face, and clear eyes. Jotham's mother was a Quaker, or at least
she came from the peace-loving Friends stock; and the lad had been early
taught that he must never engage in fights except as a very last resort,
and then to save some smaller fellow from being bullied.

On one occasion, which no one in Beverly would ever forget, Jotham had
proven that deep down in his heart he possessed true courage, and grit.
He had faced a big mad dog, with only a baseball bat in his hands, and
wound up the beast's career right on the main street of the town, while
everybody was fleeing in abject terror from contact with the animal.

Because in so doing Jotham had really saved an old and nearly blind
veteran soldier from being bitten by the terrible brute, he had been
adjudged worthy to wear the beautiful silver merit badge which is sent
occasionally from Boy Scout Headquarters to those members of the
organization who have saved life at great peril to themselves.

But Jotham was not the only one who proudly sported a badge. In fact,
every one of the eight members of the Beaver Patrol wore a bronze medal
on the left side of his khaki jacket. This had come to them because of
certain services which the patrol had rendered at the time a child had
been carried away by a crazy woman, and was found, later on, through the
medium of their knowledge of woodcraft.

Of course there were two more boys connected with the patrol, who did
not happen to be present at the time we find them resting on their way
home after a rather strenuous afternoon in the open.

These were Paul Prentice, the patrol leader, and who served as acting
scout master when Mr. Alexander was unable to accompany them; and "Babe"
Adams, the newest recruit, a tenderfoot who was bent on learning
everything connected with the game.

They had gone home a little earlier than the rest, for reasons that had
no connection with the afternoon's sport, each of them having a pressing
engagement that could not be broken. "Babe" had been nick-named in the
spirit of contrariness that often marks the ways of boys; for he was an
unusually tall, thin fellow; and so far as any one knew, had never
shirked trouble, so that he could not be called timid in the least.

"No use hurrying, fellows," declared Seth, as he flung himself down on a
log that happened to be lying near the edge of a little precipice,
marking the abrupt end of the shelf which they had been following, so
that to descend further