"He's a villyan."

"A which?"

"A movie play."

"That's a nice thing for two scoutmasters to go and see. Your two troops
are ashamed of you."

"If our two troops don't shut up--"

"We'll shut up--come on, _altogether_!"

Followed a welcome silence.

"We've gone to a lot of trouble today for you kids," said one of the
scoutmasters. "We've got the cup but we had to wait a couple of hours
for it. The merchants in the great metropolis of Bridgeboro are so slow
that a turtle would be arrested for speeding there. Poke up the fire,
Nick, we're cold, and I'll tell you all about our adventures. We've made
a day of it, huh?"

The scout whom he called Nick jogged up the waning blaze while others
brought a fresh log, and soon the camp-fire was roaring a warming,
hearty welcome home to the weary scoutmasters. One of these (who was
evidently young enough to be addressed by his Christian name, for they
called him Ned) sat on an old grocery box and related the happenings of
the day, while the others sprawled about, listening. Occasionally his
fellow scoutmaster (Safety First they called him) contributed a few
words.