purpose, and the proprietor comes out of the field and waits
on you. Frank wanted a record of being the prize bell-ringer, and once
he got to the boat just a quarter of an inch ahead of a bulldog with
red eyes and bowlegs.

"He holds the world's record for speed," Fremont continued, with a
friendly glance at Frank. "The faster he runs the whiter he gets,
through fear, and he left white streaks behind him all along the
Cumberland river. Now, how many of you boys are ready for a trip down
the Rio Grande, and, possibly, over into Mexico?"

Every boy in the room shouted approval of the plan, and Frank said he
would go as war correspondent.

"It will be exciting, with the soldiers on the border," Frank said,
"and I may make a hit as special news writer."

All was now excitement in the room, the story of the trip down to the
Mississippi having stirred the lads' love of out-of-door adventure to
the sizzling point. They capered about the handsome room in a most
undignified manner, and counted the days that would elapse before they
could be on their way.

The club-room was in the residence of Henry Bosworth, whose son, Jack,
was one of the liveliest members of the Black Bear Patrol. The walls
of the apartment were hung with guns, paddles, bows, arrows, foils,
boxing-gloves, and such trophies as the members of the patrol had been
able to bring from field and forest. Above the door was a red shield,
nearly a yard in diameter, from the raised center of which a Black Bear
pointed an inquisitive nose. The boys were all proud of their black
bear badge, especially as no Boy Scout patrol was so well known in New
York for the character and athletic standing of its members.

On this stormy March night-one long to be remembered by every member of
the party--there were only five members of the Black Bear Patrol
present. These were Harry Stevens, son of a manufacturer of
automobiles; Glen Howard, son of a well-known board of trade man; Jack
Bosworth, son of a leading attorney; George Fremont, adopted son of
James Cameron; and Frank Shaw, son of a newspaper owner.

They had been planning a trip to the South all winter, and now, as has
been said, the mention of the journey down the Cumberland and Ohio
rivers to the Mississippi had so fired their enthusiasm for the great
out-of-doors that they were ready to start at short notice. They took
down maps and hunted up books descriptive of Mexico, and so busied
themselves with the de