once upon a time Alec had been of a domineering nature. “Tell us why you’re stopping us on the highway like this? Has there been a fire? Is the school burned to the ground? Anybody sick, a runaway happened, a child lost in the woods and the scouts needed to find it? Speak up, can’t you? and relieve this fierce strain.”

“Why, it’s this way, fellows,” said Billy, between gulps, “the Fair management has asked the Oakvale Scouts to pitch a tent on the grounds, show people how they live in camp, act as guides to strangers in town, meet trains at the station, set up an emergency cot in another tent where first aid to the injured can be found, and—and, pretty much run the whole business this year! What d’ye think of that now for a big honor to Oakvale Troop?”

CHAPTER II.
THE GREAT UNDERTAKING.

There was a brief interval after Billy had blurted out this astonishing news. The other three scouts stared at one another as though they could hardly grasp the full significance of the information.

Then, as if a signal had been given, every one of them dropped his fishpole and string of finny trophies, snatched off his hat, and, waving it above his head, let out a series of cheers.

A mule that had been feeding in a lot near by kicked up his heels and started galloping wildly about his enclosure, doubtless under the impression that war had been declared, and the initial battle begun. A stray cur, in the act of skulking past, sped furiously down the road, evidently believing that it could almost hear the clatter of a tin can tied to its tail, though of course, scouts are never guilty of such a cruel proceeding.

“That’s great news you’ve given us, Billy!” declared Alec. “I can see that the good people of our home town pin a lot of faith in Oakvale Troop of Boy Scouts.”

“Well, they ought to,” said Billy promptly. “We’ve certainly been a credit to the community,—excuse my blushes, boys. But our record speaks for itself, you know.”

“Yes,” added Tom Sherwood, “and only for the scouts, Oakvale to-day would be the same dirty little old town it used to be, with waste paper blowing all around, and nobody taking any pride in keeping things spic and span. The women all said they had tried to clean up and failed; but when our troop offered to lend a helping hand the improvement was effected.”

“It’s too near supper time to do much talking about the wonderful news you’ve brought us, Billy,” said Arthur. “I suppose it’ll be the main line of topic of discussion at the regular weekly meeting to-night.”

“Yes,” said Billy, “and Hugh means to ’phone every member he can reach, so there’ll be a heavy attendance. The Fair begins on Wednesday, you remember, and we ought to know just what we expect to do along a dozen lines.”

“It strikes me as an elegant thing,” asserted Alec.

“Finest that ever came down the pike,” Billy agreed. “To think what glorious times we can have, and how we’ll be able to scatter seeds of information about scout activities among the rubes who attend the great Fair. Some of them really believe scouts are banded together just to play pranks and have fun. We’ll have the biggest opportunity to take the scales off their eyes.”

“And to think, Billy,” Arthur commented, his eyes sparkling, “that while we walked along the road just now all of us were trying to figure out what possible use only afternoon vacations could be to boys, when it was impossible to go off on any hike. Now we can see a dozen ways where we’ll be able to have a good time.”

Billy laughed.

“Yes, we all know what you’d call a good time, Arthur,” he jeered. “Chances are you’ll stick by that emergency tent hospital like a leech, and almost hope some old farmer may drop a pitchfork on his foot and need attending to; or a dog bite a boy who’s been badgering him, so you’ll have to cauterize the wound.”

“That’s right,” added Alec. “Arthur is never so happy as when he’s making other people miserable—of course, you understand what I mean. In reality he’s trying to relieve their suffering and danger, even if it does hurt. But I must get along, boys; it’s six o’clock, and we have supper promptly at half-past. I’m as hungry as a wolf, if any of you know what that means.”

“Most of us think it means Billy the Wolf!” laughed Arthur, as he too started off, headed for home, dangling his hard-earned string of perch at his side.

The meeting that night was well attended, for if there had been any dubious ones who had fancied at one time they were really too tired after a holiday to come out, the urgent message from Hugh Hardin over the wire had changed their minds.

It happened that Lieutenant Denmead was out of town on some business connected with a deceased brother’s estate, so that the burden of responsibility during the ensuing week was bound to fall upon the shoulders of the assistant scout master.

Not a single boy doubted the ability of Hugh Hardin to fulfill the demands of the occasion. They had seen him tested on many a field, and it was the almost universal opinion, in which Lieutenant Denmead himself joined, that Hugh could manage things even better than the regular scout master himself.

Considering that there was considerable sickness in town (a number of boys were laid up with mumps and kindred ailments), the attendance at the meeting was creditable.

The old reliable Wolf Patrol carried off the honors of the occasion, for every member answered the roll-call; the Otter was next in line, showing six present.

As some of these boys will figure more or less in the pages of our story it may be wise to mention the list of those at the meeting:

Wolf Patrol—Hugh Hardin (leader), Billy Worth, Bud Morgan, Arthur Cameron, Ned Twyford, Jack Durham, Harold Tremaine and Ralph Kenyon.

Otter Patrol—Alec Sands (leader), Buck Winter, Chester Brownell, Dick Bellamy, Tom Sherwood and Dane Evans.

Fox Patrol—Don Miller (leader), “Shorty” McNeil, Cooper Fennimore, Spike Welling, “Monkey” Stallings.

Owl Patrol—Lige Corbley (leader), “Whistling” Smith, Andy Wallis and Pete Craig.

Hawk Patrol—Walter Osborne (leader), Blake Merton, Gus Merrivale and Anthony Huggins.

After the regular business of the meeting had been hurriedly dispatched, twenty-seven scouts then started in to talk matters over. Of course most of them were perfectly willing that others should lay out the plans and offer suggestions. It is just as well that a few leading spirits should manage things, for with the whole twenty-seven trying to make themselves heard, Bedlam would have been a quiet retreat beside that meeting.

Hugh had evidently given the matter considerable thought since receiving word from the directors and managers of the County Fair that an invitation was extended to the troop to take charge of certain branches of industry and usefulness.

“The first thing every one of us must do,” Hugh told them, “will be to brush up our knowledge of what the Fair stands for, and the location of every exhibit. For to be a guide means that people expect you are a walking encyclopedia, and you’re apt to have all sorts of queer questions fired at you.”

“Yes, I guess that’s right, Hugh,” said Walter Osborne, “because there will be lots of people here who are utter strangers to Oakvale. I know that my Uncle Reuben and Aunt Ruth are coming on to stop over with us, and while I visited at their place as a kid years ago, they’ve