We shall meet Danny again in a future story and you are warned not to expect to find angelic wings sprouting on his pugilistic shoulders. He had, I think, the raw material of a scout, but it was very, very raw. He should not be dismissed, however, without mention of an incident which recalled him to Danville Bently after the lone Polar Bear had returned to his beautiful home in Florida. It was in November that Danville received an envelope enclosing ten dollars and a slip of brown wrapping paper on which was scrawled, "Here's a ten spot, see you later about the rest. Danny." The envelope was postmarked Porto Rico, so it seemed likely that Danny had succeeded in ingratiating himself with the captain of some ship or other. He must have made a rather interesting cabin boy. On their way back to camp, Danville made no mention of Danny and he closed the Gold Cross matter with a few words that his little worshipper, Skinny, had cause to remember. "What's the use talking about it?" said he. "If I won it, I won it. Only nobody knows it. And nobody's going to know it. The Gold Cross is only kind of like a receipt and I don't need any receipt." "It's people knowing that counts," said Skinny. "What they don't know won't hurt them," said Danville. On reaching camp they parted, Danville going to Tent Village to wash up. When Skinny next saw him, he wore another scout suit, and a new white scarf, its wavy and spotless folds falling loosely below where it was gathered into the silver ring, which took the place of the usual scout knot. You would never have supposed he had saved two lives and almost lost his own. And lost the Gold Cross for heroism. His easy-going self-possession was the most conspicuous thing about him; that and the snowy scarf which was the badge of the distant Polar Bear Patrol. Skinny thought he must be a "specially rich feller." And so he was, indeed, with a richness that only generations of gentle breeding can impart. As for Skinny, he was pretty dirty and he shuffled up to Martha Norris Memorial Cabins in fear and trembling lest his sorry appearance and sore knee cause embarrassing questions. But no questions were asked, perhaps because Skinny always had a sorry look. "Playing in the mud?" was all that Vic Norris asked of this little fellow who had opened an outlet for the deadly fumes in Henny's Cave. "Must have been tracking mud-turtles," said Hunt Ward. And that was all that any of them said on the dangerous topic of Skinny's adventures. Perhaps this was because they had something else to say to him. They had something to ask him, and they asked it in ever so nice a way, so that their questions furnished the answer. Connie Bennett, the Elk leader, had told them to leave it to him, that he would "fix it." And he did fix it. He knew just how to handle Skinny. "Hey kid," said he, "listen. I want to ask you something."