"Polar Bears," said he. "And I know there aren't any in Florida and that's the funny part. I bet I've said that fifty times since I came here." "We can sure tell you a long way off," said Howell pleasantly. "Does the silver ring mean anything?" "It only means my sister gave it to me when I joined the scouts." "Gee, it's nifty all right. It's not a patrol ring?" "Yes it is, we all got them." "You don't have to tie it in a knot, gee that's good." Ordinarily the mention of a sister would have given Temple Camp just the chance it loved. They would have used the sister to belittle their victim. They would have said, "Oh joy, he's got a little sister." But they just were not moved to do that. They looked at his white scarf gathered into the shining silver ring, and at his belt, and everything about him. They were interested, respectful. And a trifle puzzled. That he should have an engagement with Skinny McCord! And that he seemed to have every intention of keeping it, just as if it were a real engagement. CHAPTER XXI TEMPLE CAMP TAKES NOTICE They even lingered in group form, watching him as he ambled off down toward the lake. He had been at camp nearly a week, and he was still quietly devoted to Skinny. He had not exploited Skinny nor made any ostentatious show of being his champion. Yet he was devoted to him in an easy-going unpretentious sort of way. He had never said, nor even thought, "I might as well be nice to the poor kid." Evidently he did not know that Skinny was just a poor little codger--a mascot. Somebody would have to tell him about that. The funny part of it was that he did not get himself laughed at. Skinny's winning of the Hiawatha canoe had not brought him any lasting glory. The white pennant had been lifted many times since he had scampered off with it, eager and trembling. But now scouts began to wonder how he had secured this permanent award of the tall, polite, easy-going boy with the white scarf. They did not exactly begin to take Skinny seriously, but they were puzzled. They tried to find a weak point in Bently, some idle or effeminate quality, but there was just nothing to get hold of. Skinny was waiting at the lake, eager and anxious. He lived in perpetual dread that Bently would "fall down" on him. But Bently never did. He came ambling down with that pleasant smile which always reassured Skinny. "Did they ask you to go on bee-line with them?" "Point to point, you mean?" "Yes, they call it bee-line for short. I never went on one, but I know all about how they do; you have to go across brooks and climb over things and everything; you'd have a lot of fun. That feller that was kidding me at camp-fire last night--you know that fat feller?--he went through a house, even. Are you sure you're going to go out with me?" "I ought to be the one to know," said Danville. "Did they try to get you to not do it?" "No, why? How are we going; in your canoe?"