ung feller! Fine work, I say! Now you Scouts all git home
and tumble into bed. My men will clean things up here in fine shape.
It's half-past three. Sleep 'til ten o'clock and by that time a couple
of my best vans will be at that buildin' yuh call headquarters waitin' t'
take yuh t' St. Cloud. Yer goin' t' be my guests at t' circus er I'll
know the reason why."

"Gee, that's mighty good," said Bruce, excitedly. "How about it,
fellows? We don't mind taking _that_ sort of pay for a good turn, do
we?"

"You bet we don't," shouted the Scouts, enthusiastically. And a few
moments later they fell in line and started off toward Woodbridge.

CHAPTER VI

HELPING TO MAKE THE MOVIES

"Whe-e-e-o-o-o! whe-e-e-o-o-o! whe-e-e-o-o-o!" screamed the siren as
Bruce Clifford's motorcycle came to a halt in front of the Weir cottage
on Willow Street. Then:

"Hi, Bud--bud-de-de! Hello-o-o, Bud! Come on, wake up!" shouted the
leader of the Owl Patrol, cupping his hands about his mouth and directing
his voice toward an upstairs window. A moment later the window in
question opened and Bud in his undershirt, with a towel in one hand and a
cake of soap in the other, appeared.

"What're you making such a row for? I'm awake," he shouted rather
irritably, for Bud really never became thoroughly cheerful until after he
had had his breakfast.

"Say, Bud, the highway bridge over Muddy Brook--the one just below the
railroad tracks on Lake Road; has gone down under a big motor truck full
of scenery and things belonging to the Historical Motion Picture Company,
the outfit that has been taking Revolutionary War pictures over near
Ticonderoga. The machine's half under water and the men need help.
There's a chance for the Scouts to get busy. Are you with us?"

"You bet I am. I'll be to headquarters in three winks," said the leader
of the Blue Heron Patrol, considerably better natured.

"Fine! Hurry now! I'm off to headquarters to call the rest of the
fellows together," said Bruce, as he started his motorcycle and shot up
the long incline that led to the machine-shop headquarters of Quarry
Troop No. 1, of Woodbridge, popularly known as the Boy Scout Engineers.

The leader of the Owls had left home a little after daylight that morning
with fishing pole and creel strapped to his machine, for he intended
trying the brown trout in Concord valley. But when he reached the little
highway bridge where the Lake Road crossed a shal