ght strengthened his determination so that he ignored the patriotic
reminders all about him, and plodded stolidly along, his square face set
in a kind of sullen frown.

"It's being--with the Colors, just the same," he said, "only in another
kind of way--sort of."

As he turned into West Street he noticed on the big bulletin board
outside the Methodist Church the words:

THE GOVERNOR WILL BE ON THE PLATFORM
OUR BOYS WILL BE IN THE TRENCHES
THE BOY SCOUTS ARE ON THE JOB
AND DON'T YOU FORGET IT!

"They're a live bunch, that Methodist Troop, all right," commented Tom.

He raised his hand and gently lifted aside a great flag which hung so
low over the sidewalk that he could not walk under it without stooping.

"Just the same, I can say I'm with the Colors," he repeated. "You can be
with them even if--even if they ain't around----"

He had evidently hit on some plan, for he walked briskly now through
Culver Street, his lips set tight, making his big mouth seem bigger
still.

He entered the house quietly and went up to the little room which he
occupied. It was very small, with a single iron bed, a chair, a walnut
bureau, and a little table whereon lay his Scout Manual and the few
books which he owned. Outside the window, on its pine stick, hung a
stiff muslin flag which he had bought.

He unlocked the top bureau drawer and took out a tin lock-box. This box
was his pride, and whenever he took it out he felt like a millionaire.
He had gazed at it in the window of a stationery store for many weeks
and then, one Saturday, he had gone in and bought it for a dollar and a
half.

He sat on the edge of his bed now, with the box on his knees, and
rummaged among its contents. There was the pocket flashlight his patrol
had given him; there was the scout jack-knife which had been a present
from Roy's sister; an Indian arrow-head that Jeb Rushmore had found; a
memorandum of the birthday of his patrol, and the birthdays of its
members, and a clipping from a local paper describing how Tom Slade had
saved a scout's life at Temple Camp and won the Gold Cross.

From the bottom of this treasure chest he lifted out a plush box which
he rubbed on his knee to get the dust off, and then opened it slowly,
carefully. He never tired of doing this.

As he lifted the cover the sunlight poured down out of the blue,
cloudless sky of that perfect day, streaming cheerily into the plain
little room which was all the home Tom had