before him he began to write. He put feeling into it. He knew what it was to want to be free. This is the first paragraph : “To write about George Washington means to write the history of the birth of our own nation, the United States of America.” This is the last paragraph: “George Washington spread out the power of the United States in the West. In one word, the consequences of the revo- lution could have destroyed the thirteen colonies, but George Washington built upon the ruins a new and powerful coun- try. Washington stands among the great- est men of the world’s history. The his- torian of the English people, John Rich- ard Green, wrote about Washington that ‘No abler figure ever stood in the fore- front of a nation’s life.’ Even the British against whom George Washington fought, recognized him as great. They put the statue of George Washington in West- minster Abbey in London, where all heroes of England are placed.” The essays were sent to the committee of selection—professors, educators and the president of a college. Then one day a learned, dignified man with a slip of paper in his hand went up and down Avenue C looking for an address. He came to a tenement swarming with life and in sur- prise looked at the slip of paper. There must be some mistake; he went up the dirty, littered stairs and rang the bell. But there was no mistake. It was the right address. “I want you to come with me,” said the man and led the astonished Solomon to the school where he had learned English. There were many lights, the hum of voices; there were speeches and Solomon was brought out in front and a medal pre- sented to him—just one year after he had landed in America. He was a hero, but it did not spoil him. The next night after the ceremonies I found him in the library with a dictionary in front of him. “Now what are you going to do?” I asked. “T now know enough English to start to a school,” he said. “I’ve just begun.” And I believed him. Solomon is the kind of boy who keeps on. One of the Congressmen from New York heard about Solomon. He talked to him, read the essay. It is so good that he is going to tell Congress about it, and read it before the members and have it put in the Congressional Record. Solomon, however, will not be there to hear it read. He will be on Spring Street behind his whirring machine. But he won’t be there long. Solomon is not that kind. Dear Dan Bearp: I would like to know how I will be able to keep on as a scout while living in Mexico. About three years ago I joined a troop that was being formed in Herculaneum, Mo. (it was started by a Mr. Badgley of the Methodist Ministry), then after about one year as a scout I came to Mexico with my father, mother, sister and twin brother (my father is now the superintendent of the lead smelter that is here, about a mile from Torreon). I have now been in Tor- reon for two years and my brother and I are the only scouts here, except for two other boys we are the only American boys here. Then, in the meantime, the scout- master of the troop I joined has gone away and as far as I know the troop has just kind of dissolved. So you see I need help. I would like to ask you if I am still a Scout? When I left Herculaneum I had gotten my second class badge. Is there any way to get a Merit Badge in Mexico? Also how can I learn to swim, or is there any book telling how? Would a bull fight picture be all right to send in to the picture contest of the Boys’ Lire? I hope that it will not be too much trouble to you to answer this letter. Yours sincerely Frep W. Gopparp. Torreon, Coah., Mexico. You are still a scout. Become a Pioneer Scout. Our* Merit Badge Pamphlets on Swim- ming and Life Saving, 15 cents each, will help you. We are not interested in showing how any living creature is tortured for the recreation of any one. KEMPER MILITARY SCHOOL Develops the boy and trains him for leadership by a comprehensive sys- tem of athletic, military and general activities. All the courses of a large high school. Write for catalog. COL. T. A. JOHNSTON Superintendent 756 Third Street Boonville, Missourl Learn Cartooning The boys of today will be the successful cartoonists of the future. If you like to draw, start now to develop your ability by the Landon Picture Chart Method. Big Charts with each lesson of the Lan- don Course in Cartooning make original drawing easy to learn. Blosser, Pyles, Parks, Fung and scores of other boys took the Landon Home-Study Course and be- came successful cartoonists. Test Your Own Ability Find out whether or not you have the making of a suc- cessful cartoonist. Write for new Picture Chart which shows you how to test your own ability, and long list of successful Landon students. Please state your age. The LANDON SCHOOL Ci veiena, one” FISHBUR NE MILITARY SCHOOL £st. 1879. At foot of Blue Ridge Mountains. 1300 feet elevation. 4 hours west of Washington, D. Graduates ~_— leading Universi- ties and U. S. Academies without } AE “Instructor for every ten cadets. Public Cnn mg classes for all cadets. Gymnasium. Swimming Pool. All athletics. $250,000 barracks, een equip £1 Est. 1844 der U. 8S. War _ Depar Rate $600. Catalog. Address Major M. H. Hudgins, Prin. Box a Waynesboro, Va. " SQUAB BOOK FREE Make . or So squabs. Big demand, smal? supply. in one month. Write at once for ill- usnaied free book, prices, etc. Established oz years. — ROCK SQUAB CO. HS Melrose Highlands, Mass. HOW TO GET THE 1922 BOY SCOUT DIARY WITHOUT COST The Biggest Little Book in the World 256 Pages, Fully Illustrated UST send to BOYS’ LIFE, The Boy Scouts’ Magazine, the names and addresses of 10 boys between the ages of 12 and 16 WHO ARE NOT already “a for BOYS’ LIFE and who are NOT SCOUT Fill in the coupon below with your name and address, pin it to your list of not less than ten names (more if you know them) and mail at once. BOYS’ LIFE, The Boy — '/. ame 200 Fifth Avenue, New York, N. Gentlemen: I attach list of not less than 10 names and ad- dresses of boys who are not Scouts or BOYS’ LIFE subscribers. Please send me by return mail, cost free, the 256 page Scout Diary NAM cccccccccccccccccccesccccccescceccccccsccs

