Two Small Boys Run Away to Live in the Woods—With Muskets but No Ammunition

Chief Savidge, of the Olympia metropolitan police force, was called upon this morning to deliver a lecture against youthful waywardness and a predisposition evinced by a couple of school boys to get up a declaration of independence all alone by themselves.

The boys in question are so young and tender that it would be equivalent to cruelty to animals to give their names. One of them is the son of a well known house painter, while the other is son of his father. The boys attend the city school and read blood and thunder stories on the sly; at least their conduct indicates that they indulge in literature of that character. They grew moody, morose and discontented. When Murphy came to town they were among the first to sign the pledge. This was accepted as ample evidence that they meant thereafter to be "good little boys." They put blue ribbons in their buttonholes and went about looking good and pious for several days.

One morning soon afterward they came up missing. Both boys had disappeared as completely as if they had been swallowed on the quiet by an earthquake or some other wild beast. Yesterday the father of the boy who was a painter went out on a still hunt in search of his missing son. Parents and friends felt quite certain that the boys would be found together.

Yesterday afternoon the father discovered the little fellows several miles up the bay. "What does this mean?" demanded the father. "Oh, we are going to live in the woods, so we are," retorted one of the boys defiantly. "No; I guess you won't," replied the father. "Come along."

The boys had appropriated a musket each before leaving civilization but had forgotten to take along a supply of ammunition. They had no provisions nor blankets. A camp fire had been built the night before by the aid of which they were enabled to obtain a little sleep. In spite of these minor inconveniences the boys were determined to live in the woods, but they were finally persuaded to return home.

This morning one of the muskets was turned over to the chief of police along with one of the boys. The boy hung his head and looked very sorrowful while the chief delivered the aforesaid lecture. He left the chief's private office looking as if he had just been the victim of a parental castigation. He will probably not camp out again for some time. The fate of his companion in camp life is unknown.