THE BLUE TORTOISE PATROL

Sparrer, otherwise Edward Muldoon, smallest Scout in the Blue Tortoise Patrol, darted back from the corner to the group waiting about the up-town entrance to the subway.

"He's coming!" he shrilled. "An' two guys wid him, de one wid de dough an' de biggest rube yer ever put yer peepers on!"

The announcement was electrifying and there was an immediate rush to look down the street.

"It's Walt and Harrison all right, but who in the dickens is that with them, and where did they find him?" exclaimed Ned Patterson.

"Gee, look at the size of him! He's a rube, all right, by the looks of him, but I'd hate to tell him so," muttered Chick Parsons.

"Red headed and Irish at that! Say, fellers, we'll have some fun with him," chortled Jack Norwood.

"Quit your kidding and fall in for a salute!" snapped Assistant Leader McNulty.

Instantly the patrol lined up and as Walter approached, Hal on one side and Pat on the other, seven hands were raised as one in the Scout salute. It was returned by the three older lads.

"Somebody's wised him to de game, all right," whispered the irrepressible Sparrer to his neighbor as his sharp eyes took note of the fact that Pat had saluted quite as if accustomed to it. "Mebbe he belongs to some rube patrol."

There was a nudging of elbows and here and there a half smothered giggle as the youngsters sized Pat up and noticed the awkward fit and rough material of his "store suit," the celluloid collar and the flaming red four-in-hand clumsily tied. In the eyes of his young critics he was branded by these things quite as much as if he had worn a placard "Just from the Country."

"Green goods right from the farm," whispered Chick to Sparrer. "I dare you to ask him how the caows are."

Whether or not Sparrer would have taken the dare will never be known, for at that instant Upton introduced the big stranger, and the effect was magical to say the least. "I want you fellows to shake hands with some one you already know all about, Corporal Malone of the Lone Wolf Patrol, which had the honor of finding Lost Trail last fall, and one of the best guides in the North Woods," said he. "He and Harrison, whom you all know, are going with us on the hike this afternoon, and if you chaps feel as I do about it you know that we are the luckiest patrol in New York City. Pat, shake hands with Assistant Leader McNulty."

Then in turn the others were presented, ending with Sparrer. Pat's blue eyes twinkled as his big hand closed over the little one put out to him. "'Tis Irish ye be," said he, "and 'tis the same blood flows in me own veins. Pwhat iver would the wor-rld do widout the Irish? The Blue Tortoise Patrol should be proud thot it has a son av St. Patrick."

"It is," laughed Upton. "Now, fellows, the Blue Tortoise yell for the best Scout I know—Pat Malone!"

The yell was given with a will and caused many a head to turn in the hurrying throng, and many a smile, for the trim uniformed youngsters, faces alight with eagerness for their afternoon outing, were good to see. Laughing and joking the patrol squeezed into the crowded subway express and they were off for Bronx Park, the wonderful great playground where for a five cent fare one is lifted as by magic from the heart of the city to the heart of the country.

As the train roared through the great tunnel Pat scanned the individual members of the patrol with manifest approval. They were a clean-cut, sturdy looking lot of boys ranging in age from thirteen to sixteen, McNulty, the assistant leader, being the only one of that age. And they were a representative lot. Two were the sons of well-to-do merchants, one was the son of a broker, another was from the modest home of a patrolman on the police force, a fifth was the son of a subway guard, and the remaining two were Bernstein, whose features unmistakably stamped him as a Hebrew of the upper class, and Sparrer Muldoon, newsboy and street gamin.

Pat's interest promptly centered in the latter, and he took the first opportunity to ask about him and how he happened to be associated with others seemingly so far above him in the social scale. Upton smiled.

"There isn't any social scale among Scouts, you know," said he.

Pat nodded. "I ought to know," he agreed. "If there were Pat Malone wouldn't be this very minute the guest of the son of a millionaire. But I wasn't one of a regular patrol of fellows better off. Tell me something about this imp you call Sparrer, and how you dared take him into this bunch. He seems to fit all right, so far as I can see."

"Sure he fits," replied Walter. "I put it up to the fellows themselves and they invited him to join. First time I ran into Sparrer made me think of the first time I met you. He had just trimmed the life out of a bully half a head taller than himself for stealing the papers of a little Jew."

Pat's eyes began to dance appreciatively. "Go on," he commanded.

"He had a black eye and a bloody nose and he was as dirty a little heathen as ever you laid eyes on. But he sure packed a healthy punch in each fist and knew where to put 'em, to judge by the looks of the bully, who was sneaking away with a whole crowd of newsies jeering at him. Sparrer didn't pay any attention to the rest of 'em, but went over to the little Jew and gave him half of his own stock of papers to make up for the ones the bully had taken, and which had been destroyed in the scrap. When the youngster tried to thank him Sparrer swore at him, and he could swear in those days, believe me! That was the Irish in him, trying to cover up a good deed."

"A bye afther me own heart," murmured Pat.

"The whole affair, or rather the motive underneath it, struck me as so Scout-like that I thought I'd try to get acquainted," continued Upton.

"'Good boy,' says I.

"'Wot's it to you?' says he. 'Oi'll smash yer the same way fer a nickel, yer big dude!' That tickled the bunch, and they began to egg him on and guy me until I saw that if I didn't want to be mixed up in a common street scrap I'd better retreat, which I did ingloriously. Later I managed to scrape acquaintance with him, and by making some inquiries I found out that his mother is a widow and he was helping support the family, that he had a reputation as a scrapper and that though he swore like a pirate, smoked and chewed tobacco, as most of these street gamins do, he was strictly honest and was a terror to the bullies of his neighborhood. Also that he'd rather fight than eat. Just by chance I discovered that his ambition was to become a soldier, but he was worried for fear he never would be big enough. He's small for his age, stunted for lack of good food when he was a kid, I guess. Next to going into the army he wanted to be a prize-fighter. I talked scouting to him a little, but he didn't seem interested until one day I happened along in full uniform. That got him. I suppose it looked next best to being a soldier. Then I told him all about my patrol and what we were doing and what scouting stands for, and he gulped it all down like a hard run buck trying to drink a lake dry.

