Herbert Carter
The Boy Scouts Through the Big Timber
eBook
( Feb. 20, 2014)
“Call the roll, Mr. Secretary,” said the acting scoutmaster.
Of course this was a mere matter of form, because everybody knew that the entire membership of the Silver Fox Patrol, connected with the Cranford Troop of Boy Scouts, was present. But nevertheless Bob White gravely took out his little book, and made each boy answer to his name.
“Thad Brewster.”
“Present,” said the patrol leader, and assistant scoutmaster.
“Allan Hollister.”
[4]
“Here,” replied the second in command, a Maine boy, now living in Cranford, the New York town from whence these boys had journeyed to this far-off region along the foothills of the great Rocky Mountains.
“Bumpus Hawtree.”
“Ditto,” sang out the fat youth, looking up with a wide grin; for he was about as good-natured as he was ponderous.
“Giraffe Stedman.”
“More ditto,” answered the tall lad, with the long neck, and the quick movements, who was busying himself over the fire, being never so happy as when he could feed wood to the crackling blaze.
“Step Hen Bingham.”
“On deck,” replied the boy mentioned, who was busy with the supper arrangements.
“Davy Jones.”
“O. K.” came from the fellow who was walking on his hands at the moment, his waving feet being high in the air, where his head was supposed to appear; because Davy was a gymnast, and worked off his superfluous energy in doing all manner of queer stunts.
Of course this was a mere matter of form, because everybody knew that the entire membership of the Silver Fox Patrol, connected with the Cranford Troop of Boy Scouts, was present. But nevertheless Bob White gravely took out his little book, and made each boy answer to his name.
“Thad Brewster.”
“Present,” said the patrol leader, and assistant scoutmaster.
“Allan Hollister.”
[4]
“Here,” replied the second in command, a Maine boy, now living in Cranford, the New York town from whence these boys had journeyed to this far-off region along the foothills of the great Rocky Mountains.
“Bumpus Hawtree.”
“Ditto,” sang out the fat youth, looking up with a wide grin; for he was about as good-natured as he was ponderous.
“Giraffe Stedman.”
“More ditto,” answered the tall lad, with the long neck, and the quick movements, who was busying himself over the fire, being never so happy as when he could feed wood to the crackling blaze.
“Step Hen Bingham.”
“On deck,” replied the boy mentioned, who was busy with the supper arrangements.
“Davy Jones.”
“O. K.” came from the fellow who was walking on his hands at the moment, his waving feet being high in the air, where his head was supposed to appear; because Davy was a gymnast, and worked off his superfluous energy in doing all manner of queer stunts.
- Pages
- 140
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