"It's your friend, the brook," came back the answer, in a sweet, gurgly voice. "I'm a Scout, too. Hear me sing."
"So am I," came the deep voice of the mountain back of me. "A Scout should be brave. Sleep, my brother. I'll watch over you."
"So are we Scouts," came in whisperings from every side, through the darkness, and I knew that the trees were talking to me. "We'll take care of you."
Then I grew brave all in a minute and started up to go to them. As I did so, the darkness fled, leaving me there lying on the ground in broad daylight, while the brook sang its loudest and all the trees waved good-morning. Would you believe it? I had slept all night long and dreamed that about the brook and the mountain.
On the way home, I came in sight of the houses of the village before ten o'clock, tired but happy because I had done the last test and now could be a First Class Scout.
Benny met me outside the village, and he looked scared when he saw that I was alone.
"Have you seen Bill Wilson?" he shouted, as soon as he could make me hear.
"I missed him somewhere," I called. "He must have come back by the east road. Why? What's the matter?"
He already was hurrying home so fast that I hardly could catch up with him. As he ran he shouted back over his shoulder something that set my heart to beating and made me forget how tired I was.
"Bill hasn't come back."