racing on the track, amazing feats undertaken by an aëroplane aviator of national renown, balloon ascensions accompanied by parachute drops, “and other attractions too numerous to mention.”

Having looked over the poster and commented on its most prominent features, the trio of weary lads again turned their faces toward home, now not half a mile away.

It might be noticed that all of them wore rather faded suits of khaki, showing that they belonged to the local troop of Boy Scouts. In addition to the ordinary badges they also proudly displayed certain merit badges to prove that they had qualified along certain particular lines of scoutcraft.

Another thing that might have been noticed was that Alec, Tom and Arthur all displayed bronze medals, which would tell anyone acquainted with scout customs and laws that these lads had saved human life at some time in their past.

While, after rather an exhausting day, they are trudging slowly toward home with heavy feet, it may be a good time for us to take a glimpse into the past, in order to understand just who the three boys are, and also mention a few important things in connection with the troop to which they belong.

The town of Oakvale lay in the East, and not a great many miles away from the Atlantic Ocean. Those who have read previous volumes in the series know just why scout affairs were booming in the town. The scout master, Lieutenant Denmead, a retired army officer, took the greatest delight in fostering a spirit of manliness among the boys in his charge. His assistant, Hugh Hardin, who was also the leader of the Wolf Patrol, chanced to be a wide-awake chap, and just the kind to push any enterprise along to success.

The troop now consisted of five patrols, and as a rule they were filled to their utmost capacity of eight members each. The Wolf had been first in the field, but as the interest grew and new members joined, there had arisen the Hawk, Otter, Fox and Owl Patrols.

Alec Sands was leader of the Otter, and had at one time been a keen rival of Hugh Hardin; but all hard feelings were eventually buried, and they were warm friends. Arthur Cameron proudly carried the patrol colors of the Wolf; and while interested in wireless telegraphy, weather predictions, and even photography, perhaps his strongest point lay in his surprising skill in amateur surgery and first aid to the injured.

Tom Sherwood was also an Otter, and a husky fellow, fond of water sports, and with a hobby along the lines of surveying work.

It can be readily seen from a casual glance at some of the titles of previous books in the series that the boys of Oakvale Troop had passed through considerable experience well worth while.

Since the opportunity to investigate for themselves is open to all readers who would like to learn more about these interesting phases of their past, there is no necessity for our taking up much space here in mentioning details.

Still, it might not be amiss to say that in the preceding spring, during the time of the heavy rains, Hugh and several others of the troop proved themselves to be of exceedingly great value to the citizens of a town in another part of the State. This was when a disastrous flood threatened the community with destruction, and human lives were placed in deadly peril by the quickly rising water.

On that occasion Hugh had actually saved a boy of the town who would otherwise have been carried down with the bridge. His act had been witnessed by hundreds of people, and is talked about to the present day as a fine example of presence of mind and prompt action.

On account of having thus saved a human life at great risk to himself, Hugh Hardin had received from Headquarters a gold medal, the highest honor that any scout can ever hope to gain. Being a very modest fellow, however, Hugh did not often wear this token of appreciation, though he was proud of it all the same.

It may interest the new reader to know just how Alec, Tom and Arthur came by the bronze medals they wore. During the preceding summer the main part of the troop had gone camping, and it happened that at the time there was a strike of laborers in a large cement works not far distant. When the company imported strike-breakers, and employed guards to protect the property, the foreign strikers grew furious.

So it came about that there was a serious riot during which many of the ignorant strikers were shot. It might have been called a one-sided battle, for a dozen men, and some women as well, were more or less seriously injured.

In this terrible crisis Hugh Hardin and some of his scouts came on the scene. With the usual promptness that characterized his actions, Hugh had started a temporary field hospital. Having learned the first principles of caring for gunshot wounds he and Arthur, assisted by others of the troop, managed to stop the flow of blood in such a way that when the Red Cross surgeon and nurses reached the scene later on, they declared that the work of the scouts merited the highest praise. Indeed, they went even further, and said that were it not for the prompt aid afforded by the young surgeons one or more lives might have been lost.

And since those wise gentlemen at the head of the great movement for the uplift of boys are always quick to recognize real merit, a bronze medal had soon come to every member of Oakvale Troop who had been instrumental in the work of that field hospital.

Since that time things had gone as usual. Some of the boys had gone on summer vacations. Those who remained at home fished, went swimming, played baseball, tennis, and even camped for a week.

Then school had brought back the absent ones, and once more scout affairs began to pick up. Thanksgiving would be the next little breathing spell. At present, the School Board had decided that during the time of the County Fair there was to be only a morning session for all the scholars. Of course, this was intended as a means for letting them attend the Exhibition, and acquiring more or less knowledge along many lines; for Oakvale was proud of having been chosen as the regular site for this yearly Fair.

“I want to tell you that I’m not sorry to be so near home,” Tom Sherwood observed, after they had arrived at the border of the town, where the break-up of the little fishing party would take place.

“But we haven’t been wasting our day, understand,” added Alec, as he held up his fine string of perch and noticed that one of them still showed signs of life, in spite of the fact that they had tried to knock each captive on the head when taken so as to avoid needless suffering, as every true scout should do.

“Who’s that hurrying this way, and waving his hat?” demanded Arthur. “Looks like Billy Worth—yes, there isn’t another fellow in the troop with his width.”

“And his capacity for making away with the grub when in camp, you want to add,” laughed Tom. “But he certainly looks excited, fellows. Listen to him giving the Wolf call, will you? I wonder if anything can have happened here in town since we started fishing this morning?”

The very idea quickened their footsteps, and in another minute they were joined by the stout lad with the jolly face, who was one of the original members of Oakvale Troop, as well as a staunch supporter and admirer of his patrol leader, Hugh Hardin.

“Billy the Wolf,” as Billy Worth was sometimes called, seemed to have been running, for he was a little short of breath.

“What’s all this mean, Billy?” asked Alec, with something of his old imperiousness, for