Such troubles to arise from good intentions and deeds of skill and prowess! Poor Skinny, his excursion into the field of heroism had not been propitious. And pressing down upon him more heavily than all these perplexities was the terrifying thought of Danny. What might happen there made Skinny shudder. Such an act of effrontery as his half-brother was launched upon quite unnerved this poor little scout who had been so humble and obscure. Yet he was staunch in loyalty to Danny. He would bear the scornful taunts (as he had always borne the humorous taunts) of Temple Camp if that were necessary. And when the worst came to the worst he would be loyal to Danny. It was odd that through all this disheartening mess, he did not once recall with pride and elation that he was the winner of the Hiawatha Prize. He had forgotten all about the canoe. CHAPTER XIII ALIAS DANVILLE BENTLY He hurried along with his queer, shuffling gait to the big shed where meals were served in pleasant weather. He was always insignificant looking unless you looked straight into his eyes. There was something indescribable about those eyes that haunted one. They bespoke a latent frenzy that could carry that homely little frail body to any heights of heroism. But all you saw as he hurried along was a little codger who somehow reminded you of the slums. He had the scared look so familiar in homeless dogs. As he moved between the long tables a few scouts who had never noticed him before, turned and stared at him. "Honest!" one scout asked his neighbor. "Sure, that's him," said another; "that's the one." By no means all of them knew of his triumphant swim. At one table they were talking about the "lifting" of the white pennant, but no one seemed to know that he was the hero of that affair. One would have to be a pretty big hero to divert the attention of the Temple Camp scouts while they were eating breakfast. One remark he did overhear as he made his way to the tables of his own troop. "Special bargain sale in prize canoes," he heard a boy say. "Business is not so good today," another boy answered. Skinny flushed but did not glance at the authors of this cheap sarcasm. The Bridgeboro Troop occupied two tables, the Ravens and the Chipmunks at one, the Silver Foxes and the Elks at the other. As Skinny edged into his seat only one voice greeted him. The exuberant Roy Blakeley of the Silver Foxes called. "Hey Skinny, you were in the swim all right, but not here. Sticks and stones can break your bones, But looks can never hurt you."