r Ned in a way of friendly
confidence; "they make a noise like an earthquake; that little fellow's
the worst of the lot; he ought to have a muffler."

"Is he a real scout?" Peter ventured.

"Oh, he's two or three scouts. What d'you think of them? Crazy bunch,
hey?"

"They're all real scouts--are they?" Peter asked hesitatingly.

"They think they are. Now look here," he added, sitting down on the
running board in a companionable way beside Peter, "I want you to tell
me what made you say that road was closed. There was a light in the sky;
you saw that? Big, tall light?"

"That--that fellow--named Nick--he made it."

"Yes, and what made you close the road? Somebody tell you the light
meant something?"

"There isn't anybody around here," said Peter, growing more at ease as
everyone did with Scoutmaster Ned, "except Aunt Sarah Wickett and she's
crazy. There's nobody in this house but my mother."

"How about Mr. Fee? No? Well then, who told you to close the road? Come
now, you and I are pals and you have to tell me."

A scoutmaster, a real, live scoutmaster, a pal of _his?_ Why that was
more wonderful than reading a signal. Peter's hands rubbed together
nervously and he hedged, as a scout should never do.

"I want that scout to get that cup, the one that sent the message.
Could--maybe could I see that cup--if it's in this car?"

In the excitement of the night, Scoutmaster Ned had forgotten all about
the stunt cup (as they had come to call it). He now brought it forth
from under the rear seat and unwound the flannel rag that was around it
and polished it a little as he held it up. It shone in the bright
morning sunlight and Peter saw his face in it. That was strange, that
Peter Piper of Piper's Crossroads should see his own face looking at him
from the radiant surface of a scout prize cup. He had never even seen
such a good mirror before. He just gazed at it, and continued to gaze,
as Scoutmaster Ned held it up. _Awarded for the_--it shone so, he
could hardly make out the words--_for the best all scout stunt of the
season._

"It cost a lot of money, didn't it?"

"Oh, something less than a couple of thousand dollars. Look nice,
standing on a scout's table, huh?" Scoutmaster Ned gave it another
little rub and contemplated it admiringly. "We had enough of a fuss
getting it, that's sure. See that Maltese Cross on it? That's our
bi-troop sign. We have two troops; always hang together. A troop's one
bunch in scoutin