Glancing aside at the boys who were busy with their culinary duties, he stepped lightly upon the porch and with a military salute called out:
“Good evening, boys; I am glad to meet you.”
Scout Master Hall and every youth sprang to their feet and made the regulation salute, the leader advancing and offering his hand.
“And I assure you we are all pleased to welcome you. You are in time to join us at supper and of course will stay over night. Are you alone?”
“I am; my name is George Burton and my home is in the city of New York. I am spending a week or two at the Hotel Samoset on Mouse Island, but must soon leave to meet my folks on their return from the other side.”
“Did you come from Mouse Island to-day?” inquired Scout Master Hall.
“I left there early this morning; crossed to Boothbay Harbor and then struck on foot, just as my brother and I did last summer in tramping through Switzerland. A farmer gave me a ride of several miles, when I resorted to shanks-mare again. Then I caught another ride—not quite so long as the former—until I came to the half-broken track through the woods, over which I believe the wagon labors that brings your supplies. I had heard that a party of Boy Scouts were stopping at the clubhouse, which I saw from the other side of the lake, so I skirted the sheet of water to this point.”
“That makes a pretty good tramp for one day,” remarked the Scout Master.
“I have done a good deal better, and I am sure it would not tax any one of you. You asked me a few minutes ago if I were alone; I am, but I expect soon to be joined by a friend.”
Young Burton laughed at the surprised looks turned toward him.