“I appoint Jud and Bobolink a committee to canvass the vote, and count up the amount subscribed,” said Paul, as chairman of the meeting.

It did not take very long, though the two boys were seen to go over their figures several times in order to make sure there could be no error.

“Look at the grins on their faces!  Don’t that tell the story, fellows!  Hurrah!” shouted Nuthin’.

And when the amount was declared it was found that it far exceeded the actual sum needed to purchase uniforms for the entire twenty-two scouts, including hats and leggings.

“Don’t forget that I’ve just got to have a bugle, fellows.  What use is it to be elected bugler if you can’t bugle?” exclaimed Bobolink.

“And m-m-me for a d-d-d-d-d-drum!” echoed Bluff, excitedly; when he was immediately pounced upon as usual, and pounded several times on the back.

“Yes, do get Bluff something he can beat.  I’ve heard him drum, and he’s just a corker at it.  It keeps him from talking, you know,” laughed Tom Betts.

“Hello!” exclaimed Nuthin’ suddenly; “look who’s here, fellows!”

All eyes were immediately turned toward the door, and focussed upon the figure that stood just within the barn, having entered while they were boisterously exchanging these compliments.

“Why, it’s Mr. Growdy!” said Paul.

“Old Peleg!” echoed Bobolink, in a hushed tone.

One and all stared at the crusty old farmer, who for years had avoided all boys as though he thought them a dangerous breed of animals which it were safer to let severely alone.

When Paul saw the amused smile creeping over the rugged and seamed face of the old farmer he understood that Peleg had really experienced a wonderful change of heart, dating from that night when the new Boy Scouts cleaned up his dooryard as an object lesson.

And now Peleg was coming slowly forward, looking a bit awkward; since he had never been accustomed to facing an audience, and especially one composed of boys.

They made way for him, so that presently he found himself completely surrounded by an eager throng.

“Glad to see you, Mr. Growdy,” said Paul, holding out his hand impulsively; and to the surprise of the others it was eagerly seized upon by the calloused fingers of the toiler in the fields; “these are the friends I spoke to you about.  And this is the Fox Patrol of the newly organized Boy Scouts.”

Peleg grinned, and acknowledged the introduction by ducking his touseled head.

“Glad to meet ye, boys.  I’ve be’n hearin’ quite considerable ’bout what ye was adoin’ over here, an’ I thort as how I’d jest drap in to see ye all; sorter like returnin’ yer call, so to speak!” he said, again allowing a humorous look to appear upon his face.

And somehow the boys instantly concluded that when Peleg allowed the lines of his severe face to relax, he was rather a jolly old chap after all.