"Mostly Mr. Ellsworth or one of the local council in Bridgeboro goes over the ground and sees if the account is satisfactory. In some troops they don't do that. If it's just written up all right they say it's all right and let it go at that. But Mr. Ellsworth says it isn't just the description that counts; it's whether you notice everything. It isn't just knowing how to write. That's just being a good author. The other is being a good scout. See?" "Some scouts think they are authors," said Pee-wee. "The pleasure is mine," said Roy. "I'm going to keep on writing our adventures as long as I have any paper. Then I'm going to buy some more." "I'm sorry for the fellow that buys the books," said Pee-wee. "So am I," said Roy, "as long as you're in the books." "That's what I meant," said Warde, trying to keep his companions on the subject. "The description is a scout test?" "Anyway, it is in our troop," said Roy. "Some scoutmasters just take the description and if it's good they say all right. But Mr. Ellsworth and Mr. Kinney, he's councilman, they're crazy about hiking. They usually take a sprint over the ground and most always they see something that the scout forgot to mention. That doesn't mean they'd turn him down though. You should worry, you'll get away with it all right." Roy had no doubt of that, and Pee-wee had no doubt of anything which made for the glory of others. But they both noticed that during the rest of their hike Warde was watchful and preoccupied, occasionally jotting something down but oftener storing it in his clear, fine memory. He was taking no chances and they knew it. Here was his opportunity, he had grasped it just in the moment when it seemed to be passing from him, and he was resolved that before he laid his head upon his balsam couch that night he would be able to call himself a scout of the first class.... CHAPTER XIV BAFFLED? After a hike of about eight miles, part way across country and part way along roads, the three scouts reached the beautiful Woodcliff Lake which lies in a northwesterly direction from the old camp. Upon its shore they rested and ate the compact little lunch which they had brought. The afternoon sun flickered on the waters, the gentle slope across the lake was clad in the rich green of the midsummertime, not a boat was to be seen upon that clear forbidden expanse, and no sound was there in all the quiet country round about, save only the elated voice of an angler on the causeway as he pulled up his line with a fish wriggling on the end of it.