THE STUNTS AND HAROLD'S REWARD

It was an excited group of boys that gathered about the big stunt-fire that evening. There was but one real subject of talk among the fellows, and that was the accident on the lake, and its hero, Harold Botting.

Mr. Blaine held a secret conference with Cooper and the "chief," and they had agreed that for Dale's own sake they would not mention the fact that in the excitement of the moment he had forsaken the smaller boys and thought only of his safety. He had been picked up far from the other boys, swimming hard, and had offered no explanation as to why he had left the scene of the accident.

"If Harold tells it, we can do nothing," Mr. Blaine had said.

"But he's too much of a sport to say a word about it," replied Mr. Cooper, "and I don't believe 'Love' has ever thought of it. If the fellows find it out, Dale is done for here."

Harold and "Love" were kept wrapped in their blankets, much to their disgust, while the other fellows did the usual cheering and signing, ending that part of the program with a wild dance about the fire, then three rousing cheers for Harold, "Love," and Dale. For some reason that no one exactly understood, enthusiasm was lacking when it came to cheer for Dale. He was gloomy and stood apart, not entering into the real fun of the occasion.

The yells were all over and the stunts were just about to begin, it being the custom that each tent give a stunt on stunt night, when Harold from his seat by a big tree cried out:

"You sap-heads, you forgot 'Baldy.' Now whoop 'er up."

This was the starter for a second spasm of yells, and it was fully twenty minutes before order was again restored.

"We want to hear about the accident," shouted half a dozen fellows. "We want a speech from 'Portage,'" howled the crowd. "Speech! Speech!"

Harold became bashful and declined. He did not like such popularity, for he, like the real hero that he was, was unconscious that he had done anything so wonderful except just to do his duty. If Mr. Blaine would have allowed it, Harold would have been snatched up and carried on many shoulders to the circle of fire-light. But he intervened and urged the fellows to go easy.

Mr. George, having heard of the events of the afternoon, had come over to enjoy the evening's fun and to hear more of the accident. As was his custom, he brought with him a bushel of apples. Now, in order to divert the boys' attention from Harold, he rose and, picking up the basket, passed down the line, allowing every by to help himself. Then Harold told very briefly and in a straight-forward manner just how the accident had occurred, giving "Love" and Dale great credit for the way they had kept their heads and showed their nerve, ending by casting all the glory for their rescue on Cooper. Cooper rose hastily and corrected the story, giving the details their true proportion. He made it very clear that he had done nothing praiseworthy and had come awfully near being too late to even help at all. There were three last rousing cheers for Harold; then the stunts began.

The stunts were certainly worth all the effort that had been put into them. Tent One had a take-off on the chef and his method of serving the daily food. They got off many of his set expressions, much to the delight of all.

Tent Two burlesqued Mr. Blaine's lessons in First Aid to the Injured, and kept the entire camp roaring with good-natured laughter at the treatment given the different patients. They were especially delighted when the practicing physicians declared that a mustard poultice on "Fat's" round stomach was the only thing that would cure his headache. But when they said that two large doses of caster-oil would cure any corn, the amusement knew no bounds.

Tent Three gave a modern operation for appendicitis. The patient, moaning and crying, was brought in on a stretcher. First a very leaned French doctor was called for the sick man, and after a long and careful examination of the patient's pocketbook he declared the case was not appendicitis at all, but a bad case of cancer. The nurses, not being satisfied, called in a prominent German specialist, who after due deliberation declared it appendicitis. It was decided to operate; so things were prepared. A nurse brought in a wheelbarrow, a saw, a hammer, a brace and bit, a crowbar, and a box of nails. With the help of the above instruments the opening was finally effected, and strange things that were removed from that patient's body! Sixteen wieners in a long string, a small ham, and two loaves of bread, a live kitten, a young duck, and a rusty horseshoe.

"I told you so once alreaty," declared the German doctor. "You see now it was the appendix, ain't it?" The Frenchman paid no attention to these remarks, but seemed lost in further investigation. Finally, with a shout, he produced a bright and shining tin-can. Presenting it with great ceremony to the German doctor, he said, "Et ees, you see as I said at the beginning, a can-sir." The crowd went wild with delight and applauded long and vigorously. It was the best yet.

Mr. Cooper's tent came next and represented Mr. Verne having a class in Nature Study, each student bringing some biological specimen to him for identification. It was very clever, and occasioned another great uproar.

Bill Ruthford came tripping in with a large branch in his hand, to which was attached a brown jug. "And-a, Mr. Verne, I found this in the big swamp. Can you tell me what it is?"

The supposed Mr. Verne was greatly surprised at seeing such a specimen in that region, and asked many questions concerning it.

"Yes, William, it is very rare, especially in this region. I have not seen any of it since leaving the city, and it should be carefully preserved. Its scientific name I do not know, but its common name is 'Anheiser Bush.'"

