She said, “Well, of course we’re only girls and we haven’t had the advantages of a Temple Camp, and we can only eat raspberry sundaes and banana splits. But if I were a smart, wonderful boy, head of a scout patrol and had my face on the covers of a lot of books, and knew all about the boy scout handbook, _I’d_ try to make this man understand that that dark spot underneath where his wagon stood is simply _filled_ with mushrooms. I’d try to make him understand that the _best_ mushrooms grow in the dark and damp places. And I’d tell him (because you know scouts know everything) that mushrooms are worth about seventy-five cents a pound. I’d do him a good turn. I’d show him how to dig them all up so as to get the spawn and everything, and I’d show him how to plant them in boxes. Then he’d have two beds of them. Perhaps all that would occupy him for the rest of the afternoon, and of course the wagon—— “But then, I’m only a girl, and I can’t _eat_ my way to power and world dominion.” That’s just the way she talked. Honest. I said, “Minerva Skybrow, you’ve got Joan of Arc beaten about ’steen dozen ways. I know that about mushrooms in the handbook; it comes right after Woodcraft. When I used to see you in Assembly I thought you were stuck up, and I know I’m always making fun of the girl scouts. But you’ve done us a good turn. Gee whiz, I always hated Miss Harrison, didn’t you? Because she kept us in till five o’clock. I guess she didn’t have any home. But, anyway, I have to admit you can play on the piano all right. “And another thing I know about you, too: you started taking Italian in the Academic course. I bet you can speak Italian. I know the girl that used to sit next to you before you went to the High School; I pulled her on a sled once. You know the girl I mean. She was always eating chocolate. Believe me, I have to admit that you’ve got more sense than we have, and if you’ll help us to keep this blamed wagon out of our path of glory till the milk train comes we’re going to give a big racket in your honor when we get our car down to the field near the river, if we ever do. “Honest, Minerva, to tell you the truth, we can’t eat another thing, and I see that what counts most in the world is brains—brains and mushrooms. But, gee whiz, I like ice cream, too.” CHAPTER XII—THE GRAND DRIVE BEGINS The next minute that girl started talking Italian to Tony, and, oh, boy, you should have seen him. Right away he got excited and wanted to dig up the whole earth. I guess she told him there was a gold mine where his wagon had been standing.