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The Boy Scouts’ Magazine Dear Dan BEarpD: Will you please answer these questions about tents? What style of shelter tent do you think would be best for two persons on a two weeks’ camping trip? 2. Should the tent be made out of 8 oz. duck or waterproofed unbleached cotton sheeting with a fly? Yours truly, SYLVESTER OLSON. Harmon, Minn. See the Handbook for Boys and the Camping Merit Badge Pamphlet; they answer both questions. Dear Dan BEarD: You are probably aware that the Amer- ican Humane Association is offering three prizes totalling $50 to the Boy Scouts who write the best essays on the protec- tion of animals. The rules for this con- test are fully described in the enclosed circular. give this matter publicity in your valu- able magazine and if you have any sug- gestions as to how I can have the contest drawn to the attention of Scout Exe- cutives, I shall be deeply grateful to you. Yours truly, Leopotp L. WILDER, Field Secretary, American Humane Society. Albany, N. Y Through the Scout Executive, the official magazine. Dear Dan BEarD: Please answer these questions for me: 1. Is the Pine Tree Patrol any special kind of patrol? I know that you will wish to - 2. If it is, what are they supposed to do? 3. Is it all right for a boy to have a hunting knife? EuGeNE HETTIGER. 435 N. 26th St., Louisville, Ky. 1. Yes, the Pine Tree Patrol system is a highly specialized patrol system invented by James E. Wilder and fully described in a little book written by Mr. Wilder called “The Pine Tree Patrol,” obtainable from the Supply Department, price 50 cents. The theory of the Pine Tree Patrol is that every boy shall have some special job for which he is particularly trained, with an understudy who can take his place at a moment’s notice. The Pine Tree sys- tem involves treking and various drills showing speed and efficiency and team play. There are several expert Pine Tree Patrols in this country. The Pine Tree outfit of Miami, Florida, took part in the International Jamboree in London in 1920. If its size complies with the law of your community. Dear Dan BEARD: My brother and I have invented a small article which we wish patented. Will you kindly advise us to whom to send it and how? Will it be necessary to pay a patent attorney if it is not accepted? Yours truly, Ho.uis A. INGALLS. Sherman Mills, Me. ‘ You can send to the U. S. Patent Office, Washington, D. C., for application for your patent and instructions as to filing your claim. Any attorney will help you if you need help. | ‘The I had ‘of Lake ‘Cheneiai | i — d aie page ” | him aside. He got out his pistol and brought it down. Lem’ dodged as best he could and the butt gashed his forehead. The blood spurted and he felt faint but he clung on with the blood in his eyes and his strength ebbing. Again the spy raised his weapon. He did not dare to risk a shot. His lips were bared showing his yellow, stumpy teeth. Foam showed at the corners of his mouth. Death was staring from his eyes. Lem’ thought he heard a distant shout and twined his legs about the man, lifting a feeble arm against the blow. It came down, crashing through his guard to the top of his skull. Everything became dark. One last thought flickered. He had failed. * * * E came to with his face wet with water, looking up dimly into the fea- tures of Warner who held his head on his lap. Over him loomed vaguely a familiar, worshipped form and the strong, grim fea- tures of Ethan Allen. It was _ twilight. He saw a star high up. There was a group of men standing about. Two held Simpson. There seemed to be about a hundred of them, Lem’ thought and then lost desire to look in the weakness that swept over him. He felt the neck of a canteen and he swallowed something that made him cough. Strength came back in a wave. “That’s a good lad. Now then, Lem’, what was it?” Now he saw his father beside Allen. Another tall and soldierly man spoke to the leader. “Foul play. The lad stopped him.” “Looks like it, Easton. He’s a plucky one. Warner told us of him. He was to have watched this fellow. Seems to have done it.” The words of praise were meat and drink to Lem’. He found his voice and told what had happened. Half an hour later he was eating in earnest with the leaders beside a fire. Others gleamed nearby. Simpson was not to be seen. They had talked of hanging, of shooting, but at Allen’s command they had bound him to a tree and left him for reflection and later judgment. Now they talked of how to surprise the Fort. “Lem’ knows the inside of it,” said Warner. “Tell us, lad.” - Lem’ described as best as he could and the grave men listened to every word. 1922 “You usually go in’through the sally- port?” said Allen. “There’s a heavy door ?’ “It’s opened at sunrise, sir, and a sentry posted.” . “Ah! Any cover there, my boy? Can we get up to it without being seen? We can make it just about dawn, I think.” “T’m sure -you can, sir. I can show you the way. I know it well.” “You can’t stand the march. You've lost a lot of blood.” “I’m all right.” Lem’s voice rang out. Allen pinched his arm. “You're a brave lad. We'll make a litter for you.’ The gray morning saw eighty men crouched in the passage of the sally-port waiting the boom of the sunrise gun. It rang out above them, echoed across the still lake. The door swung slowly open and Ethan Allen leaped through to grasp the astounded sentry whose musket went off, the bullet flying wide. In silence the patriots sprang across the parade and Allen thundered on the door of the commander’s chamber with the han- dle of his sword, shouting in his stentorian voice : “T demand an instant surrender !” Captain Delaplace appeared in small- clothes, his trembling wife behind him. “Your errand?” he demanded. Allen pointed to his stalwart men. “T order you to surrender.” “By what authority do you demand it?” Allen whirled his sword above the com- mander’s head. “By the authority of the Great Jehovah and the Continental Congress!” One hundred and twenty cannon, fifty swivels, two mortars, a howitzer, a cohorn, large quantities of ammunition including a large warehouse full of naval equipment— such was the loot of Fort Ticonderoga, guns that were to cause the evacuation of Boston that winter under the command of Wash- ington. Forty-eight men, women and chil- dren were sent to Hartford as prisoners of war. Fort Ticonderoga had fallen to a few officers and eighty men. To the plans and leadership of Ethan Allen, Seth Warner, Colonel Easton and Colonel Arnold, to the men of western Massachusetts and the Green Mountain Men, to the bravery and cleverness of Lem’ Brown, the Lad of Lake Champlain. Hub Cap Dise Wheel Dise Wheel Rubber Tires Steel Tires Self-contained Roller Beari::gs | Auto-type Auto-Wheel advantages make this Coaster the Fastest of ’Em All For fast, smooth riding you cannot beat the Auto-Wheel Coaster or Auto-Wheel Convertible Roadster. Each has self- contained roller bearings—which are thoroughly and completely greased at the factory. These bearings make your coaster the fastest of ’em all. The disc wheels are the latest type and have a special autotype hub cap, on which the word ‘“‘Auto” is em- bossed on the end. Reinforced rear axles and new front hound and support make for additional Auto-Wheel safety and com- fort. Either disc or spoke wheels fit all models of Coasters and Convertible Roadsters. Plan to get your Auto-Wheel Coaster or Convertible Roadster now. Send for free dime bank—and ask = the free six months’ subscription to the ‘‘Auto-Wheel he for live boys. Just send the names of three c Pw An dealers in your town, telling which one sells the Auto-Wheel. Then you will get your free dime bank and free magazine. Auto-Wheel Coaster Company 131 Schenck St. North Tonawanda, N. Y. Auto Wheel GET COST FREE FOR CAMP A 300-ft. Range EVEREADY SPOTLIGHT You know how useful a good spotlight is in camp or for night use or in darkness any time, anywhere. You want a good light and the Eveready manufacturers tell us that this 306. ft. range focusing flashlight is the most remarkable ever invented, being capable of throwing a brighter light a longer distance than was ever possible before—specially adapted for outdoor use. See Back Cover of this issue. SPECIFICATIONS Solid brass, heavily nickeled, silvered scientific con- centrating reflectors. Special Eveready Mazda Lamp of increased bril- liancy and power. Shock absorber to prevent breaking of Mazda Lamp if flashlight is accidentally dropped or jarred. In addition to usual “‘slide’”’ contact for continuous burning, both styles have “flash” contact for intermittent lighting. Exclusive device. Light instantly focused as desired, by turning end cap. End cap holds two extra Mazda Lamps so that your flashlight may not be put out of business when a lamps burns out. End cap stamped to show the renewal type num- bers for battery and Mazda Lamp required for this particular flashlight. GIVEN TO YOU You may have this splendid light for selling and sending to us only 4 NEW yearly subscriptions for BOYS’ LIFE (total remittance $8.00), or for 2 NEW yearly subscrip- tions and $2.00 (total $6.00), or for one NEW yearly subscription and $3.00 (total remittance $5.00). BOYS’ LIFE, The Boy Scouts’ Magazine 200 Fifth Avenue New York, N. Y.