This was followed with cries of "Rotten!" "Bum joke!" Drown him!"

The next scholar brought in a mysterious package, carefully tied up. After due ceremony the strings ere cut and the package opened, revealing a medium-sized, very-much-alive, hard-shelled turtle. The instructor was delighted, for according to his statement it was a very rare and interesting animal, as well as a dangerous one, it common name being the Norwegian bedbug.

One brought in several small American flags, which the professor declared were splendid specimens of the sweet iris, commonly called flags. Another brought a dozen choice specimens of dead mosquitoes, which the professor pronounced "genuine humming-birds," calling special attention to their dainty, long bills.

The next brought a young garter-snake, dangling him fearlessly by the tail. This specimen bothered the professor, and it was only after a long and careful examination of his elaborate natural history that he decided that it must be an escaped "noodle from day before yesterday's soup."

Tent Five gave a mock wedding, and Six built several very clever pyramids. Seven had the only troupe of real "coon" minstrels. And so on, until every group had had its chance to entertain.

After the stunts were over, the "chief" stepped into the circle of firelight and motioned for silence. Every boy listened eagerly, for in his hand he held several of the much-coveted Brown and Green Rages, which were simply large silk handkerchiefs with the camp emblem in white on one corner.

"I am especially glad to have the privilege of awarding several Rags to-night," he began, "for it makes me fell good to present a Rag to any of you fellows, because I know it represents a lot of conscientious work on your part. The value of these Rags is not in themselves, but in what they represent. They are to our camp what the great Yale 'Y' is to Yale, or the famous crimson 'H' is to the Harvard men. They stand for achievement. They represent the hardship overcome. They spell growth to every man who wins one. A fellow can not come into this camp and win either his Brown or Green Rag and still be the same fellow he was before he came, for in receiving his rage he is receiving a certificate for things accompli9shed, growth in all-around development. I hope that in after years, when you look on your Rag, you will have refreshing memories of shady nooks and wild flowers, of improved athletic records and worth-while hikes into the country, of woodcraft learned, and most of all, of a real fellowship with a crowd of clean, happy, healthy fellows.

"I am especially glad to-night to present to Mr. Cooper his Brown Rag, and his Green Rag, too. He has worked hard for both of them. Cooper, the Green Rag represents the highest honor this camp can give a camper. It stands for leadership in all that word implies, and I know you gladly accept the obligation that this Rag imposes."

Cooper stepped forward, received his Rags, and at the urgent demand for a "speech" made a few remarks. All eyes were turned upon him admiringly.

Bill Ruthford and several others were then presented with their Brown Rags, each one in turn repeating Cooper's speech of acceptance, much to the amusement of the crowd.

Harold was looking on with wistful eyes, for he had counted on so much on getting his Brown Rag at the same time as Cooper and Vincent got theirs. He would get it next week, though, and meanwhile do a lot of work toward his Green one.

The "chief" still stood in the firelight, waiting for the happy chatter to cease. He seemed to have something more to say. When the crowd had quieted down he put his hand into his sweater pocket and pulled out a small package, which he held before him in his hand. Then, in quiet, well-measured tones, he began:

"Fellows, I believe that you will agree with me that the boy who gets most out of this camp is the fellow who puts most into it. The fellow who is willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of the other fellow is the boy that we most admire, for it takes real manhood to be unselfish.

"To-day has been a day that will not soon be forgotten by some of us. To-night we have a boy in this camp who has shown us a splendid bit of the unselfish spirit, purchased at the risk of his own life." All eyes were turned toward Harold.

"Every one of you has read over and over again the requirements of our Camp Honor System, and you will all recall that at the end of this note is added: 'Upon the unanimous vote of all members of the Green Rag Society, a Green Rag, representing the highest honor this camp can bestow, may be awarded to a camper without requiring necessary tests of him, for the saving of a human life.' Little did the council that made the note expect that we would be given a chance to take advantage of it so soon. Harold" - and the "chief" unwrapped the package in his hand, revealing a Green Rag - "we consider it an honor to be able to give you this Rag, and in this little way show how we, as a camp, regard an unselfish act such as you performed to-day."

There was a deafening shout of applause and a final "Three cheers for 'Portage!'" "Love slipped his arm around Harold's shoulder and giggled his delight. The "chief" noticed that Dale Worth was nowhere to be seen, and wondered at it.

The fire had burned low now and was just a heap of glowing embers. The crowd broke up. Some went to bed, others sat around the dying fire telling stories, for on "stunt-night" the general rule of "all quiet at nine" was suspended. Many of the fellows looked forward to the story hour with even more interest than to the stunts. To-night a special treat was promised them in the presence of Mr. George, who, without exception, held first place when it came to stories. The boys cuddled up close to the fire and became quiet.