"'Gee, Oi'd like dat, but it ain't for poor blokes the loikes of me,' said he. That gave me an idea. There was a vacancy in the patrol, and at the next meeting I put it right straight to the fellows. I told them all about Sparrer and got 'em interested, and then I just kind of hinted at the brotherhood and democracy idea of scouting and what a mighty good turn it would be if Sparrer could be given a chance to get into the game, and then dropped the subject. The hint worked all right. They're a pretty good bunch, these fellows. They talked it all over and then they came around and asked me if I supposed Sparrer would like to join the Blue Tortoise Patrol. I told them that I was sure he wouldn't if he suspected that the invitation was charity on their part. They chewed this over for a while and then came around and said that they really would like to take him in, and there wasn't any charity about it. I took the invitation to Sparrer and he went up in the air like a rocket, just as I knew he would.

"'Say, yer can't put no stuff loike dat over on me,' said he. 'Wot do yer tink Oi am to fall fer a steer loike dat? Dat bunch of high-brows ain't wantin' me trainin' in dere camp. Youse has been on de level wid me, now hand it ter me straight—wot's de game?'

"I did my best to make him see that the invitation was sincere and explained all over again how there is no social distinction between Scouts, and how money and that sort of thing doesn't count, but I couldn't break through his pride. I'd about given up when I had a happy thought. 'Sparrer,' said I, 'I thought you were a dead game sport, but I guess you've got a streak of yellow in you after all. Some of these fellows are from fine homes and some are not, but they're white right through, and they've got more sand than you have. They dare to take you in on the same footing that they are on, and you haven't got the nerve to show 'em that you are just as good as they are.'

"That got him. The long and short of it was he agreed to come around to my house the next night and meet the bunch, and he did. The fellows were good Scouts, all right, and treated him on the level just as if he were one of 'em. When he saw those photos of mine and the snow-shoes and paddles and the rest of the junk, and heard about the good times the bunch was having, he was eager to be a Scout, but he wouldn't say that he would join the patrol. It wasn't until about three weeks later when he came around in full uniform and said that he would like to be a Blue Tortoise that I tumbled to what the trouble had been. He wouldn't join until he could at least look as well as the rest, and he'd been working over time and saving every penny to get that uniform. I guess he was right, at that. The fellows wouldn't have cared, but he cared, and being dressed like the rest made him feel more as if he belonged with the crowd."

Again Pat nodded his full understanding of the youngster's feelings.

"Sparrer took to scouting like a duck to water," Upton continued. "He cut out tobacco and swearing, and being naturally quick from his life in the streets he learned quickly and passed the tenderfoot and second class tests quicker than anybody else in the patrol. He's a first class Scout now, and a mighty good one. He is so full of life and fun that it wasn't any time at all before he was one of the most popular fellows in the patrol, and when he's on hand he keeps things moving. The hardest thing he has to overcome is slang. You know he was brought up in the streets. It's his mother tongue. I'm afraid the boys don't help him much. They like to hear him. But he's doing his best, and now he's going to night school. Of course I've told him all about you and the fight you've made and I rather fancy he's made something of a model and hero of you."

"The saints forbid!" exclaimed Pat. Nevertheless he looked pleased.

"Bronx Park! All out!" sang out the guards.

Once out of the car the patrol fell into line and with Upton in the lead headed for the park. Once inside the turnstiles he called a conference, "You fellows know what we planned to do to-day," he began, "but that was before we knew that we were to have the honor of Corporal Malone as our guest. You know he is something of a naturalist, and there are a lot of animals and birds and snakes and things here that I expect he is anxious to see. I propose that we show him around instead of doing the field work we had planned."

"Mr. Leader!" Pat saluted as he spoke. "The beasties and the bur-rds will not know what they are missing if they have no chance to inspect green goods to-day."

Chick started violently, remembering his remark to Sparrer, and the latter maliciously punched him in the ribs and ducked to hide a grin. "But I know what I shall miss if you do not carry out your plans, and I have no mind to be handed that kind of a lemon. I have all next week to look at the beasties and only this afternoon to see how little a city patrol knows of scouting. Arrah now, 'tis mesilf belaves ye be afraid to be showing me how much betther the Scouts av Upper Chain be than the Scouts av the great city av Noo Yor-r-k!"

"That settles it!" cried Upton when the general laugh had subsided. "We'll show him that the Blue Tortoise Patrol isn't afraid to take a dare from any one, and we'll show him a few stunts to make his Bull Moose up there in the woods turn green with envy. You're on your mettle now, fellows. We'll go over to the wildest and most lonesome part of the park and divide into two companies. Pat can take one and be the enemy which has made a successful raid and made its get-away. Hal can go with him because he knows the country as well as any of us. We'll give them ten minutes' start and then go in pursuit. There's enough snow in patches to make snowballs. Any one hit on the arms or legs is wounded. A hit on the throwing arm puts that man out of the fighting, but he is still at liberty. A hit on either leg puts a man out of action, but he may hide if he can within a radius of a hundred feet of the place where he was hit. A hit on the head or any part of the body puts a man wholly out of action and he becomes a first aid man to take care of the wounded. You fellows have played the game before, and I presume each of you has a Red Cross arm band to pin on when you are hit so that you will be recognized as a non-combatant."

There was a general assent and Upton continued: "Our camp will be at the point we start from. If the enemy can elude us and get back and capture the camp they win. If we run them down and defeat them or defeat them in a battle at the camp we win. Any man taken prisoner becomes a member of the other side. Scouts sent out by either side will make full reports not only of signs of the enemy but of the country and its conspicuous characteristics and animals and birds which are seen. Pat, you can pick your side. You get three besides Hal."

