The plaguey hinges! He eased the swing of the locker door as he opened it inch by inch. There was his old pasteboard suit-case; he was the only boy in the patrol who had not a duffel bag. On top of it lay the bundle containing his scout suit and hat just as he had brought the treasured purchase back from Kingston. He had not dared to wear this flaunting regalia nor even to tell his patrol about it. He did not know whether or not they knew about it. Would the paper rustle as he lifted the bundle? No; he lifted it out carefully. Then he opened his suit-case and got his Handbook. So far, so good. Softly he closed the door and locked it. Then with his precious Handbook and the bundle he crept stealthily over to the trail which led up through the woods. Now his heart beat more easily. Action is always stimulating, and being launched on this perilous business it was not so hard to go ahead. He had not done much so far, but what he had done had been successful. He had done what Danny had told him to do and it had been easy. It seemed to Skinny that this was a dreadful thing his brother was about to attempt, but Danny must know what he was about. "Why it's going to be a cinch," his brother assured him when he had donned the suit; it fitted him much better than it fitted poor Skinny. When he tossed the hat on, he looked like a scout indeed and poor Skinny was even moved to feel a certain pride in him. He was a fine looking boy, there was no denying that, with an easy nonchalance about him that was captivating. "You--you won't be a really truly scout," Skinny warned him. The warning seemed to include a confession that Danny did look like one. "And what are you going to do when he comes--that other feller?" "I'll be on my way," said Danny lightly. "You'll be using up the money that's going to pay his board, too," Skinny said. The answer did not comfort him. "Sure, he'll be out of luck," said Danny. Skinny gazed at this daring brother of his in mingled admiration and terror. "Will you--Danny, will you--if I get fifteen dollars, will you _not_ do it?" "Where would you get fifteen bucks, kid? You should worry," he added. "Let's take a look at that book. Does it tell all about it and everything? How you drill and everything?" "_Now you see_, you don't know anything about it," Skinny said excitedly, in a pitiable way of triumph. "They don't drill at all; they track and stalk and all like that, and win merit badges, and all like that. Now you're going to get in trouble." He clenched his little hands nervously and almost cried as he spoke. "You're going to get in trouble Danny. They're smart, scouts are, and they'll find out. Just because _I'm_ not so smart and they make fun of me like; and just because _I_ can't do all the things they do, you needn't think they're not smart. That's where you're all the time wrong, you think boy scouts----" "Who makes fun of you?" Danny asked with a queer scrutiny in his eyes.