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52 MYSET ¥ BETTER ? Is there some change I can make that will get me the distances others are getting? How can [ get sharper tuning with my present outfit? Is there some source of information about the newest hookups, the latest developments, improved types of aerial, that is really dependable and never grows old? Yes Lefees RADIO HANDBOOK just out, is the first real authority on all radio questions. It is the one source of radio information that is not opinions, not hearsay, but tells authentic facts! Its authors are Dr. J. H. Dellinger, Chief of the Radio Laboratory of the United States Bureau of Stand- ards and L. E. Whittemore, Alter- nate Chief. Lefax knows all—tells how. It gives the latest hookups, wiring-diagrams, the exact function of every piece of spperetes, both receiving and transmitting. It is technically correct in every day language. It gets right down to brass tacks with information that will help you duplicate the results that experts attain. Always new joke (leaf facts) Radio Handbook is loose leaf, It never grows old. All the newest develop- ments will be covered as soon as they happen on a series of new sheets, sent FP.EE to every owner up till July Ist, 1923. The price is $3.50 in a handsome six-rin binder. Considering the time, trouble an money Lefax will save you—the results it will help you get—the satisfaction of having the cream of radio research always at your Teont tips—Lefax is the best radio investment you could possibly make. Get your copy from one of the 300 Lefax agencies or ion your regular radio dealer. If he does not know about Lefax yet, order your copy through him or send us $3.50 direct and your hand- book will be sent postpaid. But be sure to t your handbook at once for a full year of fax service F — oo oe me LEFAX, INC. 159B South Ninth Street PHILADELPHIA, PA. Publishers of loose leaf handbooks on scores of scientific and technical subjects which are used as authorities by engineers, scien- tists, universities and technical schools throughout the country. TELEGRAPHY (Morse y. snleriees sr oa Tea a Oldest, te aes ee 4c Ieee aprecanites to ag nigy portion wCaralon atalog Book Sent F REE Nasri the wend en areet mounts birds, by mail. tanning skins, etc at mail. The free book tells how. ound ae | mam Fagg acinatiog, bug Pranie. com ont = t cor tres’ ry 7; delay. Lg weeks s now. With His ‘Hands Tied i (Concluded from cl 3) was successful; he passed from place. He made drawings and and put them under the insole of his shoe. At last he was ready to re- turn; the appointed night had come. He went to an inn and sat among the people chatting and talking, picking up what ad- ditional facts he could. He was elated. His plans had come out better than he had dared hope. A man passed through the room, stared at him and then passed out. His face seemed vaguely familiar and yet Nathan Hale could not recall it. He waited anxiously for a time, but as nothing hap- pened he dismissed the incident fromhis mind. After a time the man returned, but did not glance in Hale’s direction. The man mentioned casually that a boat could be seen offshore. After a few minutes Nathan Hale got leisurely up, paid his bill and then strolled away. As soon as he was out of sight he changed his direction and hur- ried toward the shore. Sure enough there was the ship and he started to run. Just then he heard a voice: “Hands up. Surrender or die.” His heart sank; he had been captured, captured when he was on the verge of success. Six British soldiers came up with their rifles leveled at him. He was a prisoner—a spy in the hands of the enemy. He knew what that meant. They found the drawings in his shoe. He knew what that meant. He was brought before the British general. There was no trial; he was condemned on the spot and turned over to a man named Cunningham, who was the lowest, meanest, most despicable man in the city. Cunningham boasted that he had caused the death of two thousand American soldiers. Oh, he was very proud of his record! He was the man who was to put Nathan Hale to death. Nathan Hale was led out. He asked to have a minister attend him in his last moments. Cunningham laughed; Nathan Hale requested a Bible ; Cunningham taunt- ed him. While they were preparing for the execution Nathan Hale wrote two letters, one to his mother and one to an old friend. “Will you please send these?” he asked. go. He place to diagrams Cunningham, the butcher, read them. The letters contained such high sentiments, such noble thoughts that they infuriated him. He tore them up A number of pon had gathered and when they saw how bravely Nathan Hale faced the end, tears came to their eyes. The women began to cry—and Cunningham began to bellow at them and call them vile names. All they had done was to cry at the sight of a young man going to his death. Cunningham taunted Hale by asking him if he was prepared to make his dying speech and confession. Nathan Hale made an answer that surprised the butcher; de- livered words that will last as long as American history. “T only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country,” he said quietly. Cunningham gave the signal. Nathan Hale’s hands were tied behind him and he was led to an apple tree. Against it was propped a ladder. He was made to go part way up it. A rope was placed around his neck and Cunningham gave another signal. The ladder was kicked out—and Cunning- ham had won another glorious victory. All Nathan Hale had won was the right to utter one sentence. Cunningham killed a few more men, cursed a few more women and then died. That was the end of him. Nathan Hale still lives. His body is dead, but his spirit is still here. I saw it flash up, as I told the story to Tony. His father and mother were too tired to know, to understand, but Tony was looking up at the quiet bronze face of the hero. saw him draw a deep breath, saw his shoulders straighten back, his arms BOYS’ LIFE | THE Rapio Reapinc Course RADIO SCOUTS Are you spending too much on radio becauseoflackof knowledge Because of lack of knowledge—you spend too much—you don’t get the right apparatus—you don’t get the utmost efficiency from apparatus—you don’t get all the pleasures of radio. In other words, because of lack of knowledge you don’t get real RESULTS. Don’t be satisfied with beginners’ results when you can have all the fun and profit of expert results. What you need is a thorough understanding of the whole subject of radio telephony. Written so you can understand it is all the technical data on radio reception in The Radio Reading ee Without long, tedious study, in Five Lecture Books, foremost radio engineer, inventor and a ‘‘father’’ of radio telephony takes you quickly and smoothly over the whole subject and in the end you have the radio knowledge you need to intelligently buy, design, build, repair and maintain your apparatus. The knowledge you acquire makes Radio easy, interesting, economical, profitable. Before you buy any more apparatus or a lot of different books and pamphlets get The Radio Reading Course, because it will save you a lot of money—many times the price of the Course. SPECIAL SCOUT PRICE If you fill in and send the attached order form at once you can take advantage of the Special Scout Price of only $3.75. But you must act at once. Do it now. Put it up to Dad. RADIO COURSES, Inc., Dept. A9 15 East 40th Street, New York, N. Y. Gentlemen: Herewith $3.75 for which forward at once the Radio Reading Course, complete in Five Lecture ooks. This is the special Scout price. STREET go back. “I wish I could die like that,” he said. | That was all; Tony was not a talkative | person. A good many persons passing probably didn’t notice Tony standing there looking up at the man with his hands tied behind him, but I noticed it. I don’t suppose Tony will ever die that way—I pray there will be no more wars !— but I hope he will live that way. That is almost as great. And I believe Tony will. I have great faith in Tony. Rubbieh | ee | vane stein snail 11) | “Will you boys agree to keep quiet about it?” “Sure,” replied Ralph cheerfully. “And how about you, Lyn?” “It spoils the fishing—ali that rubbish. It’s—it’s dangerous, too.” Again ‘Lyn’s face turned a fiery red, but this time it did not matter. Mayor Hardwick looked at the boy sharply. Then suddenly he laughed for the first time since the engine had stopped. ‘That’s how it is, is it? Well, perhaps, —yes, I'll do what I can to stop it. I don’t know but you're right.” He could still hear the murderous swish of that sew- ing machine. “But, remember, it’s a bar- gain. Not a word! And another thing, | other boat,” | the ’ll need some clean clothes—” “We'll get ’em for you,” said both boys eagerly. “We'll hike back and come down in an- added. Lyn. And so, there on the shore, the three shook hands, and when Lyn and Ralph were out of hearing they laughed until the tears made tiny rivers on their dusty faces. The Mayor attended the meeting at Rippleton that eveniag. He missed the banquet, and when three of the mayors from towns farther down the river made | formal protests against dumping rubbish into the stream, he rose and made one of straight-from-the-shoulder speeches for which he was famous. He was glad to be able to say that the town was on the point of abandoning the system, which for cer- tain reasons had not proved entirely suc- cessful. And he did not blame his fellow mayors for protesting. There is good fishing in the eddies be- low the bridge now, and Lyn and Ralph spend much of their spare time there. It is true that they occasionally pull up an old shoe or a rusty can, but the circum- stance only makes them grin and look back at the high concrete bridge. The town of Gainsborough is really the finest place in the world for a boy to live in. A Wastouener (Continued Suitand Lana bet of the stator tube through a hole in the baseboard. Do the same with the top, or outgoing, wire of the rotor tube, again allowing sufficient wire to permit of free rotation. Now adjust the rotor so that it is exactly in the middle of the stator and saw off the projecting dowel, flush with the outside of the stator, on one side, and % inch from the outside of the stator on the opposite side. Saw the wooden knob in two and fasten the small half to the flush end of the dowel with a screw and the large half to the opposite end of the dowel by boring a hole in the knob, filling the hole with glue and thrusting the knob over the projecting 4 inch of the dowel. When complete your variometer should look like the drawing Fig. 1. The hook-up for this element using a crystal detector is shown in diagram 2. Tuning is effected by rotating the rotor a | CITY & STATE little at a time till the right point is reached. Give Your Radio Set High Quality At Small Cost Security Radio Sockets have positive wiping contact against sides of locking springs, forming a firm, dust- less connection. Brass and nickeled shell and nuts. Base of highly polished hard rubber. Binding posts instead of screws for greater con- venience and efficiency. May be mounted on front or back of panel. Price $1. Security Amplifying Transformers are correctly de- signed with the proper ratio of turns between the primary and secondary coils and have the cor- rect impedence to work best with modern audion tubes, Are neat and compact; two styles: Completely mounted with supporting brack- ets, connecting block and binding posts with primary and secondary indicated $5 Semi-mounted, assembled with supporting brackets, but without connector block and binding posts $4.25. At your Dealer’s or mailed direct if he cannot supply you. THE F. BISSELL COMPANY 801 Lafayette St., Toledo, Ohio Great for Camping Segating. Bt Hiking, ng. Busting, foe tt D E ERFOO = PORTMOX Easy, flexible. In ——— Elk Leather . ome = or pe back. nd see size and money llustrated is onl ant — ey — a a

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The Boy Scouts’ Magazine The apparatus is at its fullest capacity when rotor and stator are parallel to each other, with the wires running in the same direc- tion. It is evident from the construction of this element that tuning to a given wave- length may be varied to a nicety. Fig. 3 shows the method of wiring rotor and stator. Now we come to the matter of wave- lengths, etc. If your antenna is long, you may have to introduce a variable condenser between the outgoing wire and ground. If short, you may have to add one or more turns to the stator, and, if possible, to the rotor as well. The probability is, however, that your wiring is adequate, and that if you make any changes it will be in the way of cutting down your inductance by removing wires from the tubes, or (what amounts to the same thing) by increasing the capaci- tance of your system by adding a variable condenser “in series” to the ground wire of the set. Just what you may have to do depends | entirely upon the conditions under which you are operating. Simply remember that if you do not get results your antenna is | either too long or too short. If too long, take off wires or add a variable condenser at the point marked X in Fig. 2. If too short, add more turns of wire to the stator, or, better still, lengthen the antenna itself. Generally speaking, it is better to add a condenser than to remove wires from the tuner, because the addition of a condenser increases the capacitance, whereas the re- moval of wires both reduces inductance and capacitance as well. Moreover, a variable condenser is an excellent adjunct in tuning. No. 22 or 24 cotton-covered copper wire

should be used in winding the variometer here described.

‘The Black Wolf Pack | (Continued — page 13)

SS

a mountain lion or collar some fresh meat t’ start camp with,” said he as he slid off his horse and took the leashes off the dogs. It took us but a short time to arrange our camp, then Big Pete followed by the frisking dogs. slipped silently into the woods. He was gone scarcely a quarter of an hour when he reappeared again with- out the dogs, motioned for me to get my gun and follow him. “Tha’s elk signs all ’bout,” he said, the muts broke away on a fresh trail. Now you an’ me’ll climb through that draw yonder and hide out on the runway till they drive an elk in gun shot. Come along.” I followed eagerly and presently we had climbed through a thickly grown poplar grove and found a suitable hiding place among the small poplars. We had the wind right and a clear view of most of the open park. Big Pete stooped down and motioned for me to do likewise. CROUCHED quietly beside him and waited. In front of us was a small lake, deep, dark and unruffled, and all about was the wilderness or silent wood. An eagle, on apparently immovable wings, soared over the lake in spiral course. As I watched the bird, its wings seemed suddenly en- dowed with life. At the same instant my guide gave a low grunt of warning. “What is it?” I asked in a whisper, for there was a strange expression in my companion’s eyes. “It’s—it’s him, so help me!—Keep yer cars open and yer meat-trap shut!” growled Pete. I did so. The trained ear of the hunter had detected the sound of crackling twigs and swishing branches made by. some ani- mals in rapid motion. “Ah!” I] exclaimed, “the dogs.’ You startled me ; I though it was Indians.” “Tt wish it was nothing wuss,” muttered my guide, as he examined his weapons with a critical eye and loosened the cartridges for his revolvers in his belt to make sure. that they would be easy to pluck | out. “Those hain’t our dogs, mister,” he re- marked after he had examined his whole arsenal. As I again fixed my attention on the noise, in place of the resonant voice of the hounds, I heard nothing but the crack- ling of the branches, with an occasional half-suppressed wolf-like yelp. Big Pete turned pale and muttered, “It’s them for sartin; it’s them agin! And I hain’t been drinkin’, nuther !” Big Pete Darlinkel remained crouching in exactly the same pose he had first as- sumed, but his face looked sallow and worn. I marveled. Was this big westerner really awed by the situation we were facing? What disaster impended? My guide’s eyes were fixed upon an opening in the woods and I knew that some- thing would soon bound from that spot. I could hear the crashing of brush and half-suppressed wolf-like yelps, followed by a pause, then a rushing noise, and out leaped as beautiful a bull elk as I had ever seen—in fact the first I had ever seen at close range in his native wilder- ness. I had only time to take note of his muscular neck, clean cut limbs, his grand branching antlers, when not our dogs but a pack of immense black wolves broke from cover almost at the elk’s heels. I instinctively brought my gun to my shoul- der. But before I could draw a bead Big Pete struck it, knocking the muzzle up. “Hist !” he exclaimed, pointing to the bird. The eagle screamed, descended like a thunderbolt and skillfully avoiding the branching antlers, struck the elk, driving one talon into the neck and the other into the back, flapping its huge wings as it tore with its beak at the body of the elk like a trained “bear coote.” I was thunderstruck. The evident part- nership of the wolves and the bird needed explanation and it was not long in coming. A shrill whistle pierced the air, the black wolves immediately ceased to worry the elk, the eagle soared overhead, and for an instant the elk stood -confused, then leaped high in the air and fell dead. The next moment I heard the crack of a rifle and saw a puff of blue smoke across the lake. “That’s no ghost,” I said, when partly recovered from my astonishment. “Wait,” said Pete laconically. Not long afterward there was a move- ment among the wolves and, noiseless as a panther, the figure of a man lithe and youthful in every movement slipped to the side of the dead elk. He made no noise, uttered no word to the fierce black animals that sat with their red tongues hanging from their panting jaws, but with- out a moment’s hesitation whipped out a knife and with a dexterity and skill that brought the color to Big Pete’s face, pro- ceeded to take the coat off the deer, while the great eagle perched upon the branching antlers. The skin was removed and with equal dexterity all the best parts of the meat were skillfully detached and packed in the green hide, after which, removing a large slice of red flesh, the strange hunter held up a finger. One of the wolves gravely walked up to him, re- ceived the morsel, gulped it down and retired. Each in turn was fed, then the great bird flopped on his shoulder and was fed from his hand, and before I could realize what had happened the man, the wolves and the eagle had disappeared, leaving nothing but the dismembered carcass of the elk to remind us of the strange episode. (To be continued in August Boys’ Lire).

