Will stood regarding the boy with open-eyed amazement for a moment and then swung his hand forward in the full salute of a Boy Scout.
"That's all right!" the strange boy cried. "I'm glad to see that you're a Boy Scout. I mean to be one some day, but I'm only a tenderfoot now! I haven't had any chance for advancement yet."
"What Patrol?" asked Will.
"Beaver, Chicago!" was the reply.
"That's my patrol!" exclaimed Will in amazement.
"You're the scoutmaster," the boy said, "I've seen you in Chicago."
"Strange I don't remember you!" replied Will.
"Oh, I'm only a tenderfoot," was the answer, "and of course, you don't know all the new boys!"
"What are you doing here?" asked Will.
"I'm running away!" was the reply. "You see," the boy went on, "I got tired of living in Chicago, and sleeping in alleys in summer and warm hallways in winter, so I just made up my mind I'd make a break for life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness."