'Fine ol' patrol, yo' are!' he called after them. 'I'll lay a bit as B.-P. wouldn't be any too proud of yer if he knowed about it. Ye've got too much edge on yer. Smart togs ain't everythink.' Chippy's speech, all things considered, was very natural, but in the main it was undeserved, as we shall soon see. CHAPTER VII THE PATROL DECIDES The Wolf Patrol were to meet Mr. Elliott the next Thursday afternoon. If the day should be fine they were to practise tracking tests on the heath; if wet, it was to be Kim's game in Mr. Elliott's study. The day turned out one of pouring rain, and at three o'clock the Wolf Patrol had gathered in Mr. Elliott's room, where a tray of small articles, covered by a handkerchief, lay on a side-table. 'We'll begin with Kim's game,' said Mr. Elliott, 'and I'll be umpire. On that tray I have put twenty-five small articles, all different--a button, a pin, a stud, a ring, and so on. I shall give you each a pencil and a card, and I shall allow every boy one minute to study the tray. Then he will go away and write down every article that he can remember. The card with the longest list, of course, wins.' He was about to give out the cards and pencils, when Billy Seton spoke up. 'Mr. Elliott,' he said, 'there's another matter that two or three of us would like you to umpire upon before we begin this game.' 'What is it, Billy?' said the instructor. Billy told the story of Chippy's challenge, of his capture of the patrol, and told it fairly. 'We left him standing there,' concluded Billy, 'and I didn't like it, and I found that some of the other fellows didn't like it; but we had the order to march, and we had to go; that's Scout Law No. 7. But the same law says that we can reason about an order if we don't think it's fair, and I don't think that was fair.' 'What does the patrol-leader say?' said Mr. Elliott, turning to Arthur Graydon. 'I gave the order to march because it seemed to me the thing was too silly from beginning to end,' cried Arthur. 'I'm not going to scout about with a parcel of dirty, ragged wharf-rats. I think we should look a lot of idiots if we did.' 'Now, Mr. Elliott,' said Billy, 'what do you say?' 'Not a word, Billy,' replied Mr. Elliott quietly. 'Not a syllable. This is a thing for the patrol to decide for themselves.' There was a short silence, then Billy murmured gently: 'What do you think, Mr. Elliott, that B.-P. would say if he was here?' Mr. Elliott smiled, and shook his head. He was not to be drawn that way. 'I'll tell you this much, Billy,' he remarked, 'that I think he would do exactly as I am doing--leave it to the patrol. The very foundation of the thing, you know, is to teach you to stand on your own legs.' 'Why not vote upon the question?' suggested Dick Elliott; and the idea was received with a burst of applause.