The scout whom he called Nick jogged up the waning blaze while others brought a fresh log, and soon the camp-fire was roaring a warming, hearty welcome home to the weary scoutmasters.  One of these (who was evidently young enough to be addressed by his Christian name, for they called him Ned) sat on an old grocery box and related the happenings of the day, while the others sprawled about, listening.  Occasionally his fellow scoutmaster (Safety First they called him) contributed a few words.

“Well, the first thing we did when we got ashore was to—­”

“Get out of the boat?” a scout asked.  There was surely not much constraint between scouts and scoutmasters in this outfit.

“We went up to town and saw the school board; at least we saw Mr. Cram.  He says everything’s upside down and they don’t know what they’ll do—­says there won’t be any school for a month anyway. (Cries of despair.) They can’t use the town hall and they can’t use the fire-house and they’re talking of using the old Wilder mansion.  We told him if there wasn’t going to be any school till the middle of October or so, we’d like to bunk right here on the island and study nature.  He said, ‘Go to it.’  So there’s no school for a month (murmurs of disappointment) and we’ve got to chip in and get some more groceries.

“We squared things with your parents and most of them are glad to get rid of you.  How about that, Safety First?  Corby’s sister is giving a party and hopes he’ll stay away.  Let’s see now; oh yes, we bought some fishing tackle.

“Then we got some gas and started for Bridgeboro after the cup.  We went after that cup like Sir Thomas Lipton.  The jewelry man didn’t have the engraving finished so we dropped in at a movie show and saw a fellow with a lot of pistols.  How many pistols were there, First Aid?  We counted them off coming back in the machine, there were seventy.  Crazy stuff.  That’s the kind of stuff you kids fall for.  Well, after the pistol shooting was over we got the cup and started back and here we are.  Any questions?”

“Let’s see the cup.”

We left it in the machine.  We’ll get it in the morning.  Now look here, you scouts.  I want every last one of you to try for that cup.  There are half a dozen of you that need to wake up.  There are a few dead ones here; Harry, the crack shot—­yes you—­I’m looking right at you—­I want you to can all this stuff about killing animals and get busy and do the best scout stunt of the season and win that cup.  Understand?  I was saying to Safety First on the way home that a fellow gets more fun stealing up on an animal and piking him with a camera than he does poking around with an old air gun that he saw advertised in Boy’s Life.  That’s what!  I’m talking to you straight.