He paused awkwardly, glowering around the circle of wide-eyed boys.
“I had no idea you were able to walk so far,” put in Mr. Curtis, quickly, “or we’d certainly have invited you to eat lunch with us. Won’t you let the boys cook you something now? They’re mighty proud of the way they can–”
“I’ve had dinner,” interrupted the old man, hastily. He fumbled for a moment with the stout cane he carried; then his gaze returned to the scoutmaster. “I heard you sayin’ somethin’ about feedin’ birds,” he said curtly. “I didn’t know you– What was it you meant?”
Briefly Mr. Curtis explained their methods of establishing feeding-stations through the woods and caring for them. When he had finished, Mr. Grimstone nodded.
“Humph!” he commented grumpily, “I–I like the birds. One o’ the reasons I wouldn’t–” He paused again and glowered at the boys. “They couldn’t make a log-cabin,” he stated positively. “It would be too much like real work.”
A sudden stir went through the group. Mr. Curtis smiled. “I should hate to set them at it unless I really wanted it done,” he laughed.
“How’d they know what trees to cut an’ what to leave? They’d make a mess o’ the whole place.”
“Not with proper supervision,” argued Mr. Curtis.
“Would you look after it?” inquired the old man, sharply.
“Certainly! I’d gladly constitute myself general foreman.”