his love of music which the fat boy possessed had made the
selection of a bugler for Cranford Troop the easiest thing possible. He
actually had no competitor.

Presently the entire eight lads had thrown themselves down in such
positions as seemed to appeal to them. Some lay flat on their stomachs,
and drank from the overflow of the fine little spring; while others
scooped up the water in the cup formed by the palms of their hands.

One rather tall boy, with flaxen hair, and light dreamy blue eyes, took
out his handkerchief, carefully dusted the ground where he meant to sit,
then having deposited himself in a satisfactory manner, he opened the
haversack he had been carrying, taking out some of the contents very
carefully.

"My! but they're packed smartly, all right, Smithy," remarked the fellow
who had responded to the name of Davy Jones; "you certainly take a heap
of trouble to have things just so. My duds were just tossed in as they
came. Threatened to jump on 'em so as to crowd the bunch in tighter.
What are you looking for now?"

"Why, my drinking cup, to be sure," replied the other, lifting his
eyebrows in surprise, as if he could not understand why any one would be
so silly as to lie down and drink--just like an animal, when nice little
aluminum collapsible cups could be procured so cheaply.

And having presently found what he wanted, he deliberately returned each
article to its proper place in the carryall before he allowed himself
the pleasure of a cooling drink. But at least he had one satisfaction;
being the possessor of a cup allowed him the privilege of dipping
directly into the fountain head, the limpid spring itself.

They called him just plain "Smithy," but of course such an elegant
fellow had a handle to the latter part of his name. It was Edmund
Maurice Travers Smith; but you could never expect a parcel of American
boys to bother with such a tremendous tongue-twisting name as that.
Hence the Smithy.

While the whole patrol, taking out the lunch that had been provided, and
which one of them, evidently from the South from the soft tones of his
voice, called a "snack," were eating we might as well be making the
acquaintance of the rest.

The Southern lad was named Robert Quail White. A few of his chums
addressed him as plain Bob; but the oddity of the combination appealed
irresistibly to their sense of humor, and "Bob White" it became from
that time on. Sometimes they called to him with the well-kn