Service Stripes: For each year of service as a boy scout, he will be entitled to wear a stripe of white braid around the sleeve above the wrist, three stripes being changed for one red one. Five years of scouting would be indicated by one red stripe and two white stripes. The star indicates the position for wearing merit badges.



Scout Master: The badge of the scout commissioner, scout master, and assistant scout master is the first-class scout's badge reproduced in blue, green, and red, respectively, and are worn on the sleeve below the left shoulder.



Chief Scout: The badge of the Chief Scout is the first-class scout badge with a five-pointed star above it embroidered in silver.



Chief Scout Surgeon: The badge of the Chief Scout Surgeon is the first-class scout badge with a caduceus above it embroidered in green. (The Chief Scout's staff wear the badge of rank in the same manner as the Chief Scout.)



Chief Scout Woodsman: The badge of the Chief Scout Woodsman is the first-class scout badge with two crossed axes above it embroidered in green.



Chief Scout Stalker: The badge of the Chief Scout Stalker is the first-class scout badge with an oak leaf above it embroidered in blue.



Chief Scout Director of Health: The badge of the Chief Scout Director of Health is the first-class scout badge with {46} tongues of fire above it embroidered in red.



Chief Scout Camp Master: The badge of the Chief Scout Camp Master is the first-class scout badge with a moccasin above it embroidered in green:



Chief Scout of Athletics: The badge of the Chief Scout Director of Athletics is the first-class scout badge with a winged Mercury foot above it embroidered in green.

Chief Scout Director of Chivalry: The badge of the Chief Scout Director of Chivalry is the first-class scout badge with the scout sign above it embroidered in gold.



Chief Scout Citizen: The badge of the Chief Scout Citizen is the first-class scout badge with the United States flag above it in silver.

Appropriate badges for national and local councilmen may be secured from the National Headquarters.

Equipment

It should be clearly understood by all interested in the Scout Movement that it is not necessary for a boy to have a uniform or any other special equipment to carry out the scout program. There are a great many troops in the country which have made successful progress without any equipment whatever.

However, for the convenience of boys who wish to secure a uniform or other equipment, the National Council has made arrangements with certain manufacturers to furnish such parts of the equipment as may be desired by the boys. Such arrangements have been made with these manufacturers only after a great number of representative firms have been given an opportunity to submit samples and prices; the prices quoted to be uniform throughout the country. These manufacturers {47} are given the privilege of using for a limited period an imprint of the official badge as an indication that the Committee on Equipment is willing to recommend the use of that particular article. The official badge is fully protected by the U. S. Patent Laws and anyone using it without expressed authority from National Headquarters is subject to prosecution at law.

Considerable difficulty has been experienced in the selection of the material used in making coats, breeches, and shirts. The material used in the boy scout coat, breeches, and shirt has been submitted to a thirty-day sun test, the acid and strength test and is guaranteed to be a fast color and durable. To show the result of the selection made, the manufacturer of these articles has been given the privilege of using the imprint of the official seal and the right to use the official buttons. We recommend the purchase of the articles having this imprint through any local dealer or through National Headquarters. However, where a local council exists, buttons will be supplied on order of the Executive Committee for use on such uniforms as the Committee may desire to have made locally. In communities where no local council has been formed, they may be supplied on order of a registered scout master. Prices of the buttons per set for coat is 15 cents and per set for shirt 10 cents.

Every effort is made to have all parts of the uniform and equipment available to scouts through local dealers. If such arrangements have not been made in a community, the National Headquarters will be glad to help in making such an arrangement. Many scout masters prefer to order uniforms and other supplies direct from National Headquarters. In order to cover the expense involved in handling these supplies, the manufacturers have agreed to allow National Headquarters the same trade discount allowed to local dealers. Trade through National Headquarters if sufficiently large will help to meet a part of the current expenses of the National Organization. Any combination desired may be made from this list. A fairly complete equipment may be secured at the very nominal sum of $2.15. For instance, the Summer equipment which consists of: Hat, 50 cents; Shirt, 75 cents; Shorts, 50 cents; Belt, 40 cents.

Where it is desired to equip the members of the troop with a standard uniform the following equipment is suggested: Hat, Shirt, Coat, Breeches or Knickerbockers, Belt, Leggings or Stockings, shoes, Haversack.

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Other combinations may be made according to the resources of the boys forming the troop.

However, it is recommended that each troop decide upon a definite combination to be worn by its members so that all of the scouts in the troop may dress alike. Each boy should pay for his own supplies and equipment. Soliciting donations for this purpose should be prohibited.

A complete list of all supplies and equipment with full information about places where same can be secured is given in the appendix of this book.

KNOTS EVERY SCOUT SHOULD KNOW

By Samuel A. Moffat, Boy Scouts of America

Every scout knows what rope is. From the earliest moment of his play life he has used it in connection with most of his games. In camp life and on hikes he will be called upon to use it again and again. It is therefore not essential to describe here the formation of rope; its various sizes and strength. The important thing to know is how to use it to the best advantage. To do this an intelligent understanding of the different knots and how to tie them is essential. Every day sailors, explorers, mechanics, and mountain-climbers risk their lives on the knots that they tie. Thousands of lives have been sacrificed to ill-made knots. The scout therefore should be prepared in an emergency, or when necessity demands, to tie the right knot in the right way.

There are three qualities to a good knot: 1. Rapidity with which it can be tied. 2. Its ability to hold fast when pulled tight, and 3. The readiness with which it can be undone.

The following knots, recommended to scouts, are the most serviceable because they meet the above requirements and will be of great help in scoutcraft. If the tenderfoot will follow closely the various steps indicated in the diagrams, he will have little difficulty in reproducing them at pleasure.

In practising knot-tying a short piece of hemp rope may be used. To protect the ends from fraying a scout should know how to "whip" them. The commonest method of "whipping" is as follows:



Lay the end of a piece of twine along the end of the rope. {49} Hold it to the rope with the thumb of your left hand while you wind the standing part around it and the rope until the end of the twine has been covered. Then with the other end of the twine lay a loop back on the end of the rope and continue winding the twine upon this second end until all is taken up. The end is then pulled back tight and cut off close to the rope.

For the sake of clearness a scout must constantly keep in mind these three principal parts of the rope:



1. The Standing Part—The long unused portion of the rope on which he works;

2. The Bight—The loop formed whenever the rope is turned back upon itself; and,

3. The End—The part he uses in leading. Before proceeding with the tenderfoot requirements, a scout should first learn the two primary knots: the overhand and figure-of-eight knots.



The Overhand Knot.

Start with the position shown in the preceding diagram. Back the end around the standing part and up through the bight and draw tight.



The Figure of Eight Knot. Make a bight as before. Then lead the end around back of the standing part and down through the bight.

After these preliminary steps, the prospective tenderfoot may proceed to learn the required knots.

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Square or Reef Knot. The commonest knot for tying two ropes together. Frequently used in first-aid bandaging. Never slips or jams; easy to untie.



False Reef or Granny. If the ends are not crossed correctly when making the reef knot, the false reef or granny is the result. This knot is always bad.



Sheet Bend or Weaver's Knot. This knot is used in bending the sheet to the clew of a sail and in tying two rope-ends together.

Make a bight with one rope A, B, then pass end C, of other rope up through and around the entire bight and bend it under its own standing part.



The Bowline. A noose that neither jams nor slips. Used in lowering a person from a burning building, etc.

Form a small loop on the standing part leaving the end long enough for the size of the noose required. Pass the end up through the bight around the standing part and down through the bight again. To tighten, hold noose in position and pull standing part.



Halter, Slip, or Running Knot. A bight is first formed and an overhand knot made with the end around the standing part.



Sheepshank. Used for shortening ropes. Gather up the amount to be shortened, then make a half hitch round each of the bends as shown in the diagram.

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Clove Hitch. Used to fasten one pole to another in fitting up scaffolding; this knot holds snugly; is not liable to slip laterally. Hold the standing part in left hand, then pass the rope around the pole; cross the standing part, making a second turn around the pole, and pass the end under the last turn.



The Fisherman's Bend. Used aboard yachts for bending on the gaff topsail halliards. It consists of two turns around a spar or ring, then a half hitch around the standing part and through the turns on the spar, and another half hitch above it around the standing part.



Timber Hitch. Used in hauling timber. Pass the end of the rope around the timber. Then lead it around its standing part and bring it back to make two or more turns on its own part. The strain will hold it securely.



