summer?” Mr. Bennett asked sociably, as he leaned against the fixtures behind the counter.

“We should worry about camp this year,” Roy said. “We’ve been fixing up our old railroad car for a meeting-place down by the river and we’re going to stay home and earn some money to buy a rowboat and a canoe and start a kind of a camp of our own down there.”

“We’re going to build a float,” Pee-wee said, digging with his spoon.

“Sure, and a sink,” Roy said, “so we can wash our hands of Bridgeboro. We’ll be dead to the world down there. We’re going to lead the simple life like a lot of simps. We’re going to catch salt fish in the salt marshes and everything. All we need is a treasury; you didn’t happen to see one around anywhere, did you?”

“If I should happen to see a treasury I’ll let you know,” Mr. Bennett laughed.

“We need a standing capital,” said Artie Van Arlen, leader of the Ravens.

“We wouldn’t care if it was lying down as long as we had it,” Roy said.

“We’d like some assessments,” Pee-wee said.

“You mean assets,” Doc Carson laughed.

“It’s the same only different,” said Roy.

“What we want is a few standing capitals, and some small letters and a couple of surpluses.”

“Deficits are good; did you ever hear of those?” Pee-wee asked.

“We need about eighty-five cents and fifty dollars,” Roy said. “I guess we’ll start a drive only we haven’t got any horse. Maybe we can catch some goldfish down there and sell them for old gold. We should worry.”

Mr. Bennett said, “Well now, you scouts ought to be able to raise some funds. You seem to raise pretty nearly everything else.”

“We raise the dickens,” Grove Bronson said.

“We ought to be able to sell some stock,” Roy said. “We’ve got some rolling stock down there–one car. Only it doesn’t roll. Who wants to buy some stock in the Riverside Scout Camp? Watered stock, we dip it in the river.”

“You don’t know what watered stock is; you’re so smart,” Pee-wee sneered.

“Sure, it’s milk,” Roy said. “Right the first time, no sooner said than stung.”

“Never laugh at poverty,” Westy said, as all the party began to shout. “We’re poor but dishonest.”

“Sure,” Roy ejaculated, “we wouldn’t even steal a cent, that’s why we haven’t any sense; deny it if you dare.”

“We can sell papers at the station,” Westy said.

“Sure, the Saturday Evening Post,” Roy said. “We can do golden deeds and get gold that way. We should bother our young lives. What care us, quoth we? We’ll think of a way. All we need is fifty dollars to put tar-paper on the roof and a new cook stove in the car.”

“Money talks,” the kid shouted.

“Good night!” said Roy, “then we don’t want any of it. You do enough talking in this troop.”

“Are you fellows all one outfit?” asked a young man who had been leaning against the opposite counter, amused at their talk.

“United we stand, divided we sprawl,” Roy said. “There are more of us, too, only they’re not here. They’re by the river.”

“I can give you a chance to earn some money if you really want to,” the young man said. “Do you think you could stick?”

“Our middle name is fly-paper,” Roy informed him.

“Like camping?”

“Camping is named after us,” Connie Bennett of the Elk Patrol said. “We’d rather camp than eat.”

“No we wouldn’t,” vociferated Pee-wee Harris.

“What kind of hours?” Doc Carson of the Ravens inquired.

“The usual kind,” Roy volunteered, and put it up to their new friend if this were not so. “The same kind we use in school, hey?” he added.

“Give him a chance to