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Ralphson, G. Harvey (George Harvey), 1879-1940

"Boy Scouts in Southern Waters"

So on it went with various
trophies of the hunt and chase. The room was their parlor, where they
gathered for a pleasant evening and where they preferred to spend the
night.
Rowdy curled on a rug in the middle of the floor. One eye was open. Ever
as he slept or dozed his limbs twitched convulsively and he moaned and
muttered in his fitful unconsciousness.
No disturbance wakened the boys that night. They slept soundly as only
healthy, hearty boys can sleep when their minds are filled with pure
thoughts of sport and active out-of-doors life. As yet they had not been
tainted with the many things that go to disturb rest. Their everyday
training at the Beaver Patrol club rooms had been along right lines.
Their Scout Masters were all young men of high ambition whose purpose
was to teach their younger scouts that highest, noblest lesson--that man
is here for a purpose and that purpose is not a selfish one. Thus far
their teaching had not been in vain.
With the early beams of the morning sun Jack was awake.
"Come on, boys," he cried. "We'll have to bathe in a pint bowl this
morning. No hose for us today."
"Well, if we can't have a shower bath, let's take a quick cold sponge
and then have a little setting up exercise," suggested Tom.
Their actions were a revelation to the watchman who was now just
recovering from his stupor of the night before. His brain was still so
befuddled by the liquor that he could not at once understand what was
going on about him.


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