you min', Mister Henry-chick. I
knows you, I do."

Bob shook a fist as he spoke, but the chuckle in his voice and the laugh
in his eye were more apparent than the threat in his fist.

"Well, let's go back an' get ours while they're hot," said Chick-chick.
"Goosey'll wait on Mr. Spencer. Good boy, Goosey. Goin' do something
good for Goosey some day."

He led Glen back to the long table of smooth boards laid on trestles
which stood on the grassy level. The scouts were helping themselves from
great bowls filled with eggs cooked in the shell, or from large platters
on which eggs fried or poached were served, according to their
preference. Bob was a good cook and gave them their choice. Glen, with
an appetite that cared little for the fine points of preference, chose
impartially from every dish that reached him. An occasional glance
showed that the small scout known as Goosey was giving good attention to
Jolly Bill, and not only he but Apple Newton and other scouts were
endeavoring eagerly to anticipate his wants.

Glen was mentally putting the fellows in their proper places on the
shelves of his esteem. Apple Newton and the boy called Chick-chick he
warmed to most particularly, and they were given prominent places. He
liked young Goosey, as well as several other of the younger boys whose
names he had not learned. There was a big fellow called Tom Scoresby
that he believed that he would get along with pretty well. Just one
scout he found no room for anywhere. That was Matt Burton. He hated
him, he was quite sure. His unruly young heart only had one desire for
Matt. He wanted just one good chance to measure strength with him and
plant his hard, clenched fist right where that smile of insolence curled
the handsome lips.

Quite engrossed in his thoughts Glen did not notice that the boys around
him had risen from the long bench on which they sat. Suddenly he heard
Matt Burton's voice behind him.

"Get up," he said. "Can't you see that we want these places for the
waiters."

Glen slowly and deliberately turned around in his seat and looked at his
questioner.

"Who are you?" he asked, and his voice was so aggressive that every
scout in hearing distance turned to see what was up.

"You'll find out who I am," replied Matt angrily. "Get up when I tell
you."

"I don't have to get up when you tell me, nor lie down when you tell me,
nor do anything when you tell me. Did you get that? What now?"

Matt was getting very ang