The troop sat on the stage, one patrol occupying each side, with chairs in the center for the scoutmaster and the members of the local council. The corporal of each patrol held its banner on the end of a scout staff. On two pedestals in the background were mounted a stuffed hawk and a beaver—the gifts of Mr. Lord. On a rustic, rough-hewn board, suspended above the center of the stage by ropes tied in the standard knots which every scout must know, was printed the scouts’ motto,
BE PREPARED
Most of the boys had already taken their seats when Harry came quietly in and dropped into the chair reserved for the Beavers’ patrol leader, next to Corporal Greer, who held the banner staff. He actually wore his khaki suit.
“Doesn’t he look fine?” said Tom Langford, in an audible whisper.
“Su—perb!” answered Charlie, turning.
“Harry, your beautiful, willowy form—”
“Keep still, will you!” said Harry.
“Say, Harry boy,” said George Conway, leaning forward, “do look at those girls in the second row! Do, please look, Harry, they simply can’t take their eyes off you!”
“Go on, Harry, look,” Bert Waring urged.
The Hawk Patrol smiled significantly, across the stage, and Mac opened his eyes and drew a long breath in pantomimic admiration, which was not wholly lost on the audience. It was fortunate for Harry that Red Deer and the local council came on at this critical and embarrassing juncture, escorting the gentleman from headquarters. Both patrols rose, making the full salute. Then some one in the audience called, “Three cheers for Dr. Brent!” The doctor stood, smiling and wiping his gold spectacles, while three cheers were given that made the rafters ring, the troop doing their full share. Then both patrols took their seats.