Two Half Hitches. Useful because they are easily made and will not slip under any strain. Their formation is sufficiently indicated by the diagram.



Blackwall Hitch. Used to secure a rope to a hook. The standing part when hauled tight holds the end firmly.



Becket Hitch. For joining a cord to a rope. May be easily made from diagram.

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The Fisherman's Knot. Used for tying silk-worm gut for fishing purposes. It never slips; is easily unloosed by pulling the two short ends.

The two ropes are laid alongside one another, then with each end an overhand knot is made around the standing part of the other. Pull the standing parts to tighten.



Carrick Bend. Used in uniting hawsers for towing. Is easily untied by pushing the loops inwards.

Turn the end of one rope A over its standing part B to form a loop. Pass the end of the other rope across the bight thus formed, back of the standing part B over the end A, then under the bight at C, passing it over its own standing part and under the bight again at D.



The Mariner's Compass

Boxing the Compass consists in enumerating the points, beginning with north and working around the circle as follows: North North by East North, North-east North-east by North North-east North-east by East East, North-east East by North East East by South East, South-east South-east by East South-east South-east by South

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South, South-east South by East South South by West South, South-west South-west by South South-west South-west by West West, South-west West by South West West by North West, North-west North-west by West North-west North-west by North North, North-west North by West North

NOTES

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Notes

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Notes

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Notes

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CHAPTER II

WOODCRAFT

Woodlore

By Ernest Thompson Seton, Chief Scout

The Watch for a Compass (From "Boy Scouts of America," by Ernest Thompson Seton. Copyright, 1910, by Doubleday, Page & Company )

The watch is often used to give the compass point exactly. Thus: Point the hour-hand to the sun; then, in the morning, half-way between the hour-hand and noon is due south. If afternoon, one must reckon half-way backward.

Thus: at 8 A. M., point the hour-hand to the sun and reckon forward half-way to noon; the south is at 10. If at 4 P. M., point the hour-hand at the sun and reckon back half-way. The south is at two o'clock.

The "half-way" is because the sun makes a course of twenty-four hours and the clock of but twelve. If we had a rational timepiece of twenty-four hours, it would fit in much better with all nature, and with the hour-hand pointed to the sun would make 12 o'clock, noon, always south.

If you cannot see the sun, get into a clear, open space, hold your knife point upright on your watch dial, and it will cast a faint shadow, showing where the sun really is, unless the clouds are very heavy.

Finding Your Latitude by the Stars

The use of the stars to the scout is chiefly to guide him by showing the north, but the white man has carried the use a step farther: he makes the Pole-star tell him not only where the north is, but where he himself is. From the Pole-star, he can learn his latitude.

It is reckoned an exploit to take one's latitude from the North Star with a cart-wheel, or with two sticks and a bucket of water.

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The first attempt I made was with two sticks and a bucket of water. I arranged the bucket in the daytime, so that it could be filled from rim to rim; that is, it was level, and that gave me the horizon line; next, I fastened my two sticks together at an adjustable angle. Then, laying one stick across the bucket as a base, I raised the other till the two sight notches on its upper edge were in straight line for the Pole-star. The sticks were now fastened at this angle and put away till the morning. On a smooth board—the board is allowable because it can be found either far on the plains when you have your wagon, or on the ship at sea—I mapped out, first a right angle, by the old plan of measuring off a triangle, whose sides were six, eight, and ten inches, and applied the star angle to this. By a process of equal subdivision I got 45 degrees, 22-1/2 degrees, finally 40 degrees, which seemed to be the latitude of my camp; subsequent looking-up showed it to be 41 degrees 10 minutes.



Of course, it is hard to imagine that the boys will ever be so placed that it is important for them to take their latitude with home-made implements; but it is also hard to imagine circumstances under which it would be necessary to know that the sun is 92,000,000 miles away. It is very sure, however, that a boy who has once done this has a larger idea of the world and its geography, and it is likely to help him in realizing that there is some meaning to the lines and figures on the border of his school maps, and that they are not put there merely to add to his perplexities.



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To make a scout's sundial, prepare a smooth board about fifteen inches across, with a circle divided into twenty-four equal parts, and a temporarily hinged pointer, whose upper edge is in the middle of the dial. Place on some dead level, solid post or stump in the open. At night fix the dial so that the twelve o'clock line points exactly to north, as determined by the Polestar. Then, using two temporary sighting sticks of exactly the same height (so as to permit sighting clear above the edge of the board) set the pointer exactly pointing to the Pole-star; that is, the same angle as the latitude of the place, and fix it there immovably. Then remove the two sighting sticks. As a timepiece, this dial will be found roughly correct for that latitude. The angle of the pointer, or style, must be changed for each latitude.

Building a Log Cabin (From Country Life in America. May, 1905 )

There are as many different kinds of log cabins as of any other architecture. It is best to begin with the simplest. The tools needed are a sharp ax, a crosscut saw, an inch auger, and a spade. It is possible to get along with nothing but an ax (many settlers had no other tool), but the spade, saw, and auger save much work.

For the site select a high, dry place, in or near the woods, and close to the drinking-water. It should be a sunny place, and with a view, preferably one facing south or east. Clear off and level the ground. Then bring your logs. These are more picturesque with the bark left on, but last longer peeled. Eight feet by twelve feet outside makes a good cabin for three or four boys.

Cut and carry about twelve logs, each ten feet long; and twelve more, each fourteen feet long. The logs should be at least six inches through. Soft wood is preferable, as it is easier to handle; the four ground logs or sills, at least, should be of cedar, chestnut, or other wood that does not rot. Lay two of the fourteen-foot logs on the ground, at the places for the long sides, and seven feet apart. Then across them, at the end, lay two short ones, eleven feet apart. This leaves about a foot projecting from each log. Roll the last two into their resting places, and flatten them till they sit firmly. It is of prime importance that each log rest immovably on the one below. Now cut the upper part of each end log, to an edge over each corner. (Fig. 1.)

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Next put on two long logs, roll them onto the middle, taking care to change off, so the big end at a given comer may be followed next time by the small end and insure the corner rising evenly. Roll one of these large logs close to where it is to be placed, then cut on its upper surface at each end a notch corresponding with the ridge on the log it is to ride on. When ready, half a roll drops it into place. The log should be one to three inches above the one under it, and should not touch except at {61} the ends. Repeat the process now with the other sides, then the two ends, etc., always keeping the line of the corner plumb. As the walls rise, it will be found necessary to skid the larger logs; that is, roll them up on two long logs, or skids, leaning against the wall. (Fig. 2.)

When the logs are in place to the height of four and a half feet from the ground, it is time to decide where the door and window are to be; and at that place, while the next long log is lying on top, bottom up, cut out a piece four feet long and four inches deep. Roll this log into place. (Fig. 3.) One more log above this, or certainly two, will make your shanty high enough for boys. Put on final end logs, then two others across the shanty. (Fig. 4.) Roll up the biggest, strongest log of all for the ridge (sometimes two are used side by side); it should lie along the middle of the four cross pieces shown in Fig. 4.

The two cross logs, B and C, and the ridge log should be very strong, as the roof is heavy. Now we are ready to cut the doorway and window.

First, drive in blocks of wood between each of the logs, all the way down from A to the ground, and from B down to D, and C to E. (Fig. 5.) Saw down now from A half-way through the ground log F. Then from B down to half-way through the log D; now continue from G, cutting down to half through the ground log. Use the ax to split out the upper half of the ground log, between the saw-cuts and also the upper half of the log D.

Hew a flat piece of soft wood, five or six inches wide, about two inches thick, and as long as the height of this doorway. Set it up against the ends of the logs A to F. Bore an auger hole through it into the end of each log (these holes must not be in line lest they split the jamb), including the top and bottom ones, and drive into each a pin of oak. This holds all safely. Do the same on the other side, H to E, and put a small one down B, D, which is the side of the window.

Now we are ready to finish the roof. Use the ax to bevel off the corners of the four cross-logs, A and B. (Fig. 6.) Then get a lot of strong poles, about five feet long, and lay them close together along the two sides of the roof till it is covered with poles; putting a very heavy one, or small log, on the outer edge of each, and fastening it down with a pin into the ridge log. Cut two long poles and lay one on each of the lower ends of the roof poles, as at A, B, and C (Fig. 7), pinning them to the side logs.

