tly lighted Pullman coach on his way into the great
woods of which he had dreamed so much since he became a Scout, and of
which he had only the vaguest idea! It couldn't be.

And yet it was. The roar of the wheels told him that it was. The very
feel of the luxurious seat in which he was sitting told him that it was.
And to clinch the fact and at the same time make it harder to believe
there were his three companions, Upton, his patrol leader, Harrison and
Pat Malone, whom he had secretly made his hero. Yes, it was all true,
and yet he couldn't get rid of the idea that sooner or later he would
wake up and find it all a beautiful dream.

The fact is, this trip was in the nature of a Christmas present. From
their first meeting Pat had taken a great fancy to the street gamin. He
recognized a kindred spirit. Instinctively he realized that the
difference between Sparrer and himself at the same age was mainly one of
environment. The youngster's sturdy independence and self-reliance, his
quick wit, even his impudence, struck responsive chords in the young
woodsman. Sparrer was what he himself would have been had his nursery
been a New York East Side tenement instead of the log cabin of a mill
settlement in the lumber district of the North Woods.

The night after the motor accident the three older boys had been
discussing Sparrer and his prompt resourcefulness. Pat dropped a remark
that he wished with all his heart that he could have the youngster in
the woods with him for a couple of weeks.

"Let's take him with us! It would be no end of fun," cried Hal on the
spur of an inspiration.

Upton shook his head. "It would be bully if we could, but I'm afraid we
can't," said he.

"Why not?" demanded Hal. "I can get a pass for him, and between us I
guess we can take care of him. It won't cost him a cent."

"That's just it," declared Upton. "There is nothing on two legs in New
York more independent than Eddie Muldoon. He'll scrap for his rights as
long as he can swing a fist, but the minute you try to hand him anything
for nothing he'll turn you down hard and cold. Sparrer pays his way, or
he don't go, and wild horses couldn't drag him. He would stand for the
pass, all right, because he would be on the same footing as the rest of
us, but if we tried to give him anything in the way of an outfit, and it
goes without saying that he hasn't anything suitable for the weather we
are likely to have up there, he would kick like Barnum's t