“Sure. We always like to meet scouts when we go to other cities. Do you happen to know any?”
Mr. Wilde, seeing that Westy was started on the right track, motioned Billy and Rip to go on up with him to their rooms.
“No, I don’t know any,” the clerk said, leaning over the counter, “but I know of them. There’s a mighty rich family here that’s always donating to them. The son is in it, I think. See it in the papers often. They’re multi-millionaires and live near the outskirts of the city. Snobs, though, I hear!”
“Huh,” Westy said. “Know their name?”
“Mitchell.”
Westy entered the room, a broad grin on his face. “I see you’ve hit it!” Mr. Wilde said.
“Harder than that,” he said and got into his scout suit.
“What,” said Rip, “so quick?”
“Sure. A scout has got to get on the job while the getting is good.”
“Atta boy!” Billy remarked.