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Ford now and talk it over with him. Who wants to go along?" "I'll go," said Bud Weir. "So'll I," added Romper. "All right, come along," replied Bruce. And five minutes later three motorcycles were scooting out toward the hydro-electric plant where Mr. Ford, the Quarry Troop's Assistant Scoutmaster, was superintendent.
Another point would be lost for each scout who came to meeting with buttons off his uniform, or with scout pin missing, or with hair uncombed, or shoes muddy. Any patrol that did not live up to its orders from the Scoutmaster would be penalized from five to ten points.
This was just what he liked. "Owing to the absence of our beloved scoutmaster," Roy shouted, "and the sudden rise in the world of Tomasso Slade, alias Lucky Luke, alias Sherlock Nobody Holmes, and his unwillingness to run this show, because he saw General Pershing and is too chesty, I nominate for boss and vice-boss of this meeting, Blakeley and Harris, with a platform...."
And just in that moment there flashed into Tom's mind the picture of that weary, perspiring boy in khaki down in captured Cantigny, who had mopped his forehead, saying, "A drink of water would go good now." It had been a pet saying of Tom's scoutmaster back in America that you should wait long enough to make up your mind and not one second longer.
"Shut up!" he said. "Camp McCord is the name of the place and there Skinny's going to stay till the Elk Patrol of the Bridgeboro Troop marches down in a body and hands him the gold cross. Those are the Gold Dust Twins' orders." "But Bert," I said, "that isn't the way they present the cross. You have to have a special meeting and the scoutmaster "
"That's my patrol!" exclaimed Will in amazement. "You're the scoutmaster," the boy said, "I've seen you in Chicago." "Strange I don't remember you!" replied Will. "Oh, I'm only a tenderfoot," was the answer, "and of course, you don't know all the new boys!" "What are you doing here?" asked Will. "I'm running away!" was the reply.
I'm going with Apple and he has a waterproof sleeping bag big enough for two. We're going to have a great time. I tell you, Will, this camp life with people like Apple and the scoutmaster and you is more like heaven than anything I ever dreamed of." A great deal of satisfaction and joy had come into Glen Mason's life in the last few days.
Scoutmaster Ned had the floor, also the walls and the ceiling. He seemed not to care anything about the culprits. All he seemed to care about was getting his Hunkajunk car back and recounting their adventures. Perhaps he was even a little grateful to the culprits for affording them such opportunity for adventure.
"Believe me," I said, "the only civil engineer I ever talked with, did most of the talking. He wouldn't let us play ball in his lot. He was an uncivil engineer, that's what he was." Bert said, "Well, there was a civil engineer here with a troop from out west somewhere. He was a scoutmaster. He took me on a couple of good hikes.
"Do we all have to go, Paul, or are you going to let several of us tramp along to Beverly?" some one asked just then. "That depends on how you feel about it," was the answer the scoutmaster gave. "It won't do any good for a part of the patrol to arrive on time, because, you remember one of the rules of the game is that every member must fulfill the conditions, and make the full hundred miles hike.