And now, since the sun had reappeared and they had decided to take things a little easier, Pee-wee announced his intentions of going on a pilgrimage to Woodcliff to hunt up the mysterious Helen Shirley Bates, and to ascertain from her the address of her soldier friend whom she had entertained at dinner during the war. For it was on Pee-wee’s conscience that the soldier who had lost his wallet had written a letter to his mother somewhere or other and that this had never reached its destination.

“Are you going to wear your Sunday uniform?” Roy asked. For Pee-wee kept a special suit of scout khaki for ceremonial occasions. Upon the sleeve of this were his merit badges.

On this notable pilgrimage, knowing the weakness of young ladies for official regalia, he wore also his canteen (empty), his scout axe–to hew his way into her presence perhaps–a coil of rope dangling from his belt, his scout scarf tied in the celebrated “raven knot” and his hat inside out as a reminder that he had not yet performed his daily good turn. Upon mailing the letter to its proper address, and not until then, would Scout Harris, R.P. F.B.T. B.S.A., put his hat on right side out. He also took some fudge which he had made as a tribute to his unknown Woodcliff friend. He was prepared to chop her to pieces or to give her candy, whichever the occasion required.

He was indeed a human quartermaster’s department and in addition to this equipment he carried also somewhere in the depths of one of his pockets a scout note book wherein the good scout rule of “jotting down things seen by the way” was scrupulously obeyed. There were few wayside trifles that escaped Scout Harris’ observant eye. A sample page from this record of his travels will give an idea of his thoroughness:

And so on, and so on.

It was Roy whom Pee-wee chose to accompany him on his important mission. They had reached a point about fifty yards from the shacks, two of which were well-nigh demolished, when they heard a voice and turning saw Warde Hollister drop from a rafter and come running toward them.

“How far is Woodcliff?” he asked, out of breath, and as if caught by a sudden idea.

“’Bout six or seven miles,” Roy said. “We don’t know just exactly where we’re going except that it’s somewhere around Woodcliff Lake.”

“I might make my last test,” Warde panted. “I just happened to think of it.” He looked rather appealingly at Roy who was his patrol leader.

“Come ahead,” said Roy, “I’m glad you thought of it.”“Have you got your note book?” Pee-wee vociferously demanded. “You’ve got to jot down everything you see and write a satisfactory description of it.”

“Only the test says alone or with another scout.” Warde said doubtfully. “What do you think? It would be a peach of a chance and I’m crazy to get my first class badge.”

“The question is, are we to consider Pee-wee a scout?” Roy said, winking at Warde. “Is he a scout or a sprout?”

“It’s just as you say, you’re patrol leader,” Warde laughed.

“Sure, it’s all right,” laughed Roy, “come ahead. I’d have asked you only I never thought about it.”

“Have you got your note book?” Pee-wee again demanded.

“Yep,” Warde laughed.

“Then you’re all right,” Pee-wee assured him. “It doesn’t make any difference whether one scout goes with you or two.”

With such high legal authority as this, Warde’s mind was at rest. He was the newest scout in the troop and a member of Roy’s patrol, the Silver Foxes. He had made a great hit in the troop and was immensely liked.

He had not been long enough a member of the Silver Fox patrol to have imbibed the spirit of freedom with its sprightly leader which the others so hilariously exhibited. The Silver Fox patrol was an institution altogether unique in scouting. One had to be half crazy (as the Ravens and Elks said) before one became a tried and true Silverplated Fox–warranted. The Silver Foxes had a spirit all their own–and they were welcome to it.

Warde had shown his mettle by his tests, and also he had shown his fine breeding and spirit by not pushing too aggressively into troop familiarity. If he was not yet a full-fledged scout, he was at least a fine type for a scout, and the uproarious Silver Foxes and their irrepressible leader were proud of him.

He had now, as he had said, but one test to take before becoming a first class scout. This meant more to him than it might have meant to another for he had obtrusively prepared himself to claim several merit badges of the more easily won sort, as soon as his first class rank should enable him to properly lay claim to these.

He was ahead of the game in fact, and hence the anxiety of his tone and manner when he ran after Pee-wee and Roy, hoping that here might be the chance of fulfilling the final requirement before the coveted first class badge should be his. None fully knew how much he had dreamed of the first class badge. His fine loyalty had kept him at work among them, but he had not been able to see those two fare forth without jumping at the chance.

The test on which his achievement hung is on the same page of the handbook with the picture of the badge he longed for:

4.–Make a round trip alone (or with another scout) to a point at least seven miles away (fourteen miles in all) going on foot or rowing a boat, and write a satisfactory account of the trip, and things observed.