Lolited Ly — KENDALL BANNING every boy is eager to know. the U. S. Secret Service. inventor, Dr. Steinmetz. principal feature in the $1.50 a year. miss the big July number. newsstand. Popular Radio, Inc.,

HERE IS A BIG, New Interesting Radio Magazine, Chock Full of the Stirring Articles Every Live Boy Wants to Read. Popular Radio The July number, just out, contains 14 special feature articles, every one of vital, timely interest to all radio “fans. Here are just a few of them: How to Learn the Code—a full and clear explanation of something The Secret Service of the Air—a thrilling story of the use of radio in There Are No Ether Waves—a surprising article by the famous electrical Radio: the World’s Peacemaker by Will Irwin. August number by Raymond Perry— What the Boy Scouts Are Doing with Radio. In addition to such splendid special features, POPULAR RADIO will keep you fully informed on the many marvelous discoveries and new developments in radio, besides giving you practical information and in- struction on every detail of radio installation and operation. POPULAR RADIO is a monthly, handsomely illustrated; it costs only Send in subscription now and you'll be sure not to You may purchase a single copy at any Fifteen Cents per Copy To any real boy who wants to make a good fund of extra money during his vacation, POPULAR RADIO can offer him a real opportunity. You can get all the details of the plan by writing the Boys’ Department, care of 9 East 40th St., New York And look out for the

The HOME RADIO How to Make and Use It By A. HYATT VERRILL At last! A simple explanation of the making and use of a home radio outfit. Every step in construction is carefully directed and illustrat- ed with numerous working diagrams, Get your copy today. A cloth bound book. Postpaid for 75 cents. “Broadcasting Guide” 25 cents RADIO EDUCATIONAL SERVICE B—Sth Ave.—R 416 N. Y. C.

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HIS FREE catalogue tells you the kind of a Wireless Telephone to own, so that you receive in your own home all the latest news, music, church services, lectures—everything broadcasted throughout the United States. Every home will soon have a wireless tele- phone outfit. We now offer complete outfits from $15 up. Everyone interested in radio should see our low a on parts and accessories. Write for this book. about the miracle invention of the age. yz to install, as simple to operate as a regular telephone. One copy of this booklet is yours, free. Write for your copy. Address Dept. R-8 Montgomery Ward & Co. Chicago

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Ting = DEVELOPED

Have You a Camera? Write for free sample of our big mamnain, showing how to make better AMERICAN tures and earn CAN PHOTOG HY 464 Camera House Boston 17, Mass.