Cover this roof with a foot of hay or straw or grass, and cover {62} that again evenly with about four inches of stiff clay. Pack this down. It will soon squeeze all that foot of straw down to little more than one inch, and will make a warm and water-tight roof. As the clay is very heavy, it is wise, before going inside, to test the roof by jumping on it. If it gives too much, it will be well to add a centre prop.

Now for the door: Hew out planks; two should be enough. Fasten these together with two cross-pieces and one angle-piece, using oak pegs instead of nails, if you wish to be truly primitive. For these the holes should be bored part way with a gimlet, and a peg used larger than the hole. The lower end of the back plank is left projecting in a point. (Fig. 8.) This point fits into a hole pecked with a point or bored with an auger into the door-sill.

Bore another hole near the top of the door (A), and a corresponding one through the door-jamb between two logs. Set the door in place. A strip of rawhide leather, a limber willow branch, or a strip of hickory put through the auger hole of the door and wedged into the hole in the jamb, makes a truly wild-wood hinge. A peg in the front jamb prevents the door going too far out, and a string and peg inside answer for a latch.

The window opening may be closed with a glass sash, with a piece of muslin, or with the rawhide of an animal, scraped clear of hair and stretched on a frame.

It now remains to chink and plaster the place.

Chinking is best done from the inside. Long triangular strips and blocks of wood are driven in between the logs and fastened there with oak pins driven into the lower log till nothing but small crannies remain. Some cabins are finished with moss plugged into all the crannies, but mud worked into plaster does better.

It should be put on the outside first, and afterward finished form the inside. It is best done really with two plasterers working together, one inside and one out.

This completes the shanty, but a bunk and fireplace are usually added.

The fireplace may be in one corner, or in the middle of the end. It is easiest to make in the former.

Across the corner, peg three angle braces, each about three feet long. These are to prevent the chimney falling forward.

Now begin to build with stone, using mud as mortar, a fireplace this shape. (Fig. 9.) Make the opening about eighteen inches across; carry it up two feet high, drawing it in a little, then lay a long stone across the front, after which build up {63} the flue behind the corner braces right up to the roof. The top corner-piece carries the rafter that may be cut off to let the flue out. Build the chimney up outside as high as the highest part of the ridge.

But the ideal fireplace is made with the chimney on the outside of the cabin, at the middle of the end farthest from the door. For this you must cut a hole in the end log, like a big, low window, pegging a jamb on the ends as before.

With stones and mud you now build a fireplace inside the shanty, with the big chimney carried up outside, always taking care that there are several inches of mud or stone between the fire and any of the logs.

In country where stone cannot be found, the fireplace is often built of mud, sustained by an outside cribbing of logs.

If the flue is fair size, that is, say one quarter the size of the fireplace opening, it will be sure to draw.

The bunk should be made before the chinks are plastered, as the hammering is apt to loosen the mud.

Cut eight or ten poles a foot longer than you need the bunk; cut the end of each into a flat board and drive these between the long logs at the right height and place for the bunk, supporting the other end on a crosspiece from a post to the wall. Put a very big pole on the outer side, and all is ready for the bed; most woodsmen make this of small fir boughs.

There are two other well-known ways of cornering the logs—one is simply flattening the logs where they touch. This, as well as the first one, is known in the backwoods of Canada as hog-pen finish. The really skilful woodsmen of the North always dovetail the comers and saw them flush: (Fig. 10)

Sometimes it is desirable to make a higher gable than that which one ridge log can make. Then it is made thus: (Fig. 11.) This is as much slope as a clay roof should have; with any more, the clay would wash off.

This is the simplest way to build a log-cabin, but it illustrates all the main principles of log building. Shingle roofs and gables, broad piazzas outside, and modern fitting inside, are often added nowadays in summer camps, but it must be clear that the more towny you make the cabin, the less woodsy it is, and less likely to be the complete rest and change that is desired.

For fuller instructions, see "Log-Cabins and Cottages." By. Wm. S. Wicks, 1900. (Pub. Forest and Stream, N. Y.) {64} Also, "The Jack of All Trades." By Dan C. Beard, Scribner's; and "Field and Forest Handy Book."

Measuring Distances (See "Two Little Savages," 1903.)

The height of a tree is easily measured when on a level, open place, by measuring the length of its shadow, then comparing that with your own shadow, or that of a ten-foot pole.

Thus, the ten-foot pole is casting a fifteen-foot shadow, and the tree's shadow is one hundred and fifty feet long, apply the simple rule of three.

15 : 150 :: 10 : x = 100

But it is seldom so easy, and the good old rule of the triangle can be safely counted on: Get a hundred or more feet from your tree, on open ground, as nearly as possible on the level of its base. Set up a ten-foot pole (A B, page 65). Then mark the spot where the exact line from the top of the tree over the top of the pole touches the ground (C). Now measure the distance from that spot (C) to the foot of the ten-foot pole (B); suppose it is twenty feet. Measure also the distance from that spot (C) to the base of the tree (D); suppose it is one hundred and twenty feet, then your problem is:

20 : 10 :: 120 : x = 60

i.e., if at that angle twenty feet from the eye gives ten feet elevation, one hundred and twenty feet must give sixty.

To make a right angle, make a triangle whose sides are exactly six, eight, and ten feet or inches each (or multiples of these). The angle opposite the ten must be a true right angle.



There are many ways of measuring distance across rivers, etc., without crossing. The simplest, perhaps, is by the equilateral triangle. Cut three poles of exactly equal length; peg them together into a triangle. Lay {65} this on the bank of the river so one side points to some point on the opposite bank. Drive in three pegs to mark the exact points of this triangle (A,B,C). Then move it along the bank until you find a place (F,E,G) where its base is on line with the two pegs, where the base used to be, and one side in line with the point across the river (D). The width of the river is seven eighths of the base of this great triangle.



Another method is by the isosceles triangle. Make a right-angled triangle as above, with sides six, eight, and ten feet (A,B,C); then, after firmly fixing the right angle, cut down the eight-foot side to six feet and saw off the ten-foot side to fit. Place this with the side D B on the river bank in line with the sight object (X) across. Put three pegs to mark the three {66} corner places. Then take the triangle along the bank in the direction of C until C' D' are in line with the sight object, while B' C' is in line with the pegs B C. Then the length of the long base B C' will equal the distance from B to X.



To measure the space between two distant objects, D and E. Line A B on one, then move this right-angled triangle until F G is lined on the other, with B G in line with G H. B G equals the space between D and E then.

If the distance is considerable, it may be measured sometimes by sound. Thus, when a gun is fired, a man is chopping, or a dog barking, count the seconds between the sight and the hearing of the sound, and multiply by eleven hundred feet, which is the distance sound travels in a second.



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Occasionally, the distance of an upright bank, cliff, or building can be measured by the echo. Half the seconds between shout and echo, multiplied by eleven hundred gives the distance in feet.

The usual way to estimate long distances is by the time they take to cover. Thus, a good canoe on dead water goes four to five miles an hour. A man afoot walks three and a half miles an hour on good roads. A packtrain goes two and a half miles an hour, or perhaps one and a half on the mountain trails.

A man's thumb is an inch wide.

Span of thumb and longest finger, nine inches. Brisk walking pace is one yard for men.

What To Do When Lost in the Woods (Ladies' Home Journal, October, 1902.)

"Did you ever get lost in the woods?" I once asked a company of twenty campers. Some answered, "Yes; once or twice." Others said, "Many a time." Only two said, "No, never." Then I said, turning to the two, "I know that all the others here have had plenty of experience, and that you two are the tenderfeet, and never lived in the woods."

It is quite certain to come sooner or later; if you go camping, you will get lost in the woods. Hunters, Indians, yes, birds and beasts, get lost at times. You can avoid it for long by always taking your bearings and noting the landscape before leaving the camp, and this you should always do; but still you will get lost some time, and it is well to be ready for it by carrying matches, knife, and compass.

When you do miss your way, the first thing to remember is, like the Indian, "You are not lost; it is the teepee that is lost." It isn't serious. It cannot be so unless you do something foolish.

The first and most natural thing to do is to get on a hill, up a tree, or other high lookout, and seek for some landmark near camp. You may be sure of this much:

You are not nearly so far from camp as you think you are. Your friends will soon find you.

You can help them best by signaling.

The worst thing you can do is to get frightened. The truly dangerous enemy is not the cold or the hunger so much as the fear. It is fear that robs the wanderer of his judgment and of his limb power; it is fear that turns the passing experience into a final tragedy. Only keep cool and all will be well.

