commissary wagon, sir."

Now, of course Mr. Garrabrant knew all this perfectly well. He had actually watched the pair of tenderfeet only too gladly clamber aboard the wagon that bore the tents, food, extra clothing, and cooking outfit for the camp. But thus far did military tactics rule the Boy Scouts, that he was supposed to know nothing about such incidents until they had been reported to him in the proper manner, as provided for in the system.

"Suppose then you notify them, Mr. Bugler," said the scout master, turning to Mark Cummings, who, besides being the especial chum of Elmer, was really a fine musician, and naturally had been unanimously chosen as bugler for the new troop of scouts recently organized in Hickory Ridge.

When the clear, penetrating notes of the bugle sounded through the neighboring woods, there came a faint but enthusiastic cheer from some point along the back trail. In addition, the waiting scouts could catch the plain creaking of a wagon, accompanied by encouraging words, spoken undeniably by a "gentleman of color."

"Git up dar, youse ol' sleepy-haid, Andy Jackson! Wot youse t'ink we's gwine tuh do up hyah in dis neck ob de woods, hey? Git a mobe on yuh, Jawdge Washington! Jes' quit dat peekin' outen de tail end ob yuh eye at me! We ain't playin' dat ere game ob politics now; dis am real, honest, sure-nuff work. Altogedder now, bofe ob youse; or de waggin dun stick in de mud of dis crick!"

Then followed a few whacks, as the energetic driver applied the goad, some startled snorts, in turn succeeded by another relay of faint cheers from the two footsore scouts aboard the wagon.

And presently the lumbering vehicle, with its sweating steeds, halted alongside the site selected by the scout master as the spot for the first camp of the scouts' outing. An opening was readily found where Ginger, the ebony driver, might urge his reluctant team to leave the hard road, and enter among the trees.

Immediately a scene of great bustle, and more or less confusion ensued; for it must be remembered that while the Hickory Ridge scouts may have drilled in the work of starting a camp, that was only theory, and the present was their first actual practice on record.

The contents of the wagon were overhauled, and several tents started to go up on spots particularly selected by the leaders of the patrols, who had this duty in their sole charge.

Here Elmer had a great advantage over all his fellows, since he had spent much of his life up in the Canadian Northwest, where his father had held a position as manager to extensive lands that were being farmed on a colossal scale, until a year or so previous, when, being left a snug little fortune, Mr. Chenowith had decided to return to his native state, to settle down for the balance of his days.

Of course the boy had picked up a considerable amount of useful knowledge during his stay in that country of vast distances, which was likely to prove of use to him in his experiences as a scout.

They had elected him as president of the troop, and he had readily been given the position of scout leader in the Wolf Patrol because of this wide range of knowledge pertaining to the secrets of outdoor life. It had also been mainly instrumental in securing for him the coveted certificate from Headquarters, recognizing him as a capable assistant to Mr. Garrabrant.

Elmer could toss a rope, follow a trail, throw a "diamond hitch" in loading a pack horse, travel on snowshoes, recognize most wild animals just from their tracks, make a camp properly, and do so many other like tricks that made him the envy of his mates, and especially Matty Eggleston, who was the leader of the Beaver Patrol, and had much to learn concerning his duties.

It was a cheerful scene, as the tents were raised, and fires began to crackle, one for each patrol, according to custom. Even the two limping scouts forgot their recent lameness, and began to sniff the air hungrily when Ginger started to get supper for the crowd.

Ginger had qualified as an expert first-class cook, but the truth might as well be stated right in the beginning that the boys quickly tired of the greasy messes the son of Ethiopia flung together, and soon followed the example of the Wolf Patrol, doing their own cooking, an arrangement that pleased the good-natured but indolent Ginger perfectly. He was always on hand, however, when the time for eating came around, being possessed of an enormous appetite that alarmed Mr. Garrabrant more than a little.

Night had closed in long before supper was ready, for things somehow worked at sixes and sevens on the occasion of the getting of the first meal, since many essential articles had to be hunted for, entailing a loss of time. But all this would be remedied as soon as they were in their permanent camp, for both Mr. Garrabrant and Elmer were keen on system and order.

The boys were almost famished after that seven-mile hike, and could hardly wait for the signal to "fall to." But there was an abundance for all, and none of them was much inclined to be what Arthur Stansbury called "finicky" that night.

Mr. Garrabrant, however, while eating, looked suspiciously toward Ginger, and shook his head in the direction of Elmer, as if to say that if this mess were a fair specimen of the cook's best efforts along the culinary line, the sooner they started in to depend on themselves the better for their digestion.

After the meal had been finished the boys left Ginger to clean up while they lay around, enjoying the sparkling blaze, something that most of them were not very familiar with. For the time being all formality was thrown aside, and they laughed and chatted, just as normal boys are prone to do when out upon a holiday jaunt.

Mr. Garrabrant showed the two laggards how they had been unwise not immediately to dislodge sundry small pebbles that had found a way to get in their shoes, with the consequence that presently stone bruises had formed that became painful. He made them easy with some lotion he carried for just such a purpose.

In this and dozens of other ways the efficient scout master expected to teach the boys of the troop how to take care of themselves when away from home. But the lads who had to be told the same thing twice might expect to forfeit some privilege since they were expected to think for themselves, after being shown.

There was also a second colored man along, who expected to take the team back on the morrow, since the scouts would have no further need of it, once they embarked in the boats that were to meet them here. In these they expected to ascend the Sweetwater to a small lake called Jupiter; and from thence by way of Paradise Creek find a passage to Lake Solitude beyond, where they meant to camp and learn the numerous "stunts" a good scout should know.

Some of the lads had fair voices, and school songs were sung around the fire, Mark doing the accompanying with soft notes on his bugle. He had mastered this instrument, and his mates never wearied of hearing him play.

Ted Burgoyne was afflicted with a slight lisp that gave him no end of trouble; though he always insisted that he spoke as correctly as any of his companions. Ted had a strong leaning toward the profession of a surgeon, and indeed was forever loudly wishing for a subject upon whom to operate. The boys had considerable fun over this weakness, but all the same they must have felt more or less confidence in his ability to do the right thing; for whenever any slight accident occurred it might be noticed that every one in camp called upon "Dr. Ted" to take hold; and he nearly always proved himself equal to the occasion.

Charlie Maxfield, or Chatz as he was universally called, was somewhat of a queer chap. He believed in ghosts, and was always reading stories of