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The end of a perfect howl— ‘THE squalls of a two year old are as music to the ear beside the howling dem- onstration put up by a fractious radio set. And how a set can howl unless one offers the soothing in- fluence of the proper am- plifying transformer. Most any transformer can amplify sound, but it will also amplify the stray fields which produce howling and distortion. It takes the Acme Amplifying Transformer with its specially constructed iron core and coil to put an end to the howls and yowls. Only when you add the Acme do you get the realistic tone and volume so markedly absent in the ordinary radio re- ceiving set. The Acme Radio Frequency Transformer greatly increases the range of any receiving set, either vacuum tube or crystal detector type. The Acme Audio Frequency Transformer _ pro- duces not only volume, but reality of tone. It is indispen- sable to the satisfactory opera- tion of loud speaking devices. The combination of one or more stages of Acme Radio and Audio Frequency Transformers assures the maximum of range, of vol- ume and of reality in tone. The Acme Apparatus Com- pany, pioneer radio engineers and manufacturers have _per- fected not only Radio and Audio Frequency Transformers as well as other receiver units and sets, but are recognized as the fore- most manufacturers of Trans- mitting Apparatus for amateur Sold only at the best purposes. radio stores. The Acme Ap- aratus Company, Cambridge, " U. S. A. New York Sales Office, 1270 Broadway. Type A-2 Acme Amplifying Transformer oe $5 (East of Rocky Mts.) ACME for amplification — > 2 BUILD IT YOURSELF! Standardized Plans are amazingly simple and com- plete in all details—by using them you can own a beautiful boat at least possible cost Various fine motor and rowboat models. You've never seen any- thing like them—post card brings interesting boat foider. STANDARDIZED BOAT CO., Dept. Al, Kutztown, Pa. N ational Geunsit ‘Ne ews — 06s page 26) as Visual Instructor in the Public Schools. His work was such that the Pathé Ex- change, Incorporated, called him to New York City as Director of its educational department. Mr. Mills brings to the Scout Movement a wide experience in boys’ work. The Chief Scout Executive has been to Washington several times during the past few months in connection with the further- ance of the Strong Bill, which, if passed, will make Army and Navy equipment avail- able for Boy Scout use. _Mr. George D. Pratt, our Treasurer, since the inception of the Movement in this country, has just returned from an ex- tended trip, part of which has been spent Africa and Egypt. Mr. Pratt took oc- cation upon this journey to extend greet- ings of the Boy Scouts of America to the Scout Organizations whose members he met. At a meeting of the National Court of Honor, held May 23rd in New York City, revised requirements for the Hornaday Medal for Wild Life were approved. The committee decided that the regulations which had been in existence for the last five years were impossible of attainment by scouts and a new medal was approved and practically the same requirements were kept, but it was understood that the Na- tional Court of Honor should judge as to the quality and quantity of the work to be done by a scout as compared with that necessary for an expert to accomplish in order to secure a regular medal which had previously been provided. At this meeting a report was made of the honor medals awarded for the year to date as follows: HONOR MEDAL APPLICATIONS Awarded Since Annual Report GoLp Sandpoint, Idaho Spokane, Washington SILveR Ray Farnim, William Johnson, Allen Turner, Atlantic City, N. J. Tr. 8 Andre LeDoux, Readville, Mass. Tr. 1 Antone Amaral, New Bedford, Mass. Tr. 7 Harry Jaggers, Chester, Pa. 7 * Oscar Paysee, New Orleans, La. Tr. 79 Bronze Edward J. Kinney, Cleveland, Ohio Tr. 9 Lee Rogers, Millville, N. J. Tr. Eddie Burton, Columbia, Ss. C Tr. 1 Robert Wright, Columbia, S. C. ze 8 Ray Welborn, Columbia, S. - ; John Johnson, Columbia, S. C ate 3 Benj. S. Kaufman, Fall River, -. Tr. Thaddius Plecinoga, Salem, Mass. 2. W. Shelton, Conn, Tr. Kalamazoo, Mich, Tr. Baltimore, Md. Tr. 1 Youngstown, Ohio Tr. Sioux City, lowa Tr. William Rollinson, Robert Bennett, Bernard Thompson, Charles Higby, Alvin Oquist, Wee the PRR Wh UW NN NUNN Austin hompson, Bloomington, III. Tr. Albert H. Oylman, Baltimore, Md. Tr. Anthony Gafke, Roseville, Mich. rid Alfred Montelius, Piper City, Ill, Tr. Holgar Henell, Fitchburg, Mass. Tr. Cleo Powers, Rochester, N. Y. Tr. LetTER OF COMMENDATION ue Wayne Bierly, Fremont, Ohio a 2 Alvah C. Walton, Jr. Needham, Mass. =~ 3 Ernest R. Lunt, Wilmington, Del. Tr. 47 Nelson Meeks, Wilmington, Del. Tr. 47 Dixon Rhoades, Altoona, Pa. y Alden Harter, Auburn, N. Y. a 4 Rocci Fasano, San Jose, Calif. Tr. 15 Joseph B. Mack, Jr., Rutledge, Pa. me 3 Martin Silva, Chico, Calif. —_ 2 Leo W. Tobin, Rochester, N. Y. Tr. 62 Harry Randall, WwW ilmington, -_ me ye 3 Martin Diver, Detroit, Mich. Tr. 35 Leif Simonson, Detroit, Mich. Tr. 107 Leon Hill, Cincinnatus, N. Y. Tr. 1 National Conference of State Parks The Chief Scout Executive addressed the National Conference of State Parks on May 24th on “The Value of Recreational Areas to Advancement of Health and De- velopment of American Youth.” Mr. West explained how the Scout Movement had given a new impetus among Americans to living out of doors after reaction from rugged pioneer life to cities, roofs and over- refinements of civilization. This meeting was held at the Bear Moun- tain camp site where over 2,000 camp daily While this is the largest boys’ camp in the world, he ex- plained that over 300 camps with capacity for nearly 40,000 scouts were maintained. during the summer season. This number included only camps under first class councils. Mention was made of the growing tend- ency to use State and National Parks for camping purposes throughout every part of the United States, and especially the use made of them by the Boy Scouts of Amer- ica. Not only was the use of the camps of the National Parks and Forests mentioned, but the methods of co-operation of scouts and Scout officials was thoroughly pre- sented to the Conference. In concluding he brought the recommendation adopted at the Twelfth Annual Meeting of the National Council, recently held in Chicago, to the attention of those present: “That all local camp organizations co- operate with the State Conservation and Forestry Departments in the improvement of camp sites and protection of forestry property in the neighborhood of Scout camps, and that they be prepared to offer their services in fighting forest fires, clear- ing fire trails, and in tree planting for re- forestation, in recognition of the expert training thus received.” The American Legion Renews Its Interest in Scouting Thanks to Commander MacNider’s vigor- ous leadership in urging legionnaires to in- terest themselves in Scouting, considerable progress has been made in developing Scout troops under the sponsorship of Legion Posts. National Council officers conferred on this subject with Mr. Alvin M. Owsley, Director of the Americanism Commission of the American Legion, and plans are now under consideration for increasing the Scout leadership by the members of the American Legion. National Director of Education to Conduct Camps in France Lorne W. Barclay, Director of The De- partment of Education, sailed for France on June 14th to conduct Scout camps of the devastated regions under the auspices of the American Committee. Many of the boys who participate in these French camps do so as the guests of troops of American Scouts who have contributed $25.00 for that purpose. If your troop is interested in making it possible for some Frerch boy in the war-stricken area of France to have benefits similar to those of the scouts in this country they should send a check for $25.00 to the American Committee for Devastated France, in the care of the Edu- cational Department at National Head- quarters. Plans for Season Camps Mr. L. L. McDonald, National Director of the Camping Department, has just re- turned at the close of a series of eleven conferences on “Planning for the Season’s Camps.” Seventeen States were represented in this conference held in the following centers: New Haven, Conn.; Worcester, Mass.; Boston, Mass.; Newport, R. I.; Jackson, Mich. ; Chicago, Ill.; Decatur, IIl. ; Iowa City, Iowa; Lincoln, Nebr., and Wichita, , Kansas. Reports of the camps conducted last year ‘indicated over 200,000 Boy Scouts at- tended summer camps and the prospects for the coming season are that there will be a decided increase in this number on account of the added facilities, better understanding of the Scout Program in camps by parents, and greatly increased enrolment in Scout troops during the last year. Mr. Lorne W. Barclay, Director of the Department of Education, attended some of these meetings in the western cities in the interest of Scouting. in connection with educational institutions. a ni Pr *. a) OF} eee BOYS’ LIFE Boys! Save Half On Your Radio Following is a list of ALL the parts you need (except storage battery) to make a high grade, efficient Radio Receiving Set, with the low prices which our ex- tensive facilities enable us - — 2 Variometers DORSE. oc cccccces 1.00 (moulded) ...... 915.00 i bulb (uv. 200)... 5.00 1 1 Formica panel... 3.00 1 Grid leak 2 condenser ..... 1 1 pr. Murdoch pe 2 > - &. (2000 ohms)... 12 contact points.. -36| 1 B-Battery 8 binding posts.. -80 (22 volts)..... 1.10 1 rheostat......... - 1.00 — Total....... $44.26 Complete as Illustrated $40.00 We will send you, promptly upon receipt of $40.00, all these parts, as listed, with full, simple instruc- tions for assembling. If you bought an assembled Receiving Set ange ys of precisely the same parts, it would cost you $90.00. gl ~ work yourself—it is not difficult—and oe $50.0 Do not confuse this with the _ unreliable as- sembled sets. Every article listed above is a most ex- cellent type of apparatus. If you need parts, we will furnish any of the above at the prices quoted. You can probably get your storage battery from a local dealer. If desired, we will supply one for $14.50. Send remittance with order and we will ship at once,- express prepaid. Brooklyn Wireless emma * & Supply Co. 876a Flatbush Ave. ooklyn, New York Receiving Set With Constat Phones 3] 2% yar, ead!° $12.50 Receiving Set, { fou bury te Including C. All the wonderful pesca heme of the radio programs on this dandy set. Comprises double slide tuning coil, adjustable crystal detector, condenser and Constat headphones, all connected, ready for use. All materials carefully made and tested. You couldn’t possibly make this set yourself for less than Nip Bouane can get it complete for just $12.50 + Set... $7. tof $ Separately ) Phones $8.00 Outfit 12.50 AERIAL OUTFIT - Ne feet Stranded Copper Wire 6 Composition Insulators $1.65 This wiro sells any- where for 85c, and the insulators for at least 1.50. Sent to your door, ready for making your aerial, for just $1.65. y Save time, labor, and considerable money. Send postal or express money order. Every item guaranteed to give sat- isfaction. BANISTER & POLLARD 206 Market St., Newark, N. J. GRAFLEX-KODAKS Cameras and Lenses of e description. Equaltonew. Savemoney. Write now for Free Bargain Book en and cee 4 hundreds ots Gaye’ Free Tr Sree i bor co dealing with us. TS on Every Boy Scout needs one of these lamps. Powerful, white light; bril- liant as searchlight. Can be carried or hooked on belt. Only a limited quantity remains unsold; no _ more obtainable at price. Burnished brass, . Nickel-plated, 60c, postpaid. Write for. Lamp & Lantern 224 Taaftte Pl.. Brooklyn, N. Y. RAISE BELGIAN HARES BIG PROFITS, Swe Pay § PAY Lhe 60 TO soT0set eAGn: ore, Sot e ‘Catalog and here, 8, RE! E ‘% ‘ Hostrated, book Sito a SENSE RAB America’s leading smail stock magazine, al! ie. 10 ‘cents. ai Aldea itdoor » KANSAS CITY, Enterprise Co., 1002 0. E. BLDG ae ee A wie UES LION nO Sater. with Free let showing 26 eren' problems, joach with a fanny little rhyme rall for $0 ete. contend July i i i ii tte [7.4 =. - + 4 a=

