“Prepare to form riot wedge!” ordered the scoutmaster, crisply. “One!”
There was a rapid thud of feet and a swift, scurrying movement which might have seemed to the uninitiated meaningless and without purpose. But when the stir had ceased and silence fell, each of the three patrols had formed itself into a regular wedge with one of the largest, strongest boys at the apex and the patrol-leader standing in the middle of the base. Their staves were upright, but at the sharp command of “Two!” these swung into a horizontal position, the ends crossing and the whole becoming a continuous barrier with the boys behind it.
“Fine and dandy!” approved Mr. Curtis. “That’s more the way it ought to go. Now, let’s try the double wedge I showed you last week. Eagle patrol, dress a little to the left; Beavers to the right. Ready? One!”
This time there was a little more confusion, for the movement was newer and more complicated than the other. Raven patrol took position as before, though spreading out a bit and gathering in a boy from each of the other patrols to form the ends of the larger wedge. The Eagle and Beaver patrols then swung around against either side of the wedge, each boy covering the space between the two lads behind him. The final manœuver thus presented a double row of scouts linked together by their lowered staves into a formation that would be equally effective in pushing through a dense crowd or withstanding the pressure of their assaults.
“Good!” smiled Mr. Curtis. “A bit slow, of course, but we’ll get it all right. Now, fellows, I’d like to have a full attendance next week. Captain Chalmers will address the troop on a special matter, and I think by that time I’ll have a rather pleasant surprise for you. Has any one any questions to ask before we break up?”
Court Parker saluted, his face serious save for an irrepressible twinkle in his eyes. “Couldn’t you–er–tell us about the surprise to-night, sir?” he asked. “Next week’s an awful long time off, you know.”
The scoutmaster smiled. “You’ll enjoy it all the more when it comes,” he returned. “Besides, it isn’t quite ready to be told yet. I think that’s all to-night, fellows. Patrol-leaders dismiss their patrols.”
As the crowd poured out of the building a chorus of eager speculation arose.
“Wonder if it’s anything to do with camp,” suggested Frank Sanson.
“How could it be?” objected Dale Tompkins, his arm across Ranny Phelps’s shoulder. “Camp couldn’t be much better than it was last summer; and if he’s had word we can’t use the place–well, that wouldn’t be exactly pleasant.”