"Mr. George, won't you tell us some more stories about this lake when the Indians were here?" asked Harold.

"Yes, do," seconded "Love," from his blanket. "Yes, yes," came from the whole group.

Mr. George perched himself comfortably at the end of a big log and laughed good-naturedly.

"Well, by jolly, boys, I hardly know what to tell you about. I've told you about the 'sea-serpent' we used to have here when I was a boy, and about the old log schoolhouse that used to stand at the end of Little Corey. That's where I got all my schoolin'. The times us kids used to have there beats your good times nowadays all to smithereens." For a moment he was lost in reviewing in his mind the stories he had told them.

"Tell us about the old fellow that believed he could turn stones to gold," whispered Harold.

"Yes, that's the one,' echoed "Love."

"About the old fellow that saved stones, eh? Well, there ain't much to tell you boys about him. He was gone several years before our family came here to live, but I recollect hearin' a good deal about him. He was the very first white man in this region, I think, and was the man that homesteaded this farm. He built the main part of my house years and years ago, and set out our old orchard. He was sort of an Indian trader, I think, and made his living by tradin' with the Indians for their furs. He was the first white man to live on this lake, and when he came all this open country was the most beautiful forest I have ever seen. This ground where the camp is now, was in them days covered with great oaks and whitewoods, a lot of 'em six fee through. When I came, as a boy, with my father, they still stood, the only clearing being the strip where my garden is now. Father used to send me into the big timber in the evenings after the cows, and many times I've been awfully scared.

"The first job my father gave me to do when we got to the old cabin was to shovel out several bushels of small, round stones like you see here on the beach. They were piled in every corner of the cabin. He told them then that this old man - Thomson was his name - had lost his mind some years before he died, and one of the foolish things that he believed was that he could at a certain season of the moon turn stones into gold. The Indians were afraid of him and thought he was a great 'medicine man.' When I was a boy like Harold there, I remember a fellow that lived away over north of here - he's been dead now fifty years - that used to tell how Thomson would stop him on the trail, and in a very mysterious way show him several stones he had in his pocket, and explain to him that they were just about ready to turn into nuggets.

"They say that before he went crazy his wife left him, and the only companions he had were a couple of Indians that lived with him. They thought at one time that he must have left a lot of money hid somewhere around the lake here, but most all the old-timers are gone now, and Thomson has nearly been forgotten.

"They tell how the old man used to paddle around the lake in a canoe, day in and day out, without a stitch of clothing on, a great knife in his hand, looking for an immense sturgeon that the spirits told him inhabited the lake. This fish was to be his if he was just patient in hunting it, and when he captured it he was to find in its stomach a great fortune in pearls.

"He dug a funny-looking hole in the island, and used to spend lots of his time there. Twice the neighbors found him roaming the woods in the middle of the night, carrying in each hand a lighted torch of fat pine. He declared he was hunting down evil spirits. He finally got to be nuisance in the neighborhood, for he refused to clothe himself and often frightened folks badly at night. Imagine driving home from Three Rivers - that was the closest village in the early days, and the road ran all the way through dense forest. Imagine yourself on a load of supplies, night closing in around you, then suddenly to hear a piercing shriek from somewhere in the timber, followed by moans and groans. It was always that old fellow somewhere in the woods, killing imaginary enemies and chasing evil spirits with shotgun and blazing torch. One fall the neighbors drove him from the country, and that spring his frozen body was found in the deep woods ten miles north of here. He claimed to know a secret passage from the lake to the St. Joe River, but I think it was just another of his notions.

"When I was a young man, I remember one time a cow strayed from the herd I was driving, and wandered away into the timber south of here. When I was looking for her I came on to a saddle and bridle hung high in a tree. I brought them home, and a farmer that was an old-timer in these parts told me they had belonged to an Indian that had mysteriously disappeared from the Thomson place. He was a mighty strange old fellow, that's sure. Probably just lost his mind over some crime he had committed, and had come into the great wilderness from the East to escape the law. There was a lot of such characters in Southern Michigan in early days."

The fire had burned almost out, and the big harvest moon had risen out of the lake away to the other shore, making a golden pathway across the rippling waters.

"Tell us another," begged Durbin, as he arose and kicked the last few embers together.

"No boys, no more to-night," said Mr. George. "I must be gettin' home. It won't be long before it's time for me to get up, and I haven't gone to bed yet." Then turning to Harold and "Love," he said, "Hope you boys won't be none the worse for your bath to-day."

"Come again!" shouted the boys as the old gentleman disappeared in the darkness.

"Thanks for the apples, Mr. George!" called Cooper.

"Gee, ain't he swell?" said "Shrimp," as he rose and stretched his cramped legs.

"And-a come on, kids, let's turn some rocks into gold," remarked Bill as they moved down the beach toward the tents.