it properly.”

“I did the best I know how,” replied the astonished Mike, “and I was thinking it couldn’t be much improved upon.”

“None the less it is wrong.”

“If ye’ll be after insthructing me it’s mesilf that will try to do you justice.”

“Are you not a Boy Scout?”

“Not just yit, though I’m hoping to honor the Scouts by allowing the same to put my name on their roll.”

“Why then do you wear their uniform?”

“Would ye have me take it off and wear the rigimintals I was born in? I’d be feared of the scratches from the bushes, though I should like to be obliging.”

“Are you on your way to the Boy Patrol camp?”

“That’s me distination, as me uncle said whin he looked down at the ground as he was falling from a balloon.”

“You are walking away from instead of toward it. The Boy Patrols are two miles to the rear.”

“I don’t wish to drop down on ’em too quick; ye have heard of sudden joy killing a person and I want to approach ’em slow and grand like, that they may have time to give me a proper reciption.”

Fearing that his jocosity might not be acceptable, Mike added:

“I may as well own up, me friend, that I’ve lost me way, but before going thither will ye insthruct me as to how to make the Boy Scout salute?”

“It is simple; observe; crook your right little finger inward; keep it down flat by pressing your thumb upon it; hold the other three fingers upright, palm outward and bring the hand in front of the forehead; try it.”

With the example before him, Mike had no trouble in making the salute.

“That is right; so long as you wear the uniform of the Boy Scouts, and since as you say you expect to become one of them, you must use their method of greeting one another.”

“And now will ye put me under bigger obligations by showing me the exact coorse to folly to reach the camp of me friends?”

The old man raised his staff from the ground and pointed to the left of the lad.

“If you will hold to that direction, you will go straight to them.”

“Now that ye have told me I won’t furgit it.”

“All the same you will; you know so little about the woods that you will be lost before you have gone a fourth of the distance.”

“How can I do that wid such plain instructions as ye have given me?”

“Were you not directed before you set out for your friends’ camp?”

“But not by such an intilligent gintleman as yersilf.”

The twitching of the beard at the side of the old man’s mouth showed that he was pleased by the whimsical compliment.

“It is easy to see from your blarney that you were born in Ireland: what is your name?”

“Mike Murphy; me father, Mr. Patrick Murphy, has charge of Mr. Landon’s bungalow on Southport Island, where I make me home wid him whin I’m not living somewhere ilse. ’Twas his boy Alvin that sint fur me to jine the Boy Patrols on Gosling Lake.”

“I called there yesterday and spent most of the day with them. They are a fine set of youths and have an admirable Scout Master; I expect soon to see them again; the troop, as it is called, numbers three Patrols, that of Mr. Hall, the Scout Master, being the Blazing Arrow.”

“Ye said there were three Patrols in the troop: what are the ithers?”

“The Stag and the Eagle. Now it has occurred to me, Michael, that since you expect to join the Boy Patrols and know comparatively nothing of them, it will be wise for you to go to my home, which isn’t far off, and spend the night with me; I’ll teach you enough, not only to pass a good examination but to astonish the other Scouts by your knowledge.”

This offer brought out the question that had been in the mind of Mike for some minutes:

“Ye are very kind and I’m thankful for the invitation, but may I ask who ye are?”

“That is your right, since you have already introduced yourself. My name is Elkanah Sisum, more generally called ‘Uncle Elk’; a long time ago a great sorrow came to me; it drove me into the woods, where I put up a cabin and have lived for fifteen years; but I have not lost my love for my fellow men and especially for boys; I can never look upon a youth like yourself without being awed by the infinite possibilities for good or evil slumbering in him, and my heart yearns to help all along the right path.”

“How is it ye know so much about the Boy Scouts of America?”

“Living by myself, I spend a good deal of time in hunting, fishing and cultivating the little patch of ground on which my cabin stands, but I find leisure for reading and study. I became interested a year ago in the accounts of the Boy Scout movement, which owes so much to Lieutenant-General Sir Robert S. S. Baden-Powell of England. I should be stupid indeed to pass so many years in the wilderness without learning woodcraft, campcraft, trailing and the ways of the woods.”

Mike had set his heart on joining his friends that day—for you know he had been tardy in following directions and Alvin and Chester would be disturbed over his failure to show up—and the distance was so short that he could easily traverse it before night. With the confidence of youth, he felt no fear of losing his way, despite the assertion of Uncle Elk. But the presentation of the case appealed strongly to him. He had a natural dread of going into the Boy Patrol camp as the champion ignoramus of the party. Alvin and Chester would have rare sport with him, for they knew only too well what he would do had the situations been reversed. But to stride among them with the proper salute, which he knew already, and, when subjected to the preliminary examination, to pass triumphantly would be an achievement which would make his blood tingle with pride.

What a lucky stroke of fortune it was that in losing his way in the woods he had met Uncle Elk, whose language showed him to be a man of culture and qualified to give him the very instruction he needed. The incident was another illustration of the truth that many a misfortune is a blessing in disguise.

“I thank ye very kindly,” said Mike, with hardly a moment’s hesitation; “I shall be glad to spend the night in yer home.”

“Come on then; darkness is not far off and it is quite a walk to my cabin. I make one condition, Michael.”

“I’m listening.”

“You must bring a good appetite with you; I have no princely fare to offer, but it is substantial.”

“It would be ongrateful fur me to disapp’int ye, and ye may make sartin that ye shall not be graived in that respict.”

CHAPTER IV—The Training of the Tenderfoot

Uncle Elk turned around and stepped off with a moderate but firm tread, using his staff more for pleasure than from necessity. He did not look around, taking it for granted that his young friend was at his heels. The ground was so high that the carpet of leaves and moss was dry, with so little undergrowth that walking was as easy and pleasant as upon an oriental rug in one’s parlor.

The two tramped silently for a half mile or more, and Mike was peering ahead among the shaggy tree columns, wondering how much farther they had to go, when the guide halted, turned and in his gentle voice said:

“Well, here we are, Michael, at last.”

They stood on the margin of a natural clearing of upward of an acre in extent, every square foot of which was under fine cultivation. Corn, potatoes, various kinds of vegetables and fruits grew under the training of a master hand. The soft ripple of a rivulet of clear, icy water was heard from the other side of the clearing, and was an unfailing source of supply during a drought.

Rather curiously, however, there was not a horse, cow, dog, cat, pig, chicken or any kind of domestic animal on the premises. Uncle Elk had never owned anything of the kind. Such supplies as he had to have were brought in his catboat from one of the near-by towns to