The Boy Scouts of the Flying Squadron | Page 8

When one of these fragments of fused metal and slag does rush toward the earth and bury itself in the ground, it makes just such a brilliant flash. Some say there is a fearful crash when it strikes. Stranger things have happened, I take it, Bud, than to believe that was a falling meteor of a pretty good size."
"But don't shooting stars generally fall in the summer time, Hugh?" questioned Bud.
It had become a habit with most of the scouts to ask the Wolf leader any and all sorts of questions, as though he might be looked upon as a walking encyclopedia or dictionary; and it kept Hugh pretty busy accumulating information in order to be well posted for these constant demands on his time and patience.
"Yes, I believe the earth does pass through the greatest showers of meteors in August, but then there are lots of them loose at any time. I've read of some remarkable ones being dug out of the earth in various places. If this should prove to be a big meteor and we could find where it struck, it would be a feather in the caps of the scouts. Some old professor would be hustling up this way as soon as we let them know at Yale or Harvard."
"Then we'll try to find where it struck!" declared Ralph.
"It would be as bad as hunting for a needle in a haystack in all this big wilderness," ventured Bud; "though there'd be no harm in our trying,---that is, if I'm in any shape to go with you after I've had my little innings."
Again did Ralph wear a puzzled frown as he heard Bud make this significant remark. He must have wondered more than ever what it could possibly be that the other had conceived this time. On other occasions his efforts, while ambitious, had ended in smoke, and the rest of the boys often quizzed poor Bud most unmercifully on account of his shortcomings. But then, all great inventors must make a beginning. It is not expected that genius can take the saddle at one bound. Persistence counts more in such cases than anything else.
The fellow who has faith in himself is apt to get there in the end, no matter what grievous disappointments waylay him on his course; that is, if he really amounts to more than a flash in the pan. Bud sometimes comforted himself with reflections along this order. He was not easily cast down, and that counted for a good deal.
The three scouts sat in the shack crosslegged, like so many Turks, and chatted busily as time passed on. Ralph was easily induced to speak of his various experiences when he used to trap in this same neighborhood during past winters. He had run across a number of strange things that were well worth telling; and Hugh especially showed the keenest kind of interest in all he had to say.
Bud, like most promising candidates among those destined to become truly great, had a habit of forgetting that there were others present besides himself. He would fall into a reflective mood and knit his brow as though wrestling with grave problems, upon the solving of which the fate of nations depended.
Ralph knew all about the habits of foxes, mink, otter, weasels, muskrats, raccoons, 'possums and divers other small fur-bearing animals such as give up their warm coats for the purpose of keeping ladies' hands and necks comfortable during wintry blasts. He had had many amusing experiences with some of them, and as the scout patrol leader never wearied of learning interesting facts at first hand, Ralph was kept busy talking and answering questions, until considerable time had slipped by and there was Bud yawning as though threatening to dislocate his jaws.
"Guess we'd better be thinking of bunking down for the night," suggested Hugh. "Did you fetch a blanket along with you, Ralph?"
"Well, I'm too old a hand to be caught napping in the woods without thinking of the night that is coming," replied the other, laughing at the same time. "Over in the corner you'll see the bully red blanket that's hugged me tight on many a cold night when I was tending my line of traps. I feel that it is like an old friend when I get it tucked around me, and you'd think I was an Esquimo lying there, or one of those mummies they get out of Mexican catacombs."
"That's all right," Hugh declared; "I thought you were too sensible to come up here and spend a night at this time of year without something to keep you from freezing. Why, even on a summer night that starts in hot, it's apt to feel chilly along about three in the morning. I've seen the time when I'd have given a heap