"You say you're a Boy Scout, too," called back Jerry over his shoulder.
"Yes, I'm a Boy Scout, first class, and I've got the badges to prove it too."
"What are they?" inquired Dunk eagerly.
"One's for athletics—basketball's my game—one's for handicraft, and the other—" Fred paused an instant with a smile—"the other's for aviation."
There was a gasp of surprise, then Fly stuck a hand across the trunks. "Shake old man!" he cried. They shook hands solemnly.
For some minutes, while Jerry's team lunged ahead and the freight wagon swung like a vessel adrift, Windham and Fly forgot even Boy Scout matters. But there was no time for prolonged talk, although each boy related what he had studied on the subject of aviation. The exhilaration of the ride was too much.
"Tell you what," Windham almost shouted, "I'm certainly glad to get out here. Airships, Boy Scouts and a ranch too—Whoopee! Real cowpunchers and roundups!"
He paused as a shout of laughter went up.
"Wait till we put Herb next!" gasped Jerry. "Wow! Ain't that a peach though. Cowpunchers!"
"Well, I'll bite," exclaimed Fred. "What's the joke?"