Neither Glen nor Jervice knew that Matt was not only able to be about but was at that moment within ten feet of them, being, in fact, just that distance above their heads in a tree which seemed to him to offer such facilities as wild bees might desire in choosing a home. He kept very quiet in his "honey tree" and looked down on them with contempt for both.
"Up to some tricks," he muttered to himself.
The J. Jervice autowagon was not so very far away, but the two were well out of range of Matt's vision before they reached it.
"Now, to begin with," said J. Jervice. "Are you one o' them scouts or ain't you?"
"I am," replied Glen. "I'm a tenderfoot."
"Tenderfoot, eh! Reckon you ain't so tender. Well, why don't ye wear one o' them uniforms, so's to make ye look like one?"
"I haven't any uniform, yet. Perhaps I could borrow one. What's that got to do with a treasure hunt?"
"It's got a whole lot to do with it. People knows that boys wearing them uniforms is straight, an' we want you to look straight as a string."
"I'm going to get one as soon as I can," Glen assured him. "I want to look straight—that is part of the oath, 'physically strong, mentally awake and morally straight.'"
"I don't know nothink about no oaths like that," objected Mr. Jervice, in a dubious tone which indicated that he might know more about other varieties. "We don't care about yer being so straight—jest so ye look straight."