"It's a lie!" said Roy. "You can't believe a word the Handbook says--you can't even believe the punctuation. It says you can find comfort in the woods and we looked all around and didn't find any--we even used our searchlights, I'll leave it to Warde. Hey, Sharpy, come on out, the National Council has decided that a hobby-horse isn't an animal so you can't name a patrol after it. Honest, I'll leave it to Ralph Warner. You can't press the leaves of a hat-tree either--there's a new rule--so if you have any you better throw them away. The rules are all changed, you can't get the printing badge by finding footprints any more. Hey, come on out, Sharpy." Holman did not immediately respond to this merry summons, but Danny who was in the dormitory strolled out smiling and sat on the steps. Holman's methodical activities amused him, but he had never poked fun at him. "Hey, Florida," said Roy; "how 'bout it--isn't it true they're going to give crutches for veteran scouts? You better put in your application while you're young, Sharpy. You better start saving up." Holman emerged upon the porch. There was nothing sissified about this boy; it was not for that reason that they took delight in "jollying" him. It was that he was so terribly sober and earnest. He was going to be a scout by the book; he thought that if he could pass an examination in scouting he would be a scout. He was studying it, cramming, and he thought that boys who were just naturally scouts and did not study it very hard, were slackers. Roy had fifteen merit badges and had enjoyed the fun of getting them. But this serious boy was not having the time of his life being a scout. He should have been at boarding school, where he would have won honors. Handbooks and tests and awards will help, of course, but scouting is a matter of fine spirit. The scout who thinks only of getting ahead, of swimming fifty yards because the book prescribes it, is apt to forget about his comrade scouts. A curriculum is a pretty poor sort of a pal. "I should think you scouts would know this is rest hour," said Holman. "If you want to get anywhere in scouting you've got to relax. You come around here with your nonsense when I'm supposed to be storing up a little energy." "Tell us all about that," encouraged Ralph Warner, winking at Danny, who was highly amused. "On account of your yelling I'll have to make it up to-morrow when I ought to be stalking," said Holman. "There may be some truth in that," teased Warde. "Hey, Sharpy, why don't you go out on a hike with your friend and neighbor some night for no reason at all?" "With Bently, you mean? I'd never accomplish much. I guess he's a sort of more of a tramp than a scout. I'd never learn much from him. I've only got eight weeks here." "You let him say that about you, Florida?" Warde asked. "Sure, let him go as far as he likes," laughed Danny. "I don't claim to be a scout." "I don't see what you're here for then?" said Holman.