Pat's first choice was Sparrer, to the youngster's secret delight. He then chose McNulty and Bernstein, and the two companies, Pat at the head of one and Upton at the head of the other, started at the Scout pace for the scene of action. Arrived there a camp was marked off and Pat and his company at once started off to make the most of the ten minutes allotted them. Meanwhile Upton laid out his plan of campaign. The camp had been chosen with a view to defense. On two sides were dense thickets of bushes from which it would be practically impossible to throw a snowball. Moreover, to reach these thickets it would be necessary for the enemy to cross a bare hilltop, which meant that surprise from that quarter was virtually out of the question. On the third side was an outcropping ledge of rock behind which the defenders could take shelter. The fourth side was open, but could not be approached without the enemy being in sight for some time. Moreover, in the flat open country beyond there was no snow, hence the enemy attacking from that direction would not be able to replenish their ammunition. Upton decided that two men were ample for defense, and at once set all hands to work making a supply of snowballs from the patches of snow still lingering in the thickets. Promptly at the end of ten minutes Chick Parsons was sent out as scout to try to pick up the enemy's trail at the point where they had disappeared from view with instructions to signal what he should discover. Norwood was sent in the opposite direction to look for signs on the chance that the enemy had circled as soon as they were out of sight. Patterson and Chambers were left to guard camp and Upton climbed to the top of the little hill which flanked the camp and from which point he could get signals from both Scouts. The game was on.

"HELP!"

Every member of the Blue Tortoise Patrol was on edge, eager to show Pat that though they were city born and bred they still knew something of practical woodcraft and the art of tracking; also of the even more difficult art of covering up tracks. But it was ordained that things should be otherwise that day and that the big woodsman should witness a real and not an artificial test of Scout resources and pluck.

Chick, studying what struck him as a suspiciously broad trail leading west from the point where the enemy had last been seen, and suspecting a ruse, was startled by the faint sound of a whistle to the north. It was the patrol signal for help and was used only in case of an emergency or when, as in the present game, a Scout was in danger of capture by the opposite side and wanted to summon aid. His first thought was that one of his own side had run onto the enemy and was summoning help. Then he remembered that he was the only one who had gone out on that side of camp and so it was manifestly impossible that this could be.

"Wonder if that's a trick to lead us into an ambuscade," he muttered, listening with growing suspicion. Again he heard the signal, and there was something in the sound of it that banished all idea of trickery. "Something's happened to one of the fellows!" he exclaimed, and scrambled up a knoll to his left where he could get a fairly clear view. Far in the distance toward the outer boundary of the park he saw a figure which the instant he came in sight began to signal with a whistle in the Morse code.

"M-o-t-o-r s-m-a-s-h o-n r-o-a-d h-e-l-p c-o-p-s," he spelled out. Raising his own whistle he signaled O. K. and saw the distant figure turn and race away at top speed.

"Phew!" he gasped. "Must be bad if they need the cops. That must mean they need an ambulance." He whirled toward camp, and caught sight, of a figure on the hill just back of it. It was Upton watching for signals, and Chick knew that he must have heard him whistle the O. K. Once more raising the whistle he repeated the message, adding the location of the accident as nearly as he could judge. He heard Upton whistle for Norwood and then saw him bound down into the hollow where the camp lay. A minute later Patterson, the best runner in the patrol, sprang into view headed for the park administration buildings at top speed. Satisfied that help would come in the shortest possible time Chick picked up his staff and started swiftly for the point where he had seen Sparrer disappear, for it was he who had first signaled.

Meanwhile Pat, Hal and the three members of the Blue Tortoise Patrol who had started out with them were working with might and main at the scene of the accident and in their hearts praying that help would reach them speedily. It was one of those disasters which in these days have become so common that often they receive no more than a paragraph or two in the daily papers. Two automobiles had come together on a turn in a road at this time of year little frequented, and the smaller of the two had turned turtle. The other, a powerful roadster, had escaped with but trifling damage and the driver of it had not even paused to ascertain the results of the collision, but had thrown on full power and left the scene at racing speed.

The accident had occurred at a point about one hundred yards from where Pat and Sparrer were about to emerge from a thicket of bushes lining the drive and at the sound of the crash they sprang out. An instant later a big roadster tore past and they caught a fleeting glimpse of a strained white face behind the big steering wheel and beyond, partly raised and half turned to look back, a fur-coated figure, evidently that of a young man. For just a second his face turned toward them, then hastily turned away. But that brief glimpse was enough to show them that it bore the stamp of guilty fear.

Pat confessed later that the whole thing was so sudden and so wholly foreign to anything within his experience that he was too confused to think or act quickly. Not so Sparrer. His life in the streets of New York had made him no stranger to accidents of a more or less tragic nature, and he had seen too many violators of the law seeking to escape the consequences of their own acts not to grasp the situation instantly.

"They are trying to make a get-away!" he snapped. "Get de number!"

This was Greek to Pat, whose acquaintance with automobiles was too recent for him to appreciate the importance of a license number at a time like this. But Sparrer had not practiced taking automobile numbers in the rush hours at Madison Square for nothing. It had been only fun there, by way of training his eyes to quick and sure observation. Now as a result eye and brain worked in unison and almost automatically and despite the speed of the car he got the number as surely as if it had been at a standstill.

HE JOTTED DOWN THE NUMBER

"Jersey car! Dey'll beat it fer across de river," said he as he jotted down the number in his note-book. "Did yer pipe dere monikers? Oi'd know dem in a tousand! Now let's see wot happened to de others."

They started on a run for the overturned car and as they drew near the sound of moaning from the wreck gave wings to their feet. A small touring car was bottom up at the side of the road, a rear wheel off at one side. Half among the bushes and half in the road lay the body of a young woman, whether dead or simply unconscious they did not take time to find out. If dead there was nothing for them to do. If unconscious she could receive attention later. The moans from beneath the wrecked car told them that there was where aid was needed first.

The driver, a middle-aged man, was pinned under the steering post, which was bent and rested across his chest in such a way that while the full weight of the car did not fall on it, still it was crushing in the ribs on one side. One leg was doubled under him in a way that denoted a bad break. His face was badly cut by the glass of the wind-shield and what was worse, the crimson stream gushing in little spurts from a jagged gash on one arm, fortunately thrust beyond the edge of the car, proclaimed a severed artery.

