There was not a vacant place in the line the next Monday, and when the scout commissioner stepped forward to speak he was greeted with flattering attention. Some of this was due to his position in the movement; but a great deal more, it must be confessed arose from the fact that he was an exceedingly active and competent officer in the national guard, and as such was regarded by the boys as a rather superior being. "I've only a few words to say, fellows," Captain Chalmers began. "From now on I want you all to work extra hard on your signaling and first aid. These are the two features of scouting which, in the near future, may be particularly valuable. Keep up your practice for the rally, but give all the rest of your spare time to these two things. There's one more point. How many of you would like to learn something of the regular military drill? Those interested, step forward one pace." With a swift movement the whole line swayed forward. Captain Chalmers nodded approvingly. "Fine!" he said. "I want to make this another feature of the rally. With your permission, Mr. Curtis, I'll start them in on the rudiments to-night. The staves, of course, will take the place of arms." The hour which followed seemed one of the briefest the boys had ever known. The captain was no easy taskmaster, but not even Bob Gibson grumbled. There was something inspiring in those snappy, authoritative orders, in the rhythmic tramp of marching feet, in the growing sense of efficiency and pride with each movement understood and properly executed. Every one of the twenty-four scouts put his whole being into the work, and in the end they were rewarded by Captain Chalmers's pleased approval. "That's great!" he said when at length they stood at ease. "I didn't think you'd do so well. Keep it up in that spirit, and we'll all be proud of you. After this, Mr. Curtis will do the drilling. Besides practising what you've already learned, one new evolution thoroughly mastered at each meeting will be about all you ought to undertake." He stepped back, and Mr. Curtis took his place. At the sight of the folded paper in his hand a sudden ripple of interest ran down the line. "Gee!" muttered Frank Sanson. "I'd forgotten all about the surprise!" "I have a letter here from Mr. Thornton, fellows," said the scoutmaster, unfolding the paper. Smiling a little, his glance ranged over the long line of eager, inquiring faces; then it dropped to the sheet before him, and he read aloud slowly: "My dear Curtis: