"I don't know about it," Benny told us afterward, when we were talking it over. "I'm 'most sorry that we did it. I shall always be thinking that if it hadn't been for us those men wouldn't be locked up away from birds and grass and trees. Maybe they didn't have such good folks as we've got. You know that guy out in Illinois didn't have."
But after we saw Pa we felt better about it.
"I'm glad you feel that way," said he. "Still you did the right thing after you found out about the robbery. I wouldn't advise you, however, to go around taking photographs of burglars. You might get into trouble another time. It surely is an awful thing to be in state's prison, but being away from the trees and grass is not the worst thing about it. The worst thing is being so bad that you have to be locked up in order to make other people safe. It is a terrible thing to be a criminal, whether you are in prison or not."
He was quiet for a minute; then went on:
"I can't think of a worse prison for a human soul than a human body that does mean things, lies and steals or is vile in any way."
A few days later when Skinny and I went to the post-office together the postmaster handed him a letter.
"I say," said he, "you have been promoted, haven't you?"
On the envelope was written, "Captain Gabriel Miller, Patrol Leader, Raven Patrol, Boy Scouts of America."
It made us both excited.
"It's for the whole patrol," said Skinny, trying to look through it. "I don't think I ought to open it until we are all together, and I hardly can wait."