“And will you clap?”

“When you hear me clap you’ll think it’s a whole troop.”

“I bet your troop think a lot of you.”

“They could be arrested if they said out loud what they think of me.”

“My father got arrested once.”

“Well, I hope they won’t trip you up.  That was a fine stunt you did, Skinny.  When those trustees and scoutmasters once get busy with the handbook, good night, it reminds you of boyhood’s happy school days.”

“It’s all on page thirty,” Skinny said; “and I’ve done all of those ten things, because the tracking made ten, and Mr. Elting said as long as you said you saw me do it, it’s all right, because he knows you tell the truth.”

“Well, that’s one good thing about me,” Hervey laughed.

“And he said you came near winning the Eagle award, too.  He said you only just missed it.  I bet you’re a hero, ain’t you?”

“Some hero.”

“A boy said you gave the eagle a good run for it, even if you didn’t get it.  He said you came near it.”

Hervey just sat on the rail swinging his legs.  “I came pretty near the eagle, that’s right,” he said; “and if I’d got a little nearer I’d have choked his life out.  That’s how much I think of the eagle.”

Skinny looked as if he did not understand.

“Did you see that bird that Tom Slade got?  He got the nest and all.  It’s hanging in the elm tree near the pavilion.  There’s an oriole in that nest.”

“Get out!”

“Didn’t you see it yet?”

“Nope.”

“All the fellows saw it.  That bird has got a name like the one you called me.”

“Asbestos?”

“Something like that.  Why did you call me that name—­Asbestos?”

“Well, because you’re more important than an eagle.  See?”

“That’s no good of a reason.”

“Well, then, because you’re going to be a second-hand scout.”

“You mean second-class,” Skinny said; “that’s no good of a reason, either.”

“Well, I guess I’m not much good on reasons.  I’d never win the reason badge, hey?”

“Do you know who is the smartest fellow in this camp?” Skinny asked, jumping from one thing to another in his erratic fashion.  “Tom Slade.  He knows everything.  I like him but I like you better.  He promised to clap when I go on the platform, too.  Will you ask your troop to clap?”

“I’m afraid they don’t care anything about doing me a favor, Alf.  Maybe they won’t feel like clapping.  But your troop will clap.”

“Pee-wee Harris, he’s in my troop; he said he’d shout.”

“Good night!” Hervey laughed.  “What more do you want?”

CHAPTER XVIII

THE DAY BEFORE

So it seemed that Tom Slade had brought the rescued oriole, bag and baggage, back to camp, and had said nothing of the circumstance of his finding it.  He was indeed a queer, uncommunicative fellow.