ROY HANDED THE BOX OF MATCHES TO THE JUDGE
I said, “You can’t do that on account of your patrol; they’ll have to vote on it.”
They voted on it all right, and every single one of them voted for him to stay. Elected by a large unanimity, hey? It wasn’t a vote; it was a census.
I said, “What do you fellows think the Silver Fox Patrol is? A Salvation Army Home? Haven’t we got enough on our hands with Alexander the Great?”
That’s all they cared about. Jiminies, my patrol is easy.
So the ones that were left in Bridgeboro were the following, only they weren’t much of a following, because every one of them goes his own way:
First comes me—I mean I—correct. I’m patrol leader. If you want to know what I look like, look on the cover of this book. Maybe you think I’m always happy like that, but, believe me, if you had to manage that bunch you’d look sad. That picture was taken just after I got through subduing a strawberry sundae. Life is not all joy, quoth he; that’s what I say.
If I should die Westy Martin would inherit my throne. He’s kind of sober, that fellow is. He’s got eleven merit badges. He’s assistant. Next comes Dorry Benton. I wouldn’t say anything against him only he’s very saving. He does six good turns every Monday, and then he doesn’t have to bother for the rest of the week. His favorite fruit is mashed potatoes. Next comes Huntley Manners—Bad Manners, that’s what we call him. He’s got the bronze cross. They’ve got a parrot up at his house. Gee whiz, I guess the parrot doesn’t get a chance to talk much with him there. Then comes Charlie Seabury. Then comes Brick Warner, he’s got red hair. Ralph Warner is his brother—it isn’t his fault. They’re twins. Last but not least comes Alexis Alexander Sparks, S. B.—scout bandit.
Then comes Pee-wee Harris, last but the most of all. But he isn’t in my patrol. Thank goodness for that.
So now you know the brave warriors who stood the Siege of Cat-tail Marsh and took possession of the Bridgeboro River. You can just imagine us sitting there in the car, after the other two patrols have started for camp. Little we knew what was going to happen. And a lot we cared.