e scout outfit that you see
here; two troops and a couple of sundries. Will you stay and have supper
with us?"

"We ain't fer interferin' in no boys' pleasures," said Mr. Barnabas
Wise, "but it's our dooty to tell you that we're the school committee of
the village of East Ketchem, and s'long as these youngsters hez moved
inside the taown limits of East Ketchem they'll hev to report for
school at nine o'clock to-morrow morning. The taown line between East
Ketchem and West Ketchem runs right through the middle of this island."

A gaping silence followed this horrible pronouncement.

"We--eh--we are just camping here, pending--" began Scoutmaster Ned.

"It ain't no question uv pendin'," said Mr. Birchel Rodney. "The
ordinance of the village of East Ketchem says that every minor--"

"We're not miners, we're scouts!" Pee-wee shouted.

"The ordinance of the village of East Ketchem," Mr. Rodney proceeded,
ignoring the boisterous interruption, "says that every _minor_, which is
spelled with a o, between the ages of eight years and fifteen years,
resident _or_ visiting _or_ otherwise domiciled--"

"You can't say I'm domiciled--" Pee-wee began.

"Or otherwise domiciled," the terrible man continued, "must attend
school in said village except upon cause of illness--"

[Illustration: "WE'RE NOT MINERS, WE'RE SCOUTS!" PEE-WEE SHOUTED.]

"I'm sick a lot," Pee-wee yelled.

"I expect to have a cold very shortly," said Nick in his funny way.

"Determined and certified by a physician _in_ good standing. Them's the
very words of the village law and we come to tell you that all these
youngsters will hev ter _re_port for school at nine A.M. to-morrer
morning, _in_ said village of East Ketchem."

"Foiled!" said Nick, falling back on the ground.

"Horrors and confusion!" said Fido Norton.

"That we should live to hear this!" moaned Charlie Norris.

"Oh, what have we stepped into?" another groaned, holding his forehead
in a way of despair.

"You mean what have we been drawn into!" said another. "Oh, that it
should come to this!"

"What have we done? What have we done?" sighed still another.

As for Scoutmaster Ned, he gave one terrific groan (or perhaps it was a
roar of abandoned mirth) and fell backward off the grocery box.

Only the fixer remained silent. His eyes stared, his mouth gaped. But
not a word said he. It was Napoleon at Waterloo. Scout Harris had no
words. Or else he had so many that they got jumbled up in hi