A rousing “tiger” was given, and then Mr. Wade motioned again for silence.
“I have been authorized by our three patrols,” he said, “represented by their leaders, to present to Harry Arnold, leader of the Beaver Patrol, 1st Oakwood, N. J., Troop, and to Gordon Lord, one of his scouts, the swastika badge of gratitude.
“These badges were made especially for our troop,” he went on, looking toward Gordon and Harry, “and were planned by us as a means of offering some grateful tribute to those who, whether scouts or not, may chance to do us some special service. Intrinsically they are mere trifles,” he said, holding up a small swastika of narrow band silver, “but they will serve as souvenirs to keep in memory deeds of which you two boys may be justly proud. They are given ‘lest you forget’ for your memories, it appears, are poor. One of you has already forgotten his achievement of last evening in praising the achievement of his friend; and his friend’s interest in mumbly-peg seems to be so great that he can remember little else.”
A general laugh followed this.
“He’s got eyes in the back of his head,” Frankie whispered confidentially, in Harry’s ear. “He’s on to everything.”
“These little testimonials of our admiration and gratitude are given you with the wish that you will remain with us as long as you can. But we realize that you are searching for your own troop, and we must not detain you long. It is the earnest request of our three patrols, who agree in this if in nothing else” (he glanced slyly at Frankie and at the Hyenas’ leader) “that you, at least, remain for camp-fire this evening and let us have you for our guests one night more.”
Harry stepped forward and received the little silver swastika badge in his easy, offhand, but not ungrateful manner; then Gordon, beaming with pride and delight, and smiling his scout smile from ear to ear. It was the first honor he had received from the Boy Scouts, and though many honors were to come his way, there was never another one which gave him just the same pleasure. And though he was destined to learn much, there was one thing that he never learned, and that was why, with such a fellow as Harry Arnold to admire, scouts, young and old (to say nothing of scoutmasters), loved to make him smile his scout smile and persisted in helping him, in jollying him, in liking him, and in cheering him like wild Indians whenever they got the chance.
CHAPTER XI
FRANKIE SQUARES ACCOUNTS
“Come, come, hurry up, Frankie! Don’t be all day! Are you all there? Where’s the Stetson twins?”
“Coming,” answered Frankie, as he and three of his patrol reached the shore. “What’s in that bottle?”