Patrol Leader Conyers was about to yell, “Come in the yard,” when he checked himself. His mother had not joined the scout ranks and Connie had no reason to believe she had changed her views on the desirability of her son’s associating with any Goosetowner. But not to be impolite or forgetful of his invitation he ordered his scouts into line once more. Then, that the visitors might have a full and close view of all the new Wolf Patrol glory, he led his squad proudly out into the street and past the half defiant quartette.
“Some neckties!” commented Mart Clare. “Take it from me.”
“What’s the sticks fur?” asked Carrots Compton derisively.
“Talk about yer Wild West!” added Buck Bluett. “Baby Buffalo Bills, all right.”
“What’s on the flag?” asked Hank with more sincerity. “By gravy!” he exclaimed as the undisciplined Sammy proudly dropped it for inspection. “If it ain’t a howlin’ wolf an’ no less.”
“What’s the matter with Kyotes?” snickered Carrots Compton. “Ye can tame a wolf.”
There was no reply from the ranks. The recently belligerent Elm Streeters were now soldiers with a leader. Some of them were choking red in the face, but with shoulders squared, they filed by their old enemies without a retort. A moment later, with a file right and column front, the little cavalcade wheeled and marched directly up to the four bewildered Goosetowners. As if about to sweep down their guests, the column advanced to within a few feet of Hank and his friends.
“Halt!” ordered Patrol Leader Conyers.
Sharply and with heels squarely together, the line came to a stand.
“Salute!”