"Boys," said he, turning to the Gingham Ground bunch just as they were starting away. "I have organized these eight village lads into a patrol of the Boy Scouts of America and we have planned to have a campfire this evening on Bob's Hill. These Scouts of mine mean all right. They are simply working off a little misdirected patriotism. Now, what we want, is for you to meet with us, you and the rest of the Gang. Will you do it?"
They didn't want to at first.
"There are Boy Scouts," he went on, "in all parts of the civilized world; in England, too, Gabriel, as well as in this country, and the Law says that all Scouts are brothers to every other Scout. There are a half million in the United States alone. I have been appointed Scoutmaster for this district and I want to organize one or two more patrols so that I can have a troop. I have had you boys in mind ever since you so nobly turned out to help find William, the time he was hurt on Greylock. It will be much the same as the Gang, only better. You can keep the same leader if you wish, and I know a man who will buy uniforms for you all. Will you come to-night so that we can talk it over? What do you say?"
The uniform business settled it.
"We'll come, if the rest of the Gang will," they told him.
"Good! Shake hands on it."
"Attention, Scouts!" shouted Mr. Norton, after he had shaken hands.
"Salute enemy!"
We gave the Scout salute to the Gingham Ground boys, while they stood there grinning and not knowing what to do.
Then, after whispering together, they gave us the Gang yell. It was great.