“The camp is going to give him a wireless set.”
“Gee!”
“It’s a peach, too! Did you hear what Jeb’s going to give him? An elk’s head—gee, you ought to see the antlers on it. He wrote to some ranch or other away out in Montana to send it. He shot the elk himself. Roosevelt told him it was one of the finest he ever saw.”
“He ought to know,” said Garry.
“There’s where you said something! It’ll be appropriate, hey—Elk Patrol. And, let’s see, the Bridgeboro Troop’s going to give him a high grade searchlight for tracking. Jeb nearly fell off his grocery box when he heard that! He thinks you ought to go blindfold when you’re tracking. Then there’s a lot of crazy stuff—that fellow Blakeley hasn’t had any sleep the last week thinking up fool things. He’s going to give Tom a cat’s collar to use for a belt.”
“That’s a good one,” laughed Raymond.
“And—oh, I don’t know what all. Pee-wee Harris is going to give him Boy’s Life for a year——”
“Next Saturday, isn’t it?” asked Garry, indifferently.
“Yes—Elks will be two years old. Blakeley was telling me their whole history. You don’t mind if I sit down on these bricks, do you. It’s kind of damp on the ground. Do all your own cooking here?”
“Yes, most of it. Make yourself at home.”