voice accosted them. It was young Mr.
Blythe coming to greet them. His face wore that uncertain, hovering
smile, which had the effect of arousing pity. His eyes had an eager,
startled look, like those of a frightened animal. He seemed backward,
almost bashful, but his joy at seeing them was unmistakable and sincere.

"Better late than never," laughed Roy. "Here we are bag and baggage; we
thought you were a spook or something...."

CHAPTER VIII

PEACE!

Blythe was bunking in one of the shacks which he had secured the
privilege of tearing down and it was apparent to the scouts that his
knowledge of camping was primitive. But Pee-wee, out of the greatness of
his scout heart, volunteered to be his guide, philosopher, and friend in
these matters.

"We'll show you how to do," he said. "If there's anything you don't
understand you just come to me. I've got the camping badge and the
pathfinder's badge, and the astronomer's badge--"

"He's an astronomer," interrupted Roy; "he knows all the movie stars."

"He sees everything in the sky," Hunt Ward added; "he's the one that put
the see in sea-scout."

"Sure, and put the pie in pioneer scout too," Roy said. "He studied
first aid and last aid and lemonade and everything. He's a scout in very
high standing only he doesn't stand very high. You stick to him and you
can't go wrong."

"Do you mean to say I haven't the badge for camping?" the diminutive
Raven demanded as he unburdened himself of his various paraphernalia.
"Do you mean to say I didn't study the heavens when I was a tenderfoot?"

"No wonder the stars went out," Roy said. "Here, take this bag of flour
and put it over in the corner. You're in Camp Merritt now, you have to
obey your superior officer. Here, take the spools of thread out of this
coffee-pot and kick that big can over here, the one marked dynamite. I'm
going to put the sugar in that. Anyone who takes any sugar without
permission will be blown up by his patrol leader. _Look what you're
doing!_ Don't set the pickles on the chocolate. Hand me that bottle
of ink before you spill it in the egg powder."

It was good to see Blythe laughing at Pee-wee's heroic effort to dispose
of the commissary stores which his companions loaded upon him. It was a
laugh of simple, genuine pleasure, almost childlike.

"Don't drop the fly-paper in the flour," Roy shouted to Pee-wee in
frantic warning, as Pee-wee wrestled valiantly under the load of boxes,
packages a