Wig-wag Weigand did not fail to advertise Wilfred to the patrol members that very evening. He did this while they sprawled about their cabin waiting for the darkness before they went down to camp-fire.

“He’s one of those quiet, kind of bashful fellows,” said Wig; “but, oh, boy, Tom Slade wished a winner onto us all right.”

“Now you see him, now you don’t,” commented Grove Bronson.

“I suppose you don’t know that a hero is always modest,” Wig shot back, rather disgusted.

“I don’t know, I was never a hero,” said Grove.

“I was, a lot of times!” shouted Pee-wee Harris. “And they are, so that proves it. Do you think heroes don’t have to go and take walks? That shows how much you know about them?”

“I never saw that fellow in a hurry,” observed El Sawyer.

“Heroes don’t have to hurry,” yelled Pee-wee. “People that run for cars, do you call them heroes?”

“Well, speaking of heroes,” said Wig. “That fellow came to Bridgeboro from Connecti——

“I don’t blame him,” said Grove.

“All right,” said Wig, “if you took as much trouble about him as I do, you’d learn something. He lived near a beach that’s near New Haven, that fellow did and he thinks nothing of swimming a couple of miles or so.” With the true spirit of the advance agent, Wig made it rather strong. “He used to live in the salt water, that fellow did. I had to pump it out of him——”

“What, the salt water?” Grove asked.

“No, the fact,” said Wig.

“Oh.”

“And I can tell you, even from what little he told me, that if we want the Mary Temple award in this patrol——”

“Yes?” queried Artie Van Arlen, suddenly interested.

“We’d better get busy with that fellow,” said Wig. “You fellows wanted me to swim for it—but nothing doing. Not while he’s around to see me lose it—nit, not. Why, did you notice that scarf pin that he wears?”

“He didn’t even get a patrol scarf yet,” said El Sawyer. “You’d think he’d do that much——”

“Keep still,” said Artie. “What about the scarf pin?”

“Heroes don’t have to have a lot of money,” shouted Pee-wee.

“Will you keep quiet?” demanded Artie. “What about the pin?”

“It was a present for saving a fellow’s life,” said Wig, highly conscious of the impression he was making; “he swam out and saved the fellow from drowning.”

“He told you that?” Grove asked.

“He didn’t exactly tell me, he admitted it. The fellow he saved is here in camp and you can go and ask him. He’s in that New Haven outfit we took the Single Eye from. Go and ask him if you want to—if you think one of your own members is a liar.”

“Who said he was?” Grove demanded.

“Well,” said Wig rather defiantly.

“I guess it’s our fault if we haven’t got better acquainted with him,” said Artie, who was patrol leader.

“Now you’re talking,” said Wig.

“I’ll be acting too, as soon as I see him,” said Artie. “If he’s what you say he is, I’m going to enter him for the contest——”

“We’ll have a radio set! We’ll have a radio set!” screamed Pee-wee. “We can pick up Cuba and——”

“It’s about the only thing you haven’t picked up,” said Wig.

“It’s funny,” said Artie, “I’ve never seen him in swimming.”

“Oh, he’s bashful; can’t you see that?” said Wig impatiently. “He doesn’t mix in. Where have you fellows been to-day, anyway? Around here? Not much. If he had been in swimming you wouldn’t have seen him.”

Artie Van Arlen seemed to be thinking.

“All we know about him,” said Grove, “is that he ran away when Madden was going to hit him back in Bridgeboro. He ran so fast he tripped and went kerflop.”

“Madden is a false alarm,” said First Aid Carson.

“Oh, what’s all the argument about?” demanded Artie. “None of us saw that. I’d rather have him in the patrol than Madden, at that. If he’s a crackerjack swimmer, I’m going to find it out—right away quick. You fellows leave it to me.”

“All right,” said Wig, “only don’t enter me for that contest, that’s all. He’s the one——”

“Leave it to me,” said Artie. “It’s not you I’m thinking of, it’s the patrol. If he’s the one, in he goes. I’m not going to take any chances, just because you’re hypnotized. I’ll get hold of him to-night and chin things over with him. I think he’s a pretty nice sort of fellow—only queer. He doesn’t seem to have any pep—just wanders around.”

“He’s got an awful funny way of saying things,” Wig said. “Gee whiz, it was as good as a circus to see him sprawling here winking at that emblem; honest, he sees the funny side of things. You fellows don’t know him.”

“Well, who’s to blame for that?” Artie asked, not unkindly.

“Leave him to me! Leave him to me!” Pee-wee shouted.

“No, leave him to me,” said Artie. “One good thing, if he is a crackerjack swimmer nobody knows anything about it; it will be a big surprise—if Pee-wee can keep his mouth shut.”

“Come on down to camp-fire,” said Grove.