E-text prepared by Al Haines
BOY SCOUTS IN NORTHERN WILDS
Or, The Signal from the Hills
By
MAJOR ARCHIBALD LEE FLETCHER
Author of
"Boy Scout Rivals; or, A Leader of the Tenderfoot Patrol,""Boy Scouts on Old Superior; or, The Tale of The PicturedRocks," "Boy Scouts' Signal Sender; or When Wigwag KnowledgePaid," "Boy Scout Pathfinders; or, The Strange Hunt for theBeaver Patrol" etc., etc.
Chicago, 1913
CONTENTS
Chapter
I--A CAMP ON MOOSE RIVER II--THE LITTLE BRASS GOD III--THE CABIN IN THE SWAMP IV--LOST IN THE STORM V--A BOY SCOUT TRICK VI--THE CAVE OF THE TWO BEARS VII--AM EMPTY CAVERN VIII--A TRAPPER'S TREACHERY IX--TWO HUNGRY BEARS X--BOYS IN A TIGHT PLACE XI--THE HALF-BREED XII--A SURPRISE AT THE CABIN XIII--A FACE AT THE WINDOW XIV--A CALL PROM THE DARKNESS XV--A HUNTING EXPEDITION XVI--ANTOINE ON THE RUN XVII--"BOYS UP A TREE!" XVIII--A PILLAR OF FIRE XIX--THE SIGNAL FROM THE HILLS XX--A SIGHT OF THE GOD XXI--TWO RIFLE SHOTS XXII--THE TWIN BRASS GODS
CHAPTER I
A CAMP ON MOOSE RIVER
Four Boy Scouts, of the Beaver Patrol, Chicago, were in camp onMoose river. They were all athletic young fellows, not far fromseventeen years of age, and were dressed in the khaki uniformadopted by the Boy Scouts of America.
If you take a map of the British Northwest Territories and look upMoose river, you will discover that it runs through nearly threehundred miles of wilderness, from Lake Missinale to Moose Bay. Thereader will well understand, then, how far "Sandy" Green, WillSmith, George Benton and Tommy Gregory had traveled fromcivilization.
The camp of the Boy Scouts was situated some fifty miles up theriver from Moose Factory, a trading point famous in old Indian daysfor its adventurous spirits and its profits to the factors. Thosewho have read the preceding books of this series will doubtlessremember the four Boy Scouts named above. Together they hadvisited the Pictured Rocks of Old Superior, the Everglades ofFlorida, and the great Continental Divide.
During all their journeys the boys had shown courage andresourcefulness beyond their years, and because of these qualitiesthey had been chosen, by Mr. Horton, a noted criminal lawyer ofChicago, to undertake a difficult and dangerous mission to theHudson Bay country.
They had traveled by way of the Canadian Pacific to Missanabie,from which point they had proceeded to Lake Missinale. Here theyhad purchased a "Mackinaw," a great flat-bottomed craft, in whichto transport their tents and supplies down Moose river to the bayof the same name.
They had made most of the journey in native canoes, which they hadlearned to handle with considerable skill, but now and then theyhad taken refuge on the big boat, "just to stretch their limbs," asthey expressed it. They left Chicago late in September and it wasnow almost the last of October.
Those who live in the Hudson Bay country declare that they havethree seasons in four months, Spring comes in June, summer in Julyand August, and autumn in September. At the southern extremity ofJames Bay, October may scarcely be called a winter month, althoughduring the latter part of the month ice and snow are not infrequent.
The sun was setting on the lads' first day in camp as the boysrested from their labor of dragging in great quantities of both dryand green wood. Their tents were of double canvas, speciallyprepared for cold weather, and their bedding and suits hadconstituted an important part of their baggage.
Almost the entire fronts of the tents were composed of fine, strongsilk mesh-cloth. The faces of the boys were well anointed withgrease, and masks of mesh-cloth hung about the tents ready for use.
Mosquitos and an insect known as the "bull-dog" had driven many atrapper and hunter out of the swampy regions around Hudson Bay.During the summer it is almost impossible to live in the swamps ofthat country at all. By protecting their tents and faces, andkeeping great "smudges" going, the boys hoped to be able to live incomparative comfort during their stay in that section.
"Look here, Will," Tommy said, as he laid down a great armful ofdry wood, "some one ought to invent some kind of a contraption tokill these flying pests off by the billion. Here it is almost coldenough to snow, and we're being eaten alive by mosquitos."
