Harry said, “Do you know, Brent, I think the old codger will do first rate.” “Oh, he’ll do,” Brent said; “of course, it isn’t like finding a pirate, or a counterfeiter, or an outlaw——” “You make me tired!” Pee-wee yelled. “If Roy’s going to write all this stuff up, we have to have an old grouch, so as we can convert him sort of, don’t we, and then he’ll—then he’ll—what-d’ye-call-it—he’ll donate a lot of money and say the boy scouts are all right. I’ll manage him, you leave him to me.” Brent said, “You don’t happen to know if he has a gold-haired daughter, do you?” Gee whiz, I guess that man thought we were crazy—I should worry. Even the Uncle Tom’s Cabin people were laughing. Brent said, “Because if our young hero could only rescue old Grump’s gold-haired daughter from kidnappers, perhaps old Grump would come across with a real watch that keeps time as a reward for our young hero’s bravery. I think we’ll have to try our hand with old Grump.” “Are you—are you _sure_ he’s mad at the scouts?” Pee-wee wanted to know. “Tell us the worst,” Harry said. [Illustration: THE BLOODHOUND BEGAN SNIFFING THE FOOTPRINT.] CHAPTER IX—MILITARY PLANS The man put one foot up on the step of the van and said, “Wall, yer see he owns the Fair Grounds. Thar was a crew uv these here scout kids camping over in the grove to one side of it, and not doin’ no manner of harm, I reckon.” “That’s one good thing about us, we never do any harm,” Pee-wee piped up. “Wherever they camp the violets spring up,” Rossie said. “Sure, and dandelions and four-leaf clovers, too,” the kid shouted. The man said, “Wall, naow, them kids wasn’ doin’ no manner uv harm, just cookin’ and eatin’——” “Gee whiz, they have to do that!” Pee-wee told him. “That’s one thing about scouts, they always eat.” “Most always,” Harry said. “En’ nothin’ would do but he must chase ’em off,” the man said. “Some uv them men who wuz interested in the kids made a rumpus about it, but it weren’t no good; old Grump said off they must go, and off they went. I wuz sorry ter see it too, hanged if I weren’t, because they’re a bright, clever lot, them youngsters. Oft times when I’d go inter th’ Cross-roads with my old mare marketin’, there they’d be in th’ grove right alongside th’ road, sprawlin’ about and onct, when I come away abaout five o’clock in the mornin’, thar they were en’ give my old mare a drink out uv th’ spring.” “Up early, hey?” Harry said.