Mr. Bennett said, "Well now, you scouts ought to be able to raise some funds. You seem to raise pretty nearly everything else." "We raise the dickens," Grove Bronson said. "We ought to be able to sell some stock," Roy said. "We've got some rolling stock down there--one car. Only it doesn't roll. Who wants to buy some stock in the Riverside Scout Camp? Watered stock, we dip it in the river." "You don't know what watered stock is; you're so smart," Pee-wee sneered. "Sure, it's milk," Roy said. "Right the first time, no sooner said than stung." "Never laugh at poverty," Westy said, as all the party began to shout. "We're poor but dishonest." "Sure," Roy ejaculated, "we wouldn't even steal a cent, that's why we haven't any sense; deny it if you dare." "We can sell papers at the station," Westy said. "Sure, the _Saturday Evening Post_," Roy said. "We can do golden deeds and get gold that way. We should bother our young lives. What care us, quoth we? We'll think of a way. All we need is fifty dollars to put tar-paper on the roof and a new cook stove in the car." "Money talks," the kid shouted. "Good night!" said Roy, "then we don't want any of it. You do enough talking in this troop." "Are you fellows all one outfit?" asked a young man who had been leaning against the opposite counter, amused at their talk. "United we stand, divided we sprawl," Roy said. "There are more of us, too, only they're not here. They're by the river." "I can give you a chance to earn some money if you really want to," the young man said. "Do you think you could stick?" "Our middle name is fly-paper," Roy informed him. "Like camping?" "Camping is named after us," Connie Bennett of the Elk Patrol said. "We'd rather camp than eat." "No we wouldn't," vociferated Pee-wee Harris. "What kind of hours?" Doc Carson of the Ravens inquired. "The usual kind," Roy volunteered, and put it up to their new friend if this were not so. "The same kind we use in school, hey?" he added. "Give him a chance to tell us what it is," said Westy Martin of Roy's patrol. "We all started saying we'd like to earn some money; talk is cheap." "Sure, that's why we use so much of it," said Roy. "If it cost anything we couldn't afford it." "Well," said the young man, "I've got a job and I need help. It's outdoors and it means camping and living rough. It means cooking our own meals. You could get a little money out of it; not much, but a little." Perhaps it was what the stranger said, perhaps the way he said it, but something caused them all to turn and stare at him. He was a young fellow of about twenty-three or four and of very shabby appearance. The threadbare suit which he wore must have seen long service and either it had never been a very trim fit or he had lost flesh. His face, indeed, seemed to imply this, being thin and pale, and there was a kind of haunting look in his eyes.