"Listen here, kid," said Connie, "I'm so blamed excited I can hardly talk straight. Listen here. The breakfast horn will be sounding in a few minutes. We're not washed up yet, we got called up in such a hurry. While we're getting ready for breakfast you get on your new scout suit and we'll meet you over at 'eats.' Now no more blamed nonsense, you do what I tell you and put on your scout suit, and come over to 'eats' all dolled up right so the bunch will know the fellow that did these things is a scout. Understand?" Skinny understood, and he just sat on the edge of his cot, nervous and anxious to be left alone. To these enthusiastic, planning comrades, his achievement was a climax. But it was no climax to him; it was just one step in what he intended to do. He was bewildered and nervous at their talk about future triumphs with the prize canoe. Connie's order to him about the new scout suit troubled him. You see, Skinny had not intended to be a hero. He was a hero worshipper, and his hero was Danny. He had never thought to complicate matters by being a hero himself. Now he saw that being a hero was a nuisance. CHAPTER XI IF Skinny knew that Danny was wise, that he would not appear in camp before half past nine, because there was no boat or train which would permit his arrival before that time. Danny's attention to detail in his free and lawless progress commanded admiration if not respect. He never committed a silly blunder. Also Skinny knew that this runaway brother of his could not commit the perilous act of false registration until the office opened at ten o'clock. So there was time enough for what he had planned to do. Hurriedly opening his old suit-case, he pulled out the only extra shirt and trousers that he had and put them on. Then he locked the suitcase again so that no prying comrade might discover that the new suit was not there. Just as he started from the cabin the breakfast horn sounded. He hurried along with that funny shuffling sideways gait of his and paused at the cooking shack to get an apple and a sandwich from Chocolate Drop, the colored chef. Any scout contemplating a short hike was welcome to this customary refreshment. He wanted it for Danny. He wondered how Danny had spent the night and hoped he had not been aroused by all the fuss caused by his early swim. At cooking shack he took occasion to ask Chocolate Drop if he knew where Helmer Clarkson stayed. "He dat boy wots folks done send 'im big grapefruit 'n' boxes wi' dem figs. Sho he done sleep up dere yonder in one dem woods cabins. You know dat cabin wi' de skunk skin tacked on de do'? Lor' Massa Skincord, dat boy am rich! Him folk send him _great big_ crate full of fruit. Dat ain't good fer no young boy, dat ain't. Bein' diffrent, _dat am bad_. I say ter Massa Slade, I say, dat ain't no camp scout business. Share one, share all, in dis yer camp, dat's wot I say. You gwine straight up dat path, you'll find it."