's wised him to de game, all right," whispered the
irrepressible Sparrer to his neighbor as his sharp eyes took note of the
fact that Pat had saluted quite as if accustomed to it. "Mebbe he
belongs to some rube patrol."

There was a nudging of elbows and here and there a half smothered giggle
as the youngsters sized Pat up and noticed the awkward fit and rough
material of his "store suit," the celluloid collar and the flaming red
four-in-hand clumsily tied. In the eyes of his young critics he was
branded by these things quite as much as if he had worn a placard "Just
from the Country."

"Green goods right from the farm," whispered Chick to Sparrer. "I dare
you to ask him how the caows are."

Whether or not Sparrer would have taken the dare will never be known,
for at that instant Upton introduced the big stranger, and the effect
was magical to say the least. "I want you fellows to shake hands with
some one you already know all about, Corporal Malone of the Lone Wolf
Patrol, which had the honor of finding Lost Trail last fall, and one of
the best guides in the North Woods," said he. "He and Harrison, whom you
all know, are going with us on the hike this afternoon, and if you chaps
feel as I do about it you know that we are the luckiest patrol in New
York City. Pat, shake hands with Assistant Leader McNulty."

Then in turn the others were presented, ending with Sparrer. Pat's blue
eyes twinkled as his big hand closed over the little one put out to him.
"'Tis Irish ye be," said he, "and 'tis the same blood flows in me own
veins. Pwhat iver would the wor-rld do widout the Irish? The Blue
Tortoise Patrol should be proud thot it has a son av St. Patrick."

"It is," laughed Upton. "Now, fellows, the Blue Tortoise yell for the
best Scout I know--Pat Malone!"

The yell was given with a will and caused many a head to turn in the
hurrying throng, and many a smile, for the trim uniformed youngsters,
faces alight with eagerness for their afternoon outing, were good to
see. Laughing and joking the patrol squeezed into the crowded subway
express and they were off for Bronx Park, the wonderful great playground
where for a five cent fare one is lifted as by magic from the heart of
the city to the heart of the country.

As the train roared through the great tunnel Pat scanned the individual
members of the patrol with manifest approval. They were a clean-cut,
sturdy looking lot of boys ranging in age from thirteen to sixteen,
McNu