r, according to what they themselves had
seen, quite a dainty little thing, cultured and refined.

"Smithy, I'm going to tell you to reverse that badge of yours," said the
scoutmaster, as they sat there around the fire, waiting for the return
of the absent comrade.

Smithy looked up in surprise. He had been smoothing his coat sleeve
after a peculiar habit he had, as though he imagined he had discovered
some dust there. And for the moment he fancied that Thad must be joking
him on account of those "finicky" ways, as Giraffe called them, which he
could not wholly throw aside, since extreme neatness had long ago become
a part of his very nature.

"That's very kind of you, Thad," he remarked, trying to appear calm;
"and I'm sure I feel grateful for the privilege, which should always be
a matter of pride I take it, with every Boy Scout. But I am not aware,
sir, just how I've gained the right to reverse my badge."

"By handing me that stick when I asked for it, and thereby becoming a
partner with me in assisting that wounded man. You notice that I'm
turning my own badge, because I think I've earned it by this act, if I
didn't by what Bob and myself did to that bobcat. And Allan, you're in
this deal also; you brought me that roll of stout muslin when I wanted
it, so you did all you could."

"And I helped get him on his feet!" declared Giraffe, quickly.

"So did I!" exclaimed Bumpus, excitedly; "anyhow, I started to lend a
hand; but there was so many around I just got crowded out. But I
_wanted_ to do something, sure I did, Thad!"

"Turn your badge, then," ordered the scoutmaster, smiling. "In fact,
every scout was full of sympathy, and ready to assist if called on. And
under the circumstances, I just guess there needn't be any badge in this
camp unturned right now. To-morrow we'll start fresh again, and let's
see how quick all of us can follow after Step Hen's example, and help
some worthy object along."

"Even if it is only a poor little tumble-bug that can't push his ball
home," remarked Giraffe, with a grin.

The time hung heavily upon their hands. No doubt this was partly caused
by their intense eagerness to learn just how Bob was coming out. Would
Bertha meet him; or might she have been shut up in the house by her
guardian, stern Reuben Sparks? If she did come, would she bring that
paper which she said was signed with her dead father's name; and
supposing it proved to be all Bob hoped and prayed it would, was it