“I can prove you’re wrong about him,” said Pee-wee, “because alligators don’t go to school and——­”

“Won’t you have another, Walter?”

“One for good measure, hey?” said Pee-wee.  “Anyway, how much do you want to bet he won’t go to school now?  Because he will, because scouts have to do what they’re supposed to do and I bet you he’ll——­”

“Another, Walter?”

“I’ll take a pink one this time.  I bet you he’ll go to school and be all right on account of starting to be a scout.  I got some money for grandstand seats on our island to see the boat races and I’ll treat you to a soda.”

“Thank you,” laughed Miss Carlton, “but I think not now.”

Miss Carlton knew Pee-wee well enough (for he had been in her class) not to inquire particularly about his multifarious adventures.  She knew that they were too numerous and complicated for casual recital.  Nor had she any faith in the influence of scouting on Keekie Joe.  She did not believe that any power in the world could tempt Keekie Joe to school on a Monday, because Keekie Joe’s partiality to liberal week ends was well known to her.

“Well, I only hope it will do him some good,”; said Miss Carlton dubiously.

“You mean scouting? Sure it will.  You just wait and see.  So long, maybe I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Won’t you have one more?” the tempter urged.

Pee-wee hesitated.  “I’ll take a cocoanut one,” he said, “because they’re small.  So long, I’ll see you later.”

Thus it was that when Pee-wee went back to the island, he did take something with him which was not named in the guessing of his friends.  It was the heavy responsibility which he bore to make scouting good in the eyes of Miss Carlton.  His promise, made at the altar of Bennett’s candy counter and solemnized by a dozen assorted dainties, must be fulfilled.

He found his friends sprawling around their dying campfire on the island.  Townsend was lying on his back as usual, his hands clasped behind his head, his eyes fixed on the quiet stars.  Crowds thronged the main street of Bridgeboro on that Saturday night but the island lay peacefully against the shore of the wood skirting the river and the town might have been a hundred miles on for all the campers could tell.

“Well, we’ve had quite a week,” said Townsend; “and now that we’re started I hope we’ll stick together and make a real, honest-to-goodness patrol.  Joe is with us to the last ditch—­out for the second rate badge——­”

“You mean the second class badge,” Pee-wee thundered.

“Brownie is going to be steward or whatever you——­”

“Don’t talk about stew,” said Billy.

“Pardon me, my fault,” said Townsend, “only I’d like to rise to remark while I’m lying here that I think we’re going to make a pretty nifty patrol.  Joe wouldn’t go in swimming on account of his mother; couldn’t force him to it, so there you are.”