Most of the morning we rested up and got our patrol cabins cleaned out and all fixed up, and in the afternoon we banged around and got acquainted with some of the new troops.
Just before supper, Westy and I went down for a swim and there were Connie Bennett and two or three of the Elks diving with Skinny. A whole lot of fellows were standing around watching. Most of them laughed at Skinny, but they all had to admit he was a crackerjack. I knew the Elks were just kind of showing him off and putting him through a lot of freak stunts just to get their name up around the camp.
After supper, Westy and I and a new fellow in an Ohio troop were rowing around near the shore. He was an awful nice fellow—quiet like—just like me, only different. All of a sudden we noticed Skinny standing on the shore and he called out and asked us if we'd take him in.
"Better watch your step," Westy said; "safety first."
"Where's your patrol?" I called to him.
"They went on a hike," he called back; "can I go with you?"
"You go and ask Mr. Ellsworth," I said; "and if he says it's all right, come ahead."
We could see him scooting pell mell around the edge of the cooking shack, his spindle legs as thin as sticks. Bert Winton (that was the new fellow) watched him, kind of laughing, and then he said, "Queer little codger, isn't he?"
I said, "Yes, he's new and he came out of the slums. I guess he'll never work in harness; that's what our scoutmaster says."
"Swims like an eel," Winton said; "why didn't they take him hiking, I wonder?"