“You mustn’t pin the doctor down, dearie,” said Mrs. Cowell; “he means a month or two—or maybe six months.” “No, I don’t mean that,” the doctor laughed. Then, evidently sizing the young patient up, he added, “We’ll make it an even month; this is the twenty-fifth of June. That will be playing safe. Think you can take it easy for a month?” “I can if I have to,” said Wilfred. “That’s the way to talk,” Doctor Brent encouraged. “He can read nice books,” said Mrs. Cowell. “Well,” said the doctor, “I’ll tell you what he mustn’t do, then you can tell him what he can do.” He addressed himself to the mother but it was evident that he was speaking _at_ the boy. “He mustn’t go swimming or rowing. He ought not to run much. He ought to avoid all strenuous physical exertion.” “You hear what the doctor says,” the fond mother warned. “Couldn’t I go scout pace?” came the wistful query. “That’s six paces walking and six paces running?” “Better do them all walking,” said the doctor. “Then I can’t go to camp and be a scout?” the boy asked pitifully. “Not this year,” said his mother gently; “because scouting means swimming and running and diving and climbing to catch birds——” “Oh, they don’t catch birds, mother,” said Arden. “They catch storks,” said Mrs. Cowell. “You’re thinking of stalking,” laughed Tom. “Gee, I want to go up there,” Wilfred pleaded. “If I say I won’t do those things——” “It would be so hard for him to keep his promise at a place like that,” said Mrs. Cowell. “Scouts are supposed to do things that are hard,” said Tom. “Yes—what do you call them—stunts and things like that?” Mrs. Cowell persisted. “Sure,” said Tom; “keeping a promise might be a stunt.” “Oh, I don’t think it would be wise, Mr. Slade; I’m sure the doctor would say so.” But the doctor did not say so. He glanced at the young fellow in khaki negligee who had sat in respectful silence during the examination and the talk. They all looked at him now, Mrs. Cowell in a way of rueful objection to whatever he might yet intend to say. “Of course, if the doctor says he can’t go, that settles it,” said Tom. “But I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about scouting. The main thing about scouting, the way we have it doped out, is to be loyal to your folks and keep your promises and all that. I thought Billy was going up there with me to beat every last scout in the place swimming and rowing and tracking—and all that stuff. I had him picked for a winner. Now it seems he has to beat them all doing something else. He has to keep his promise when you’re not watching him. It seems if he goes up there he’ll just have to flop around and maybe stalk a little and sit around the camp-fire and take it easy and lay off on the strenuous stuff. All right, whatever he undertakes to do, I back him up. I’ve got him picked for a winner. I say he can do _anything_, no matter how hard it is.