But Bunny was gone. Snatching his cap from the hall rack, he dashed out the door while she was still speaking. Aunt Emma sighed. She wondered if she would ever understand boys.
The clubhouse of the Black Eagles was ablaze with light. At the door, Bunny hesitated, uncertain of his welcome. While he was summoning courage to enter, he placed an affectionate hand on one of the rough logs that formed the wall, and stared with winking eyes at the jutting roof overhead. It was not a showy house, but it was staunch and honest from peak to foundation. He remembered the sacrifices he had made to help build it for the old patrol.
The doorway was in the shadow of one of the middle pillars. Under cover of this half-light, Bunny edged cautiously into the big room. All the boys in town seemed to be there, from Buck Claxton, sitting on the front bench, to Prissy Prissler, conspicuous in a new Scout uniform. Bunny counted them with nervous haste. Twenty-four. He counted again, hoping against hope that he had miscalculated. But the result was the same. Twenty-four boys; twenty-four Scouts. A patrol was eight; three times eight was twenty-four. The twenty-fifth—well, there was no use dodging the plain facts. There were three full patrols, with one boy over. He sucked in his breath with a curious whistling sound.
On the platform at the far end of the room, Horace Hibbs rose to his feet. He had a paper in his hand.
"First of all, boys," he began, beaming upon them with his fatherly smile, "I shall read you the roster of the Scouts of the Lakeville Troop. It is composed, as you all know, of three patrols—the Kangaroos, the Buffaloes, and the Black Eagles. The membership of the Kangaroo Patrol is as follows: Leader, Sheffield; Assistant Leader, Kiproy; No. 3, Collins—"
Bunny did not hear the other names. He was waiting with fast-beating heart for the roll call of the Black Eagles. But when Scout Master Hibbs finished with the Kangaroos, he began reading the names of those who had formed the Buffalo Patrol:
"Leader, Claxton; Assistant Leader, Barrett; No. 3, Turner—"
It seemed to Bunny he would never come to the end of the list. When he did finally, the boy at the door shrank deeper into the enshrouding gloom.
"The present organization of the Black Eagles," droned Horace Hibbs, "is as follows: Leader, Cree; Assistant Leader, Jones; No. 3, Meeker; No. 4, McGrew; No. 5, Zane; No. 6, Magoon; No. 7, Henderson; No. 8, Prissler."
Well, it was over at last. Bunny knew now who that twenty-fifth boy was—himself. What had happened? Why had he been dropped? He groped his way toward the door of the clubhouse,—the house that he had planned and helped to build. It was wrong! It couldn't be true! Surely, his ears had played him some hideous trick.