"My eye, they are making a song about it," remarked little Reggie Scott. "I wish you had let me bear a hand instead of sending me away to make coffee, Atherton."
"Yours was not the least part of the business, Scott," replied the Leader. "We were all jolly glad you did your part so well, I can assure you. But I agree with you, they are making a song about it. It reminds me of Shakespeare's words: 'Seeking a bubble reputation at the cannon's mouth.' That's what the bard said, eh, Phillips?"
"I don't know," replied that worthy. "I only hope we won't be bothered too much, or our holiday will be somewhat spoiled."
Maintaining a steady pace, the Scouts made light work of their march to Wadebridge. Arriving there they were greeted by Everest and Baker, who, looking as "chirpy as crickets," were patrolling the station platform.
"No luck yet," said the former, nonchalantly. "The Scoutmaster hasn't turned up yet."
"Why didn't you return last night, then?" asked Atherton.
"Return? You said we were to wait for Mr Buckley. We've had a ripping time. One of the porters made us a jolly bed in the waiting-room, and the stationmaster gave us supper and breakfast. And we know an awful lot how railways are run now, Atherton. You've missed something."
After being told this on two occasions that morning, Atherton began to think he really had missed a novel experience.
"We've had a wire," he remarked. "Mr Buckley is arriving by the 11.15. Only another ten minutes to wait."
"Here she comes," announced Atherton, when at length the train was observed in the distance. "Form up, lads, and let's give our new Scoutmaster a proper Scouts' welcome."