This comrade was an agile chap, about the same weight as Bud, but
with a wide-awake expression on his face that let everybody know in
the start that he was one of those born leaders who forge to the
front through circumstances often beyond their control.

Hugh Hardin was not only leader of the Wolf Patrol. Sometimes he had
been deputized to act in place of the regular scout master of the
troop, when Lieutenant Denmead and Assistant Rawson chanced to be
called away and could not serve. So well had Hugh carried out his
task on such occasions, it was generally accepted as a foregone
conclusion that in case the latter officer resigned, as he had lately
given hints of doing, Hugh would be elected in his stead. There might
be a few boys in the troop, now consisting of four patrols, who would
prefer to see Alec Sands, leader of the Otters, placed in that elevated
position, but his popularity was confined to his particular chums,
while that of Hugh embraced members of every patrol.

On this day, Hugh and Bud had started from home immediately after
partaking of a glorious Thanksgiving feast. As all preparations had
been made for this trip up into the wilderness many miles above the
home town, it was evident that they had a particular object in view;
which, in fact, was the case.

Bud Morgan was rather given to conjuring up new and sometimes
startling inventions. These he usually tried upon some of his mates
and not always in a fashion to add to their peace of mind, either.
On more than one occasion in the past they had been suddenly
confronted by some innovation that for the moment rather demoralized
the valiant wearers of the scout khaki.