To Walter Harris if they don’t know who you mean ask for Pee-wee Temple Camp Leeds Ulster County N. Y. This letter is brought by relays and each scout that gets it takes it to another scout only he has to be sure to go north toward Temple Camp everybody up that way knows where that is and knows me two. Whoever brings it to me and delivers it into my hand stays at Temple Camp for the rest of the summer and his meals free absolootly positivly and they always give to helpings sometimes and bunks in Mamoriel Cabin with me _posativiy sure_. P.S.—This is true. and I mean it. Walter Harris, Alligator Patrol. “That’s absolutely good,” Roy said. “It says whoever brings it. It doesn’t say _one_ must bring it, it doesn’t say how many. You’re all welcome to Memorial Cabin. Greetings and salutations. A scout never turns back. Have you got supper ready, kid?” “You’re crazy!” Pee-wee shouted. “Do you think I can cook for eight scouts? Do you—” “Resources, resources,” said Warde Hollister. “A scout can do anything,” said Westy Martin. “He never breaks his vow,” said Doc Carson. “He doesn’t depend on civilization,” said Dorry Benton. “Oh positively not,” said Roy; “he depends on his own initials. Just make yourselves at home and he’ll have supper ready in a couple of jiffies. You fellows came to the right place, you can all have forty-eleven helpings of resources. He knows that a scout never turns back. Some night after supper drop down to camp and see us.” “Come down and watch us eat,” said another Temple Camper. “I’m afraid they can’t do that,” laughed another; “they’re supposed to be leading the primitive life up here.” “Do you think we’re going to starve?” Pee-wee thundered. “Do you think because a scout that plans a thing and then says what he’d do if that thing happens like he planned only it doesn’t—do you suppose they have to starve on account of a lot of lunatics like you, especially Roy Blakeley? That shows how much you know about logic! Do you say that eight is the same as two?” It shall never be written that Temple Camp was lacking in hospitality, and there was no intention of allowing Pee-wee to attempt the entertainment of this human avalanche. Nor, indeed, had the avalanche any intention of imposing on our hero, for each member of the invading host had come supplied with funds. For a pick-up troop they were a pretty fine lot of fellows. It was Tom Slade, the young assistant, who stepped into the breach in this most critical and apparently portentous moment in the life of P. Harris.