d he.

"It's your job," Doc persisted, "as long as Mr. Ellsworth is away."

There was just the suggestion of an uncomfortable pause, while the
scouts, or most of them, waited. For just a second even Roy became
sober, looking inquiringly at Tom.

"I'd rather just watch you," Tom said, uneasily.

"He doesn't care anything about the scouts any more," Dorry Benton piped
up.

"Since he's a magnet," Peewee shouted.

"You mean a magnate," Doc said.

"What difference does it make what I mean?" the irrepressible Peewee
yelled.

"As long as you don't mean anything," Roy shouted. "Away dull care;
let's get down to business. To-morrow is Saturday, there's no school."

"There's a school, only we don't go to it," Peewee shouted.

"For that take a slap on the wrist and repeat the scout law nineteen
times backward," Roy said. "Who's going to boss this meeting?

"I won't let anybody boss me," Peewee yelled.

Roy vaulted upon the table, while the others crowded about, Tom all the
while laughing silently. This was just what he liked.

"Owing to the absence of our beloved scoutmaster," Roy shouted, "and the
sudden rise in the world of Tomasso Slade, alias Lucky Luke, alias
Sherlock Nobody Holmes, and his unwillingness to run this show, because
he saw General Pershing and is too chesty, I nominate for boss and
vice-boss of this meeting, Blakeley and Harris, with a platform...."

"We don't need any platform," Peewee shouted; "haven't we got the
table?"

"It's better to stand on the table than to stand on ceremonies," Dorry
Benton vociferated.

"Sure, or to stand on our dignity like Tomasso Slade," Westy Martin
shouted.

"Put away your hammer, stop knocking," Doc said. "Are we going to hike
to-morrow or are we going to the city?"

"Answered in the affirmative," Roy said.

"Which are we going to do?" Peewee yelled.

"We are!" shouted Roy.

"Do we go to the city?" Doc asked seriously.

"Posilutely," said Roy; "that's why I'm asking who's boss of this
meeting; so we can take up a collection."

"All right, go ahead and be boss as long as you're up there," Connie
Bennett said, "only don't stand on the cake."

"Don't slip on the icing," Westy shouted.

"I'll slip on your neck if you don't shut up," Roy called. "If I'm boss,
I'd like to have some silence."

"Don't look at me, _I_ haven't got any," Peewee piped up.

"Thou never spak'st a truer word," Westy observed.

"I would like to have a large chunk of silence,