"I reckon it wouldn't do much good to invent a way of killing thebrutes," Will suggested, "as long as the swamps and pools of theNorthwest Territories are turning them out at the rate of a billiona minute."
"I read a story about how to get rid of mosquitos the other day,"Sandy said. "It might be a good idea to try it."
"You can always read how to do things, in the newspapers," Tommyargued. "The only trouble is that the ideas don't work."
"This one will work," declared Sandy. "The way to kill mosquitos,"he continued, "is to throw a great long rope up in the air. Youlet it stay up in the air; that is, one end of it, and grease itcarefully with cold cream and tie a piece of raw beefsteak at theupper end. That will attract the mosquitos. Then when you getseveral millions up the rope, you cut it in two about twenty feetfrom the ground and pull the lower end down."
"It'll be the foolish house for yours!" Tommy laughed. "How areyou going to throw one end of a rope up in the air and make it staythere?"
"I didn't say how to make it stay up in the air," grinned Sandy."I just said you had to make it stay up in the air. Then when themosquitos get tired of staying up in the ambient atmosphere,they'll come crawling down the rope and fall off where you cut it."
"I guess your dome needs repacking all right!" laughed Tommy.
"And then, when they come to the place where the rope has been cutoff, they'll take a tumble for themselves, and you stand under theline and beat their heads off with an axe."
"Poor child!" laughed Tommy.
"If you leave it to me," George declared with a grin, "that storyabout how to kill mosquitos came out of Noah's ark on crutches."
The sun was setting over the great wilderness to the west, and theboys hastened to pile more wood on the fire. The forest was alivewith the cries of birds, and the undergrowth showed curious eyespeering out at the intruders.
"This beats little old Chicago," cried George, bringing out a greatskillet of ham. "When we live in the city, we've got to eat in thehouse and smell dishwater. When you live out doors, you've got adining room about a thousand miles square."
"And when you live in Chicago," Tommy continued, "you can't getfresh fish right out of the brooks. When you want a fish here, allyou've got to do is to run out to the river, grab one in your arms,and bring him in!"
"Then run out and get one now!" advised Will.
"Perhaps you think I can't!" shouted Tommy.
Seizing a head-net the boy dashed away to the margin of Mooseriver. His chums saw him walking about in quest of a minnow for amoment and then heard the swish of a line. In ten minutes he wasback at the camp with a whitefish weighing at least five pounds.
There is incessant fishing in the wilderness north of Lake Superiorthroughout every month of the year. All through the long winterthe ice is cut away in order that the fish may be reached, andthere is every sort of fishing between that which engages thelabors of sailing vessels and men, down through all the methods offish-taking, by nets, by spearing, still-fishing and fly-fishing.
Though the region has been famous, and therefore much visited, formany years, the field is so extensive, so well stocked, and sodifficult of access, that even today almost the very largest knownspecimens of each class of fish are to be had there.
"These are the kind of fish the Indians live on during the winter,"Tommy explain
ed as he scraped the scales from his prize. "Only,"he continued, "the Indians don't clean them at all. They simplymake a hole in the tail end of each fish and string them up likebeads on sticks which they set up in racks."
"I never did like cold-storage fish," Sandy declared, in a tone ofdisgust. "They taste like dry corn meal!"
While the fish cooked and the boys sat in the protecting smudge ofthe campfire, the sound of paddles was heard up the river. Theswish and splash came on steadily for a moment and then suddenlyceased.
"I thought we were going to have company," suggested Will.
The boys listened for a time but no further sounds were heard.
"Now what would any one be doing in this wilderness?" Sandy asked."What would any one be sneaking around us for?"
"Perhaps they don't even know we're here!" argued George.
"With that great campfire going?" scoffed Tommy. "Why, they cansee the light of that fire for ten miles or more!"
"That's right," replied George. "I guess that fire wouldn't helpto hide our presence here any."
"Suppose I go and see what's doing?" asked Tommy.
"You know your failings, young man!" Will cut in. "If you go outin the wilderness to see who's running that canoe, you're likely toget lost, or come back here after a couple of days with a brokenleg or a busted coco! You'd better stay in camp."
"But I want to know who's sneaking around our tents!" insistedTommy. "You come along with me, Will, if you think I'm notcompetent to go alone," the boy added with a grin.
Will hesitated for a moment and then providing himself with anautomatic revolver and an electric searchlight, the two boys leftthe camp and soon disappeared in the darkness. They had been gonescarcely five minutes when a shot came from the thicket.
Boy Scouts in Northern Wilds; Or, The Signal from the Hills Page 1