With four patrols, Ravens, Silver Foxes, Elks and Alligators, Mr. Ellsworth, that never-tiring friend of scouting, had his hands full. In the new patrol was little Joe McKinny, alias Keekie Joe of Barrel Alley, so really Mr. Ellsworth’s hands were more than full, they were overflowing.
When school closed the entire troop excepting Pee-wee and Townsend Ripley went to Temple Camp in the Catskills. The reason why Townsend deferred his going was because his parents intended shortly to go to Orange Lake, near Newburgh, to spend the summer and wished Townsend to drive them there in the flivver.
He intended then to motor on to Temple Camp, which, as all friends of the Bridgeboro boys know, is situated among the mountains five or six miles in from Catskill Landing. Pee-wee, who loved everything, above all things loved motoring, and he had lingered behind to accompany Townsend and, as he said, “show him the right way.”
“You have our sympathy,” Roy Blakeley of the Silver Foxes had said to the leader of the new patrol.
“That’s all right,” Townsend had said; “the flivver makes lots of noise and will drown his voice. Don’t worry about me, I’m all right. We’ll come rattling up to camp in a few days.”
“Maybe we’ll be there in two days,” Pee-wee had shouted.
“Don’t hurry,” Roy had answered.
“Maybe we’ll be there by Saturday,” Pee-wee had announced in a voice of thunder.
“Any time you’re passing we’d be glad to see you—pass,” Roy had said.
“Drop in some time when you’re at the lake,” Connie Bennett had remarked.