When I recovered from winning the laughing badge I said, “What’s the idea, Kiddo? Did you think you could win the forestry badge by being lost in the forest?”

“Don’t listen to him, he’s crazy,” Pee-wee shouted at Willie Cook.

I said, “The next thing you’ll be trying to win the electricity badge by being struck by lightning.” Our young tenderfoot hero, Scout Cook, said, “If I can do Tests Five and Eight I’ll be a second-class scout. It’s all right if you give them good measure, isn’t it?”

I said, “Sure, but I wouldn’t give them a whole world tour for a two mile hike in these days of the high cost of hiking. Test Five says you must hike a mile and back. You must have hiked about a dozen miles. What are you going to do now?”

“Are you sure I’m a mile away from camp?” he asked me.

“Positively guaranteed,” I told him. “You’ll find out before you get back.”

“I’m going to do two tests at once,” he said.

“Boy, but you’re reckless,” Garry said. “What’s the other test?”

He said, “It’s Test Eight. I’ve got to cook this meat and these potatoes. See? And I’m going to put my initials on a tree to prove I hiked this far, and I’m going to take the food back to prove I cooked it. Because you have to prove things, don’t you?”

“Ask Scout Harris,” I said; “he’s in your patrol. He knows all about laws and food and everything.”

Gee whiz, I knew those two tests well enough—Five and Eight. One says a scout must go a mile—scout pace he’s supposed to go. The other says he must cook a quarter of a pound of meat and two potatoes without any cooking utensils. That kid had about a dozen potatoes and a couple of pounds or so of meat, ready to cook.

“Where did you get all this?” I asked him.

“I bought them at a butcher’s in Berryville and if I cook them and take them back will I be a second-class scout?”

“Positively guaranteed,” I told him. “The more you take back the more of a scout you’ll be. Ask Scout Harris.”

“They’re all crazy,” Pee-wee told him; “don’t pay any attention to them. We’ll cook the things and eat them. You’re supposed to be generous, you’re supposed to help a fellow scout. Anyway, all you need to take back is a quarter of a pound of meat and two potatoes, but you don’t even need to take that much because I’ll testify that you cooked them. All these fellows will testify.”

“Yes, but you said they’re all crazy,” Willie Cook piped up.

“A—eh—a crazy fellow can testify, can’t he?” Pee-wee shouted. “Anyway if I testify it’s enough; everybody at Temple Camp knows me. Unwrap the bundle and let’s cook the stuff; we haven’t had anything but one fish and a bite of chocolate each since breakfast——”

“Two bites,” Garry said; “and don’t forget the roast duck.”

Oh boy! Laugh? I just stood there shaking. There stood poor little Willie Cook holding his greasy bundle behind him and backing away so Pee-wee couldn’t grab it.

“Are you going to be generous and help a fellow scout or not?” he was shouting. “Don’t you know a scout is supposed to save life? You get—a—a gold medal for that. We haven’t had anything to eat——”

“Except roast duck,” I said.

“Will you keep still!” he yelled.

Willie Cook just looked at me, kind of scared, and he said, “I’m going to do what this fellow says because he’s a patrol leader. I heard a scout at camp say so.”

“Bully for you, Kid,” I said; “you just follow me and you can’t go right! Can he, Hervey?”

“Except by accident,” Hervey said.

“Sure, and we don’t have that kind of accidents,” I told the kid. “You’re right. Proof is more important than appetites. Isn’t it, Garry?”

“Will you stop your crazy nonsense and let’s cook the food?” Pee-wee screamed. “You all make me tired! Here’s a lot of food—All he needs to take back, anyway, is about one potato and a little piece of meat——”

The little fellow looked at Pee-wee and then he looked at me as if he didn’t know what to do.

I said, “If he had only hiked one mile it would have been all right to go back with one potato, but he’s been roaming all over the woods, miles and miles, and so he needs to take back more proof; he needs all the proof he has. He’s a good Raven. Come on, Kid, cook the things and put your initials here and then we’ll all go back to camp and show them the stuff. When the raving Ravens see those nice brown potatoes and that meat cooked just as if you were the chef of the Waldorf Castoria they’ll hand you the second-class badge. Won’t they, Scout Harris?”

“Do you think it’s smart getting him all mixed up?” Pee-wee just yelled. “You think you’re funny with all your crazy nonsense. Don’t you know Law Three says a scout must be prepared at all times to save life, and don’t you know we’re nearly starving? Do you think I’m going to funny-bone hike all around the Catskill Mountains just to please you and never eat anything? I’m not going to go another step till I have something to eat, I can tell you that!”

“The handbook——” I began saying.

“Do you think I can eat the handbook?” he shrieked at me. “You and your crazy talk! Come on, let’s get a fire started. I’ll see that he gets his badge all right. You leave it to me.”

“Just the same as you got us a roast duck,” I said.

“Do you deny that you’re hungry?” he yelled.

“I admit it,” I said, “but duty calls——”

Just then the poor little tenderfoot handed me his precious bundle; I guess he thought it would be in safer keeping. And in about two seconds the whole six of us were scrambling for it. And in about a half a minute we had a fire started.

I said, “Kiddo, proof is all right, but the proof of the pudding is in the eating. Pee-wee is right and I’m wrong as he usually is. If the testimony of five scouts and a half isn’t enough to prove what you did all the meat in the Chicago stock markets wouldn’t do it. Don’t worry, leave it to us; you’ll get the second-class badge all right. Testifying on merit and class tests is our middle name. There’s only one thing we do better than that, and that is eat. And we’re ready to give you the PROOF, hey, Hervey?”

“That’s us,” Hervey said. “I just thought up a new way to get lost on the way back. If we don’t look out we’ll bunk into Temple Camp.” That poor little tenderfoot looked from one to the other of us as if he thought we sure were crazy. I guess he was right. We should worry.