Believe me, that was some night. I guess I knew how Skinny felt when he scooted off, because after camp-fire I felt just that same way myself. Christmas! I don't know how it feels to win the gold cross, and I guess I never will either, but just the same, after camp-fire that night, I just felt as if I wanted to go and be by myself—I can't tell you why.
It's fine hanging around the camp-fire after it's died down, but they're pretty sure to chase you off to bed if you do that. It's a danger zone, believe me. Anyway, I know a peach of a place on a big rock near the shore. You just go along under the spring-board and pass the boat landing and follow the path. So I went there and pretty soon Hunt Ward came along on his way to the Elk cabin, and he stopped a couple of minutes and talked to me.
"Well," he said, "we've got that little old medal in our patrol."
"You've got Alf in your patrol, you mean," I said.
"I don't know whether you could exactly say he earned it," he said; "because he was crazy and didn't know what he was doing."
"I wish I knew some more fellows who were crazy like that," I told him.
"You seem to be kind of sore at us, Foxy," he said. Most of them called me Foxy, because I'm leader of the Silver Foxes.
"There's a difference between a mascot and a regular friend," I told him. "You fellows treat Skinny just as if he was a sort of a mascot. Why don't you take him in with you, just like you would any other fellow?"
"He's a queer little duck," Hunt said.
"That isn't any reason why you shouldn't take him in. I'm not saying you haven't—now. And I'm glad if you have, that's sure. You ought to read him the Handbook and teach him some of the other stuff—the laws and all that. Gee, that's the least you could do, now he's won the cross for you."