“Because it is time we were starting for home,” answered Jack.

“No trouble about that,” replied the colonel.  “I will walk back with you, and we can talk it over as we go along.  Let’s see, there are four of you here?”

“Yes, there are four of us,” replied Pepper.

“Then you need two more to start with.”

“Don’t you lock your door when you go out?” was Jack’s irrelevant query when they were ready to start.

“Not usually,” replied the colonel.  “There is no one to bother us up here in the woods.  Do you think there is any need of it?” he asked quizzically.

“I should think there was,” declared Pepper, “if Monkey Rae is about.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” admitted the colonel.  “Giving me some of my own advice, aren’t you?  Always be prepared.  I don’t know but what I had better follow it.”

Going back into the house he returned with a padlock with which he fastened the door.

“There’s Gerald Moore, he would join us,” began Jack, taking up the subject of the patrol again.

“Gerald Moore!” exclaimed Rand in a doubtful tone.

“What is the matter with him?” asked the colonel.

“He is the son of the janitor at the bank,” replied Rand, “and—­”

“Anything wrong about him?” continued the colonel.

“No,” replied Rand, “but—­”

“Oh!” said the colonel dryly, “I see.  I suppose you all know the scout law.”

“Not yet,” replied Jack.  “Rand read it to us, but we haven’t learned it yet.”

“Let me see,” continued the colonel musingly, “how does number four go?”

“It says,” read Rand, “a scout is a friend to all and a brother to every other scout, no matter to what social class the other belongs.  A scout accepts the other man as he finds him, and makes the best of him.”

The colonel made no comment, and the boys walked on in silence.

“I was wrong,” acknowledged Rand after a little hesitation.  “I have no objection to Gerald.”

“When we are going into battle, my boy,” said the colonel, stopping on the way for a moment, “we don’t stop to consider to what class the man who is fighting alongside of us belongs, and this is a battle you are going into, one to make the most you can out of your lives, and if you can help some one else at the same time so much the greater is your reward.”

“I see,” replied Rand, “and I won’t forget it.”

“He was in our class, at school,” went on Jack.

“He quotes poetry,” added Pepper.

“Who does?” asked the colonel.

“Gerald.”

“That’s bad,” said the colonel gravely, “but perhaps you could cure him of it.”

“He says he is descended from Tom Moore,” continued Pepper.

“Well, we needn’t hold that against him,” suggested Donald.  “It was no altogether his fault.”

“Then there’s Dick Wilson,” proposed Jack.  “He was in our class, too.”