“We’ll be only too glad to do that, sir,” Josh told him; for Mr. Witherspoon had by this time firmly entrenched himself in the affections of his boys, who believed him to be the best scout master any troop had ever boasted, barring none.
After seeing the car start, and giving Walter a rousing send-off that must have done his heart good, the rest of the boys concluded to turn their faces toward the camp.
“Three hours will seem an age to Billy Button,” said Horace, who was feeling quite proud of the fact that he had been chosen as one of the litter-bearers.
“Oh! he’ll have plenty to do cleaning all those fish we caught this morning, and some other odd jobs I gave him,” remarked Josh, carelessly.
“Billy is inclined to be timid,” Felix observed, loftily; “and it’s a good thing, for him to be left alone once in a while. Nothing like making a scout feel he’s just got to depend on himself for things.”
The three miles was soon covered by the returning eight scouts.
“I can see smoke ahead!” announced Josh presently.
“Yes, and there’s the pond shining in the light of the sun,” added Felix.
“Isn’t that our chum, Billy, waving his hands to us?” asked George. “Looks as if he wanted us to hurry up some. I wonder what’s happened now?”
“Oh! he’s only anxious for us to join him,” said Carl; “perhaps he made a mistake in the time we were to be back, and he’s gone and cooked all the fish.”