That must be stopped immediately at all costs, before any attempt was made to get the man out, or he would bleed to death. Both boys saw this on the instant, and without a word Pat stooped and gripped the arm above the cut, bringing to bear all the strength of his powerful fingers. The effect was immediately apparent. The wound still bled, but no longer in those fateful jets. Sparrer meanwhile had snatched off his neckerchief and was preparing a tourniquet. From a shrub by the roadside he cut a stout stick a foot long, then hastily made search for a smooth pebble. Finding none he started to feel in his pockets for some small object that would serve his purpose when his alert glance fell on Pat's mackinaw. Whipping out his knife once more he cut one of the big smooth buttons from the mackinaw. Tying the handkerchief loosely around the injured arm just above where Pat was gripping it he slipped the button in so that it rested directly on the artery. Then putting the stick under the handkerchief on the outer side he rapidly twisted it until the pressure of the button on the artery was sufficient to stop the flow of blood and Pat could release his grip. The stick was then tied so that it could not untwist, and they were ready for the next move.

By this time Harrison, McNulty and Bernstein had come up. They had not been so far away but that they had heard the crash. Then, too, Sparrer had whistled for help as soon as he had seen the extent of the disaster. The quick wits of the newsboy, trained to acute sharpness in the school of the streets, peculiarly fitted him to take command of the situation. Also familiarity with suffering and with scenes of violence made him less susceptible to the shock of the grim spectacle before them than was the case with his comrades, and he now assumed leadership by right of fitness. Indeed, he did it quite unconsciously and his comrades quite as unconsciously accepted the situation and turned to him for directions.

"We got to git de cops and an amb'lance. Youse guys git de man out from under de car and Oi'll chase fer de cops!" Without waiting another second he plunged through the bushes and started in the direction of the camp, which lay in almost a direct line with the park administration buildings, the nearest point at which he could be sure of getting help. He knew the lay of the land perfectly, and he reasoned that by this time one or more of the other party would be out on the trail and that if he could signal them and they in turn signal those behind valuable time would be saved. So on the first high ground he stopped to blow the help signal with the result already noted. To gain time he made his message as brief as possible. "Motor smash" told the nature of the accident. "Help—cops" told the urgency of the case and the need of police aid. He counted on Upton's knowledge of the way things are handled in a big city to make the message as clear as if he took precious time to spell out the full story, and when he heard Chick's O. K. he turned back confident that help would reach them in the shortest time possible.

Nor was his confidence misplaced. As soon as Upton got the message from Chick he understood the situation exactly. Getting down into the hollow where the camp was he issued orders. The others had heard Chick's message and knew where the accident had occurred. "Get over to the administration building as fast as you can run," he ordered Patterson. "Tell 'em to notify the police and put in an ambulance call. If you meet a mounted cop on the way tell him. It may be life or death, so run for a record."

Patterson was off before the last words were out of Upton's mouth. Upton, with the other two boys at his heels, at once started for the scene of the accident, running at top speed. Half-way to his goal Patterson caught sight of a mounted policeman, hailed him with a shrill yell, and brought him at a gallop. Briefly he told his story, and the officer was away to put in a call for an ambulance and get help.

Meanwhile the boys at the wreck had been working with might and main. Pat's great strength had stood them in good stead, and they had managed to raise the car sufficiently to free the victim and draw him out. The cushions and robes were pulled out of the wreck and on these the still unconscious woman and the man were laid. By the time Upton and his comrades, panting for breath, reached the scene both victims had been made as comfortable as possible. The first aid kits had been opened and temporary bandages were being applied where most needed. In this work the newcomers at once took a hand.

Seeing that his assistance was not needed Sparrer had busied himself elsewhere. He went along the road for some little distance in each direction, studying the ground carefully. The top surface of the ground had softened a little in the sun and in places the wheel marks were visible. This was especially true of the wrecked car, as this had been fitted with chains. It was comparatively easy to trace the course of this car, and Sparrer was soon satisfied in regard to it. On the wheel marks of the other car he spent more time, and he had just completed his examination as two mounted police dashed up. Swinging down from their horses they made hasty examination of the victims.

"Good work, boys," said one of them. "You've done all that can be done, so far as I can see, until the ambulance gets here. Now then, which of you is the leader?"

Upton stepped forward. "Tell us what you know about the accident," commanded the officer.

"I know nothing about it," replied Upton curtly. "Everything was practically as you see it now when I reached here. Pat, did any of your party see the thing happen?"

Pat shook his head. "None of us saw it, but two of us were right handy when it happened, and were on the spot in less than two minutes," said he, addressing the policemen. "We heard the crash and saw a car which seemed to be trying to get away, and then we saw this car overturned. When we got here the young woman was lying by the side of the road half in the bushes, and out of her senses, just as she is now. The man was pinned under the car and bleeding like a buck that has just felt the knife. We stopped that as soon as we could, and then got him out. Muldoon there can tell you more than I can, because he saw more than I did. He proved himself a better Scout."

Sparrer flushed with pleasure. Praise from this source meant more to him than it would have from any one else, and at a sign from one of the officers he stepped forward to tell what he knew.

"We was in de bushes," said he, "about a hundred yards up de road, when we heard de smash an' jumped out just in time to lamp a big gray roadster wid two guys in it making dere get-away, and dey was beatin' it fer fair."

"Don't suppose you thought to get the number," interrupted one of the officers.

Sparrer grinned as he fished out his note-book. "Sure Oi got it," said he. "Jersey car, and dey was beatin' it fer de ferry loike New York was bad fer de health. No cops around, same as usual." Sparrer winked at the other boys. "Prob'ly dey think dey made dere get-away and dey would have, if some real Scouts hadn't happened to be around."

One of the officers had reached for the note-book and hastily glanced at the number. "I'll 'phone this number in and see if we can't head off that car while you take care of things here," said he, as he vaulted into the saddle, and a second later was off at full gallop.

"Go on with your story," commanded the other.

