“What’s the matter?” asked Artie Van Arlen.
Roy squatted in his customary attitude, holding a paper in his hand.
“I was thinking about all the crazy things that have happened,” said he, “and the fellows we’ve met on this trip, and believe me, it’s some hodge-podge. I was coming down from that big commissary tent, scout pace, when some poetry jumped into my noddle. Did you ever notice how poetry comes to you when you go scout pace?” he asked, turning to Mr. Ellsworth.
“No, I never did,” said the scoutmaster.
“Want to hear it? It’s a sort of—sort of a national anthem of the troop——”
“Troop anthem?”
“It isn’t fixed up yet because the kid interrupted me. Do you want to hear it?”
“I dare say I can stand it if the others can,” said the scoutmaster.
“Go ahead, shoot!” said Doc.
“Get the agony over with,” said Connie.