"And eating," Peewee shouted. "Oh sure, we never let anyone do that for us," one of the Bridgeboro scouts laughed. "If you want a thing well done, do it yourself--especially eating," Roy said. "A scout is thorough." "Do you know Chocolate Drop? He's cook," Peewee piped up. "He makes doughnuts as big as automobile tires." "Not Cadillac tires," Roy said, "but Ford tires. Peewee knows how to puncture them, all right." "He'll have a blow-out some day," Connie Bennett observed. "So you boys used to be up on the hill, eh?" Mr. Barnard inquired, turning the conversation to a more serious vein. "And how is it you're not to bunk up there _this_ year, since you like it so much?" As if by common consent Roy's troop left it for him to answer, and even Peewee was quiet. "Oh, I don't know," Roy said; "first come, first served; that's the rule. You fellows got in your application, that's all there was to it. I guess you know Tom Slade, who works in the camp's city office, don't you, Mr. Barnard?" "Indeed I do," young Mr. Barnard said. "We met in a shell hole in France. We knew each other but have never seen each other. It's rather odd when you come to think of it." "I suppose that's how he happened to assign you the cabins," Connie Bennett observed; "old time's sake, hey?" "Oh, dear no," young Mr. Barnard laughed. "I should say that you boys come first if it's a question of old time's sake. No indeed, we should feel like intruders, usurpers, if there were any question of friendly preference. No, it was really quite odd when you come to think of it. I never dreamed who Tom Slade was when our accommodations were assigned us; indeed, his name did not appear in the correspondence. It was just a case of first come, first served, as you say. Later, we received some circular matter of the camp and there was a little note with it, as I remember, signed by Slade. Oh, no, the thing was all cut and dried before I knew who Slade was. Then we started a very pleasant correspondence. I expect to see him up here. He was one of the bravest young fellows on the west front; a sort of silent, taciturn, young fellow. Oh, no," young Mr. Barnard laughed in that pleasant way he had, "you boys can't accuse us of usurping your familiar home. You must come up and see us there, and I hope we shall all be good friends."