The Boy Scouts on Sturgeon Island | Page 8

rolling
on the deck. All them things are possible, once Step Hen gets started on

his collecting stunt."
"Well, forget it now, won't you, Giraffe, because there goes Bumpus
putting supper on the fire; and unless you look sharp he'll just cut down
your ration till you'll only get as much as any two of us," advised Step
Hen.
In spite of all these little encounters of wit, and the sharp things that
were sometimes said, boy fashion, these six churns were as fond of
each other as any lads could possibly be. There was hardly anything
they would not have done for one another, given the opportunity; and
this had been proved many times in the past.
While they were fond of joking the tall scout on his appetite, truth to
tell every one of the others could display a pretty good stowage
capacity when it came to disposing of the meals. And so they were all
anxious to help Bumpus when he started getting the camp supper ready.
Besides these six lads there were of course two others who went to,
make up the full complement; of the Silver Fox Patrol; and who have
figured in previous stories of this series.
These boys were named Robert Quail White, who was Southern born,
and went by the name of "Bob White," among his friends; and Edmund
Maurice Travers Smith, conveniently shortened to plain "Smithy."
These two had taken a different route to the lake, and expected to meet
their six churns at a given rendezvous. They were intending also to
make use of another boat, since the one engaged for the party would
only accommodate seven at a pinch, and counting the scout-master they
would have numbered nine individuals in all.
The other two had found that they wanted to see the wonderful Soo
Canal, and the rapids that the St. Mary river boasts at that point, where
the pent-up waters of Superior rush through the St. Mary's river to help
swell the other Great Lakes, and eventually pass through the St.
Lawrence river to the sea.

It is no joke cooking for half a dozen hungry scouts, and the one whose
duty compelled him to be the chef for a day had to count on filling the
capacity of coffee-pot and frying-pans, of which latter there were two.
Evening had settled down upon them by the time they were ready to
enjoy the supper of Boston baked beans, fried onions with the steak
that had been procured at the last town they had passed through;
crackers, some bread that one of them toasted to a beautiful brown
color alongside the fire, and almost scorched his face in the bargain;
and the whole flanked by the coffee which was "like ambrosia," their
absent chum Smithy would have said, until they dashed some of the
contents of the evaporated cream into each tin cup, along with lumps of
sugar.
"This is what I call living," sighed Giraffe, as he craned his neck visibly
in the endeavor to see, whether there was a third "helping" left in the
pan for "manners," which was another name for Conrad Stedman.
"Hadn't we better save this piece of steak for Tim?" suggested Step Hen,
wickedly, for that was the name he had given to the captive owl.
"No, you don't," objected Giraffe, vociferously, just as the other had
known he would do; "that's the very last beef steak we're apt to see for
half a moon; and I say it would be a shame to waste it on a heathen bird.
Besides, you couldn't coax Jim to take a bite till he's nearly starved;
ain't that so, Thad?"
They always appealed to either the assistant scout-master or Allan,
whenever any question like this came up, connected with bird or animal
lore; and no matter how puzzling the matter might seem to the one who
asked, it was promptly answered in nearly every instance.
"Yes, he isn't likely to take hold for a day or two," replied Thad. "By
that time the old fellow will sort of get used to seeing us about; and he
won't refuse to eat when you put something out for him; only all of you
be careful that he doesn't prefer a piece out of your hand. Don't trust
him ever!"

"You can make up your mind I won't give him a chance to grab me,"
asserted Bumpus, never dreaming that by accident he would be the very
first to feel the force of that curved beak.
"Listen!" exclaimed Step Hen; "as sure as anything there's another!
Why, this must be what you might call Owl-land."
From far away in the timber came the plain sound of hooting. All of the
scouts knew what it was easily enough, though there had been a