was
doing all right. There wasn't any trail leading to the house-boat.
Stick to your trail. That's the rule. And you can bet your life I was
going to stick to that trail now. If that trail was going to lead to
the cemetery, all right--that's what I said. But I had picked up Skinny
McCord's trail and I made up my little old mind that I was going to hang
on to it and follow it like a blood-hound.

That night we were going to have a special troop meeting to decide about
chipping in money for our cruise up to camp, because we didn't have much
left on account of spending so much for paint and lumber and different
things.

I knew how the fellows and Mr. Ellsworth would be feeling about me not
coming back and Westy not showing up, and I knew how the Silver Foxes
would feel, especially. But anyway, I had my mind all made up. After
supper my sister Ruth played a game of tennis with Westy. While they
were playing I went up to my room and got out the Scout Handbook. Then
I read the scout laws over, but anyway I knew them. I had read them all
and I made two crosses with a pencil, one alongside of one law and one
alongside another. Then I put the Handbook in my pocket and went
downstairs.

It was time to go to the meeting now and so we started off.

"You seem awful funny," Westy said; "what's the matter?"

"It's patrol business," I said; "it's about--"

"Is it about me ?" he asked me.

"It's about my patrol," I said; "it's about the Silver Foxes. Did you ever
hear that a Silver Fox never makes a mistake about a trail?"

"No," he said, kind of puzzled.

"You want to read up natural history," I said to him. "A silver fox knows
the tracks of all the different kinds of animals and if he could talk he
could tell you about them."

"Too bad he can't talk," Westy said, sort of jollying me.

"I can talk," I said. Then after a minute I laid, "It's about the Elk
patrol, too."

He didn't say any more and pretty soon we got to the troop-room--that's
in the Public Library. We were a little late, but I wanted it that way,
so we wouldn't have any talk with anyone before the meeting started.
Everyone said "hello" to us, but they were the coldest "helloes" you ever
saw. "If I'd known it was going to be as cold as this. I'd have worn my
sweater," I told Westy. Even my own patrol didn't say anything to us,
and they all looked kind of glum. I heard Will Dawson say something
about our patrol being "in bad," but I didn't pay any attention-