ere three patrols in Stanhope troop. As the first to
organize had chosen to be known as the Red Fox, it pleased the others
simply to call their patrols by the names of Gray and Black Fox.

In one corner of the room reposed a splendid banner of silk, upon which
had been sewn a wonderfully life-like representation of a fox's head
done in colors. Strangely enough, to some it seemed red, while others
were just as fully of the opinion that it could be called gray or black,
so cleverly had the silken threads been arranged.

This banner was the one offered by the old Quaker, Mr. Westervelt, in
the preceding Autumn, to be given to the troop that excelled in various
scout tactics and knowledge. The contest had been confined to the three
troops along the Bushkill River; and while both Aldine and Manchester
carried off some honors, the boys of Stanhope had counted as many as
both combined.

When the banner was presented to the winners their totem had been
ingeniously fashioned upon its shimmering folds. Every member of
Stanhope troop felt a thrill of pardonable pride whenever his eyes fell
upon the proof of their efficiency.

"What makes you say that, Jack?" asked the young scout leader,
smilingly, when he heard his chum comment on the full attendance.

"Oh! well," laughed the other, "you know the boys understand that we're
going to discuss where we expect to spend our vacation this year. Every
fellow is just wild to hear what the committee has settled on."

"I sent a communication I received from our absent scoutmaster over to
where the committee sat the other night," remarked Paul. "He recommended
a certain place for a hike and camp; but I'm just as much in the dark as
the rest about what was decided. William does a lot of mysterious
winking every time anybody asks him, and only says, 'wait'."

Paul did not seem to be at all concerned. He evidently had full
confidence in the wisdom of the committee that had been appointed by
himself at the last meeting.

"Why, yes," Jack went on, "and Jud Elderkin, as the scout leader of the
Gray Foxes, tried to get Andy Flinn to leak a little; but it was no use.
Andy would joke him, and tell all sorts of funny stories about what we
_might_ do; but it was just joshing. I'm a bit curious myself to know."

"Have you heard anything more about Mr. Clausin?" asked Paul, seriously.

"I guess nobody has found out much about what was in that tin box,"
replied his chum. "Even Joe says he only k