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“es The Boy Scouts’ Magazine SO *PRSBREREG LARS See this wedge in the Plumb Scout Axe (Patent applied for) It keeps the handle always tight, with a turn of.the screw. It is the only wedge that gives you an easy way to retighten the handle. No scout axe is complete without this new wedge—and no axe ex- cept the Plumb can have it. Be sure your axe is correct. Get the original Plumb Scout Axe, the one you have always known as official equipment. Look for the red handle, the black head, and the name PLUMB. $1.50 Complete with im- proved leather sheath Sold by national headquarters and by hardware dealers everywhere. If your dealer can’t supply you, write us. FAYETTE R. PLUMB, Inc. Philadelphia, U. S. A. ; Wall Tents ¢ BOYS!!¥43 This is a real bargaia. These tents are 5 ft. by 5 ft., with 2 ft. wall. Made of 8 oz, heavy white canvas. Complete with poles, stakes and rope, ready to set up. The regular price of these tents is $7.50. FREE—Send for our illustrated catalog on tents. BARNETT CANVAS GOODS CO. Dept. B7, 41 N. 11th St., Philadelphia, Pa. - IN CAMP YOU’LL WANT ONE OF THESE WATCHES FROM BOYS’ LIFE THE GLOWNITE WATCH ie . ” “Shows Time in Darkness A sturdy carefully made timepiece. 16 size nickel case. The hands and nu- merals are coated with a substance con- taining genuine radium. Guaranteed. Rigid construction and insulation in- sures timekeeping in spite of jars, jolts and rough usage. Given for selling one NEW yearly BOYS’ LIFE subscription (not your own) and $1.00 (a total remittance of $3.00), or for two new yearly subscrip- tions and only 50 cents (total $4.50) or the Paramount SILVERED DIAL The Paramount is not a night watch but it has the special advantage of a face which can be read at any angle. This fine watch will be given you for selling only one NEW yearly subscrip- tion and sending 75c (total remittance $2.75) or for two NEW yearly sub- scriptions and only 25c (total remit- tance $4.25). BOYS’ LIFE, aioe © Bor MANE, 200 Fifth Avenue, a... York. N 1922 Sr i &s % CALLY the new Austrian “Music” stamps deserve the high- est commendation. Probably nothing finer has been done in this class of designing. The set consists of seven varieties bearing portraits of fa- mous composers, beginning with Haydn on the 244 crown value followed by Mozart on the 5 crown, Beethoven on the 7% crown, Schubert on the 10 crown, Anton Bruchner on the 25 crown, Johann Strauss the younger on the 50 crown and Hugo Wolf on the 100 crown. Very naturally and correctly the sequence follows the artistic triumph of these famous compos- ers. Most of the names are familiar but Bruchner and Wolf, which are perhaps not so well known in this country. The former wrote a number of symphonies and died in 1896. An edition of Wolf’s songs has been published by a well known New York firm. The stamps are being sold at several times their face value, the surplus. to be devoted to some charitable purpose. Two thousand kronen seems a lot to pay for the set till we translate it into our own money which, at the prevail- ing rate of exchange would amount to be- tween twenty-five and thirty cents. The names of the musicians do not appear on the stamps, the only inscription being “Oestereich” at the top and the value in a panel in the lower part of the design. The portraits are set in ovals. =N ? PPROVALS, advertised by most dealers, are sheets or books of mount- ed stamps each separately priced and sent on request to any possible purchaser, the idea being that selections shall be made and the remaining stamps then returned with sufficient money to cover the amount of the purchase. Prices are usually marked at a discount from the standard catalogue of between ten and seventy per cent. For the beginner, packets are likely to show a greater return for the amount invested. If you happen to find duplicates of those already in your collection they can be stored away in a stock book for trading or possible resale. The approval sheet is of more practical service to the advanced collector who has begun to fill in certain pages in his album and is looking for the missing varieties. Sets that lack one or more stamps are often filled by this method. Even rarities are submitted on approval sheets or in books, stamps that may be priced at full catalogue or even beyond the listed valuation. AND now you are very likely to ask how the standard of price is reached. It is no easy task, especially in the case of rarities, to decide just what it should be. Values are to a large degree established by the results of auction sales. Like every- thing else that is bought and sold, supply and demand are the controlling "factors. A certain early American stamp which is extremely rare in a used condition hap- pened to be offered recently at two auc- tions and brought in one case $65.00 and in the other over $500.00. How much would you say the stamp was worth? Of course, supply cuts in now and then to upset an established price as in the case of a government disposing of its stock of an issue that has been superseded by a new design. When the next catalogue is printed these stamps are reduced to the current market value. On the other hand, there will be a run on certain varieties exhausting the dealer’s stocks and sending prices up. An upward tendency must be the natural one as in time the issues are absorbed. There are said to be half a million collectors in the United States alone. PS her more prosperous days before the world war, Russia’s silver ruble was - worth about 61 cents. The paper currency ruble of which there was a vast quantity in circulation had an exchange value of between 48 and 50 cents. Today we re- IT TAKES TIME sy TOMAKEASTAMP - es i Gossip For COLLECToRS by OrrinW. Simons ceive letters bearing postage stamps that eost the sender as much as 22,500 rubles! The receding tide of value is indicated by a 40 ruble issue that has been surcharged 10,000 rubles. Just think what that would mean in our own money. 2,500 rubles at the old rate would be over $11,000. Quite a luxury to send a letter! No all the high prices for stamps were achieved at the famous Ferrari vale in Paris. Quite recently in Philadel- phia a United States one cent postage stamp of the issue of 1861 was bid up at auction to $540. Think of it. A little oblong bit of paper that would not be of enough actual value to send a sealed letter through the mail bought and paid for at a higher price than the cost of a certain famous automobile that rambles right along, and with still a few dollars re- | maining to buy gas and oil with. Which would you rather have? i ytd that the United States has gone into the philatelic business, it is inter- esting to learn that the issue surcharged for use in China may be bought in Wash- ington and, further, that the present sets that are offered for sale are evidently pre- pared to supply the demand of collectors as they are overprinted on a different series of stamps from those that were sent out to China. How does this fit in with our ideas of collecting, to buy a set of these labels presumably prepared for use in a certain foreign country yet never hav- ing left our own shores? Incidentally, after the beginning of next year China will take charge of her own postal service. This will eliminate Japan, Great Britain, France, Italy and the United States, leaving pnly Russia, which may still continue to operate her post office at Harbin, Manchuria. Scout Colin Boger writes’ to know which country has issued the greatest 1umber of stamps surcharged for provi- ional uses. Turkey stands at the head of the list. As far back as 1865 the prac- tice was resorted to by that country. At hat time the issues were legitimately over- printed but in the past few years great stocks of remainders have been surcharged with the sole purpose of selling to collec- ors. There are many who will not in- clude these issues in their collection be- cause of their purely speculative charac- er. Hungary, with 601 surcharged issues up to the latter part of 1921, is a close second to Turkey with its 844 varieties. Nicaragua, Salvador, Greece, all have long lists under this head. Hayti and Italy night also be mentioned. Russian stamps have been extensively over-printed for use in other countries, mainly in those bor- dering states once part of the empire. It is always difficult to identify counter- (Concluded on page 56) These instructions must be followed, other- 7 pictures will not be considered: Pictures must be taken by the contestant Pm related to Scouting directly or indirectly. Directly: Activities of scouts, hiking, cam- paign work, etc. Indirectly: Animal and other nature studies. 2. Photographs for any contest must reach the editor before the 10th of the second month preceding the date of publication. The com- petition is open to all readers of Boys’ Lire. 3. Name and address of sender should be written on back of picture. Pictures without names will not be considered. Do not send let- ters. Do not send negatives. 4. Pictures will not be returned unless a stamped and addressed envelope is enclosed. 5. The Art Editor of Boys’ Lire will act as judge of the photographs submitted. 6. A prize of $5.00 will be awarded to the picture or group of pictures from one contest- ant, judged the best, and a dollar will be paid for every other photograph accepted and pub- lished. Pastosraghe accepted and published be- come the property of Boys’ Lire. S79 + SUNWATCH A Compass and Sun Dial Boy Scouts and all out-door people need a compass. Get an Ansonia Sunwatch and have both Compass and Sundial in one. Tells time by the Sun. Thin, satin- finished brass case, with latitude, longi- tude and variation tables on inside cover. If you cannot get it from your dealer, send us a dollar attached to this adv. with your name and address below. ANSONIA CLOCK COMPANY 99 John Street Dept. C New York Manufacturers of Fine Clocks for Half a Century IN ico is osu idise ceca ad ooh shana race alan a kB Gc a American watch not adjusted for Canadian latitude and longi- tude. Canadian price $1.50. Distributors, The Goldsmiths Company of Canada, Lid., 50 Yonge St., Toronto, Canada. ~a belt FirstAid Case for each Scout ~ The case you have long wanted —provides every- thing needed by individual Scouts for first aid work ¥¢ when away from supplies. Simple—Compact— Complete —Packed in dust proof metal box with khaki duck carrying case to wear on pelt. Should last indefin- itely. Can be refilled! ded Jost bat Bovete nosh The BY ee acne ete Kit I have seen. Send today for a case to examine. » Special price to Scouts $1.35 ea., postpaid eS anywherein U. s. , First Aid Equipment & Supply Co. Los Angeles STAMMER stammering school till aig get | by od FREE i- rentitio’ a *STAMMERING, Its Origin and vanced Natural Method bound in cloth and The Bae in gold. Ask for fd y ge rate and a FREE copy of “rhe Nata — Speech gest, best equipped ana most si ‘ul_ school in the world for the cure of stammering, it! et No sing-song or Write tod: ee ge festarn Schock, £328 Grand ives Milwaukes, Wie Sell Your Snap Shots at $5.00 Each Kodak prints needed by 25,000 publishers. Make vacations pay. We teach you how and where to sell. Write WALHAMORE INSTITUTE, LA- FAYETTE BLDG., PHILADELPHIA, PA. GET YOUR SUNWATCH COST FREE This wonderful Sun- watch made by the well known Ansonia Clock |: Company is known as }> “the tickless time- J Piece.” It’s a sundial, | watch and cs a in one and so jously designed cae its gee | finished or springs to get out of f every Scout have one.” f° Given for selling only or sent for sending one yearly subscrip- tion (ot your own) and 35c (total remit- tance $2.35.) BOYS’ LIFE 200 Fifth Ave., N.Y.C.

