“Are you with us?” Connie asked.
“Sure, he’s with us!” cried Roy. “Who’s deciding this, Warrentown or Bridgeboro? We’ll drag both of them along by the legs the way they dragged the rag scout, hey?”
The party made a pleasant stay at the big training camp, walking through the straight, neat avenues of tents, visiting the commissary, watching the drill, and lingering, fascinated, about the rookies who were busy at rifle practice. They were made very welcome and it was not without a feeling of regret that they went aboard the two boats after the colors had been lowered. But Plattsburg, of which they were to hear so much later, had been merely the chosen point of destination for their rambling inland cruise, and as Mr. Ellsworth had remarked, time was beginning to be precious.
The hospitable Bridgeboro Troop, with its strangely acquired new member and its several guests, lolled upon the deck and cabin roof of the Honor Scout that night, as the two boats waited at their moorings for the dawn which would mean their departure on the speedier journey homeward.
As the moon rose over the wide bosom of the great lake and flickered the waters with its silvery brightness, Harry Stanton sat upon the cabin locker, strumming his ukulele, and those who were in the mood hummed the soft airs while the others listened. Often whole days would elapse in which Harry Stanton would be scarcely heard from, but in the quiet of those summer nights upon the water he contributed his full share to the pleasure of the party.
If you, to whom I am about to bid a short farewell, are a scout of the scouts, see to it that some one of your troop’s number learns to play a mandolin, a banjo, or guitar—even if you have to drag him by the leg, as young Frank dragged the unfortunate dummy.
After a little while some one discovered that Roy was not among them, and there was set up at once a hue and cry for him, for such an evening could be no more complete without Roy than a Buffalo Bill Show would be without Buffalo Bill or a circus without peanuts.
“Maybe he’s in the other boat,” said one.
“Maybe he’s on shore,” said another.
It was Pee-wee who dragged him forth from the forward end of the cabin, where he had been ensconced, knees up, “far from the madding crowd.”