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If there is snow on the ground, you can follow your back track.

If you see no landmark, look for the smoke of the fire. Shout from time to time, and wait; for though you have been away for hours it is quite possible you are within earshot of your friends. If you happen to have a gun, fire it off twice in quick succession on your high lookout; then wait and listen. Do this several times and wait plenty long enough—perhaps an hour. If this brings no help, send up a distress signal—that is, make two smoke fires by smothering two bright fires with green leaves and rotten wood, and keep them at least fifty feet apart, or the wind will confuse them. Two shots or two smokes are usually understood to mean "I am in trouble." Those in camp on seeing this should send up one smoke, which means, "Camp is here."

If you have a dog or a horse with you, you may depend upon it he can bring you out all right; but usually you will have to rely on yourself. The simplest plan, when there is fresh snow and no wind, is to follow your own track back. No matter how far around or how crooked it may be, it will certainly bring you out safely.

If you are sure of the general direction to the camp and determined to keep moving, leave a note pinned on a tree if you have paper; if not, write with charcoal on a piece of wood, and also make a good smoke, so that you can come back to this spot if you choose. But make certain that the fire cannot run, by clearing the ground around it and by banking it around with sods. And mark your course by breaking or cutting a twig every fifty feet. You can keep straight by the sun, the moon, or the stars, but when they are unseen you must be guided by the compass. I do not believe much in guidance by what are called nature's compass signs. It is usual to say, for example, that the north side of the tree has the most moss or the south side the most limbs, etc. While these are true in general, there are so many exceptions that when alarmed and in doubt as to which is north, one is not in a frame of mind to decide with certainty on such fine points.

If a strong west wind, for example, was blowing when you left camp, and has blown ever since, you can be pretty sure it is still a west wind; but the only safe and certain natural compass guides are the sun, moon, and stars.

The Pole or North Star, and the Great Bear (also called the Dipper and the Pointers), should be known to every boy as they are to every Indian. The Pointers always point out the {69} Pole-star. Of course, they go around it once in twenty-four hours, so this makes a kind of clock.

The stars, then, will enable you to keep straight if you travel. But thick woods, fog, or clouds are apt to come up, and without something to guide you are sure to go around in a circle.

Old woodsmen commonly follow down the streams. These are certain to bring you out somewhere; but the very worst traveling is along the edges of the streams, and they take you a long way around. All things considered, it is usually best to stay right where you are, especially if in a wild country where there is no chance of finding a farm house. Make yourself comfortable for the night by gathering plenty of good wood while it is daylight, and building a wind screen on three sides, with the fire in front, and something to keep you off the ground. Do not worry but keep up a good fire; and when day comes renew your two smokes and wait. A good fire is the best friend of a lost man.

I have been lost a number of times, but always got out without serious trouble, because I kept cool. The worst losing I ever got was after I had been so long in the West that I qualified to act as a professional guide, and was engaged by a lot of Eastern farmers looking for land locations.

This was in the October of 1883 on the Upper Assiniboin. The main body of the farmers had remained behind. I had gone ahead with two of them. I took them over hundreds of miles of wild country. As we went northward the country improved. We were traveling with oxen, and it was our custom to let them graze for two hours at noon. One warm day, while the oxen were feeding, we went in our shirt sleeves to a distant butte that promised a lookout. We forgot about the lateness till the sun got low. Even then I could have got back to camp, but clouds came up and darkness fell quickly. Knowing the general direction I kept on, and after half an hour's tramp we came to a canyon I had never seen before. I got out my compass and a match and found that I had been circling, as one is sure to do in the dark. I corrected the course and led off again. After another brief turn I struck another match and learned from the compass that I was again circling. This was discouraging, but with corrected course we again tramped. I was leading, and suddenly the dark ground ten feet ahead of me turned gray. I could not make it out, so went cautiously nearer. I lay down, reached forth, and then slowly made sure that we were on the edge of a steep precipice. I backed off, {70} and frankly told the men I did not know where we were. I got out my match box and compass and found I had but one match left.

"Any of you got any matches?" I asked. "No; left 'em all in our coats," was their answer.

"Well," said I, "I have one. Shall I use it to get a new course from the compass, or shall we make a fire and stay here till morning?"

All voted to camp for the night. There was now a cold rain.

We groped into a hollow where we got some dead wood, and by using our knives got some dry chips from the inside of a log. When all was ready we gathered close around, and I got out the one match. I was about to strike it when the younger of the men said:

"Say, Seton, you are not a smoker; Jack is. Hadn't you better give him that match?"

There was sense in this. I have never in my life smoked. Jack was an old stager and an adept with matches. I handed it to him. "Rrrp-fizz"—and in a minute we had a fire.

With the help of the firelight we now found plenty of dead wood; we made three blazing fires side by side, and after an hour we removed the centre one, then raked away all the hot ashes, and all lay down together on the warm ground. When the morning came the rain ceased. We stretched our stiffened limbs and made for camp. Yes, there it was in plain view two miles away across a fearful canyon. Three steps more on that gloomy night and we should have been over the edge of that canyon and dashed to the bottom.

How to Make Fire by Rubbing Sticks

"How do the Indians make a fire without matches?" asked a boy who loved to "play Indian." Most of us have heard the answer to this. "The Indians use a flint and steel, as our own fathers and mothers did one hundred years ago, and before they had flint and steel they used rubbing-sticks." We have all read about bringing fire out of two sticks by rubbing them together. I tried it once for an hour, and I know now I never would have got it in a thousand years as I was doing it. Others have had the same experience; consequently, most persons look upon this as a sort of fairy tale, or, if they believe it to be true, they think it so difficult as to be worth no second thought. All scouts, I find, are surprised and greatly interested to learn that not only is it possible, it is easy, to make a friction {71} fire, if you know how; and hopeless, if you don't. I have taught many boys and men (including some Indians) to do it, and some have grown so expert that they make it nearly as quickly as with an old-fashioned sulphur match. When I first learned from Walter Hough, who learned from the Indians, it took me from five to ten minutes to get a blazing fire—not half an hour, as some books have it. But later I got it down to a minute, then to thirty-one seconds from the time of taking up the rubbing-sticks to having a fine blaze, the time in getting the first spark being about six seconds.

My early efforts were inspired by book accounts of Indian methods, but, unfortunately, I have never yet seen a book account that was accurate enough to guide anyone successfully in the art of fire-making. All omit one or other of the absolute essentials, or dwell on some triviality. The impression they leave on those who know is that the writers did not.

The surest and easiest method of making a friction fire is by use of the bow-drill. Two sticks, two tools, and some tinder are needed.

The two sticks are the drill and the fire-board, or fire-block. The books generally tell us that these must be of different kinds of wood. This is a mistake. I have uniformly gotten the best results with two pieces of the same kind—all the better, indeed, if they are parts of the same stick.

What Kind of Wood

This is a very important question, as woods that are too hard, too soft, too wet, too oily, too gummy, or too resinous will not produce fire. The wood should be soft enough to wear away, else it produces no punk, and hard enough to wear slowly, or the heat is not enough to light the punk, and, of course, it should be highly inflammable. Those that I have had the best luck with are balsam fir, cottonwood roots, tamarack, European larch, red cedar, white cedar, Oregon cedar, basswood, cypress, and sometimes second-growth white pine. It should always be a dry, sound stick, brash, but not in the least punky.

In each part of the country there seems to be a kind of wood well suited for fire-making. The Eastern Indians used cedar; the Northern Indians, cedar or balsam fir; the plains Indians used cottonwood or sage-brush roots.

Perhaps the most reliable of all is dry and seasoned balsam fir; either the species in the North woods or in the Rockies will do. It gives a fine big spark or coal in about seven seconds.

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When in the grinding the dust that runs out of the notch is coarse and brown, it means that the wood is too soft; when it is very fine and scanty it means that the wood is too hard.



1. The simplest kind of bow; a bent stick with a stout leather thong fastened at each end. It is about 27 inches long and 5/8 inch thick.

2. A more elaborate bow with a hole at each end for the thong. At the handle end it goes through a disc of wood. This is to tighten the thong by pressure of the hand against the disc while using.

3. Simplest kind of drill-socket; a pine or hemlock knot with a shallow hole or pit in it. 3a is under view of same. It is about 4-1/2 inches long.

