As the two passed the bench where the Bridgeboro boys were sitting, the red-headed boy turned and gave them the scout salute with a merry smile.
“They live around here?” Artie asked.
“No,” said the salesman, inspecting Tom’s scout certificate to be sure that he was entitled to buy the official suit. “They’re down from their camp up Lake Champlain. Quite a pair, aren’t they?”
Artie felt that he would like to ask more about them, for he was sure they had been telling “their adventures,” as Pee-wee would have said, to the salesman. But scouts are not officious, and these particular scouts believed somewhat in Roy’s advice for winning the business badge; viz., Mind your own business.
The salesman, however, did vouchsafe them one little morsel of information while he was fitting Tom.
“They’ve got a great scheme on foot, those kids,” said he.
“I think I know what it is,” said Tom. “They’re going to give a scout suit to a new fellow for a surprise.”
“Sherlock Nobody Holmes again,” jeered Roy.
The man only laughed. “You scout fellows don’t seem to know what fear is, do you?” he added, pleasantly.
“We wouldn’t know it if we met it in the street,” said Roy, not, however, understanding the significance of the remark. “Tomasso’s the courageousest—look out he don’t bite you! We’ve been feeding him meat today.”