The scouts and their new friend strolled out onto Main Street and, pausing there in a little group, continued talking.
“If you think we’re the kind to get an idea from you and then go and use it and leave you out, you’re mistaken,” said Connie Bennett.
“The camp isn’t mine,” their new friend said, hesitatingly.
“No, but that particular job is yours,” Westy Martin insisted, “and we’re on that job, if we go there at all.”
“That’s a good argument,” Pee-wee ejaculated.
“Are you staying up there?” Connie asked.
The stranger seemed pleased, even relieved. That uncertain, diffident smile hovered for a moment about his mouth. “I’d treat you right, that’s sure,” he said. “It’s pretty hard for a fellow to get work. I just sort of stumbled into this–”
“Well, I’m glad you stumbled into us, too,” said Roy, a note of sympathy and sincerity in his voice that there was no mistaking. “We’ll have to speak to our mothers and fathers, but don’t you worry, we have them trained all right. We have cooking outfits and everything, too. We’ll take a hike up there to-morrow. We’d like to make some money, but gee whiz, that isn’t the only thing we care about. Camping and all that–that’s what we like. Don’t we, Westy?”
“Where can we find you up there?” Westy asked.
“You go up the Knickerbocker Road and right in through the old entrance,” Blythe said. “The second shack you come to on your left is where I’m bunking. You’ll see me around somewhere.”