"Different inside an' out," put in Chick-chick. "Jus' like old Matty is, it was. Good old Bread Box. Go on in an' see what's inside, Brick."
"All right," Glen agreed. "Lead the way."
"Don't be 'fraid, Brick. Go in all your own self. It's a surprise."
Cautiously Glen pushed open the handsome door and stepped inside. Nothing happened. He looked around the spacious room with its home-like accommodations and its air of easy comfort. From a chair by the window a gentleman arose and started leisurely toward him. Glen covered the intervening space in two jumps.
"Will!" he shouted. "Will Spencer! Look out—you'll fall!"
"Never more, you good old scout," said Jolly Bill, as he flung a strong arm around Glen's broad shoulders. "I can walk as gracefully as you if not as powerfully. I'm all O. K., warranted not to slip or stumble, ready to give a Castle Cakewalk or an imitation of a Highland fling at a moment's notice. What do you think of your new home?"
"Splendid!" replied Glen. "Too fine for a scout camp, though. It makes it too easy."
"And the easy life isn't the best life is it, you hard old Brick? But Mr. Newton understands that. This isn't the camp—just the club-house. You'll find the camp a half mile up Buffalo Creek as wild as ever, and do you know what they've named it this year?"
"I give it up," said Glen.
"It's named in honor of the scout who has done most with his opportunities this year."