4. A more elaborate drill-socket; a pebble cemented with gum in a wooden holder. 4a is under view of same.

5. A very elaborate drill-socket; it is made of tulip wood, carved to represent the Thunderbird. It has eyes of green felspar cemented in with resin. On the under side (5a) is seen, in the middle, a soapstone socket let into the wood and fastened with pine gum, and on the head a hole kept filled with grease, to grease the top of the drill before use.

6. The drill; 12 to 18 inches long and about 3/4 inch thick; it is roughly eight-sided so the thong will not slip, and pointed at each end. The best wood for the drill is old, dry brash, but not punky, balsam fir or cottonwood roots; but basswood, white cedar, red cedar, tamarack, and sometimes even white pine, will do.

7. Fire-board or block; about 3/4 inch thick and any length handy; a is notch with pit just begun, b shows the pit after once using and in good trim for second time, c shows the pit bored through and now useless; the notch is 1/2 inch wide and 3/4 inch deep.

8. Shows the way of using the sticks. The block (a) is held down with one foot, the end of the drill (b) is put in the pit, the drill-socket (c) is held on top in left hand, one end of the bow (d) is held in the right hand, while the bow is drawn back and forth.

9. Is a little wooden fire-pan, not essential but convenient; its thin edge is put under the notch to catch the powder that falls.

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I have made many experiments to determine whether there is anything in the idea that it is better to have the block and the drill of different woods.

But no hybrid combination was so successful as "two of a kind."

The drill and the bow and socket are fully described in the illustration.

The preparing of the fire-board is one of the most important things. At the edge cut a notch half an inch wide and about three fourths of an inch deep; at the top of this notch make a pit or shallow hole, and the board is ready. The importance of this notch is such that it is useless to try fire-making without it.

While these are the essentials, it is well to get ready, also, some tinder. I have tried a great many different kinds of lint and punk, including a number that were artificially prepared, soaked with saltpetre or other combustibles. But these are not really fair play. The true woodcrafter limits himself to the things that he can get in the woods, and in all my recent fire-making I have contented myself with the tinder used for ages by the red men: that is, cedar wood finely shredded between two stones. Some use the fringes that grow on birch, improving it by rubbing in powdered charcoal.

Now that he has the tools and material ready, it will be an easy matter for the matchless castaway to produce a fire.

Pass the leather thong once around the drill—and this should make the thong taut; put the lower point of the drill in the pit at the top of the notch in the fire-board, and hold the socket with the left hand on top of the drill. The notch of the fire-board should be resting on a chip or thin wooden tray. Hold the bow by the handle end in the right hand, steady the board under the left foot, and the left arm against the left knee. Now draw the bow back and forth with steady, even strokes, its full length. This causes the drill to turn in the pit and bore into the wood; ground-up wood runs out of the side of the notch, falling on the chip or tray. At first it is brown; in two or three seconds it turns black, and then smokes; in five or six seconds it is giving off a cloud of smoke. A few more vigorous strokes of the bow, and now it will be found that smoke still comes from the pile of black wood-dust on the chip. Fan this gently with the hand; the smoke increases, and in a few seconds you see a glowing coal in the middle of the dust. (There are never any visible flying sparks.)

Now take a liberal pinch of the cedar tinder—about a teaspoonful; wrap this in some bark fibre or shredded rope to {74} keep it from blowing away. Hold it down on the coal, and, lifting tray and all, blow or fan it until in a few seconds it blazes. Carefully pile over it the shreds of birch bark or splinters of fat pine prepared beforehand, and the fire is made.

If you have the right wood and still cannot get the fire, it is likely because you do not hold the drill steady, or have not cut the side notch quite into the middle point of the little fire pit.

The advantages of learning this method are threefold:

First: Fire-making by friction is an interesting experiment in woodcraft.

Second: A boy is better equipped having learned it. He can never afterward freeze to death for lack of matches if he has wood and an old shoe lace.

Third: For the very reason that it is difficult, compared with matches, it tends to prevent the boys making unnecessary fires, and thus reduces the danger of their setting the woods ablaze or of smoking the forbidden cigarette.

There is such a fascination in making the rubbing-stick fire that one of my Western cooks, becoming an expert, gave up the use of matches for a time and lit his morning fire with the fire-drill, and, indeed, he did not find it much slower than the usual way.

Walter Hough told me a story of an Apache Indian who scoffed at the matches of white men, and claimed that he could light a fire with rubbing-sticks faster than Hough could with matches. So each made ready. They were waiting for the word "go" when the Indian said:

"Wait. I see if him right." He gave a few strokes with the drill, and called—"Stop—stop him no good." He rearranged the sticks, and tried a few more strokes. Just as Mr. Hough was going to strike the match, he said: "Stop—stop him no good." He did this three times before he called "Ready." Then the word "Go" was given. The white man struck the slow, sizzling match. The Indian gave half a dozen twirls to the drill—the smoke burst forth. He covered it with the tinder, fanned a few seconds, then a bright flame arose, just before the white man got his twigs ablaze. So the Indian won, but it was by an Indian trick; for the three times when he pretended to be trying it, he was really warming up the wood—that is, doing a large part of the work. I am afraid that, deft as he was, he would have lost in a fair race. Yet this incident shows at least that, in point of speed, the old rubbing-sticks are not very far behind the matches, as one might have supposed.

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It is, indeed, a wonder that the soldiers at West Point are not taught this simple trick, when it is so easily learned, and might some day be the one thing to save the lives of many of them.

Archery

No woodcraft education is complete without a knowledge of archery. It is a pity that this noble sport has fallen into disuse. We shall find it essential to some of our best games.

The modern hunting gun is an irresistible weapon of wholesale murder, and is just as deadly no matter who pulls the trigger. It spreads terror as well as death by its loud discharge, and it leaves little clew as to who is responsible for the shot. Its deadly range is so fearfully great as to put all game at the mercy of the clumsiest tyro. Woodcraft, the oldest of all sciences and one of the best, has steadily declined since the coming of the gun, and it is entirely due to this same unbridled power that America has lost so many of her fine game animals.

The bow is a far less destructive weapon, and to succeed at all in the chase the bowman must be a double-read forester. The bow is silent and it sends the arrow with exactly the same power that the bowman's arm puts into it—no more, no less—so it is really his own power that speeds the arrow. There is no question as to which hunter has the right to the game or is responsible for the shot when the arrow is there to tell. The gun stands for little skill, irresistible force supplied from an outside source, overwhelming unfair odds, and sure death to the victim. The bow, on the other hand, stands for all that is clever and fine in woodcraft; so, no guns or fire-arms of any kind are allowed in our boy scout camp.

The Indian's bow was short, because, though less efficient, it was easier to carry than a long one. Yet it did not lack power. It is said that the arrow head sometimes appeared on the far side of the buffalo it was fired into, and there is a tradition that Wah-na-tah, a Sioux chief, once shot his arrow through a cow buffalo and killed her calf that was running at the other side.

But the long bow is more effective than the short one. The old English bowmen, the best the world has ever seen, always shot with the long bow.

The finest bows and arrows are those made by the professional makers, but there is no reason why each boy should not make his own.

According to several authorities the best bow woods are mulberry, osage-orange, sassafras, Southern cedar, black locust, {76} apple, black walnut, slippery elm, ironwood, mountain ash, hickory, California yew, and hemlock.

Take a perfectly sound, straight, well-seasoned stick five or six feet long (your bow should be about as long as yourself); mark off a five-inch space in the middle for the handle; leave this round and a full inch thick; shave down the rest, flat on one side for the front and round on the other for the back, until it is about one inch wide and three fourths of an inch thick next the handle, tapering to about one half that at the ends, which are then "nocked," nicked, or notched as shown in Cut I. These notches are for the string, which is to be put on early. Draw the bow now, flat side out, not more than the proper distance, and note carefully which end bends the most; then shave down the other side until it bends evenly. The middle scarcely bends at all. The perfect shape, when bent, is shown in Cut II. Trim the bow down to your strength and finish smoothly with sandpaper and glass. It should be straight when unstrung, and unstrung when not in use. Fancy curved bows are weak affairs. The bow for our boy should require a power of fifteen or twenty pounds (shown on a spring balance) to draw the string twenty-three inches from the bow; not more. The best string is of hemp or linen; it should be about five inches from the middle of the bow when strung (Cut II). The notches for the string should be two-thirds the depth of the string. If you have not a bought string make one of strong, unbleached linen thread twisted together. At one end the string, which is heaviest at the ends, should be fast knotted to the bow notch (Cut V); at the other it should have a loop as shown in Cut IV. In the middle it should be lashed with fine silk and wax for five inches, and the exact place marked where the arrow fits it.

The arrow is more important than the bow. Anyone can make a bow; few can make an arrow, for, as a Seminole Indian expressed it to Maurice Thompson, "Any stick do for bow; good arrow much heap work, ugh." Hiawatha went all the way to Dakota to see the famous arrow maker. In England when the bow was the gun of the country, the bow maker was called a "bowyer," and the arrow maker a "fletcher" (from the Norman fleche, an arrow). So when men began to use surnames those who excelled in arrow making were proud to be called the "Fletchers "; but to make a good bow was not a notable achievement, hence few took "Bowyer" as their name.

The first thing about an arrow is that it must be perfectly straight. "Straight as an arrow" refers to the arrow itself, not to its flight; that is always curved.

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I. The five-foot bow as finished, with sections at the point shown.

II. The bow "braced" or strung.

III. The bow unstrung, showing the loop slipped down.

IV. The loop that is used on the upper end of the bow.

V. The timber hitch always used on the lower end or notch of the bow.

VI. A turkey feather with split midrib, all ready to lash on.

VII. End view of arrow, showing notch and arrangement of three feathers.

VIII. Part of arrow, showing feathering and lashing.

IX. Sanger hunting arrow with wooden point; 25 inches long.

X. Sanger war arrow with nail point and extra long feathers; it also is 25 inches long.

XI. Quiver with Indian design; 20 inches long.

XII. The "bracer" or arm guard of heavy leather for left arm with two laces to tie it on. It is six inches long.

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The Indians made arrows of reeds and of straight shoots of viburnum or arrow-wood, and of elder, but we make better arrows out of the solid heartwood of hard pine for target use, and of hickory or ash for hunting. The arrow should be twenty-five inches long, round, and three eighths of an inch thick, and have three feathers set as shown in Cut VI, about an inch from the notch. The feather B, that stands out at right angles to notch A, should always be away from the bow in shooting. This is called the cock-feather, and it is usually marked or colored in some way to be quickly distinguished.



Turkey and goose wing feathers are the best that grow in our country for arrow feathers. The Indians mostly use turkey. With a sharp knife cut a strip of the midrib on which is the vane of the feather; make three pieces, each two to three inches long. White men glue these on to the arrow. The Indians leave the midrib projecting at each end and by these lash the {79} feathers without gluing. The lashed feathers stand the weather better than those glued, but do not fly so well. The Indians use sharp flint arrow heads for war and for big game, but for birds and small game they make arrow heads with a knob of hard wood or the knuckle bone of some small animal. The best arrow heads for our purpose are like the ferrule of an umbrella top; they receive the end of the shaft into them and keep it from splitting.

One of the best arrows I ever shot with was twenty-eight inches long, five sixteenths of an inch thick, had a ferrule head and very small feathers.

The finishing touch of an arrow is "painting" it. This is done for several purposes: First, to preserve it from damp which would twist the arrow and soften the glue that holds the feathers; second, each hunter paints all his arrows with his mark so as to know them; third, they are thus made bright-colored to help in finding them when lost.

There are four other things required by our archer: A smooth, hard arm-guard, or bracer, usually of hard leather. The Indians who use one make it of wood, grass, or rawhide. In photographs of famous Indians you may often see this on the left wrist, and will remember that it was there as a protection from the blow of the bow cord. Some archers can shoot with the wrist bent so as to need no guard. The three middle fingers of the right hand also need protection. An old leather glove, with thumb and little finger cut away, will do very well for this, though the ready-made tips at the archery stores are more convenient. Some archers who practise all their lives can shoot without protecting the fingers.

The bow case and quiver are important. Any kind of a cover that will keep them from the rain, and hang on your back, will do, but there are many little things that help to make them handy. When the cover is off the arrows should project three or four inches so that they may be more easily drawn out. The Indians often carried very beautiful quivers of buckskin ornamented with quills and beads.

One day out West I saw an Omaha brave with a bow case and quiver covered with very odd material—a piece of common red and white cotton print. When allowed to examine it, I felt some other material underneath the print. After a little dickering he sold me bow, arrows, quiver, and all for a couple of dollars. I then ripped open the print and found my first suspicions confirmed; for, underneath, the quiver was of buckskin, beautifully embroidered with red feathers and porcupine {80} quills of deep red and turquoise blue. The Indian was as much puzzled by my preference for the quill work as I was by his for the cotton print.

The standard target for men is four feet across with a nine-inch bull's-eye, and around that four rings, each four and three quarter inches wide. The bull's-eye counts nine, the other rings seven, five, three, one. The bought targets are made of straw, but a good target may be made of a box filled with sods, or a bank covered with sacking on which are painted the usual rings.

Now comes the most important point of all—how to shoot. There are several ways of holding an arrow, but only one good one. Most boys know the ordinary finger and thumb pinch, or grip. This is all very well for a toy bow, but a hunter's bow cannot be drawn that way. No one has strength enough in his fingers for it. The true archer's grip of the arrow is shown in the cut. The thumb and little finger have nothing to do with it.



As in golf and all such things, there is a right "form." You attend to your end of the arrow's flight and the other will take care of itself:

Stand perfectly straight. Plant your feet with the centres of the two heels in line with the target. (Cut page 78.) Grasp the bow in the middle with the left hand and place the arrow on the string at the left side of the bow. Hold the bow plumb, and draw as above till the notch of the arrow is right under your eye, and the head of the arrow back to the bow. The right elbow must be in the same line with the arrow. Let go the arrow by straightening the fingers a little, turning the hand outward at the bottom and drawing it back one inch. Always do this in exactly the same way and your shooting will be even. Your left hand should not move a hair's breadth until the arrow strikes the target.

To begin shooting put the target very near, within fifteen or twenty yards; but the proper shooting distance when the archer is in good practice is forty yards for a four-foot target and thirty yards for a three-foot target. A good shot, shooting twelve arrows at this, should score fifty.

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The Indians generally used their bows at short range, so that it was easy to hit the mark. Rapid firing was important. In their archery competitions, therefore, the prize was given to the one who could have the most arrows in the air at once. Their record, according to Catlin, was eight.

The Stars

As Seen With the Naked Eye

The chief works referred to in this are C. Flammarion's "Popular Astronomy" (Gore's translation), and Garrett P. Serviss's "Astronomy with an Opera Glass." (Those who wish to go farther a-sky are referred to these books.)

Whether he expects to use them as guides or not, every boy should learn the principal constellations and the important stars. A non-scientific friend said to me once: "I am always glad that I learned the principal star groups when I was young. I have never forgotten them, and, no matter in what strange country I find myself, I can always look up at night, and see the old familiar stars that shone on me in my home in my own country."

All American boys know the Dipper or Great Bear. This is, perhaps, the most important star group in our sky, because of its size, peculiar form, and the fact that it never sets in our latitude, and last, that it always points out the Pole-star, and, for this reason, it is sometimes known as the Pointers. It is called the Dipper because it is shaped like a dipper with a long, bent handle. Why it is called the Great Bear is not so easy to explain. The classical legend has it that the nymph Calisto, having violated her vow, was changed by Diana into a bear, which, after death, was immortalized in the sky by Zeus. Another suggestion is that the earliest astronomers, the Chaldeans, called these stars "the shining ones," and their word happened to be very like the Greek arktos (a bear). Another explanation (I do not know who is authority for either) is that vessels in olden days were named for animals, etc. They bore at the prow the carved effigy of the namesake, and if the Great Bear, for example, made several very happy voyages by setting out when a certain constellation was in the ascendant, that constellation might become known as the Great Bear's constellation. Certainly, there is nothing in its shape to justify the name. Very few of the constellations, indeed, are like the thing they are {82} called after. Their names were usually given for some fanciful association with the namesake, rather than for resemblance to it.

The Pole-star is really the most important of the stars in our sky; it marks the north at all times; it alone is fixed in the heavens: all the other stars seem to swing around it once in twenty-four hours. It is in the end of the Little Bear's tail. But the Pole-star, or Polaris, is not a very bright one, and it would be hard to identify but for the help of the Dipper, or Pointers.

The outside (Alpha and Beta) of the Dipper points nearly to Polaris, at a distance equal to three and one half times the space that separates these two stars of the Dipper's outer side.

Various Indians call the Pole-star the "Home Star," and "The Star that Never Moves," and the Dipper they call the "Broken Back."

