Oh, boy, some excitement! “Excuse me while I blush,” I said. For they were all shouting and Pee-wee was on top of the table dancing and yelling, “Hurrah for the Solid Silver Foxes! Three cheers for the Sterling Silver Foxes!” Believe me, that kid is self-starting, but he isn’t self stopping.

Then I told them that I had something more to say, and they shouted it was their turn to do the saying, and believe me, they did—with something left over. At last Mr. Ellsworth got us throttled down and he told me to say what I had to say, because Mr. Bennett had a word or two for us.

So I told them my idea that I’d had in my head all the time, and you just wait and see how many adventures it led to. That’s one good thing about good turns; they most always start something. Already Pee-wee was started.

I told them I thought instead of keeping Tom Slade’s place open, kind of in memory of him, it would be better to put Skinny McCord in that vacant place and take him up to Temple Camp and help him to get well. Then I told them how he read the Handbook, and how he was crazy about scouting, only he was scared of the fellows because he was so poor. And then I said that findings is keepings and that Skinny belonged to the Silver Foxes, and they would make a present of him to the Elks on account of Tom Slade. “Anyway,” I said, “when Tom gets back he’ll be old enough for assistant scoutmaster, so it’s all right.”

Then Mr. Ellsworth said, “Very good,” and that Councilman Bennett had something to say. This is what he said, because Mr. Ellsworth wrote it out for me, and he remembered almost just how it was. Oh, but he’s one fine man—Mr. Bennett—he’s on some kind of a board and he helped build the hospital and he likes the scouts and he wishes he could shin up a tree—he said so. So this is what he said.

“My young friends, I have listened with a good deal of something or other (it’s too much bother to spell it out) to our young leader of the Silver Foxes, and I must say that the Silver Foxes are solid fourteen karat gold. I am a lawyer myself and I wish to express my professional admiration of the way Leader Blakeley presented his case.”

“The pleasure is mine,” I said under my breath, because I just couldn’t help it.

Then he said like this—he said, “If Skinny McCord wishes to cast his lot with such boys as these, he shall not find the means lacking. I will furnish his suit and such sundries as he needs. I agree with Leader Blakeley that doctors are sometimes mistaken. Let us hope it may be the case in this instance. The cruise to camp must be made; let nothing interfere with that. If some of you boys wish to go into the city in the morning you may have the pleasure of purchasing Skinny’s outfit. I would suggest that the Silver Foxes do this in order that their gift may go complete to their comrades of the Elks. I think I have your scoutmaster’s permission to do this.”

“Sure you have!” Pee-wee shouted.

“We’ll go in on the 9 A. M. train,” Westy said.

“What time does the 9 A. M. train leave?” Pee-wee shouted. “Oh, but it’s great!” He was half crazy.

“The nine o’clock train leave at 8.60,” I told him, “and you have to get a transfer——”

“To what line?” he shouted.

“To the clothesline,” I said.

“You make me sick!” he yelled, “You haven’t got any what-do-you-call-it—hero—something or other——”

“That talk will have to be strained through a sieve,” I said. “Don’t mind him, Mr. Bennett, somebody’s been feeding him meat. He goes to the movies too much. He’s known as the human megaphone. All step up and listen to the Raving Raven rave—only a dime, ten cents, ladies and gentlemen!”

Even Mr. Bennett had to laugh.

“Now all we’ve got to have is a girl,” Pee-wee shouted, “because we’ve got a poor lad—I mean—you know what I mean—noble poverty and a boat and heroes doing good turns——”

“And Ravens turning somersaults,” I said.

“And all that,” he kept up, “and Roy foiled his prosecuters—I mean persecuters——”

“You mean executers,” Doc said.

“And all we need now is a heroine,” Pee-wee said, while he danced up and down. “A poor girl—I mean a maiden—with gold hair—if we could only rescue one—oh, wouldn’t it be great.”

“Even if her hair was only gold-filled it would be something,” Connie Bennett said.

“You’re crazy!” Pee-wee shouted, “it shows none of you know anything about stories.”

Oh, jiminy, I can’t tell all the stuff we shouted. You see, it was just because we were feeling so good. And Mr. Ellsworth didn’t try to stop us.

The next chapter is about two dollars. I don’t mean it’s worth that much. I don’t know what I’ll name it yet.

Olive oil^[1]—that’s the French way to say, “So long.” Anyway, it’s something like that. I should worry.