never been here before. There are others, too, I’ve heard, so each one of you wants to kiss the Blarney Stone, and be ready to talk like a Dutch uncle.”

“On Tuesday afternoon after school, then, we’ll go out to the grounds and get our two tents up, as well as do a good many other things,” said Hugh. “I expect to see the school principal, and try to have a couple of us excused each morning, so that there will be some one at the headquarters up to noon. In fact, I mean to lay out a regular schedule, and let each scout know just what special duty he is to undertake.”

“This is one of the finest things that ever came our way, I think,” remarked Don Miller. “Let’s hope that after the Fair is over the folks who have been thinking poorly of us scouts will have a different opinion.”

“It’s to be hoped that no one who wears the khaki will do the first thing calculated to bring it into disrepute,” suggested Walter Osborne; and some of them saw him cast a quick and perhaps anxious glance toward the spot where the leader of the latest patrol to be organized, the Owl, was sitting.

It was in fact not so very long ago when Lige Corbley had been something of a thorn in the side of Hugh Hardin and the scouts. He had scoffed at their aspirations, made sport of their helpfulness to others, and seldom missed an opportunity to annoy them. How it came about that Big Lige saw the error of his ways, and made such a complete change in his habits that he actually joined the troop has been entertainingly told in a preceding volume, so it need not be recounted here.

Lige knew that several of the boys, including Walter, were not quite as sure of his loyalty to the laws he had promised to obey, as Hugh and the rest might be. He also understood that this little shaft of suspicion was meant for him; but Lige simply grinned, and apparently paid no attention to it. As long as Hugh had faith in his reformation he was willing to stand for anything. Deeds, and not promises, were what counted, and he believed he was daily proving that he had cut aloof from the old life forever.

After the subject was threshed out thoroughly, so much had been said that some of the fellows declared they hardly knew whether they were standing on their heads or on their heels.

“But order will come out of chaos after a bit, you know,” said Alec, confidently. “It’s always this way at first. By degrees the wheat gets separated from the chaff, and in the end things look clear.”

“I’m willing to leave it all to Hugh!” declared Ralph Kenyon. “Seems like he always does know just what is best to do. I’ve never known him to get far astray in anything he undertook.”

Ralph had good reason to feel this confidence in the assistant scout master. He could look back to the time when he knew absolutely nothing of the finer motives that influence the true scout; when he delighted in spending his winters in trapping harmless little animals both for the fun it afforded him, and the small amount of money he received for their skins when sold to dealers in furs.

Then Ralph had become acquainted with Hugh, who had managed to convince him that there must be many other ways of earning money without giving pain to little creatures, most of them harmless, and even taking their lives away in the bargain. After his eyes had been opened, Ralph Kenyon had spent more time hunting wild ginseng roots, and found that it profited him three times as much as his former cruel occupation.

“We’ll meet here again on Monday night,” said Hugh just then, as they prepared to leave the room. “By that time I’ll have it all figured out, and each one will receive his orders in black and white. Mayor Strunk himself came to see me, for you know he is the head of the Fair management. He said he expected great things of the scouts, because they had made such great use of their opportunities in the past.”

“Mr. Marsh is one of the managers, too, you remember, fellows,” said Blake Merton. “His wife is president of the Town Improvement Association. She hasn’t forgotten what we did that time to make Oakvale a better place to live in. These things all count. What our boys do is sure to come back to them, just as chickens come home to roost.”

“That’s right, and I know it every day,” called out Lige Corbley. “The hardest thing any fellow ever tries to do is to live down a reputation. Lots of people think they can see the horns sticking out right along. They keep saying it’s only a little veneer or polish, and will rub off. Some of ’em even try to help rub it off; but thank goodness there are others who stand by a fellow, and keep him from going back on the rocks.”

That was the most Lige had ever said before the boys. Walter Osborne turned red in the face with confusion. He felt heartily ashamed of the sly little dig he had given Lige earlier in the evening. Being a frank, candid boy, Walter did not hesitate when he saw his duty clear before him, for he immediately walked straight up to Lige and thrust out his hand, and said:

“I’m sorry if I’ve said anything to hurt your feelings, Lige, and I don’t care who hears me tell it. Honestly, I’m surprised that you’ve done as well as you have with such a handicap on your shoulders. I couldn’t do half as good myself; and from this time on you’ll never hear a whisper from me. I’m proud to shake hands with you and call you my friend.”

And when the scouts separated it was in a far more brotherly frame of mind because of this manly action on the part of Walter Osborne.

CHAPTER III.
ON DUTY AT THE FAIR.

“Everything seems to be in good working order now, Hugh. Even our emergency doctor, Arthur, goes into the hospital tent every ten minutes to mosey around; and I kind of suspect he’s almost wishing that some sort of case would crop up just to let him show his hand at first aid.”

It was Billy Worth doing this talking.

The days had crept by, and now the Fair was a thing of the present. It had really opened with the usual ceremonies that noon, and a throng of people kept pushing in through the several gates, many of them coming from a distance.

The scouts had been energetically at work on the preceding afternoon and evening, some of them getting up at dawn on Wednesday morning in order to complete their arrangements as far as possible.

Two khaki-colored tents, supposed to be waterproof in case of a drenching rain, had been erected on the site given over to their camp use. In one of these the boys had arranged a couple of blanket beds, such as they were in the habit of using when camping out in the woods. These were complete, even to fragrant hemlock browse under each blanket to take the place of the comfortable mattresses at home.

In fact, it was as decent a camp as the ingenuity of the scouts could devise; a number of the fellows gave it some finishing touches that added much to its appearance. They knew that thousands of visitors would manifest a great deal of curiosity in their little model camp. Many of them had no idea how boys lived when on an outing and it was to disarm criticism that all this trouble was taken.

The second tent was to be used as a temporary hospital in case of accidents during the progress of the Exhibition. There had never been a season that someone did not get injured; and in a crush women had often been known to faint.

A number of the scouts hovered about the camp, anxious to show the comfortable arrangements for sleeping and