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"A dog," said Bill, "is man's best friend, and that is what Scouts are for."

Hank could bark like a dog. That was why he wanted it.

Benny thought a crow would be the thing, but it seemed to me that the American eagle would be better. We heard one once on Greylock and it was great.

Skinny liked the eagle pretty well, especially the American part, but when he found that Benny Wade wanted a crow he said he was for a crow, too. That was because Benny had made the speech.

"A snake is all right for some things," he said, "and you don't want to step on them or on us. Don't you remember that old flag which had a rattlesnake on it and the words, 'Don't tread on me'? The hissing is all right, too, when we are close together and can hear, but how about it when we are not? What if I was hiding in Plunkett's woods and you were on the way to the cave and I should be attacked by Injuns or something. I might hiss until I was black in the face and who'd hear me? You could hear me caw almost to Peck's Falls."

"Yes, that's so about snakes," I told them. "I don't think much of snakes myself. But I don't know about crows. The eagle is such a noble bird."

"Noble nothin'!" said he. "What did an eagle ever do that was noble any more than a crow? Besides a crow can talk if you split its tongue. I read it in a book. You can't draw an eagle. You'd have to write under it what it was."

"So you would under a crow," I told him.

"Anyhow," he went on, "I'll bet nobody here can make a noise like an eagle. Let's hear you do it, Pedro. Cawing is easy."

That ended the eagle business. Skinny was right. Not one of us could make a noise like an eagle.

"What makes you want it a crow, Benny?" asked Hank.

"I don't know how to tell it," said Benny, sort of bashful like. "I wasn't thinking about drawing it. A crow would be hard to draw, I guess, but we could make something that looked like a bird and we boys would know what bird was meant. I wasn't thinking either whether it was noble or not. Maybe a crow ain't exactly noble, but somehow when I see a big fellow soaring around in the Bellows Pipe, between the mountains, it makes me feel kind of noble myself and as if I ought to soar, too. And when I hear the cawing of a crow, no matter where I am, even in North Adams or Pittsfield, I can see Bob's Hill and old Greylock and the Bellows Pipe, and big crows flying around in the air as if they owned them all. We are Bob's Hill boys and Greylock boys. That's why I want it a crow. They sort of belong together."

We never had thought of that before, but when we came to talk it over it seemed that way to us, too. So we chose the crow for our patrol animal, only we didn't call ourselves "the crows" but "the ravens," because it sounded so much nobler. While we can't draw a very good one when we make our signs, it looks some like a bird and we all know what kind it is, as Benny said.

By that time we were getting hungry and so we made a bee-line for Plunkett's woods, sounding as if a whole flock of crows were starting south.

"Everybody scatter for wood," shouted Skinny, when we had come to the big stone where we build our fires. "I'll get the grub."

We ran to different parts of the woods where we knew there were dead branches lying on the ground, trying to see which would get a fire going first. Then, just as Bill and I met at the stone, with arms full of sticks, and the others close behind, we heard a terrible cawing over in the woods, only it didn't sound so much like a crow as it did like Skinny.

We looked at one another, wondering what it all meant, for the Scout business was new to us. Besides it sounded as if something had happened.

"'Tention, Scouts," said Bill, in a hurry to get in his work as corporal while Skinny was away. "Everybody caw!"

We made a great racket. In a moment there came an answering caw from the woods; then Skinny stepped out into the clearing in plain sight and motioned for us to come.

We knew something was the matter and started for the woods on a jump, the corporal in the lead.

"It's gone!" shouted Skinny, when we had come near. "Some guy has stolen our dinner."

"Great snakes!" groaned Bill. "And I'm starving to death."

We all gathered around the place where we had hidden the things under some bushes. Skinny was right; they were gone. I tell you he was mad.

"I don't know whether we are Scouts or bandits or Injuns," said he, "and I don't care, but I'd like to get hold of the critter that stole our dinner. We wouldn't do a thing to him. Oh, no. Maybe not."

"Everybody scatter," he shouted. "Look for signs and tracks. We'll follow him to the ends of the earth."

CHAPTER III