Afloat on the Flood | Page 3

silly weakness which, though he tried hard to overcome
it, would occasionally crop up. He was dreadfully superstitious, and
believed in ghosts, which failing he laid to his having associated with
piccaninnies when a youngster, and in some way imbibing their belief
in the supernatural.
Yes, Chatz at one time had even carried a rabbit's foot for luck, and to
ward off evil spirits. The animal was said to have been killed in a
graveyard in the full moon and it was a sure-enough left hind foot, too,
which he believed to be a very important distinction, since no other
would answer. Of late, however, Chatz said less about these things than
when he first came to Hickory Ridge; and Elmer believed he was by
degrees out-growing the foolish, superstitious beliefs of his childhood.
Two later additions to the Wolf Patrol were Henry Condit, known
simply as "Hen," and Landy Smith, otherwise Philander. The latter was
a fat, good-natured chap, always perspiring, and who had a queer habit
of placing his forefinger alongside his nose when puzzled or reflecting.

As occasional mention may be made in these pages to other members
of the Troop, it might be well to simply give a list of their names and
"let it go at that," as Lil Artha would say.
The Beaver Patrol being full consisted of eight boys. Matty Eggleston
was the leader, and after him came "Red" Huggins, Ty Collins, Jasper
Merriweather, Tom Cropsey, Larry Billings, Phil Dale and "Doubting
George" Robbins, a cousin to Landy.
There were also four members to the Eagle Patrol, with others about to
come in. Jack Armitage filled the position of leader, and after him came
Nat Scott, Ben Slimmons and Jim Oskamp.
Apparently, the three fellows perched on the Virginia rail fence had
agreed to wait for others who were to join them in starting for the
favorite "swimmin' hole," for their conversation betrayed this fact.
Lil Artha began to grow a little impatient. He wiped his perspiring face
and in so many words gave his two chums to understand that if the
laggards did not put in an appearance inside of ten minutes he meant to
start without them.
"A fine lot of scouts Chatz and Landy are showing themselves to be,
not keeping their word," the tall boy grumbled; "there, didn't you hear
the clock strike ten? They were to be here not later than a quarter to the
hour."
"Oh! well, you know Chatz isn't in a hurry," chuckled Toby. "Fellows
raised down in Dixie are used to taking their time. It's the warm climate
that does it, he told me. But speaking of angels and you hear their
wings, they say; for unless my eyes deceive me there comes Chatz right
now."
"Yeth, and thauntering along like he might be away ahead of the time
thet for meeting here. Chatz ith what I call a cool cuthtomer."
When the fourth lad joined the bunch, there was a lot of good-natured
badinage indulged in all around, after the manner of boys in general.

"Do you intend waiting any longer fo' Landy?" asked the newcomer.
At that remark the other laughed uproariously.
"It makes me think of the full 'bus," said Lil Artha; "when it stops to
take on another passenger they all look cross; and he squeezes into a
seat wondering why people will act so piggish; but let it stop again for
another fare and he grumbles louder than anybody else."
"Yeth, we've waited fifteen minutes for you, Chatz," said Ted, "and it'd
be only fair to give poor, fat Landy ten minutes more."
Chatz immediately took out his little nickel watch and held it in his
hand, just as though he might have been the judge at a sprinting match.
Before five minutes had crept past, however, there was a cry raised.
"Here comes poor old Landy," said Toby, "mounted on his wheezy
bicycle, and pegging for all he's worth. Look at him puffing away, will
you? He just knows he's been keeping us waiting here ever so long, and
that's making him put on so much steam. Wow! he nearly took a header
that time into the ditch. What a splash there would have been, my
countrymen, if he played leap-frog into that mud-puddle!"
The boys sat there on the rail fence and began to greet the coming
bicycle rider with loud shouts.
"Hit her up, Landy!"
"One good turn deserves another, you know."
"A little more power to your left foot, or you'll be in that ditch yet,
Landy!"
"Oh! Landy, does your mother know you're risking your precious old
neck on that beaut of a wheel?"
The fat scout did not cease his exertions until he had reached the place
where his four chums sat on the fence.