The last star but one in the Dipper, away from the pole—that is, the star at the bend of the handle,—is known to astronomers as Mizar, one of the Horses; Just above it, and tucked close in, is a smaller star known to astronomers as Alcor, or the Rider. The Indians call these two the "Old Squaw and the Pappoose on Her Back." In the old world, from very ancient times, these have been used as tests of eyesight. To be able to see Alcor with the naked eye means that one has excellent eyesight. So also on the plains, the old folks would ask the children at night, "Can you see the pappoose on the old squaw's back?" And when the youngster saw it, and proved that he did by a right description, they rejoiced that he had the eyesight which is the first requisite of a good hunter.

The Great Bear is also to be remembered as the Pointers for another reason. It is the hour-hand of the woodman's clock. It goes once around the North Star in about twenty-four hours, the same way as the sun, and for the same reason—that it is the earth that is going and leaving them behind.

The time in going around is not exactly twenty-four hours, so that the position of the Pointers varies with the seasons, but, as a rule, this for woodcraft purposes is near enough. The bowl of the Dipper swings one and one half times the width of the opening (i.e., fifteen degrees) in one hour. If it went a quarter of the circle, that would mean you had slept a quarter of a day, or six hours.

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Each fifteen days the stars seem to be an hour earlier; in three months they gain one fourth of the circle, and in a year gain the whole circle.

According to Flammarion, there are about seven thousand stars visible to the naked eye, and of those but nineteen are stars of the first magnitude. Thirteen of them are visible in the latitude of New York, the other six belong to the South Polar Region of the sky. Here is Flammarion's arrangement of them in order of seeming brightness. Those that can be seen in the Southern Hemisphere only, are in brackets:

1. Sirius, the Dog-star. 2. [Canopus, of Argo.] 3. [Alpha, of the Centaur.] 4. Arcturus, of Bootes. 5. Vega, of the Lyre. 6. Rigel, of Orion's foot. 7. Capella, of Auriga. 8. Procyon, or the Little Dog-star. 9. Betelguese, of Orion's right shoulder. 10. [Beta, of the Centaur.] 11. [Achernar, of Eridanus.] 12. Aldebaran, of Taurus, the Bull's right eye. 13. Antares, of Scorpio. 14. [Alpha, of the Southern Cross.] 15. Altair, of the Eagle. 16. Spica, of Virgo. 17. Fomalhaut, of the Southern Fish. 18. [Beta, of the Southern Cross.] 19. Regulus, of the Lion.

Orion

Orion (O-ri-on), with its striking array of brilliant stars, Betelguese, Rigel, the Three Kings, etc., is generally admitted to be the finest constellation in the heavens.

Orion was the hunter giant who went to Heaven when he died, and now marches around the great dome, but is seen only in the winter, because, during the summer, he passes over during daytime. Thus he is still the hunter's constellation. The three stars of his belt are called the "Three Kings."

Sirius, the Great Dog-star, is in the head of Orion's hound, and following farther back is the Little Dog-star, Procyon. In old charts of the stars, Orion is shown with his hound, hunting the bull, Taurus.

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Pleiades

Pleiades (Ply-a-des) can be seen in winter as a cluster of small stars between Aldebaran and Algol, or, a line drawn from the back bottom, through the front rim of the Dipper, about two Dipper lengths, touches this little group. They are not far from Aldebaran, being on the shoulder of the Bull, of which Aldebaran is the right eye. They may be considered the seven arrow wounds made by Orion. They are nearer the Pole-star than Aldebaran is, and on the side away from the Dipper; also, they are nearly on a line between Beta of the Dipper (front bottom) and Capella.

Serviss tells us that the Pleiades have a supposed connection with the Great Pyramid, because "about 2170 B. C., when the beginning of spring coincided with the culmination of the Pleiades at midnight; that wonderful group of stars was visible {85} just at midnight, through the mysterious southward-pointing passage of the Pyramid."

The Moon

The moon is one fifth the diameter of the earth, about one fiftieth of the bulk, and is about a quarter million miles away. Its course, while very irregular, is nearly the same as the apparent course of the sun. But "in winter the full moon is at an altitude in the sky near the limit attained by the sun in summer, . . . and even, at certain times, five degrees higher. It is the contrary in summer, a season when the moon remains very low" (F.).

The moon goes around the earth in 27-1/4 days. It loses nearly three fourths of an hour each night; that is, it rises that much later.

BIRDCRAFT

By the National Association of Audubon Societies

Any boy who cares enough for out-doors to be a scout is sure to want a good acquaintance with the birds. Even dull people cannot help taking notice of our "little brothers of the air," on account of their beauty, their songs, and their wondrous flight. But most folks never take the trouble to try and learn the names of any except a few common birds. Scouts whose eyes are sharp and ears are keen will find the study of birds a fascinating sport, which may prove to be the best fun that the woods provide.

Knowing the Birds

It is no easy matter, this trying to get to know the birds; but scouts are not looking for the easiest jobs, and it is great sport for them to follow some shy songster through the briery thicket until a really good look can be had, to sit stock still for half an hour to watch some unknown bird come home to her nest, or to wriggle on all fours through the grass to have a glimpse over the top of the knoll at the ducks in the pool beyond.

The only equipment necessary for bird study is an opera or field glass, a note-book and a good bird reference book. As soon as you get a good look at a strange bird, notice its colors and markings, and then, if it moves, follow it up until you have seen practically all of its most prominent features. It will be impossible to carry these facts in your head, and unless some definite memorandum is made at the time you will probably {86} be hopelessly perplexed when you go to consult the bird book later. As it is hard to jot down satisfactory notes in the field, while catching fleeting glances of some timid bird, a handy little booklet has been prepared in which observations can be recorded very rapidly. These can be procured for fifteen cents apiece from the National Association of Audubon Societies, 1974 Broadway, New York City.

Location _____ _____ Date _____Hour _____ Weather ____Wind _____



SIZE: Smaller than wren Between wren and sparrow Between sparrow and robin Between robin and crow Larger than crow SEEN Near ground or high up In heavy woods Bushy places Orchard Garden Swamp Open country Near water

Name Order Family Genus Species

{87}

Each booklet contains outline figures of the five leading types of birds: (1) small perching birds, (2) hawks, (3) snipes, (4) herons, (5) ducks. On the page opposite is a list of numbers corresponding to colors. You can quickly mark on the outline the proper numbers, and note with your pencil any marks on the bird. Then check the other data on the page, add any additional memoranda, and you have your "bird in the hand," ready to take back and look up at your leisure.

Careful Observation

Notice particularly the "range" of the birds in your reference book, and eliminate all those not stated as occurring in your territory. Notice too, dates of the birds' coming and going, and do not expect to find species at any other time of year than within the dates mentioned. By thus narrowing down the possibilities the task is much simplified. As a final resort, the National Association of Audubon Societies stands ready to help all scouts who are positively "stumped," and if the descriptive slips are mailed with return envelopes to the secretary of the association, 1974 Broadway, New York City, an identification will be made, if the information furnished renders it in any way possible.

The next time you see a bird that you have once identified, you will probably remember its name, and in this way you will be surprised to find how rapidly your bird acquaintance will grow. After a time even the flight of a bird or its song will be enough to reveal an old acquaintance, just as you can often recognize a boy friend by his walk or the sound of his voice, without seeing his face. And what a new joy in life there is for anybody that really knows the birds about him. He can pick from the medley of bird songs the notes of the individual singers; he knows when to look for old friends of the year before; no countryside is ever lonely for him, for he finds birds everywhere and knows that any moment he may make some rare discovery or see a bird before unknown to him.

Bird Lists

A scout should make a list of all the birds he has positively identified. This is his "life list" and is added to year by year. In addition he will keep daily lists of the birds seen on special trips in the field. Two or more patrols can enjoy a friendly rivalry by covering different regions and seeing which can observe the largest variety of birds. Hundreds of well-known {88} ornithologists often have the fun of this kind of competition, sending in their lists to a central bureau. As many as one hundred and twenty different kinds of birds have been counted in a single day by one energetic band of bird-lovers. Such a list is, however, attainable only under exceptionally favorable circumstances and by skilled observers who know their country thoroughly. For most scouts, thirty to forty species on a summer day, and fifty to sixty during the spring migration, would be regarded as a good list.