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56

THE IDEAL MANUAL IY SCOUTS OF AMERICA

GET IT COST FREE ALL LEADERS OF BOYS (DBOOK FOR V4 DS it) FOR SCOUT MEN AND NEW, REVISED AND ENLARGED HANDBOOK FOR SCOUTMASTERS 632 Pages Over 300 Illustrations Problems and Methods of Dealing With Boys, Sug- gestions for Vocational Guidance, Physical Wel- fare, Keeping Fit, Tobacco, Alcohol, Sex, Setting Up Exercises, First Aid, Signalling, Scouting, Re- lations to Home, School, Church, Community and Nation, etc. Edited by Dr. H. W. Hurt and con- tributed to by over 1000 Active Scout Leaders. A Wonderful, Practical, Useful Book of Utmost Service to All Leaders of Boys. Given to anyone as a reward for securing and sending two new yearly subscriptions for BOYS’ LIFE, The Boy Scouts’ Magazine at $2.00 each. (Total Remittance $4.00.) Subscriptions may not be your own, new or renewals. BOYS’ LIFE, The Boy Scouts’ Magazine 200 Fifth Ave., New York City

[No advertisements for this column are accepted unless they meet the approval of an expert in stamp matters. Kindly report any unsatisfactory service.] TAMP BARGAINS 30 all diff. Asia 25c (packet No. 54), 100 all diff. Asia $1.00 (packet No. 22), 100 diff. from 50 different Countries. 25c (packet No. 68). You can’t beat these bargains. SCOTT STAMP & COIN CO. 33 West 44th St. New York City Peru, Cuba, Mexico, Ceylon, 10c. STAM Java, etc., and Album, _ foy mixed, 40c; 30 different U.S. 25c; 100 Agents wanted. 50 per — List Free 1 ite lle 5 STECMAN 5951 Cote Brilliante Ave., St . Louis, Mo.

50 all different. Africa, Brazil,

Set of 6 post- used 7c Upper Silesia :* ("-:""« Neurope at 1, 2 and 3c. Ask for particulars of biggest boys’ stamp club—free membership—in United States. M. D. OLMSTEAD, Box 3, CONCORD, N. H.

STAMPS FREE—Fine Set War Stamps, Surcharge, Un- used, Pictoriais.. British French Colonials, 2c postage. Following fine value: 30 Africa, lic; 45 Asia, l4c; 30 Australia, 13c; 25 Austria, 7c; 40 British Colonials, 6c, 10 Czecho-Slovak, 7c; 15 Egypt, 10c; 20 ; 3 Gibraltar, 6c. Big Price List Free. Toronto, Canada. 25 Camada, 12c; French Colonials, 8¢ MIDLAND STAMP CO.,

20 Unused Foreign Stamps Stamps Free all different free to all send- pon for our approval sheets. Postage 2c. Mention this per. Large album, l5c. List of 1000 stamps at % pach and 1500 stamps at ,% by If possible send names 2 collectors. We buy QUAKER STAMP co. TOLEDO, OHIO Abyssinian stamp, Guate- 65c for mala Parrot stamp. Packet 30 var. British Colonies, Total cat. 65c. Packet Hinges. Large mm scale and Perf. Gauge, with our aoe price list, to in- troduce our fine 50%, approval sheets all for 8e. > BUY COLLECTIONS 1000 varieties mounted alphabetically $3.75. Dept. B, 220 Lathrop Bidg., Kansas City, Mo. TENTS of All Kinds (WATER AND MILDEW PROOF)

Tents for ialhaaes is the present day solution of the high cost of building camps. Let us tell you about the many advantages in using our tents. We make tents of all kinds, Flys, Tarpaulins, etc. Write for Catalogue. United States Tent & Awning Co. 233 No. Desplaines St., Chicago, Ill. 65 Different ha Stamps from 65 different Foreign Countries, including Africa, Asia, Australia, Europe, West Indies, etc., onl our pamphlet which tells you “How to make your collection of stamps properly” FOR ONLY 16 CENTS—A BIG BARGAIN, Queen City Stamp & Coin Co., Room 35, 604 Race Street, Cincinnati, Ohio. STAMPS |: 105 China, Egypt. Etc., Stamp Dic- tionary, list of 3000 Bargains and Coupons, 2c. Stamp Album, over 500 illustrations, with dates, names of countries, etc., 3c. mon ones,

jéc, 35e, $1.00, $2.25. A. BULLARD es igs: Sorld catalog of stamps. 446 Tremont St., ‘Dent. Ag, porters; album manufacturers. Boston, Mass.

STAMPS! | pod one Jamaica, Venezuela, etc., -; 100 different, 13c. ; 1000 all different, vy 100 iigterent U. S., 25¢.; 1000 hinges, 10c.; 50% approvals with every ‘order. List free. I buy stamps. L. B. DOVER, Dept. B, Longmont, Colorado. DISCOUNT [nd selee- Oo tions of de- sirable stamps on approval at 70 per cent. discount from standard catalogue prices. Reference required—Boy Scout membership sufficient. J. EMORY RENOLL, Dept. K., Hanover, Penna

158 ‘Genuine Foreign Stamps—Mexico War Issues. Venezuela, Salvador and In- 10 dia Service. Guatemala, China, etc. Cc Finest eth Sheets 50 to 60 AGENTS WANTED. Big 72-p. Lists Free. We -y Stamps.” Established 29 years. Hussman Stam FREE—DANDY PACKET, BIG LIST Coupons, hinges with approvals for name. Address two collectors, 2c. postage. Agents, 9% Special—1l0c. each— 25 Asia-Africa; 25 So. Am.; 25 Neurope; 25 Fr. Cols. ;

Dept. 78, St. Louis, Mo.

25 Br. Cols.; 35 U. S. A.; 20 Australia;'10 Animal; 15 Pictures; 25 Finland, ete.; 100 Diff. Eleven 0c. Packets, $1. U. T. K. Stamp Co., Utica, N. Y.

FRENCH COLONIES FREE Nice set used and unused French Colonies. Pictures of Wild Animals, Native Chiefs, Scenery, etc. Big Price List of 1000 genuine stamp bargains and tae of the “Empire Stamp Bulletin’’ all for 2c postage Empire Stamp Co., 343 Lippincott St., Toronto, Canada. MAKE A COLLECTION OF POSTAGE STAMPS AN_ENTERTAINING HOBBY, puareverit, we CATIONAL. 100 DIFFERENT U. FOREIGN 00—35e, 500—95c. FINE inLusTmATED se bse. 1000 = HINGES im POSTP GREA LAKES STAMP CO., 159 * CHICAGO AVE. CHICAGO » ORL.

Wanted: Railway Mail Clerks, $135 to $195 Month overnment wants hundreds. Men—boys over 17 wi ‘rite IMMEDI — positions now_ ope FRANKLIN INSTITUTE. Dept. F-203. Rochester, N.Y. for free list of Government

ON a Ce: : $1.00 For Boys 10 to 16 Equal to $3 gloves Made like profession-s al’s. Genuine tough® grain leather fronts and back. Well paddede and deep forme ds pocket. Just thes glove to help yous make the team. Satis-s faction guaranteed or® money refunded. Wes per. postage. Sends $1.00 today or pay® Postman $1.10 on ar-§ Smaller glove, 10, 85c = for ao 7 to C.0.D., 95c. When for® risnt “hand, specify.2 -.

- > e J ip League Glove, Co, Dept N2., Dayton, Ohie,

feit surcharges, though a well-known New York expert claims to be able to discrim- inate between the true and the fraudulent printing. The beginner would do well to ask advice on any purchases he may plan to make before investing in any high priced offerings. O commemorate the marriage of the Emperor of Japan, Yoshihoto, to the Princess Sadako, on May 10th, 1900, a very curious stamp was issued. In the spandrels (i.¢., the four corners outside the central oval) are branches of wistaria, the crest of the Princess’s family; the Im- perial crest is at the top of the oval. At the bottom of the oval are two swallows, BOYS’ LIFE a token of happiness in home life. Subsequent Japanese commemorative stamps celebrate the amalgamation of the Japanese and Korean postal administra- tions (July Ist, 1905), the Military Review of April, 1906, the Coronation of the pres- ent Emperor, the proclamation of the Prince Hirohito as heir apparent to the throne of Japan, the Peace Celebrations of 1919, the taking of the first census for the whole of the Japanese Empire (October Ist, 1920), the consecration of a temple built in honour of the late Emperor, the jubilee of the introduction of postage stamps into Japan, and the return of the Crown Prince, Hirohito, from England last year.

“Why-l-Subscribed Contest. Winner, Richard Harris, Age 13, 209 Atlantic St., Tullahoma, Tenn. Honorable Mention Is Made of the Letters of Alan E. Wilson, James eens H. Lucian Grant and Roy Misener

Dear Sirs: A boy friend of mine brought a “Bx Life” to school one day, and how we dived “Boys’ for it! I scraped and saved until I got enough to subscribe. We nearly fight over the copies and believe me, we have a reason. But the greatest of all is this: we decided to organize a Boy Scout patrol and one of the boys had a great idea! He suggested to send the “Boys’ Life” to a business man. And we did that and now he’s boosting with all his might. He just shouted for joy when he read it. We are expecting to become full-fledged ‘“scout- lings” inside of a month. And say, I can hardly wait till the next issue. Oh man! Scouts if you want an A. 1 magazine crammed full of jim-dandy sto- ries, subscribe to “Boys’ Life.” Our gang is crazy about it. “Think and Grin” is better than medicine for the blues. But “Og—Son of Fire” is our favorite. “Boys’ Life” has no equal and there are boys all over the world who will tell you the same. I can’t praise it too much. Well, one of the boys is calling me—I guess he wants to know whether I have the May issue or not. Yours, impatiently waiting for the next issue, Richard Harris. P. S. We hope to make “our gang” into “our troop”, thanks to “Boys’ Life.” 209 Atlantic St., Tullahoma, Tenn.