"Dey ain't no more 'cept while de others was getting the man out from under de car Oi signaled to de fellows over across de park to get word to youse, and dey done it," replied Sparrer, quite as if his quick-witted handling of the matter was as commonplace as his grammar was bad.

"The man didn't come to, and make any statement?"

The boys shook their heads. "He's been just as you see him now," said Pat, with a pitying glance at the injured man.

The officer shook his head. "Too bad," said he, "that there wasn't a witness. If we nab those fellows they'll swear that it was this fellow's fault. Their running away will make it look bad for them, but they'll frame up some sort of cock and bull story about being so frightened that they didn't realize what they were doing and without evidence their word will be as good as the other man's. If the latter doesn't recover sufficiently to make a statement, and the young lady doesn't either, the case will fall through. Was that car right where it is now when you first saw it?"

"Say," drawled Sparrer scornfully, "do 'youse tink we had nothing to do but to pick up a ton or two of scrap and lug it 'round?"

The policeman grinned. "You chaps seem to be equal to about anything," said he. "I didn't know but that you had moved the car in getting that fellow out. Unless he was knocked over here by the collision it appears that he was on the right side of the road."

"Sure thing," retorted Sparrer. "He was on de right side of de road and driving easy. De other blokes was burning up de road and tried to make de turn wide. Dey skidded and side-swiped de little car, and it turned turtle. Dat's all dey is to it."

He spoke with such an air of finality that the officer looked at him suspiciously. "I thought you said none of you saw this happen," said he.

"None of us did, but even a cop orter be able ter see what has happened," retorted Sparrer. He walked back up the road a short distance. "Here's de marks of de chains," he called, "an' dey's all on de right side of de road. Here's a place where de ground is pretty soft, but de tracks are clean-cut. If de car had been beatin' it de mud would have been trown more. Now lamp de tracks comin' de other way."

He led the way around the curve in the opposite direction, pointing out soft spots where the tracks of a heavy car without chains were clearly visible. Little globules of mud had been thrown some distance on both sides, conclusive evidence that the car was being driven at high speed. The curve was rather sharp, and the tracks showed that the car had started to take it wide, but at the scene of the accident had been pulled sharply to the right and had skidded, striking the smaller machine and causing it to turn turtle. For those with eyes to see the whole story was written out on the road surface, and yet the tracks were comparatively faint, because the surface had softened only where the sun had lain longest, and might easily have been overlooked by those not trained to close observation.

The officer looked at Sparrer curiously. "Hurry up and grow, sonny," said he; "we need you on the force."

Sparrer's retort was interrupted by the clang of a gong as an ambulance dashed up. The young surgeon made a hasty examination of the two victims and then as they were lifted into the ambulance he turned to the group of boys and spoke crisply.

"You fellows have done just the things to be done and all that could be done here. If this man lives he'll owe his life to you. If you hadn't known enough to get a tourniquet on that arm at once he would have bled to death by this time. Officer, I hope you will report the good work of these Scouts. If there was nothing more to scouting than the teaching of first aid to the injured it would be a great thing."

He swung up on the rear of the ambulance, and as it dashed away raised his hand in the Scout salute, which was promptly returned by the patrol. Meanwhile the officer was taking down the names and addresses of the boys, as they would in all probability be needed later as witnesses in court. When he had finished Upton ordered the patrol to fall in.

"I guess, fellows," said he, "that none of us feels much like continuing our game after what's happened. What do you say if we spend the rest of the afternoon showing Pat around the park? Those in favor say aye."

The vote was unanimous. As soon as it had been taken Pat stepped forward. "Mr. Leader," said he, "I want to say just a few words."

"Speech! Speech!" shouted half a dozen together.

Pat's face lighted with a grin, and his eyes began to dance. "Arrah now, yez be looking for a bear in the wrong tree," said he, "for there be no silver on me tongue and me thoughts be too bashful to be dressed in wor-rds. So 'tis no spache yez will be getting from me this day." Then abruptly he dropped the brogue. "Mr. Leader, you started out this day to show me what city Scouts can do, and you have shown me in a way that none of us dreamed of. I take off my hat to the Blue Tortoise Patrol. That was as good scouting as ever I have seen, and we've got some Scouts up where I come from. They can do stunts in the woods that probably would make you fellows green with envy if you could see them. If you were to come up there in the woods I expect that they would laugh at you behind your backs, just as you would laugh at them if they should come down here. As nearly as I can make out that seems to be the way with the world—to laugh at others who happen to be different in speech or ways or dress. You city boys call a country boy a rube and green just because his ways are different from your ways and he isn't wise to the things that you are. He thinks just the same way of you when you visit him in the country. What I have seen to-day has taught me a lesson. Out in the woods I know just what to do, how to do it and when to do it, no matter what happens. When I started out with you to-day I smiled down inside at the idea of you being able to show me anything in the way of scouting. I wished I had the Bull Moose Patrol here to show you what real scouting is like.

"Then that accident happened, and found me as helpless as a new-born babe. But Sparrer here was right on the job from the jump. He had the number of that car before I had it through my head what had happened, and he knew just what to do next. I expect that it would have been the same with any of the rest of you in his place. Anyway, I've been shown the very finest kind of scoutcraft, and that little smile I started with has turned to pride. I'm proud to be out with the Blue Tortoise Patrol, as fine a bunch of real Scouts as I know of. And I am particularly proud of my friend Sparrer Muldoon. I might be able to give him some points on tracking a deer or a moose or even a man in the woods, but when it comes to tracking a crazy motorcar Sparrer has got my number. I would like to propose, Mr. Leader, three cheers for Scout Muldoon."

The cheers were given with a will and with a rousing tiger at the end, to the confusion of Sparrer. Then Upton called for the patrol yell for Pat Malone, and in that Sparrer found vent for his own feelings. These preliminaries out of the way the patrol fell in to escort Pat about the park and show him the hardier animals which winter out-of-doors. Nor was their courtesy without gain to themselves, for the young naturalist's comments as they visited one enclosure after another revealed an intimate knowledge of the characteristics and habits, not only of those species with which he was familiar in their native wilds, but of many which he was now seeing for the first time, which was a revelation to his young admirers. Chick wasn't far wrong when he whispered to Norwood:

"We ain't showing him anything; he's showing us."

