Boy Scouts Handbook Part 22

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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: To make a 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Measuring the width of a river by sighting with a triangle. (tr)]

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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Measuring height of tree.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Measuring the distance between two distant objects.]

To measure the s.p.a.ce 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 s.p.a.ce 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: To climb a tree that is too thick--Place small tree against it.]

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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 compa.s.s.

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 pa.s.sing 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 compa.s.s. I do not believe much in guidance by what are called nature's compa.s.s 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 compa.s.s 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 a.s.siniboin. 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 b.u.t.te 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 compa.s.s 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 compa.s.s 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 compa.s.s 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 compa.s.s, 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: