For some moments all was commotion. The appearance of the aeroplane in that out-of-the-way place and at such a time had been so unexpected as to create no little confusion, but when it plunged to earth almost in the very midst of the camping Scouts, there was general panic, accompanied by a few screams of fright.

Every boy, as well as the doctor and the two instructors, ran for cover as the warning was sounded, but few of them found a satisfactory place before the aeroplane struck. Luckily nobody was hit, and soon they gathered around the wreck in true Boy Scout readiness to help the injured.

Fortunately the aviator had not been caught under the wreckage. He had managed to jump clear of his machine before it struck the earth, so that his body was not mangled. But he lay still as death, and there was little doubt in the minds of the campers that the fall had been fatal.

Dr. Byrd was soon kneeling over the unconscious form and examining it for signs of life. Two of the boys pulled burning brands from the fire and held them close to afford him light. The examination occupied several minutes, and finally the doctor announced:

“He’s alive, but he’s got some broken bones. One of you boys get some water. Some of you make some splints, and some make a coat litter.”

In a moment all was activity. Thirty boys cannot work together to great advantage under ordinary circumstances, but these boys were well trained and well managed. They were organized in Patrols with Patrol Leaders, while the two instructors acted as Scout Masters. All of them, even Bad, had learned to obey orders, and the work moved along quickly.

Pickles went to the stream and got some water in a coffee pot, and Hal led a company into a clump of cottonwood near by to cut some splints, while others busied themselves with the preparing of the litter.

The splints were made of small green limbs cut from some of the trees and shaved flat on two sides with the boys’ strong jackknives. In a short time Hal and his followers were back on the scene of the accident, watching proceedings eagerly and waiting for further orders. Meanwhile the work on the litter progressed with equal rapidity. Two strong poles were cut, trimmed and thrust through the arms of two of the boys’ coats. Then the fronts were drawn around over the poles and buttoned, and the task was finished.

Dr. Byrd was a surgeon as well as a physician and he worked rapidly. He laid the injured man flat on his back, with head low, opened his clothing to aid respiration, then bared the injured parts and bathed them with water. In a few minutes the man groaned, and it was evident that he was in great pain. A further examination disclosed the fact that his right leg and two ribs on his right side were broken.

Dr. Byrd did not set the leg at once. He merely straightened the limb and bound it with handkerchiefs and pieces of torn garments so as to make it firm at the broken point. Around the broken ribs he pinned a wide bandage.

“You boys are now having your first lesson in the treatment of a victim of a serious accident,” remarked the doctor after he had finished his work. “Sometime one of you may be in a position where you’ll have to set a broken bone, and it will be well for you all to make note of everything connected with this case. First, never set a bone when the flesh around the fracture is swollen. Treat it to reduce the swelling, and then set it. This man’s wounds are badly swollen because of the violence of his fall. I have bound them so that they will not be irritated while he is being carried to Lakefarm. Now, we’ll put him on the litter and start. But first put out the fire.”

The boys quickly obeyed, for they had been taught never to leave a camp fire unattended in a place where there was a possibility of the blaze reaching woods or prairie grass. There was little danger in this instance, but the doctor insisted on following the rule. Water was carried in pails and pots and pans from the stream and poured on the fire until the last spark was gone. Then the camping utensils were gathered up and the journey toward the school was resumed.

Mr. Frankland and Mr. Porter carried the injured man, and Dr. Byrd walked beside the litter and kept watch over the patient. The latter had said little thus far, for the doctor had instructed him to lie still and not try to tell his story, as he evidently wished to do.

The aviator was about thirty years old, and one look into his pain-drawn face was enough to inspire confidence and deep sympathy. He was not particularly handsome but he looked pleasant and straightforward. His body seemed well-knit and powerful.

“I’ll give you boys a half holiday to-morrow morning,” announced the doctor as they started up the caÑon toward Flat Head Pass. “You may come back here and get the wreck of the airship and bring it back to the school.”

