Scouts of the Elk Patrol, we present you with this testimonial (my sister said that was a good word to use) of our steam—I mean esteem. You get fifty green trading stamps besides. This youth is positively guaranteed to grow, if kept in the sun and to win the pathfinder’s badge before the summer is out. He is made of fast colors and will not run—except when he’s tracking. He should be kept away from explosives such as Pee-wee Harris. With love and kisses from the Silver Foxes. “Oh, it will be great!” Westy said, “we’ll do it before Mr. Ellsworth takes up the collection for the cruise, hey?” “G-o-o-d night!” I said and I stopped short. “What’s the matter?” Westy said. “I’m glad you said that,” I told him; “I forgot my two bucks.” “I’ll go back,” Westy said; “you wait here.” There wasn’t any time to stop him and anyway, he can beat me running, I have to admit that. “Where did you leave it?” he called back. “I laid it right on the table,” I shouted, “and I laid an oar-lock on it to keep it from blowing away. Feel around and you’ll get it. Hurry up.” I saw him going back up the hill for all he was worth and then I sat down beside the road to wait for him. I got to thinking about the house-boat and the fun we’d have cruising up the Hudson and how Skinny would get fat and eat a lot, and especially how he’d stare when he saw Jeb Rushmore. He’s our camp manager, and just wait till you see him, that’s all _I_ say. But mostly I was thinking about the fun we’d have presenting Skinny to the Elks, and, oh, boy, I could just see Mr. Ellsworth laugh with that funny laugh he has—trying not to. And you can bet I was glad we had Skinny started. Because when a fellow once gets on the trail, he’s a goner. Oh, bibbie, that was going to be some meeting! Pretty soon Westy came running back down the hill. “Did you get it?” I asked him, but, of course, I knew he did. He was so much out of breath that he couldn’t answer and even after he stopped he had to pant it out, kind of. “It wasn’t there,” he said. “_Wasn’t there?_” I said; “you’re crazy. Sure it was there. Where did you look?” “I looked just where you said,” Westy panted, “and all around besides. First, I felt all around with my hand and I lifted the oar-lock and it wasn’t underneath it.” “Maybe you got the wrong oar-lock,” I said, all excited; “there are two of them.” “The other one was hanging up,” he said; “I found your flashlight on the duffel-bag and poked the light all around and I saw the other oar-lock hanging up. I threw the light on the ground, too, because there’s a pretty strong breeze up there.” “How could the breeze blow it away when it was under the oar-lock?” I said. “It was a new two dollar bill.” “Well, it wasn’t there, anyway,” he said.