irst.

"You're it, Bob!" "Bob's last, so he's it!" Like a band of savages the
screeching boys and girls scuttled across the car tracks and around the
corners, while Bob counted up to five hundred "by fives."

"Four hundr' nine' five, FIVE HUNDRED!" yelled Bob, and started to dash
across the tracks, for he had caught a glimpse of Jimmy West's new red
boots disappearing under his grandmother's porch across the street. The
sound of the wind in his ears as he ran drowned out the roar of the
coming street car, and of course he had eyes only for those tell-tale
red boots.

Another jump and Bob would have been under the wheels--but a strong
little hand on his shoulder stopped him. The street car roared by with a
startled clang of its gong, for the motorman had seen Bob too late to
throw off the power.

Bob gasped in relief--then whirled around to see what had stopped him.
And what do you think he saw, right there beside him in the street? Was
it a scout--or a pygmy--or what?

He was old and snowy haired, but as fresh as a daisy and as spry as a
cricket. His cheeks were as ruddy as Spitzenberg apples and his only
wrinkles were the laughter wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. And such
eyes! They were big and clear, and so bright that Bob could only look at
them a moment and then turn away. It was like trying to stare at the
sun.

He was tiny, but straight as a ramrod in his natty khaki uniform. And he
was holding up his right hand just like the big policeman on the corner
downtown. As he dropped it to shake hands with Bob, there was a sudden
flash of green.

"Why, hello there!" Bob could scarcely believe his eyes. "Where on
earth did _you_ come from? And who--who _are_ you, anyway?"

"My name is Sure Pop!" answered the scout in a clear voice, like the
note of a bugle. "I've dropped in on the United States on my second tour
of scouting duty, and I hear you are thirsting for adventure. Well,
you've had _one_, at any rate; if I hadn't grabbed you just in the nick
of time--" He shuddered and hustled Bob back to the sidewalk.

"Thanks, old scout!" stammered Bob. "I didn't know there was a car
coming, and you see I was in such a hurry--"

"I see!" said Sure Pop, dryly. "_I_ see, Bob, but _you_ didn't. How do
you suppose a wee chap like me ever gets across the busy streets
downtown?"

"Give it up!" said Bob, "unless you can fly!" And he gave a sly glance
at the scout's square little shoulders, half expecting to see wings