g verse," said he.

"Oh, but we'll jolly the life out of that kid when we get him away,"
said Roy.

It is a wise precept that where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be
wise. Pee-wee Harris never dreamed of the discussion that had taken
place as to his going, and he accepted the invitation with a glad heart.

On the momentous morning when the trio set forth upon their journey,
Mary Temple, as glad as they, stood upon the steps at Grantley Square
and waved them a last good-bye.

"Don't forget," she called, "we're coming up in the car in August to
visit you and see the camp and that dreadful Jeb or Job or Jib or
whatever you call him, who smokes a corn-cob pipe--ugh!"

The last they saw of her was a girlish shrug of disgust at that strange
personage out of the West about whom (largely for her benefit) Roy and
others had circulated the most outlandish tales. Jeb Rushmore was
already ensconced in the unfinished camp, and from the few letters which
had come from him it was judged that his excursion east had not spoiled
him. One of these missives had been addressed to _Mister John Temple_
and must have been a refreshing variation from the routine mail which
awaited Mr. Temple each morning at the big granite bank. It read:

"Thar's a crittur come here to paint names o' animiles on the cabin
doors. I told him friendly sich wuzn't wanted, likewise no numbers.
He see it were best ter go. Bein' you put up th' money I would say
polite and likewise explain ez how the skins uv animiles is propper
fur signs an' not numbers bein' ez cabins is not railroad cars."

This is a fair sample of the letters which were received by Mr. Temple,
by Mr. Ellsworth, and even at National Scout Headquarters, which Jeb
Rushmore called "the main ranch."

The idea of putting the skin of a silver fox, for instance, on the
patrol's cabin instead of a painted caricature of that animal, took the
boys by storm, and to them at least Jeb Rushmore became a very real
character long before they ever met him. They felt that Jeb Rushmore had
the right idea and they were thrilled at the tragic possibilities of
that ominous sentence, "He see it were best to go."

The whole troop was down at the boathouse to see the boys off. Tom and
Roy wore old khaki trousers and faded shirts which had seen service in
many a rough hike; their scarred duffel bags bore unmistakable signs of
hard usage, but Pee-wee was resplendent in his full regalia, with hi