This announcement delighted the young Scouts, who expressed their glee variously. The prospect of making a thorough examination of an aeroplane with such a history as this, was enough to excite their imaginations.

As they proceeded, the doctor gave the boys further instructions regarding the care of an injured person. He called their attention to the manner in which the man on the stretcher was being carried in order that he might ride with the greatest possible care and comfort.

“Notice how Mr. Frankland and Mr. Porter are walking,” he said. “They break their step so that while one moves his right leg the other moves his left and vice versa. This makes an easy pace. By walking in this manner, Mr. Frankland and Mr. Porter carry the patient along gently and without jarring.”

It was after ten o’clock when they arrived at the school. The aviator was taken into the “Hospital,” put into bed and made as comfortable as possible. The boys went to their dormitory, visited the shower baths and then turned in.

Next morning, in spite of their late retirement, the boys were up bright and early. Several of them had dreamed of airships and awoke in the midst of various tragic situations. Hal Kenyon narrowly escaped being hit by the wing of a falling biplane and awoke as the machine struck the ground with a crash. Those who were slow at waking were pulled out of bed by their more eager schoolmates or were driven out of slumberland with showers of pillows. But they were not angry in the least at this rough awakening and made all possible haste to prepare for breakfast.

There were few servants at the “Level-Headed School.” Dr. Byrd did not permit any of the boys to wear expensive clothes, even on Sunday. For the week days he had selected the Boy Scout uniforms, which were worn constantly. This uniform, in fact, was what attracted him to the Boy Scout idea.

In the absence of a corps of servants, the young Scouts learned to perform many useful duties. They aired their own rooms and made their own beds, sewed on their own buttons, and, in shifts, helped the cook to prepare their meals.

So they had various “chores” to perform both before and after breakfast on the morning following their “hike” in the mountains. For an hour and a half they were busy, sandwiching their breakfast between the tidying of the dormitory and the washing and wiping of dishes. But finally all such duties were done, and the boys were free to go to Mummy CaÑon for the wrecked aeroplane.

Meanwhile they had been told that the victim of the accident was not fatally injured. Aside from his broken ribs and leg he had suffered only a severe shaking up. A thorough examination had convinced the doctor that he would recover as soon as his broken bones could mend. The swelling on his leg was rapidly going down, and the doctor announced that he would probably set the limb in the afternoon.

A team of horses was hitched to a wagon, and one of the boys got in and drove, while the rest walked ahead or behind. Mr. Frankland accompanied them. The journey was uneventful and in less than an hour they were in the caÑon.

The aeroplane was so thoroughly a wreck as to require almost an expert to determine what it had been originally. It had struck on a level grassy spot and had torn up the sod as if to make the earth as much a wreck as itself. A misshapen mass of splintered wood and bent struts and braces was about all that the Scouts could make out.

“It’s hardly worth while to take that junk back with us,” said Mr. Frankland as he gazed on the sorry-looking heap. “But since we came after it we may as well obey orders. Perhaps he’ll want to hold a funeral and bury his dead pet.”

“Who is he?” inquired Ferdinand Sharer, commonly known as “Fes” because of his fondness of carving or inking his initials, “F. E. S.,” on all his personal property. “What’s his name?”

“I don’t know,” Mr. Frankland replied. “He hasn’t done much talking yet.”

“Gee! such a fall as that’s enough to shut anybody up,” exclaimed Frank Bowler.

“Yes, anybody except you,” answered “Fes” wisely. “You never close your face till after the chickens go to roost.”

“I don’t, eh!” began Frank; but Mr. Frankland put a stop to this sort of dispute by saying:

“Tut, tut, boys. None of that. That isn’t clever.”

Several of the boys now took hold of the wreck and lifted it into the wagon. It was a strange looking sight as they carted it over the rock road.

They arrived back at Lakefarm earlier than they had expected, but the boys were not required to return to their class work until afternoon. The wreck of the aeroplane was stored away in an empty shed, and the incident was closed pending an explanation from the injured aviator.