llized into a determination to do some active campaigning
against him.

"With a swelled head added to all the rest, he'll be simply intolerable,"
decided Phelps. "I guess I've got a little influence left with the
crowd in spite of all this rot." His eyes narrowed ominously as they
rested on Harry Vedder chatting affably with the cause of Ranny's ill
temper. "I'll start with you, my fat friend," he muttered contemptuously
under his breath. "You need a good jacking-up before you indulge in any
more foolishness."

CHAPTER V

TROUBLE AHEAD

In spite of all that had happened that day, Dale did not forget his
appointment with Mr. Curtis. He hurried through supper, and pausing only
to tell his mother where he was going, he slipped out of the house and
started at a trot toward the scoutmaster's house. Mr. Curtis himself
opened the door, greeted the boy cheerily, and ushered him into a room
on the left of the hall, a room lined with books and pictures, with a
fire glowing and sputtering on the hearth and some comfortable arm-chairs
drawn up beside it.

"Well, young man," he said briskly as soon as Dale was seated, "I've been
hearing things about you this afternoon."

Dale flushed, and his fingers unconsciously interlocked. The affair
of the afternoon before had been "rubbed into him" at intervals all
day, so that he almost dreaded further comment. It seemed as if it had
been talked about quite enough and ought now be allowed to fall into
oblivion. He hoped Mr. Curtis wasn't going to ask him to go over all the
details again.

"You seem to have managed admirably," went on the scoutmaster, in a
matter-of-face manner. "What I'd like to know, though, is how you, a
tenderfoot of barely a week's standing, happened to be so well posted
on electricity and insulation and all the rest of it?"

"It--it's in the handbook," explained Dale, haltingly.

"So it is," smiled the scoutmaster; "but it isn't a part of the
tenderfoot requirements. I even doubt whether many second-class scouts
would be up on it. Have you gone through the whole book as thoroughly?"

Dale leaned back in his chair more easily. "Oh no, sir, not all! But that
part's specially interesting, and I--I like to read it."

"I see. Well, it was a good stunt--a mighty good stunt! It's the
sort of thing true scouting stands for, and I'm proud of you." In his
glance there was something that told a good deal more than the words
themselves, but somehow Dale didn't