This chapter and the next one are mostly about Wigley Weigand, but we
usually call him Wig-Wag Weigand, because he's a cracker-jack on
wig-wag signalling. He's good on all the different kinds of
signalling. He's a Raven, but he can't help that, because there wasn't
any Silver Fox Patrol when the Raving Ravens started.

The Ravens were the--what do you call it--you know what I mean--nucleus
of the troop. That's how it started. There are about half a million
scouts in America and all of them can't be Silver Foxes, even if they'd
like to.

Wig has the crossed flags--that's the signalling badge, and the fellows
say he can make the sky talk. Believe me, he can make it shout. He isn't
so bad considering that he's a Raven and there's one good thing about
him anyway--and that's that his mother always gives us cookies and things
when we go on a hike. I got a dandy mother, too, and maybe you'll see how
much I think about her, kind of, in the next chapter. Anyway I have to
thank Wig Weigand, that's one sure thing.

Now maybe you think I did a good stunt in that marsh, but a scout
doesn't get credit unless he uses his brains and does everything all
right. And that's where I fell down, and it came near making a lot of
trouble, believe me.

Many's the time Tom Slade (he's in the war now) told me never to leave
a scout sign after it wasn't any more use. "Scratch 'em out," he said,
"because even if it means something now, it might not mean anything six
months from now." Jiminy, that fellow has some brains. He said, "Never
forget to take down a sign when it's no use anymore." Well, when I