"We're hitting up the pace. We're going strong, and bound to make things hustle right up to Thanksgiving Day! Every fellow do his level best to bring that banner home to Stanhope!" cried Jud Elderkin.
"We can do it!" yelled half a dozen in chorus.
"Why, its easy money, boys. Just organized, and not a second class scout in the troop yet, but look at what we've done. Give us a little time, and we're going to make the Beavers and Bald Eagles, and all the rest of 'em, sit up and take notice!" avowed Nuthin'.
"And wait until you hear the inspiring sound of my bugle, which I expect to have at the next meeting," said Bobolink, proudly.
"Huh! that won't h-h-hold a c-c-candle to my d-d-drum!" declared Bluff, waving his arms wildly, as though he could already imagine the great fun in store when that instrument came to hand.
And so the meeting broke up, with the scouts disbanding for the day. Some lingered to try once more the various stunts that interested them most. It seemed as if every fellow's heart might be wrapped up in the desire to win that coveted trophy, and bring the banner to his home town.
Strange to say there had not been a single mention of the other Stanhope organization. None of them believed that Ted and Ward would be able to make the least show in the competition. They knew the habits of these fellows only too well. As a rule, they never won, save through trickery; and in the eyes of the committee appointed by the donor of the banner, anything that smacked of double dealing would be rigidly barred from the game.
Paul and Jack, as usual, walked home together, arm in arm.
As the recognized leaders in the movement that had so lately struck the boys of Stanhope, they must always have much to talk over.
Besides that, they had their own personal affairs to discuss.