n. "He's a disgrace to the troop with that horrible-looking suit,
all rags and frayed, and--and his hair brushing all over his collar; I
don't believe it's been cut in months."

"Well, what of it?" inquired the taller chap composedly, as Ranny paused
for breath. "What's his hair or his clothes got to do with his being a
good scout?"

"Everything!" snapped Ranny, biting his lips and striving to keep down
his temper. "A fellow that amounts to anything will--will keep himself
decent looking even if he is--poor. Besides he--you saw him last night;
couldn't do the simplest thing without making a show of himself. Take
my word for it, he'll never amount to anything. He's a dead loss, and I
wish-- I can't think what you see in--"

He broke off with grating teeth, maddeningly conscious of the futility
and ineffectiveness of his words. It wasn't at all the sort of thing he
had meant to say. He realized that temper had deadened judgment, and
that the whole must sound excessively silly and childish. He fully
expected his companion to greet the outbreak with open ridicule, but
when he looked up, he discovered with mingled annoyance and relief
that Ward wasn't listening at all. Instead, he was staring at the group
ahead with an expression of such frank curiosity and interest that
instinctively Ranny followed the direction of his schoolmate's eager
glance.

Eight or ten boys, mostly upper-grade grammar-school students and
about half of them scouts, were bunched together at the corner of a
cross-street. Apparently they had been halted by a man of middle age
who was talking with considerable animation, the while keeping one
hand on the shoulder of Dale Tompkins, who looked exceedingly sheepish
and uncomfortable. As Ranny stared, puzzled, he was amazed to see Court
Parker leap suddenly at his classmate with a piercing yell, clutch
him about the waist, and execute a few steps of a wildly eccentric
war-dance. Then he thumped the tenderfoot violently on the back, and
finally the whole crowd flung themselves on the boy in a body. As
Ward and Phelps hastily approached, the victim was engulfed by numbers,
but his vehement, embarrassed protests sounded intermittently above the
din.

"Aw, quit it, fellows! Lay off, won't you? It wasn't anything. I-- Cut it
out--do!"

"Here's the missing hero!" called Court Parker, shrilly. "Where's the
leather medal?" Suddenly he slid out of the throng and faced the
new-comers, his eyes shining. "What do