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Updated: June 21, 2025
Either way it might have hurt him. Anyway, I was glad Skinny was away on account of the way the fellows felt about him. The next afternoon Westy and I hiked down to see the new camp. I have to admit they had everything fine. Those Gold Dust Twins were older than most of the fellows at camp and now that they had something special to be interested in, I could see that they were pretty game.
With one exception the most patient scout at Temple Camp was Westy Martin of the interesting Bridgeboro, New Jersey, Troop. He could sit huddled up in a bush for an hour studying a bird. He could sit and fish for hours without catching anything. But the turtle was too much for him.
Then I said I guessed Westy just put it in his pocket to fool me and that he was going to give it to me. But cracky, there's no use trying to kid yourself. Then, all of a sudden I thought how he wanted me to hurry and run and how he didn't want to stop and talk much about it. Jiminy, I didn't know what to do and I just felt like going home and going up to my room and locking the door.
I could see Westy and Pee-wee and a couple of Portland scouts in one of the boats. All the while I was coming down I kept shouting and when I got to the shore, there were half a dozen boats to meet me. Mr. Elting and Uncle Jeb were in one of them. Besides, I could see half a dozen fellows plodding around on shore. I knew they were looking for Gold Dust Camp.
Then along had come Westy Martin and shown him how you could mark patrol signs on rocks with chunks of coal signs which should guide the watchful scout through the trackless wilderness. Exit coal as a missile. In short, Tom Slade awoke to the realization not only that he was a hoodlum, but that he was out of date with his vulgar slang and bungling, unskilful tricks.
"Maybe Skinny was looking at the book and shut it with the two dollar bill inside," I said. "How about the stain?" Westy asked me. "Jingoes, it's a puzzle," I said. All of a sudden he laid the book down open and laid the bill on it and then he laid the oar-lock on the bill. Then he just sat there like as if he was studying. Pretty soon he said, "We have to get a new copy for the library, anyway.
From the Silver Foxes to the Elks. Handle with Care. I told him to put prepaid on it, too, and then he said it would be a good idea to put some thrift stamps on Skinny's face. Jiminy, that fellow Westy has some crazy ideas. "Believe me, it'll be great," he said. "The Elks will have some training to do, that's one thing," I said. "He'll learn soon enough, all right," Westy answered.
If you say he killed anybody, he didn't; that's all I say. A scout has tuition." "You mean intuition, Kid?" Westy laughed. "I don't care about signs or anything," Pee-wee stoutly protested; "and I don't care for detectives either. Do you think I can't tell a murderer? Everything can turn out to be something different, can't it? I can prove it by the movies."
Maybe they're looking for their camp. Let's get closer in, anyway." I didn't care much what he did. If it hadn't been for the Gold Dust Twins there would never have been any trouble, I knew that. "I don't care where you go," I said. "A good turn is a good turn," Westy said. "Maybe everything has changed, but good turns haven't changed.
"He means his reminiscences," said Arrie Van Arlen. "I think," said Mr. Ellsworth, "that Scout Harris will be quite busy enough forming the new patrol, and when it is formed I hope he will present it to the First Bridgeboro Troop, B. S. A." "That's us," said Westy Martin. "I don't see how Pee-wee can get out of the troop," Mr.
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