"There you go again," laughed the marshal. "I'll have to call the New York chief down for being so careless. Anyhow, your robbers will go to the penitentiary as sure as preaching." "I don't know about it," Benny told us afterward, when we were talking it over. "I'm 'most sorry that we did it. I shall always be thinking that if it hadn't been for us those men wouldn't be locked up away from birds and grass and trees. Maybe they didn't have such good folks as we've got. You know that guy out in Illinois didn't have." But after we saw Pa we felt better about it. "I'm glad you feel that way," said he. "Still you did the right thing after you found out about the robbery. I wouldn't advise you, however, to go around taking photographs of burglars. You might get into trouble another time. It surely is an awful thing to be in state's prison, but being away from the trees and grass is not the worst thing about it. The worst thing is being so bad that you have to be locked up in order to make other people safe. It is a terrible thing to be a criminal, whether you are in prison or not." He was quiet for a minute; then went on: "I can't think of a worse prison for a human soul than a human body that does mean things, lies and steals or is vile in any way." A few days later when Skinny and I went to the post-office together the postmaster handed him a letter. "I say," said he, "you have been promoted, haven't you?" On the envelope was written, "Captain Gabriel Miller, Patrol Leader, Raven Patrol, Boy Scouts of America." It made us both excited. "It's for the whole patrol," said Skinny, trying to look through it. "I don't think I ought to open it until we are all together, and I hardly can wait." He rushed to the door as he spoke and whistled through his teeth, for he saw Bill and Hank passing on the other side of the street, going to my house. "I could have cawed," he explained when they had come across, "but I didn't think that I ought to when folks were looking." We went over to Benny's and found him piling wood and glad enough to quit. "Never mind about the other boys," I told them. "They will be along pretty soon. Whatever it is, we'll want to read it twice, anyhow." Skinny opened the letter and looked at the writing. "Jee-rusalem, fellers!" he shouted. Then he commenced to caw like some crow that was crazy with the heat. Bill cawed, too, but he didn't know what for. Then he tried to snatch the letter out of Skinny's hand. "Aw, cut it out, can't you?" said he, when Skinny dodged out of the way. "Read it." "I am readin' it," said Skinny. "It's great." "Well, read it out loud." Then Skinny started to read, and this is what the letter said, only it doesn't tell how Skinny's eyes shone, nor how he stopped every few lines to punch the enemy. "_To the Boy Scouts of Bob's Hill:_