“Let me read the whole letter through?” asked Cleo.  “We can’t make sense out of single sentences.”

Grace handed over the much-criticized little missive.  She read aloud: 

“Little scout bandit: 

“I hate to spoil all your pretty knots, but I can’t stay tied up any longer.  I am taking the rope along, and some day I hope to lasso you in return.  You gave me a merry chase after my bag—­quite a little runner you are.  When I chance this way again I will look for an answer in our hollow rock.  Good luck, Scout Bandit—­

“The victim.”

“There!” exclaimed Madaline, “only an educated man could write that!”

“But many wicked men are wonderfully educated!” Grace insisted on worrying.

“He seems jolly,” mused Cleo.

“All tramps joke,” said Grace.

“Well, if you want a tramp, have one,” laughed Cleo.  “We won’t mind, Gracie.”

“I’m not Gracie, and I hate tramps.  I tried to be nice to one when I was a little girl.  Mother was giving him pie and coffee, and I said it was hard for men to be tramps.  He turned right around and hissed:  ‘You’re too gabby!’ That’s the way tramps appreciate kindness.”

“And you called him a tramp to his face!” exclaimed Madaline.

“Oh, girls, leave the old tramp alone and let’s get to the new wild-westerner,” begged Cleo.  “I’ll tell you what we’ll do.  Let’s write an answer to his letter, and explain we only wanted to do something brave for our Scout honors, but we understand better now, and Grace, do you want to say you’re sorry you tied him up?”

“No, indeed I do not!” snapped Grace.  “Why should I, when I was trying to get Mrs. Johnston’s wash!”

“Oh, Cleo doesn’t know about that,” Madaline reminded Grace.  “We forgot that.  You see, Cleo,” she continued, “the man had a bag of clothes beside him, and Grace got a hook made of a good strong stick.  She tied this to her rope (she had a lot of ropes with her to practice her knots, you know), but when she saw the bag, and thought she saw things like Mrs. Johnston’s wash, why, of course, she just tried to get it.”

“And I did, too,” insisted Grace, “I dragged it all the way to the big rock.  Then we heard some one coming, but I held fast, I never lost it until the bag got stuck behind the rock.  I wanted so much to get poor Mrs. Johnston’s wash,” she lamented.

“Well, shall we write the letter?” Cleo followed up.

“I have to say I am afraid to go in the woods now,” admitted Grace.  “Suppose he should capture us all!”

“We could make some excuse to bring a lot of girls along,” Madeline suggested.  “He couldn’t capture a whole troop.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to get some big strong boy to fetch the letter out there for us?” proposed the practical Cleo.

“Whom could we trust?” Grace asked.

“I wouldn’t depend on brothers.  They are too tricky.  But how about Hal Crane?  He is always interested in our troop doings, and besides he’s a good scout himself.  I think I would ask him,” Cleo determined.