It was an afternoon never to be forgotten by the Blue Tortoise Patrol, and it was an equally memorable one for Pat. And when they parted that night there was a mutual respect and liking which found expression in the hearty grip of Scout brotherhood.

OFF FOR WOODCRAFT

Edward Muldoon, otherwise Sparrer, surreptitiously pinched himself to make sure that he was not dreaming. He, newsboy from the lower East Side of New York, who had never been farther from it than Coney Island, riding in a brilliantly lighted Pullman coach on his way into the great woods of which he had dreamed so much since he became a Scout, and of which he had only the vaguest idea! It couldn't be.

And yet it was. The roar of the wheels told him that it was. The very feel of the luxurious seat in which he was sitting told him that it was. And to clinch the fact and at the same time make it harder to believe there were his three companions, Upton, his patrol leader, Harrison and Pat Malone, whom he had secretly made his hero. Yes, it was all true, and yet he couldn't get rid of the idea that sooner or later he would wake up and find it all a beautiful dream.

The fact is, this trip was in the nature of a Christmas present. From their first meeting Pat had taken a great fancy to the street gamin. He recognized a kindred spirit. Instinctively he realized that the difference between Sparrer and himself at the same age was mainly one of environment. The youngster's sturdy independence and self-reliance, his quick wit, even his impudence, struck responsive chords in the young woodsman. Sparrer was what he himself would have been had his nursery been a New York East Side tenement instead of the log cabin of a mill settlement in the lumber district of the North Woods.

The night after the motor accident the three older boys had been discussing Sparrer and his prompt resourcefulness. Pat dropped a remark that he wished with all his heart that he could have the youngster in the woods with him for a couple of weeks.

"Let's take him with us! It would be no end of fun," cried Hal on the spur of an inspiration.

Upton shook his head. "It would be bully if we could, but I'm afraid we can't," said he.

"Why not?" demanded Hal. "I can get a pass for him, and between us I guess we can take care of him. It won't cost him a cent."

"That's just it," declared Upton. "There is nothing on two legs in New York more independent than Eddie Muldoon. He'll scrap for his rights as long as he can swing a fist, but the minute you try to hand him anything for nothing he'll turn you down hard and cold. Sparrer pays his way, or he don't go, and wild horses couldn't drag him. He would stand for the pass, all right, because he would be on the same footing as the rest of us, but if we tried to give him anything in the way of an outfit, and it goes without saying that he hasn't anything suitable for the weather we are likely to have up there, he would kick like Barnum's trick mule. That's one thing I like about the little beggar. And when you come right down to it, independence is one of the fundamental principles of scouting."

Once more Hal was inspired. "I have it, fellows!" he cried. "We'll make him a Christmas present of the trip. He can't refuse a Christmas gift, if it is put to him right. I'll get the passes and chip in toward whatever he needs in the way of outfit. You two can make up the rest. He'll be Pat's guest when he gets there, the same as Walt and myself, so he can't kick on that. You're all my guests on the train anyway, so I don't see how Sparrer's independence is going to be hurt a little bit."

"That will be great, if we can put it across," declared Upton, "and I for my part would like nothing better than to have the youngster along. It would be the event of a lifetime for him."

So it was decided that Upton should use all his diplomatic powers to persuade Sparrer that he was needed for the largest success of the party. His success was the result of a great deal of argument, helped out by the boy's own longing to know what the woods life of which he so often dreamed really was like. So now here they were actually on their way, four as happy boys as ever set forth in quest of pleasure.

The week had been a busy one. Pat had spent a good part of it at Bronx Park and the American Museum of Natural History, where his letters of introduction and his own ready wit and evident thirst for knowledge had made him a welcome visitor. During the rest of the time there had been something doing every minute. Hal had seen to that. Upton had dug at his books as if that scholarship hung on that one week's work. As for Sparrer, he had worked early and late that he might leave a few extra coins to make Christmas for the brother and two sisters at home.

"Did you telephone the hospital before we left?" asked Hal, turning to Upton as they waited for their berths to be made up.

Walter nodded. "Did it the last thing before I left the house," he replied. "The young lady is practically all right now, and has gone home. Her father is getting along nicely and it is only a matter of time when he will be right as ever. By the way, their story is exactly as Sparrer had it. Looks like a sure case against the owner of that other car. I understand that they are going to bring suit for damages. I suppose that means that we'll have to go on the witness stand when the thing comes off."

"Lucky they caught those fellows at the ferry."

"Do you suppose there's any truth in that claim by the owner of the car that it was a joy ride by unknown parties who had taken the car without his consent or knowledge?" Hal asked.

"Looks pretty fishy to me," replied Upton. "Still, he may get away with it. Understand that neither of the victims can identify the men in the other car. You remember that curve is pretty sharp, and they were hit almost before they saw the other car, let alone who was in it. Sparrer and Pat seem to be the only ones who even had a glimpse of the scoundrels, and that a mighty brief one. If there is any identifying done I guess it is up to you two fellows. Think you can do it?"

"Not I!" declared Pat with emphasis. "I could shwear to the number of points on a jumping buck in the brush, but nary a thing could I shwear to about that ingine av destruction."

"How about you, Sparrer?" demanded Hal.

"If Oi was one of them artist guys Oi could draw you a picture of both of them. Let me put my peepers on them and Oi'll shwear to them in a tousand," replied the newsboy with such an air of finality that there was no doubt in the minds of his companions that he could do just what he said he could.

"Well, you're likely to have a chance if that case goes to court," Upton remarked. "For my part, I hope you can do it. I'd like to see those fellows get what's coming to 'em. I move we turn in now, for we've got to get up at an unearthly hour. It's bad enough to turn out before daylight in the summer, but it makes me shiver to think what it will be at this time of year. Br-r-r-r."

Pat laughed. "If you're going out on the trap line you may as well get broken in to early rising at once. We often have some miles behind us by the time the sun is up," said he. "However, I guess you're right about turning in. I'm ready, for one."

It seemed to Sparrer that he had hardly closed his eyes when some one shook him, and he tumbled out of his berth to find the others in the dressing room hurriedly getting into their clothes. They had no more than time to dress and gather up their baggage and various parcels before the train stopped. They had reached Upper Chain.

As they stepped down into the night, for day had not yet begun to break, Upton recalled his first arrival there, a rather lonely youngster, uncertain that this was the right place. It had been summer then, but everything had been shrouded in a heavy night mist and the chill of the high altitude had struck clear to the marrow in his bones. He had been a tenderfoot then, his only knowledge of woodcraft what little he had gleaned from books. He remembered how the mystery of the great woods had swept over him and engulfed him even as did the night mist, and how insignificant he had felt. Even now, after three years of experience in camp and on the trail he felt something of that same spirit of awe, and he knew that it would always be thus. It was the tribute exacted by nature from the true devotee entering her temples.

He glanced curiously at Sparrer, wondering what responsive chords might be struck in the soul of this waif of the great city, but it was too dark to see his features clearly, and he could only dimly surmise something of the younger lad's feeling from Sparrer's quick intake of breath as the dark, heavy coaches of the train rumbled off into the night, leaving them standing between two walls of white. Overhead a myriad of stars burned like jewels. Never had they seemed so near, so brilliant, so alive. The snow thrown high on either side of the tracks, for there was a siding at this point, was above their heads. The stillness was almost oppressive now that the train was beyond hearing.

Pat stretched his arms and drew a long breath of the cold, rarified air, then expelled it in an audible sigh of supreme content.

"Arrah now, 'tis me foist breath av real air in a week, and the two lungs av me aching for ut," said he. "Shure 'twill make the likes av ye grow to a man's size in a week, me bantam, and thot's more than Noo Yor-r-k will be doing for ye in a loifetoime," giving Sparrer a hearty slap on the back. "Hal, I thought those passes read to Upper Chain, and here we be dropped in a snow-bank. I'll be after making complaint to the management for inconveniencing four gentlemen and reducing them to the ranks of common laborers."

The others laughed as they followed Pat's example and shouldered their duffle to tramp the hundred yards up to the station, for they had been in the rear car. In a few minutes they were in the bare little waiting room, in the middle of which a big stove was radiating welcome heat, and exchanging greetings with the night operator, who having wired the arrival and departure of the train was preparing to go home, for there would be no more traffic for many hours. He shook hands warmly with Walter and Hal, whom he recognized at once as Woodcraft Camp boys, was introduced to Sparrer, and jollied Pat on what he was pleased to term his "New York airs."

"I reckon your mother is waiting for you, Pat," said he. "I saw a light over at the house when I came along. You're welcome to stay here until daylight, but I expect she's looking for you over there."

"I wrote her we'd be there to breakfast, but not to get up any earlier on that account," replied Pat. His eyes danced. "Shure the ould lady thinks her son has been in the hands av the inimy and cannot rest aisy 'til she sees for herself that not a hair av his red head has been left in Noo'Yor-r-k. God bless her. We'll go over there and relieve her mind."

In speaking of his mother as the "ould lady" there was nothing disrespectful on the part of Pat. In reality it was a term of endearment. The stars were beginning to pale as the boys made their way in single file along a narrow path through the snow toward the yellow gleam of a light set in the window of one of the rough frame houses that made up the village. Pat led straight for this.

"Hello!" exclaimed Upton in surprise. "Have you deserted the old cabin?"

"Sure," replied Pat, and there was just a suggestion of pride in his voice. "The mother was a long time between log walls, but now, the saints be praised, she do be living in one of the illigant mansions of Upper Chain, and by that token is a member of the aristocracy. Moved in last fall."

By this time they had reached the house and at the sound of voices the door was thrown open and Mrs. Malone stood in the doorway looking out eagerly. It was a warm Irish greeting that the boys received and Hal, who never had met her before, understood where Pat got his humor and ready tongue. He at once dropped into his old brogue entirely and while Mrs. Malone bustled about putting a hot breakfast on the table Pat told her of his adventures in the great city as only he could. From time to time she interrupted with comments so like Pat's own ready repartee that between the two the boys were kept in a gale of laughter.

"Eating breakfast by lamplight is a new experience to me," declared Hal as they sat down to bacon, corn bread just from the oven, flapjacks with thick maple syrup, and coffee.

"'Tis pwhat yez will be doing every day for the next week, and lucky if yez get the breakfast, as good a wan as this, anyway," declared Pat.

They had just finished the meal when Pat's younger brother and two little sisters shyly joined them. They were neatly dressed, and Walter was immensely tickled with Pat's manifest pride in them. It had been decided to spend the day there to prepare for the trip into the woods, and also to give Pat a day at home. They would take the train the next morning over to Lower Chain, a twenty minute run, and from there they would have to depend on their own good legs to take them the twelve miles on the lake to Woodcraft Camp. One of Pat's first inquiries had been as to whether there had been any snow during his absence, and great was his satisfaction to learn that there had not. He explained that that meant clear ice on the lake, for the heavy snows had come early this year, before the lake froze, and they would be able to make practically the whole distance on skates.

While Pat was attending to affairs at home the three visitors went out to do the village. The sun was well up and as they stepped out into the clear still air both Hal and Walter paused with a little gasp of surprise and pleasure. This was not the ugly sawmill village of their acquaintance. But for the tall stack of the mill and the whine and scream of the saws there was nothing familiar. It was as if a good fairy had touched the scene with a magic wand and all the sordid ugliness had been transformed to beauty. Over everything lay the white mantle of snow. It half buried the smaller cabins. It hid completely the stumps of the clearings. It had buried the litter of the mill yard. It glittered and sparkled in the rays of the sun. Beyond the clearing the evergreens rose in great pyramids of white. No, Upper Chain was no longer a blot on the landscape. It was beautiful.

