'Won't I?' roared Chippy, his honest face ablaze with pleasure and friendship. 'An' proud to--prouder 'n I can tell yer.' And the two lads clasped each other's hands in a hearty grip, while both patrols gave vent to their excitement in a tremendous outburst of the scouts' chorus, stamping their feet and clashing their staves together in joyous uproar. Every boy had been touched deeply by Arthur's speech. His pale face and shining eyes had told of the effort it had cost him to make it, and now everybody set up as much noise as he could to celebrate the reconciliation, and to work off the constraint of the moment. When Chippy dropped Arthur's hand, Dick seized it. 'I'm jolly glad to see you back, Arthur, old chap,' he cried. 'We shall be delighted to have you in the patrol once more.' 'Thanks awfully, Dick,' said Arthur. 'I heard No. 8 had gone. If I can only get his place, that's what I should like.' 'It's yours, old fellow,' said Dick, 'and long may you wave!' 'H-o-n-k!' A long blast of the motor-horn warned the patrol that Mr. Elliott's car was close upon them. The scouts recognised their instructor seated beside the driver, and formed up to receive him with the full salute. 'I see you've got a guard of honour back to town,' laughed Dick's father, as he brought the car up between the two lines of scouts. 'Yes, father,' cried Dick; 'we think it was immensely good of them to come out to meet us.' The instructor leaned over the side of the car towards the line of the Wolves. 'Arthur!' he cried, 'this is splendid to see you among the Wolves again.' 'Yes, Mr. Elliott,' said Arthur Graydon, saluting. 'Dick has given me a place there was to spare, and I'm glad to get it.' The driver blew a long toot on his horn to call attention to something he had to say. 'Wolves and Ravens,' he called out, 'I beg to invite you all to conclude your march this afternoon at my house. With your permission, your instructor and I will now go ahead to announce your arrival, and to see that preparations are made to welcome you in a fitting manner.' And at the next moment the car sped away amid the ringing cheers of the scouts, who now felt certain that the day was to close with a noble feed. The march was at once resumed, and the scouts tramped over the heath to Bardon chanting the Ingonyama chorus in honour of their leaders. The corporals sang the opening phrase, and then the patrols swept in with a joyous roar of 'Invooboo!' and struck the ground with their staves in time to the long-drawn notes. And at their head marched the brother scouts, their journey nearly ended--the journey which they had made in true scouting style--helpful and courteous to all, hardy, resolute, and enduring, staunch to their oath and their badge, bearing themselves at all points as true knights in the chivalry of Baden-Powell's Boy Scouts. THE END OTHER FINE STORIES BY THE SAME AUTHOR Large crown 8vo, price 5/- net each The Red Men of the Dusk