"They're my patrol just like Danny is my brother, ain't they? I got to be loyal." "Yes, sure, I understand, Alf." "Can I help liking Danny?" "No, I can't help liking him either. I have a sort of hunch that he could win that race if he were an Eagle." "Then I'd have a lot of honor, hey!" "Sure would." "I bet you could win it, too." "I've got my job," said Danville. For a few minutes they walked on up the hill and neither spoke. Then, noticing that Skinny's shoulders were shaking, Danville paused abruptly. The little fellow was gulping. Danville broke his rule and called him kid. "Alf--what's the matter, kid?" he asked feelingly. "Don't--what's the matter, Alf! Can't you tell me?" Skinny couldn't tell him, because he didn't exactly know. "Anyway, they were right, because I didn't have any scout suit," he sobbed. "Well, you've got me, haven't you? Aren't you satisfied?" "Yes, but I want them to win and go out there to the cannon,* because they're my patrol and I'm not mad at them. Only I don't want to go and see the race, because I'll get all excited like, because I want them to win. Do you think they'll win?" * He meant canyon. "Who can tell who will win, kid? We'll stay up on the hill all by ourselves and watch it from a distance. Will that be all right?" "Yes, but do you think they'll win?" "I think Hollis has got the stuff in him." "You've got to be an Eagle, haven't you?" "Yes, but you see there are three Eagles? And we can't tell who'll be the big scream when the day is over." No indeed, no one could tell that. CHAPTER XXXIII VICTORY AND THEN---- The precipice was not a bad place from which to view the finish. It was not close enough to the excitement for most scouts, but it afforded a good gallery seat. Danville was glad that no one came up there. He had a big piece of charred wood with which he intended to mark the name of the winner in big letters on the signal canvas as soon as the race was over. Then he and Skinny would shout and draw attention to it. He hoped for Skinny's sake that the name would be Hollis. The race, as you will see by the map, began at the northwestern end of the lake, followed a southeasterly course and ended where the shells passed an anchored skiff in which were spectators, who had a good view of the approaching shells. The lake was dotted with boats and canoes and it required a constant zigzagging about of the camp launch to keep them off the course. It was a gala scene. After a while the launch chugged away along the course and there were fifteen or twenty minutes of tense waiting. Soon its shrill whistle could be heard and Skinny was trembling with excitement as it reappeared with its _clear the way_ pennant flying and its whistle calling a warning to keep the course clear.