Contest 1. BOYS’ LIFE will give each month a pa of $5.00 for the best letter answering the follow- ing geections: a. How you first heard of BOYS’ LIFE? b. What made you, your parents or the giver decide to subscribe? c. Did you earn the subscription price yourself, and if so, how? You need not have earned your own money, but if you did, tell how. d. How would you tell another boy why he should subscribe for BOYS’ LIFE? . Any reader of BOYS’ LIFE under eighteen years of age may compete. Rules written legibly in ink on one side of the paper and must not exceed 1,000 words. 4. The name, address and age of the author and, if a scout, his troop number, should ap- pear in the upper right-hand corner of the first page of manuscript. 5. Manuscripts must be marked “For the Why-I-Subscribed Contest” and must reach us by the first of the second month preceding the date of issue. 6. The Editorial Staff of BOYS’ LIFE will act as judges of the letters submitted and any

. Descriptions must be typewritten, or letter is to be available for publication. | | Table of Contents | . Hl ee POC OL POET PT TE ne ee eT re TOT ee Te re Leslie Crump NE TD 6.6.6.5. 66 6.66. 00:04.664:00)660505 0 kN HESS BEREEO ESR EOS O46044n 650 61C AM Gun 468 essse ! Decoration by Leslie Crump III 5, 5.0.60: 6:6. 66 644 ChE SES ad Re eR wERES 6066006EE4E O40 66 0bRO REC ED Harold Anderson The Lad of Lake Champlain. Stor Why Scott is Great.......... Created Equal. Story...... The Other Side of the Mirror. a ECT ETT eee ye The Black Wolf Pack. Serial Hl A Chinaman’s Chance. Story Skeleton Island. Story. Part The Wisdom of the Woods. Serial Batemte OF Bese ©... oc « .00000000260500000<0 Daniel Boone, Wilderness Scout. Serial

Troop Meetings Try Radio. Kee POORINGE CE COUR o.oo ccs ccc cas cceicoces

|| On — CES POISE | Stam i Why_t- MeameeseS. COMSGSt ioc ccccccssccccses i} The Man with His Hands Tied — Him.. INustrated by Harold ereoneN ‘Tilustrated with photographs i “jilustrated by Frank j. Rigney Illustrated By Brown Martin | Illustrated by Bert N. Salg | ! Illustrated by Charles ‘Livingston Bull and S. H. Wainwright i] They’re Our Buddies. .............ceceeesees es ! Illustrated by Leslie Crump * riiastrated ‘by Clinton Balmer ih SAO PEP as ere J. Alden Loring 18 ||) Illustrated by George L. Wolf Hi i Illustrated by Remington Schuyler

I A on oak ccs cas eahddic peeddaecetepewievenssesoest . Mc | How I Earned the Money to Go to Camp...... || The World Brotherhood of Boys.............. Oy Be GOs ood ok hc ccicctesccwessess coe I 6 6.50. 085000 6666-65 ta.cedenseeceess errr Edited by E. O’ Soneer 37 F. P. 1 2 omer Croy 3 Allan Dunn 3 5 6 8 Kt pai Raw eiaed Ghdes CCS 5 . Irving Crump ..Wilbur S. Boyer ..Brewer Corcoran -- Russell Gordon Carter 10 d0n0 6.0 06 oewatee ebb ee eee ames’ Dan Beard 11 || a er Courtney Ryley Cooper 14 || PE Pere e Frank Farrington 15 .-Joseph B. Ames 16 Lee Shippey 19 els tilheleiaihacinanitiin dw 4 Stewart Edward White 20

Me The Misa: Mare. Beye vices ccndeccvesecscccsecconesseqeceesagooqecenes Edwin Cole | ! Illustrated by Will James H ||| When Death Loomed Close. Story Mather Brooks 24 || ii Photographic Contest ............... me 25 |i oe) ES SEE WI, «a0 odio dindats cei eRe Ned b5 40 Oe Cee Rba Cee cee eeeee ee 26 | Illustrated with photographs i} ae ee: I Ce TTI oo 6c cedceneadtenvedsetsacettcccbesesddecs seuerénnade 28 | i Be 2 eee etree errr ter ee rt re 28 ye I Gn 660 5:6: 6ts nse odsdencne ries ben dosed sn66es secs 0050ee see oe Illustrated by the author m Pope of Popular Science. .. .. 2.20 .ccccccccccccccvesescccccsccccces || The Use of a Variometer. .........-.-+.+0+0+- | .Francis A. Collins 32 PE ee eee "Thomas N. + age my 34 = i ..Eagle Scout Willard J. Slagle, Jr. 34 | L. onald 36 | Philip Weiss 36 | |

RENEWALS If your magazine comes with a renewal order blank enclosed it means your subscription has renewal subscription, to Boys’ Lire, 200 miss a copy. {| , expired. Tear off the address on the m : Mexico and Cuba. ostage is prepaid to all parts of the Canadian postage is 25c. and foreign postage 50c. a year. azine wrapper and send it with $2.00, the price of a ifth Avenue, New York City, so you will not have to United States and- possessions, and also i |

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to or st 1e is 1s ct \y WHILE SILLY WAS ADDING PATCHES ‘TO HIS COAT BILLY WAS ADDING To HIS | AND WHILE SILLY WAS P STORE OF hn KNOWLEDGE PATCHES ON HIS PANTS BILLY WAS PUTTING MERIT BADGES ON HIS SLEEVE AND Now FoR TRACKING AND WHILE SILLYS TIME : IS TAKEN UP WATCHING | EISNER OFFICIAL SCOUT BILLY, WHO WEARS AN UNIFORM. IS FULL OF SCOUTING AND MERIT BADGES BECAUSE HE KNEW HOW TO BE PREPARED © Scout R. E. Browne, Jr., of Racine, Wisconsin, says that a fellow who hasn’t a regular honest- to-goodness Eisner Official Scout Uniform stands the chance of having to waste a lot of valuable time mending and patching. He believes in being prepared by having a regular EISNER and for his idea published above he wins the prize this month, and he has his selection of whatever part he wants. Great Prize Offer by the SIGMUND EISNER COMPANY as follows: Each month for 11 months, beginning with February, 1922, your choice of Scout coat and breeches, or Scout shirt and shorts, or Scout hat and stockings To be given to any member of the Boy Scouts of America who, in the opinion of the judges, submits the best advertisement, or material for an advertisement, for EISNER SCOUT UNIFORMS as advertised in BOYS’ LIFE, the Boy Scouts Magazine. The Judges will be a committee of three men from the staff of the magazine. In passing on answers, they will take into consideration the following points, not necessarily in the order named: Advertising merit (i. e., value as a selling argument). — (EISNER advertisements are always cheerful, same as a boy in an SNER SUIT). siieines copy is based on experience gained from comparison of EISNER goods with other goods. NOTE—Any illustration accompanying advertising copy will be considered as a part of that advertisement, but will not, by its mere presence, make the copy more acceptable. When it be deemed advisable, such illustrations will be published, but the Art Manager reserves the right to illustrate any copy which is awarded a prize and published. Follow These Rules Contestants should read these directions CAREFULLY, and FOLLOW THEM. One answer would undoubtedly have won first prize recently except that the boy had neglected to put his name and address on the sheet. Carelessness never wins ANYTHING PROCEDURE—The advertisement is to be in the form of a letter or a com- position of 100 words or less, as follows: At the top left-hand corner of a sheet of paper (letterhead size—8 in. x 11 in.—if possible). PRINT your name and address; pen and ink must be used. Below this, start your advertisement or your letter or composition containing the facts you think would make a good basis for SIGMUND EISNER COMPANY to use in advertising the Scout uniform they manufacture. Mail this to EISNER CONTEST EDITOR, CARE OF BOYS’ LIFE, 200 Fifth Avenue, New York City. Letters received from the 16th of any month to the 15th of the following month (inclusive) will be considered as entered for the monthly prize to be awarded in our issue dated two months ahead. For example: letters received from June 16th to July 15th (incl.) are considered for the September prize. If two or more con- testants submit identical prize-winning answers, the full amount of the prize awarded will be given to each of them. If, in the opinion of the Judges, two or more answers shall be considered of equal prize-winning merit, each answer will be awarded the full amount of the prize in question. Answers for each month will be considered independently of answers for previous or succeeding months. SIGMUND EISNER COMPANY, RED BANK, NEW JERSEY NEW YORK OFFICES: 126 FIFTH AVENUE

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A BOAT IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN A LIFE PRESERVER AN EVEREADY FLASHLIGHT IN Complete your equipment with an Eveready Spotlight Once a regular fellow shoots the 300-ft. beam of this Eveready Spotlight—once he spots his pal a city block away——he knows it’s as different from other flashlights as a fire engine is from a garden hose! They all say it’s the best light ever created for scouts. Nothing like it for motor boating, canoeing, or rowing; for night hikes everywhere; for reading road signs; for flashing signals; for exploration trips; wherever a scout needs a light. Special focusing device to concentrate the rays; a shock absorber to protect the lamp from jars and jolts; 2 extra Mazda lamps in the bottom cap. Sold at electrical, hardware, sporting goods, drug, and auto accessory shops; garages ; general stores. Always insist on Eveready Batteries for your flashlight. jaye ses a brighter light; they last longer; and they fit and improve all makes of flashlights. c he aes a) * 4 Chrey- Chap THe CAREY PRINTING CO. Inc. New YorK