88 Boy Scouts



Nesting Season

Undoubtedly the most interesting season to study birds is during the nesting period which is at its height in June. It takes a pair of sharp eyes to find most birds' nests in the first place, and once found, there are dozens of interesting little incidents which it is a delight to watch. Only a foolish scout would rob himself of his chance to observe the secrets of nest life by stealing the contents, or would take any delight in piling up a collection of egg shells whose value at its best is almost nothing, and whose acquisition is necessarily accompanied by {89} genuine heart pangs on the part of the rightful owners. It is more exciting to try to hide yourself near the nest so skilfully that the birds will carry on their domestic duties as though you were not near. A blind made of green cloth and set up near the nest like a little tent will often give opportunity for very close observation. It is surprising how near many birds will allow one to come in this way. Even though the blind looks very strange and out of place, the birds soon seem to get used to it, so long as it is motionless and the inmate cannot be seen. A simple type of blind can be constructed by sewing the edges of long pieces of green cloth together, drawing in the top with a cord, and then draping it over an open umbrella.



How to Photograph

From such a hiding place, photographs can often be secured of timid birds at their nests. In attempting to take photographs it must be remembered that cameras of the pocket variety or fixed box type are almost useless. Most of them cannot be worked without special attachments at closer range than six feet, and, even if the focus is correctly guessed, the image is apt to be very small. In this work it is far better to invest in a cheap camera (second-hand if need be) with which one can obtain a definite image on the ground glass where the plate or film is to be. Focus the camera on some spot where it is expected the bird will come; usually this is on the nest or young, sometimes it is the food, a favorite perch, or some form of decoy. The next requisite is patience. If the coveted opportunity arrives, set off the shutter by hand in the {90} blind, or, where this is not possible, by means of a long thread, after carefully hiding the camera with boughs, leaves, sods, etc.

How to Know

An idea of the details of a bird's life which a scout may come to know, may be had from the following table:

1. Description. (Size, form, color, and markings.)

2. Haunts. (Upland, lowland, lakes, rivers, woods, fields. etc.)

3. Movements. (Slow or active, hops, walks, creeps, swims, tail wagged, etc.)

4. Appearance. (Alert, listless, crest erect, tail drooped, etc.)

5. Disposition. (Solitary, flocking, wary, unsuspicious, etc.)

6. Flight. (Slow, rapid, direct, undulating, soaring, sailing, flapping, etc.)

7. Song. (Pleasing, unattractive, long, short, loud, faint, sung from the ground, from a perch, in the air, etc. Season of song.)

8. Call notes. (Of surprise, alarm, protest, warning, signaling, etc.)

9. Season. (Spring, fall, summer, winter, with times of arrival and departure and variations in numbers.)

10. Food. (Berries, insects, seeds, etc.; how secured.)

11. Mating. (Habits during courtship.)

12. Nesting. (Choice of site, material, construction, eggs, incubation, etc.)

13. The young. (Food and care of, time in the nest, notes, actions, flight, etc.)

So varied is a bird's life that there is still plenty to be learned about even our common birds. It is quite possible for a scout to discover some facts that have never yet been published in books.



What One Boy Did

A boy once originated the idea of varying the usual "bird's nesting" craze into a systematic study of the breeding of our common birds. In one spring he found within the limits of a single village one hundred and seventy robins' nests. "One hundred were in suitable situations on private places, forty-one were in woods, swamps and orchards, eight were placed under bridges (two being under the iron girders of the railroad bridge), four were {91} in quarries, sixteen were in barns, sheds, under piazzas, etc., and one was on the ground at the foot of a bush."

In addition to searching out the birds in their natural haunts, there is a great fascination in trying to attract them to our homes. During winter evenings boy scouts can busy themselves making nesting boxes. Even an old cigar box or a tomato can with a hole in it the size of a quarter will satisfy a house wren. Other boxes which are suitable for bluebirds, chickadees, tree swallows, purple martins, and starlings, will, if set up in March, often have tenants the very first season. In many cases it is feasible to have hinged doors or sides on the nesting boxes, so that they may occasionally be opened and the progress of events within observed. It is needless to add, however, that great caution must be exercised to prevent desertion of the nest, or other disturbance of the birds' home life. Under favorable circumstances, even some of the shyer inhabitants of the woods, such as woodpeckers, owls, and ducks can be induced to patronize artificial cavities, if they are made right and erected right.



Caring for Birds

Another way of attracting birds in summer is by providing drinking and bathing places. A little artificial pool protected from cats, will be a source of joy to the birds and of delight to the observer from morning to night. Apply to the {92} National Association of Audubon Societies for information as to where ready-made nest boxes and fountains can be procured, also books on this subject, as well as on the subject of making friends of the birds through feeding.



The Bird Lunch Counter

How best to feed the birds is almost an art in itself. A winter lunch counter spread with suet, nuts, hemp seed, meat, and crumbs will attract nuthatches, chickadees, downy and hairy woodpeckers, creepers, blue jays, etc. Canary seed, buckwheat, oats and hay-chaff scattered on the ground beneath will provide an irresistible banquet for other feathered boarders. A feeding place of this sort can be arranged for convenient observation from a window, and afford no end of diversion and instruction. But whether close to home or far afield, the great secret of success in such work is regularity. Begin to put the food out early in November, and let the birds get to know that they are always sure to find a supply of dainties in a certain spot, and the news will soon spread among them. In wintry weather, especially, it is amazing what can be accomplished by feeding the birds regularly, and at least the following birds have been induced to feed from the human hand: chickadee, white-breasted nuthatch, red-breasted nuthatch, brown creeper, Carolina wren, cardinal, evening grosbeak, tufted titmouse, Canada jay, Florida jay, Oregon jay, and redpoll. Even in spring untiring patience has resulted in the gratification of this supreme ambition of the bird-lover, and bluebird, robin, cat-bird: chipping sparrow, oven-bird, brown thrasher and yellow-throated vireo have been known to feed from the hand of a trusted friend, even with plenty of food all around. What scout can add to this list?

Protecting the Birds

Many a boy thinks that just because a bird is alive and moves it is a proper target for his air rifle or his sling shot. {93} Let us be thankful that there has now arisen a new class of boys, the scouts, who, like the knights of old, are champions of the defenceless, even the birds. Scouts are the birds' police, and wo betide the lad who is caught with a nest and eggs, or the limp corpse of some feathered songster that he has slaughtered. Scouts know that there is no value in birds that are shot, except a few scientific specimens collected by trained museum experts. Scouts will not commend a farmer for shooting a hawk or an owl as a harmful bird, even though it were seen to capture a young chicken. They will post themselves on the subject and find that most hawks and owls feed chiefly on field mice and large insects injurious to the farmer's crops, and that thus, in spite of an occasional toll on the poultry, they are as a whole of tremendous value. The way the birds help mankind is little short of a marvel. A band of nuthatches worked all winter in a pear orchard near Rochester and rid the trees of a certain insect that had entirely destroyed the crop of the previous summer. A pair of rose-breasted grosbeaks were seen to feed their nest of youngsters four hundred and twenty-six times in a day, each time with a billful of potato-bugs or other insects. A professor in Washington counted two hundred and fifty tent caterpillars in the stomach of a dead yellow-billed cuckoo, and, what appeals to us even more, five hundred bloodthirsty mosquitoes inside of one night-hawk.



It must not be forgotten that large city parks are among the best places for observing birds. As an example of what can be accomplished, even with limited opportunities, there was a boy who happened to know where some owls roosted. {94} Now all owls swallow their prey whole, and in digesting this food they disgorge the skulls, bones, fur, and feathers in the form of hard dry pellets. This boy used to go out on Saturday or Sunday afternoon and bring home his pockets full of pellets, and then in the evening he would break them apart. In this way he learned exactly what the owls had been eating (without killing them) and he even discovered the skulls of certain field mice that naturalists had never known existed in that region. He let the owl be his collector.

Patrol Work

It is a good idea to keep at patrol headquarters a large sheet on the wall, where a list of the year's bird observations can be tabulated. Each time a new bird is seen, its name is added, together with the initial of the observer, and after that its various occurrences are noted opposite its name. The keenest eyed scouts are those whose initials appear most frequently in the table. In addition, the tables will show the appearance and relative abundance of birds in a given locality. For patrols of young boys, a plan of tacking up a colored picture of each bird, as soon as it is thoroughly known, has been found very successful, and the result provides a way to decorate the headquarters.

Such pictures can be obtained very cheaply from the Perry Pictures Co., Boston, Mass., or the National Association of Audubon Societies, 1974 Broadway, New York City.