"Oh, it ain't that, Elmer, sure it ain't, because don't I believe you're the best pitcher in the whole world?" pleaded Jasper, looking pained that his fidelity was being doubted in the least.
"Then whatever ails you, Jasper?" continued the other, realizing all of a sudden that perhaps there might be something worth noticing in this strange conduct of the scout belonging to the Beaver Patrol.
"It's the signals, Elmer; the signals you and Mark have been practicing, don't you see?" Jasper cried.
"Hello! so that's what troubles you, is it?" remarked Elmer, seriously. "What's wrong with my signals, tell me, Jasper? I don't suppose you could understand what we were doing most of the time; and even if you did, a Hickory Ridge Scout would never think of betraying a secret belonging to his troop. What about my signals?"
"Didn't you see him?" asked Jasper, eagerly.
"Well, now, I have seen a few dozen fellows this same morning, so I don't know which one you mean," replied Elmer, shaking his head in the negative.
"Lon Braddock!" almost whispered Jasper, looking after the group of fellows just starting away on their wheels.
Elmer shook his head and smiled.
"You've got me this time, Jasper," he remarked; "because, you see, I don't know that I ever heard that name before. Is he a new boy in Hickory Ridge; and does he say my work is off color?"
"But—he don't live in Hickory Ridge at all, Elmer," expostulated the other; "that's the trouble, you see."