As for Sparrer, he was dumb. While he could not appreciate the wonder of the transformation he could and did appreciate the wonder of the scene, and for the time being his tongue was tied. From the mill office they called up Woodcraft Camp to tell Doctor Merriam of their arrival and that they would be with him on the following day.

"Gee, didn't it seem good to hear the Big Chief's voice again?" said Hal as they went out into the mill to show Sparrer how logs are transformed into boards, timbers and shingles. "Sparrer, to-morrow you are going to meet one of the finest men in the whole world, bar none. He's a great old Scout."

Mrs. Malone was naturally disappointed that Pat was not to be home for Christmas, but she said little and busied herself in helping the boys prepare for their holiday. Her motherly Irish soul warmed at once to Sparrer, and she fussed over his outfit and comfort in a way that was new to the youngster, for his own mother, working from daylight to dark and often late into the night, had had little time for mothering. The boys had brought some gifts for the children, and these their mother hid against the arrival of good St. Nick. A part of Sparrer's outfit as a Christmas gift from his comrades had been a warm mackinaw, and to this Mrs. Malone insisted on adding a pair of thick woolen stockings of her own knitting. Pat's contribution was a pair of snow-shoes, which he brought out at the last moment as they were starting for the train, and as he took them a lump rose in the younger lad's throat and cut off speech. But the shine in his eyes expressed more than his tongue could have. Such kindness was a new experience in his life, and he hardly knew how to meet it.

The short run by train to Lower Chain was quickly made, and the boys piled out, eager to be on their way. Pat had provided a stout toboggan which showed the effects of long use, and on this he deftly loaded their duffle and supplies, lashing them securely into place. Sparrer watched him with troubled face. Ever since the mention of skates the day before he had worried over that twelve mile trip down the lake. He knew that Upton and Harrison had brought skates, but he had none, and if he had had he couldn't have used them. He had never been on a pair in his life. Skating is not an accomplishment of the lower East Side of New York.

So Sparrer had worried. If it had been merely a matter of a twelve mile hike he would have been on edge to show the others that he could keep up, but he knew that with the others on skates for him to try to keep up was as absurd as for a truck to try to keep pace with a racing car, and it hurt his pride to feel that he would be a drag on the others. Hal and Walter already had their skates on and were cutting circles, figure eights and grape-vine twists on the smooth ice. With the fastening of the last lash Pat put on his own skates.

"Now, me bantam, get up on that load," he ordered.

Sparrer demurred, but the young giant picked him up bodily and plumped him down on a roll of blankets, wrapped him up in a blanket left out for the purpose, ordered him to sit still, with dire threats of what would happen to him if he did not, called to the others to get on to their jobs, and they were off, Hal and Walter with the rope of the toboggan between them pulling, and Pat pushing behind with his hands on Sparrer's shoulders.

Before them stretched the gray-white expanse of the lake, and on either side the glistening white shores, now receding as they passed a deep bay, again creeping out in a long point. There was no sound save the sharp ring of the skates and the soft grate of the smoothly slipping toboggan. Past two big summer hotels with blank staring windows, past shuttered and deserted summer camps they sped until all sign of man's handiwork disappeared. The keen air was like wine in their veins and it was hard to believe that the thermometer had registered eighteen below zero that morning, for the air was dry and did not penetrate as would the moisture laden air at home at a temperature many degrees above the zero mark.

"I just can't believe that thermometer was on its job," protested Hal, as they stopped for a breathing spell half-way down the lake. "Why, I'm so warm I wish I was rid of this mackinaw."

"Me too," added Walter.

Pat suddenly whirled Hal around and looked keenly at his left ear. The rim was a dead white. "If you can't believe the thermometer perhaps you can believe this," said he drily as he touched the ear. "What did I tell you about keeping your cap down over your ears? Shure, 'tis a tenderfoot and not a first class Scout at all, at all, thot ye be."

"What do you mean?" demanded Hal as he slipped a glove off to feel of the ear. At the look of blank astonishment that swept across his face as he discovered that the edge of his ear was stiff and wholly without feeling the others roared with laughter.

"I mean that you're frost-bitten already," replied Pat, "and I hope that this will be a lesson to the whole bunch of you. You may not feel him, but old Jack Frost is right on the job just the same, and it don't do up here to needlessly expose yourself. It is because the air is so dry that you don't feel the frost, but you freeze just the same. We'll run over to that point and thaw you out, and then I guess you'll keep your cap down where it belongs."

At the point Pat rubbed the frosted ear vigorously with a handful of snow until the frost was out and for a few minutes Hal danced with the ache of it, while the others grinned. "That's one on me, all right, and you're welcome to laugh, but little Hal Harrison has learned his lesson. No more frost-bites for me, thank you," he growled. "I don't wish you fellows any hard luck, but I hope you'll get a taste of it yourselves just to know what it feels like."

Walter and Sparrer took warning from Hal's experience and saw to it that their ears were well covered before they started on. As they drew near the end of the lake Old Baldy and Mount Seward loomed up with a grandeur and forbidding austerity that was almost menacing, and which was yet grandly heroic. The long pier of Woodcraft Camp jutting out into the lake was now clearly visible and on the end of it were two figures waving greetings.

"It's the Big Chief and Mother Merriam! Let's give them the old yell!" cried Upton.

They stopped and with Upton to lead sent the old Woodcraft yell ringing down the lake—"Whoop-yi-yi-yi! Whoop-yi-yi-yi! Whoop-yi-yi-yi! Woodcraft!" And even as the echoes flung it back from Old Baldy it was returned to them in the mingled voices of a man and a woman. The doctor and Mrs. Merriam were sending them welcome.

A few minutes later they reached the pier and were exchanging warm greetings. Sparrer had felt a natural diffidence at the thought of meeting the man of whom he had heard so much, but it vanished in the first hand-clasp and by the time he had reached the snug cabin he felt as if he had always known this great-hearted, kindly man and the sweet-faced woman whom the others called "Mother." In a dim way he understood the loyalty and affection of his comrades for these two who were devoting their lives to the making of strong men from weak boys.