Boy Scouts in Mexico | Page 5

and built a cabin at the back end. That never leaked, either. The boat
was sixteen feet long and six feet wide, and the bulliest craft that ever
went anywhere. When we got to Cairo we sold it for $6, and that
helped some."
"Tell us about your eatings. We'll have to cook when we get down to
the Rio Grande. Where did you get your cook stove?"
"We nailed a piece of sheet-iron on the prowboard," laughed Fremont,
"and put the bottom section of an old-fashioned coal stove on that. The
hole where the magazine used to fit in made a place for the frying pan,
and the open doors in front, where the ashpan used to be, took in the
wood we collected along the river. Cook! We could cook anything
there."
"What about the sleepings?" was asked.
"That was easy. We bought an old bedtick and stuffed it with corn
husks, then a pair of back-number bed-springs, which we put on the
floor of the cabin. Sleep! We used to tie up nights and sleep from nine
o'clock until sunrise.
"With the money we had left we bought bacon, eggs, corn-meal, flour,
butter and coffee. There wasn't much of it, because we had little money
left, but we thought we might get fish on the way down. We never got
one. They wouldn't bite. Still, we had all we needed to eat, and found
our checks at Cairo. It took us eight days to float to the Mississippi. We
were told at Nashville that we would spill out on the rapids, that river
pirates would rob us, and that the big boats would run us down or tip us
over, but we never had any trouble at all. We'll know better than to
listen to such talk when we set afloat on the Rio Grande this spring."
"It was better than walking," said Frank.

"Frank was frisky as a young colt all the way down," Fremont added.
"There are little trading places all along the river banks, kept mostly by
farmers. When you want to buy anything you ring a bell left in view for
that purpose, and the proprietor comes out of the field and waits on you.
Frank wanted a record of being the prize bell-ringer, and once he got to
the boat just a quarter of an inch ahead of a bulldog with red eyes and
bowlegs.
"He holds the world's record for speed," Fremont continued, with a
friendly glance at Frank. "The faster he runs the whiter he gets, through
fear, and he left white streaks behind him all along the Cumberland
river. Now, how many of you boys are ready for a trip down the Rio
Grande, and, possibly, over into Mexico?"
Every boy in the room shouted approval of the plan, and Frank said he
would go as war correspondent.
"It will be exciting, with the soldiers on the border," Frank said, "and I
may make a hit as special news writer."
All was now excitement in the room, the story of the trip down to the
Mississippi having stirred the lads' love of out-of-door adventure to the
sizzling point. They capered about the handsome room in a most
undignified manner, and counted the days that would elapse before they
could be on their way.
The club-room was in the residence of Henry Bosworth, whose son,
Jack, was one of the liveliest members of the Black Bear Patrol. The
walls of the apartment were hung with guns, paddles, bows, arrows,
foils, boxing-gloves, and such trophies as the members of the patrol
had been able to bring from field and forest. Above the door was a red
shield, nearly a yard in diameter, from the raised center of which a
Black Bear pointed an inquisitive nose. The boys were all proud of
their black bear badge, especially as no Boy Scout patrol was so well
known in New York for the character and athletic standing of its
members.
On this stormy March night-one long to be remembered by every

member of the party--there were only five members of the Black Bear
Patrol present. These were Harry Stevens, son of a manufacturer of
automobiles; Glen Howard, son of a well-known board of trade man;
Jack Bosworth, son of a leading attorney; George Fremont, adopted son
of James Cameron; and Frank Shaw, son of a newspaper owner.
They had been planning a trip to the South all winter, and now, as has
been said, the mention of the journey down the Cumberland and Ohio
rivers to the Mississippi had so fired their enthusiasm for the great
out-of-doors that they were ready to start at short notice. They took
down maps and hunted up books descriptive of Mexico, and so busied
themselves with the details of the