Say, it looked good to the Band, except Bill, after Skinny had read the book to us a little, sitting there on the roof. It was a good deal like what we had been doing, only more so. Even Bill said it was almost as good as being Injuns and when Benny heard about the uniforms he hardly could wait.
"How are we going to do it?" I asked, after we had talked until we were tired.
"That is what I came to tell you about," said Skinny. "Mr. Norton, who teaches my class in Sunday school, is getting one up."
"One what, Skinny?" asked Benny, his eyes bulging out like saucers, he was so interested.
"Something he called a 'patrol.' You see, the Boy Scouts are almost like an army, with all kinds of officers, only they call them different names, and the different companies are called patrols. He is getting up a patrol in the Sunday school and wanted me in that, but when I told him about the Band he said that we could have a patrol of our own, if we wanted to. There are eight of us, you know, and that is just enough. I don't know much about it yet, but Mr. Norton wants me to bring the Band up to his house Monday night and talk it over. He's going to have ice cream; I heard him say so to Mrs. Norton."
When he said that last, he looked at Bill, because Bill liked ice cream, although he didn't seem to think much of the Scout business.
"Will you go?" asked Skinny. "I've got to tell him to-morrow, so he'll know how much ice cream to make."
Benny looked at me and I could see by the way his eyes were shining that he wanted to go. But Bill never likes to change his mind.
"I think we ought to vote on it," he said, "and have Pedro put it in the minutes of the meetin'."
"Shall I put it down in invisible ink," I asked, "or in the kind that shows?"