“I most positively do, and right now and here I’m willing to promise you—­”

“Wait a little, Mr. Pender.  There’s only one thing you could do to pay me for the little assistance I have been to you.  Some time later on, after you get back to Washington, write me a letter on your official paper, stating just what aid the Boy Scouts of the Red Fox patrol were to you in furthering the ends of justice.  That’s all any of us could accept, sir.”

“By Jove!  I’m proud to know such boys, and proud to shake hands with the fine scout leader at their head!” exclaimed the Government representative, as he cordially thrust out his digits.

But “once bit, twice shy”; and Paul shook his head as he caressed his fingers.

“Excuse me, won’t you, Mr. Pender; but once at a time is enough.  I expect to have a lot of use for my right hand to-night, sir,” he laughed.

“Oh! pardon me, my dear boy!” cried the other, “I was forgetting that it wasn’t the hand of a tiller of the soil I squeezed.  I’ll be more careful next time.  But your news was so unexpected, coming at a moment when I had received some depressing information by mail, that I quite forgot myself.  Please continue to keep these facts to yourself for a little while longer, Paul.”

“Yes, sir; until you give me leave to speak I won’t tell anybody, not even my own folks at home.  And if we are so fortunate as to get that letter from you, Stanhope Troop will have a big advantage over other competitors.  You know, sir, we are competing for an elegant banner; and the other patrols have been working all summer; so that we’ve just got to get busy if we hope to have a show in.”

“I don’t care if they’ve been going along a year, I’d be willing to wager that Stanhope will win the prize.  That shows what faith I put in the leader of the Red Fox patrol.  Nothing is going to ever hold you back.  I can see the spirit glowing right now in your eyes,” and Mr. Pender nodded his head wisely as he said this.

Paul turned red under the praise.

Mr. Pender was apparently anxious to know all he could about the place around the abandoned mill.

“Have you seen this party named Solus Smithers?” he asked, presently, as they walked slowly on in company.

“Yes, sir; several times.  He’s a very tall and thin man, with a face I never liked.  He’s driven some of us boys away from the mill pond this last summer.  We have always fished there, and nobody ever said a word; but he acted as if he had an idea some of us would steal his old house.  He even brought out a gun once, and warned three fellows off.  After a while no one cared to go up there.  Some of the boys even said they believed the old man was daffy, and that he might shoot if anybody made him real mad.”

“Oh! yes; I see; and he didn’t want trespassers on his farm, eh?  Does the mill pond stand on the ground he’s rented?” asked the gentleman.

“Oh! yes, and all the ground around there.  It must cover four hundred acres, but most of it is in woodland, you see, sir,” replied Paul, promptly.