"Fellers," said he, after a while, "we've been Injuns and we've been bandits, and we have had fun, good and plenty. I ain't sayin' that Injuns and bandits are not all right sometimes but----" "Guess what!" broke in Benny. "We've been 'splorers, too. Don't you remember 'sploring out in Illinois last summer? About LaSalle and that other guy and What's-her-name who fell over the cliff?" "That was all right, too," said Skinny, "and I couldn't forget it in a thousand years, but I tell you those things are back numbers. They are out of date." "Never mind about the date," said Hank, "but hurry and get it out of your system. We've got to be something, haven't we? If we ain't Injuns and we ain't bandits, what are we?" "We are Scouts," shouted Skinny, aiming with his gun and dodging so quickly that he almost slid down the roof. We all looked at one another in surprise, wondering what he meant. Benny spoke up first. "What are those things, Skinny?" he asked. "Why," said Skinny, "haven't you been readin' about 'em? They are--er--they are--er--they're just Scouts, that's all.--They scout around, you know, and do all kinds of stunts." "Scoot around, you mean," I told him. "Well, it's the same thing, ain't it?" "Not for mine," said Bill, shaking his head. "Scouts may be all right, but Injuns and bandits are good enough for me." "Here's the book, anyhow," said Skinny. He pulled out of his pocket a little book, which told all about "The Boy Scouts of America." "That's what we are going to be, the Boy Scouts of America, or part of them. They have members all over the country. We'll call ourselves 'The Boy Scouts of Bob's Hill,' when we have our meetings." Say, it looked good to the Band, except Bill, after Skinny had read the book to us a little, sitting there on the roof. It was a good deal like what we had been doing, only more so. Even Bill said it was almost as good as being Injuns and when Benny heard about the uniforms he hardly could wait. "How are we going to do it?" I asked, after we had talked until we were tired. "That is what I came to tell you about," said Skinny. "Mr. Norton, who teaches my class in Sunday school, is getting one up." "One what, Skinny?" asked Benny, his eyes bulging out like saucers, he was so interested. "Something he called a 'patrol.' You see, the Boy Scouts are almost like an army, with all kinds of officers, only they call them different names, and the different companies are called patrols. He is getting up a patrol in the Sunday school and wanted me in that, but when I told him about the Band he said that we could have a patrol of our own, if we wanted to. There are eight of us, you know, and that is just enough. I don't know much about it yet, but Mr. Norton wants me to bring the Band up to his house Monday night and talk it over. He's going to have ice cream; I heard him say so to Mrs. Norton."