As for Martin Green, Walter Lonsdale and Joe Digby, they contented themselves with hoping that they might receive their badges as second-class scouts when the camp was over.
"I can take the whole tests except cooking the meat and potatoes in the 'Billy,'" bemoaned young Green, a small chap of about thirteen. "Somehow, they always seem to burn, or else they don't cook at all."
"Well, cheer up, Martin," laughed Rob. "You'll learn to do it in camp. We'll make you cook for the whole time we're out there, if you like—that will give you plenty of practice."
"No, thank you," chimed in Andy Bowles. "I've seen some of Mart's cooking, and I think the farther you keep him from the cook fire, the better for the general health of the Eagle Patrol."
At this moment there came a rap on the door.
"Come in!" shouted Rob.
In reply to this invitation, the door opened and a lad of about fifteen entered. His face was flushed and he bore in his hand a long sheet of green paper.
"Hello, Frank Farnham," exclaimed Rob glancing at the boy's flushed, excited face. "What's troubling you?"
"Oh, hello, Rob. Excuse me for butting in on your ceremonies, but I was told Paul Perkins was here."
"Sure he is, Frank," exclaimed Paul, coming forward. "What's the matter? It's much too warm to be flying around the way you seem to have been. Come in under this fan."