The Boy Scouts First Camp Fire | Page 2

His one best quality was a genuine love for music. He could play any
sort of instrument; and had besides a wonderfully sweet high soprano
voice, which he was always ready to use for the pleasure of his friends.
That promised many a happy night around the camp-fire, when once
the Silver Fox Patrol had become fully established.
And this love of music which the fat boy possessed had made the
selection of a bugler for Cranford Troop the easiest thing possible. He
actually had no competitor.
Presently the entire eight lads had thrown themselves down in such
positions as seemed to appeal to them. Some lay flat on their stomachs,
and drank from the overflow of the fine little spring; while others
scooped up the water in the cup formed by the palms of their hands.
One rather tall boy, with flaxen hair, and light dreamy blue eyes, took

out his handkerchief, carefully dusted the ground where he meant to sit,
then having deposited himself in a satisfactory manner, he opened the
haversack he had been carrying, taking out some of the contents very
carefully.
"My! but they're packed smartly, all right, Smithy," remarked the
fellow who had responded to the name of Davy Jones; "you certainly
take a heap of trouble to have things just so. My duds were just tossed
in as they came. Threatened to jump on 'em so as to crowd the bunch in
tighter. What are you looking for now?"
"Why, my drinking cup, to be sure," replied the other, lifting his
eyebrows in surprise, as if he could not understand why any one would
be so silly as to lie down and drink--just like an animal, when nice little
aluminum collapsible cups could be procured so cheaply.
And having presently found what he wanted, he deliberately returned
each article to its proper place in the carryall before he allowed himself
the pleasure of a cooling drink. But at least he had one satisfaction;
being the possessor of a cup allowed him the privilege of dipping
directly into the fountain head, the limpid spring itself.
They called him just plain "Smithy," but of course such an elegant
fellow had a handle to the latter part of his name. It was Edmund
Maurice Travers Smith; but you could never expect a parcel of
American boys to bother with such a tremendous tongue-twisting name
as that. Hence the Smithy.
While the whole patrol, taking out the lunch that had been provided,
and which one of them, evidently from the South from the soft tones of
his voice, called a "snack," were eating we might as well be making the
acquaintance of the rest.
The Southern lad was named Robert Quail White. A few of his chums
addressed him as plain Bob; but the oddity of the combination appealed
irresistibly to their sense of humor, and "Bob White" it became from
that time on. Sometimes they called to him with the well-known
whistle of a quail; and he always responded.

There was a very tall fellow, with a remarkably long neck. "Giraffe" he
had become when years younger, and the name was likely to stick to
him even after he got into college. When his attention was called to
anything, Conrad Stedman usually stretched his neck in a way that gave
him a great advantage over his fellows. He was sometimes a little
touchy; but gave promise of proving himself a good scout, being
willing to learn, faithful, and obliging.
Another of the patrol had a rather melancholy look. This was Stephen
Bingham. He might have gone to the end of the chapter as plain Steve;
but when a little fellow at school, upon being asked his name, he had
pronounced it as if a compound word; and ever since he was known as
Step-hen Bingham. Whenever he felt like sending his companions into
fits of laughter Step-hen would show the whites of his eyes, and look
frightened. He could never find his things, and was forever appealing to
the others to know whether they had seen some article he had
misplaced. Step-hen evidently had much to learn before he could
qualify for the degree of a first-class scout.
The one who seemed to be second in Command of the little detachment
was a quiet looking boy. Allan Hollister had been raised after a fashion
that as he said "gave him the bumps of experience." Part of his life had
been spent in the Adirondacks and in Maine; so that he really knew by
actual participation in the work what the other lads were learning from
the books they read.
He lived with his mother, said to be a widow. They seemed to have
plenty of money; but Allan was often sighing, as though somehow his
thoughts turned back