fellows held a private
meeting of their own at which the few persistent objectors were crushed
by bodily force, when necessary, and which ended in the whole troop
volunteering as a body.

It wasn't at all an easy thing for some of them to do. In boys like
Ranny Phelps, who loathed "grubbing with a hoe" and had never had
the slightest experience in farming, it was something almost akin to
heroism. But not one of them shirked or backed down. Within a week they
were all placed, and, from that time on, blistered hands, weary backs,
and aching muscles were the order of the day. As Ranny once expressed
it,--airily, but with an underlying touch of seriousness,--the only
bright spots in the week were Sunday, when they could sleep late,
and the two afternoons they were let off at four o'clock to practise
for the rally.

They made the most of those brief hours. In good weather the drill took
place in a pasture belonging to old Mr. Grimstone, after which they
enjoyed a refreshing plunge in the lake, and generally ended up with
supper in the cabin. When he had time, which wasn't often, Mr. Curtis
joined them. Usually Ranny Phelps was in charge, and whenever they could
they carried off Mr. Grimstone for supper.

It was on one of these latter occasions, as they sat out on the bank
of the lake after supper, that Frank Sanson suddenly voiced a feeling
which was present, more or less often, in the breast of every scout in
the troop.

"Mr. Grimstone," he said abruptly, "I don't suppose you realize what a
dandy thing you did when you gave us this place. I don't know what we'd
do without it now; do you, fellows?"

There was an emphatic chorus of agreement which brought a touch of color
into the old man's leathery, tanned face and made him shuffle his feet
uneasily. Then suddenly he raised his eyes and there was a twinkle in
them.

"It ain't me you ought to thank," he said abruptly. "It's that Dale boy
there; he's to blame."

"Dale Tompkins!" exclaimed several surprised voices at once. "Why, what's
he got to do with it?"

"Most everything," returned Grimstone, briefly. "It was him that brought
out my dinner last Thanksgivin', an cooked it, an' et it with me. That's
what give me a new idea of you boys, an' nothin' else."

An astonished silence followed, broken presently by a low whistle from
Mr. Curtis. "Well, what do you know about that," he murmured. "A good
turn come home to roost!"

But no one heard him, for the whole crow