tra badge and he didn't know it.
That's because he doesn't bother about the handbook and because he
wins badges so fast he can't keep track of them. He's an Eagle Scout
and he doesn't know it. He threw one badge away and caught another
and he's coming up here now to stand still for two minutes if he can
and listen to the paper that Mr. Temple is going to read to him.
Come ahead up, Hervey Willetts, or I'll come down there and pull you
out of that tree and drag you up by the collar!"

CHAPTER XXIII

PEE-WEE SETTLES IT

For half a minute there was no response, and the people, somewhat
bewildered, stared here and there, applauding fitfully.

"Come ahead, I know where you are," Tom pronounced grimly; "I'll give
you ten seconds."

The victim knew that voice; perhaps it was the only voice at camp which
he would have obeyed. There was the sound of a cracking branch, followed
by a frightened cry of "Look out!" Some one called, "He'll kill
himself!" Then a rustling of leaves was heard, and down out of the tree
he came and scrambled to his feet, amid cries of astonishment, Hervey
Willetts was running true to form and the moment of his triumph was
celebrated by a new stunt.

"Never mind brushing off your clothes," said Tom grimly; "come up just
the way you are."

But he did not go up the steps, not he. He vaulted up onto the platform
and stood there brushing the dirt from his torn khaki suit. The crowd,
knowing but yet only half the story of his triumph, was attracted by his
vagabond appearance, and his sprightly air. The rent in his sleeve, his
disheveled hair, and even the gaping hole in his stocking seemed to be a
part of him, and to bespeak his happy-go-lucky nature. As he stood there
amid a shower of impulsive applause, he stooped and hoisted up one
stocking which seemed in danger of making complete descent, and that was
too much for the crowd.

Even Mr. Temple smiled as he said, "Come over here, my young friend, and
let me congratulate the only Eagle Scout at Temple Camp."

And so it befell that Hervey Willetts found himself clasping in cordial
grip the friendly hand of Mr. John Temple with one hand while he still
hauled up his rebellious stocking with the other. It was a sight to
delight the heart of a movie camera man. His stocking was apparently the
only thing that Hervey could not triumph over.

"My boy," said Mr. Temple, "it appears that we know more about you than
you kn