“The plot grows thicker,” said Roy. “What’s all this about a bottle?”
“And regulation seven,” said another scout. “What the dickens regulation is that? Let’s go up and see.”
Just for the fun of it they all strolled up toward Main Pavilion. Fastened to the trunk of an oak tree just outside it was the bulletin-board at which Hervey Willetts, the most picturesque scout that had ever visited camp, had thrown a luscious, soft tomato, which exploit had an interesting sequel elsewhere told. How strange the camp seemed that summer without the captivating personality of that wandering minstrel.
“He said he wouldn’t be here this summer,” said a scout reminiscently.
“That’s what makes me think maybe he will be,” said another.
“Anything’s likely with him,” said a third.
“One, two, three, four, five, six, here it is—seven,” said a scout, following the rules down with his finger, and reading aloud:
7—The rights of property, owned or hired, are to be respected by all scouts. A scout shall not trespass upon any farm or other property while a guest at this camp. It is likewise unscoutlike for a scout to enter without permission the cabin, tent or precincts, of another scout, or of a troop or patrol of which he is not a member. He shall not use without permission any boat or canoe assigned to other scouts. No explanation of practical joking or of other innocent intent shall excuse him from the stigma of trespassing when he crosses or enters property officially assigned to others within the camp limits.
“What’s the idea?” a scout asked curiously. “Just a few of us sat on the edge of the float. The kid didn’t seem to object.”
“Maybe he means we’d better not go near his stalking signs while he’s away,” another said. “He’s watching a couple of nests in that big elm.”