lty, the assistant leader, being the only one of that age. And they
were a representative lot. Two were the sons of well-to-do merchants,
one was the son of a broker, another was from the modest home of a
patrolman on the police force, a fifth was the son of a subway guard,
and the remaining two were Bernstein, whose features unmistakably
stamped him as a Hebrew of the upper class, and Sparrer Muldoon, newsboy
and street gamin.

Pat's interest promptly centered in the latter, and he took the first
opportunity to ask about him and how he happened to be associated with
others seemingly so far above him in the social scale. Upton smiled.

"There isn't any social scale among Scouts, you know," said he.

Pat nodded. "I ought to know," he agreed. "If there were Pat Malone
wouldn't be this very minute the guest of the son of a millionaire. But
I wasn't one of a regular patrol of fellows better off. Tell me
something about this imp you call Sparrer, and how you dared take him
into this bunch. He seems to fit all right, so far as I can see."

"Sure he fits," replied Walter. "I put it up to the fellows themselves
and they invited him to join. First time I ran into Sparrer made me
think of the first time I met you. He had just trimmed the life out of a
bully half a head taller than himself for stealing the papers of a
little Jew."

Pat's eyes began to dance appreciatively. "Go on," he commanded.

"He had a black eye and a bloody nose and he was as dirty a little
heathen as ever you laid eyes on. But he sure packed a healthy punch in
each fist and knew where to put 'em, to judge by the looks of the bully,
who was sneaking away with a whole crowd of newsies jeering at him.
Sparrer didn't pay any attention to the rest of 'em, but went over to
the little Jew and gave him half of his own stock of papers to make up
for the ones the bully had taken, and which had been destroyed in the
scrap. When the youngster tried to thank him Sparrer swore at him, and
he could swear in those days, believe me! That was the Irish in him,
trying to cover up a good deed."

"A bye afther me own heart," murmured Pat.

"The whole affair, or rather the motive underneath it, struck me as so
Scout-like that I thought I'd try to get acquainted," continued Upton.

"'Good boy,' says I.

"'Wot's it to you?' says he. 'Oi'll smash yer the same way fer a nickel,
yer big dude!' That tickled the bunch, and they began to egg him on and
guy me until I saw that