At noon I went down by the river, cut a pole, and fished a little, although I didn't catch anything. I didn't build a fire and cook because I had a good lunch in my pack. It seemed sort of lonesome, being there so far away and knowing I couldn't go home when night came. After a long rest I walked on until I came to a bridge, and then, feeling sure Benny must be in North Adams by that time, I crossed over to the east road, where I knew some folks, and went up into the hills to where Hoosac Tunnel begins. It was fun to see the trains dart in and out of that great hole which reaches four miles through the mountain, and I sat there a long time watching. Four o'clock came before I found my man in North Adams and delivered the message. By that time I was tired enough to go into camp for the night. He smiled when he saw me coming in my Scout uniform. "This letter," said he, when he had read it, "says for me to buy you a life size ice cream soda? Do you want it?" There isn't anything in Scout law, is there, which says a Scout mustn't eat ice cream soda? And the tireder and hotter you are the better it tastes, doesn't it? I guess yes. Only I wished that Benny was there, eating one with me. That night I camped on the bank of a brook, part way up the mountain and a mile or more beyond the city. The water was clear as crystal and seemed kind of company, for it gurgled as it poured over the stones, making music that was great. I hardly could wait to build a fire and fry my bacon, I was so hungry. But what is the use of carrying bacon and a pan seven miles, unless you fry the stuff after you get there? I tell you it tasted good and so did the wild strawberries that I picked afterward for dessert. But when it began to grow dark and lights shone out down in the city and in the sky above, and queer sounds came from the mountain and woods back of me, I'd have given fifteen cents to have been at home, or at any rate, to have had somebody with me. After a while I heard a voice say: "A Scout should smile and look pleasant." "Who--who--is that talking?" I asked. "It's your friend, the brook," came back the answer, in a sweet, gurgly voice. "I'm a Scout, too. Hear me sing." "So am I," came the deep voice of the mountain back of me. "A Scout should be brave. Sleep, my brother. I'll watch over you." "So are we Scouts," came in whisperings from every side, through the darkness, and I knew that the trees were talking to me. "We'll take care of you." Then I grew brave all in a minute and started up to go to them. As I did so, the darkness fled, leaving me there lying on the ground in broad daylight, while the brook sang its loudest and all the trees waved good-morning. Would you believe it? I had slept all night long and dreamed that about the brook and the mountain. On the way home, I came in sight of the houses of the village before ten o'clock, tired but happy because I had done the last test and now could be a First Class Scout.