ur suggestion to the City Councilmen. They may have some ideas as
to what the Woodbridge flag should look like," said Bruce.

"Sure," said Ray.

"All right, I'll--"

"Say, fellows," interrupted Romper in a whisper, while he watched a
solitary figure coming up the road, "here comes that chap we had at
headquarters yesterday, Dick what's-his-name?"

"Sure enough," said Bud Weir. "Say, come on fellows, let's go inside; we
don't want a 'fraid raid cat like him hanging around with us."

"Aw, say, that isn't right," replied Bruce in an undertone. "Don't snub
a fellow like that. I think it was sort of childish for him to be
afraid, but he looks like a pretty good chap, at that."

But the lad in question evidently did not intend to "hang around."
Instead he made his way up Otter Creek hill, passed the group in front of
headquarters with a nod and a cheerful "howdy" and continued on his way.
He was a short, thickset youngster of about sixteen and he walked with a
peculiar stride, for his legs were slightly bowed.

Dick Austin was his name and he had come from his home in Arizona to
spend his Summer vacation with an aunt in Woodbridge.

Several of the scouts had met him at various places in the village since
he had been in town, and had tried to make his acquaintance, but he
seemed to keep to himself a great deal. The day before the Fourth of
July conference under the maple, however, two of the lads had encountered
him on the street, and out of pure kindness of heart had invited him to
accompany them to headquarters.

But much to their surprise Dick did not like the machine shop at all. He
objected to the hum of motors and he jumped every time he saw the flashes
from the wireless spark gap. He refused to try a ride on the tandem seat
of one of the troop's motorcycles, and when he received a slight shock
after several of the boys had persuaded him to take hold of the handles of
a static electric machine, he became thoroughly frightened.

"Look year," he said with a decided southern accent, "I don't like this
hear 'lectric business no how. Hit's dangerous stuff an' I'm afeard o'
hit. Yo' see I ham 't been used t' hit down whar I lived an' I cain 't
feel comfortable with a lot of machinery so close to me. No, sirree, I'd
rather leg it out o' here and git into t' open."

Whereupon he left headquarters without waiting to listen to the scouts,
who tried to explain that it was only high-tension electricity that was