"Don't want it," explained Chick-chick. "Isn't ours. 'Fraid somebody see
us with it an' think our name is Jervice. We all get on little old bike
an' hike along sudden, we do."

Three boys was no special load for the motor-bike. They were constantly
on the look out for the pursuing car which they expected to meet coming
back, but nothing did they see of it. They rushed through Buffalo Center
and a few minutes later Chick-chick blew his horn for the camp.

Great was the excitement when it was seen that the search party not only
had returned but had brought the missing boy. Glen was almost mobbed by
the crowd of scouts who pulled him one way and another in vociferous
and jovial greeting. It was an experience such as had never happened in
all his life, and his heart throbbed with thankfulness, and unbidden and
unexpected tears rushed to his eyes that he should be honored with such
a welcome by such loyal comrades. "God is good," came the thought, and
he knew that henceforth he would live a richer, deeper and more loyal
life because of this experience.

Off to one corner Apple had a noisy audience and there were yet others
who gathered about Chick-chick as he retailed to them in his jerky
fashion such things as he deemed proper for them to know. Loud and
furious discussions were heard from every group.

"There won't be any looting of the Buffalo Center Bank while the scouts
are in camp, that's a cinch," proclaimed big Tom Scoresby.

"Tom'll see to that," added Chick-chick.

"If Tom doesn't do it alone, the scouts will," insisted Tom. "We
wouldn't let robbers loot a bank with us in camp not a mile away, would
we, Mr. Newton?"

"We wouldn't expect to have anything of the kind going on," agreed Mr.
Newton.

"Great yarn, this," Matt Burton, was saying to his own little group. "I
reckon we're expected to swallow it with our eyes shut. I never heard
such stuff."

"What d'ye mean it's a yarn, Matt?" asked a scout.

"This story about those fellows being bank robbers. Why that scared
little old peddler would be afraid to rob a sandbank. If anybody gave
him a cross look, he'd die."

"You don't mean to say Brick Mason's lying?"

"Oh, no! He just has dreams."

"Did he dream himself tied up with cords cutting in so sharp they left
red welts and took half hour to get circulation going?" demanded
Chick-chick who had overheard.

"Red welts nothing!" retorted Matt. "I could raise red welts all over my
body and never feel