August 10th. From Temple Camp to Catskill. Passed a worm also a piece of a ginger snap. Passed a smell like a kitchen. Found a rubber heel in the road. A dead bug was upside down in a puddle. Met a fence. Saw something that looked like a snake but it was a shoe-lace. Had a soda in Catskill. Had another--raspberry. Saw a flat tire as flat as a pancake and it started me thinking about pancakes. And so on, and so on. It was Roy whom Pee-wee chose to accompany him on his important mission. They had reached a point about fifty yards from the shacks, two of which were well-nigh demolished, when they heard a voice and turning saw Warde Hollister drop from a rafter and come running toward them. "How far is Woodcliff?" he asked, out of breath, and as if caught by a sudden idea. "'Bout six or seven miles," Roy said. "We don't know just exactly where we're going except that it's somewhere around Woodcliff Lake." "I might make my last test," Warde panted. "I just happened to think of it." He looked rather appealingly at Roy who was his patrol leader. "Come ahead," said Roy, "I'm glad you thought of it." "Have you got your note book?" Pee-wee vociferously demanded. "You've got to jot down everything you see and write a satisfactory description of it." "Only the test says _alone or with another scout_." Warde said doubtfully. "What do you think? It would be a peach of a chance and I'm crazy to get my first class badge." "The question is, are we to consider Pee-wee a scout?" Roy said, winking at Warde. "Is he a scout or a sprout?" "It's just as you say, you're patrol leader," Warde laughed. "Sure, it's all right," laughed Roy, "come ahead. I'd have asked you only I never thought about it." "Have you got your note book?" Pee-wee again demanded. "Yep," Warde laughed. "Then you're all right," Pee-wee assured him. "It doesn't make any difference whether one scout goes with you or two." With such high legal authority as this, Warde's mind was at rest. He was the newest scout in the troop and a member of Roy's patrol, the Silver Foxes. He had made a great hit in the troop and was immensely liked. He had not been long enough a member of the Silver Fox patrol to have imbibed the spirit of freedom with its sprightly leader which the others so hilariously exhibited. The Silver Fox patrol was an institution altogether unique in scouting. One had to be half crazy (as the Ravens and Elks said) before one became a tried and true Silverplated Fox--warranted. The Silver Foxes had a spirit all their own--and they were welcome to it. Warde had shown his mettle by his tests, and also he had shown his fine breeding and spirit by not pushing too aggressively into troop familiarity. If he was not yet a full-fledged scout, he was at least a fine type for a scout, and the uproarious Silver Foxes and their irrepressible leader were proud of him.