We stopped at Pulpit Rock a minute to see the falls and the foaming pool below; then followed Skinny down the side of the steep ravine to our cave at the edge of the stream.
"The meetin' will come to order," said Skinny, after we had crawled in and were sitting on the floor. "Are we all here?"
"I am," said Benny, "and I," "and I," "and I," said the others, faster than I could count them.
"All the fellers that want to go to Mr. Norton's," said Skinny, as soon as he had found that everybody was there, "to see about this Scout business—and eat ice cream," he added, looking at Bill when he said it, "mark a cross on the floor of the cave with your knives."
Everybody marked except Bill. He didn't have his knife with him.
"It's all right," said he. "I'll go, anyhow, knife or no knife. I'd rather be an Injun than a Scout any day in the week, but there ain't any use letting that ice cream go to waste."
"'Tis well," said Skinny. "We have spoken."