"Let's see the cup."

We left it in the machine. We'll get it in the morning. Now look here,
you scouts. I want every last one of you to try for that cup. There are
half a dozen of you that need to wake up. There are a few dead ones
here; Harry, the crack shot--yes you--I'm looking right at you--I want
you to can all this stuff about killing animals and get busy and do the
best scout stunt of the season and win that cup. Understand? I was
saying to Safety First on the way home that a fellow gets more fun
stealing up on an animal and piking him with a camera than he does
poking around with an old air gun that he saw advertised in _Boy's
Life_. That's what! I'm talking to you straight.

"Now here's a silver cup and it looks pretty swell all engraved with our
patrol names and we drove way to Bridgeboro to get it. That cup's going
to stand on the stump of that tree there--where the chipmunk hangs out.
And the day we leave this island it's going to the scout that has done
the best scout stunt. Tracking, signalling, good turn, cooking, it makes
no difference what. The scout that does the _biggest thing_, he gets the
cup. We two scoutmasters and Mr. Wade are going to be the committee. Now
you'd better all turn in and hurry up about it, and Ralph Gordon is not
to snore; they're complaining about it over in town."

"Can we do any kind of stunts we want to?" asked the tall scout whom
they call Nick.

"Any kind at all that's good scouting; that's the only rule."

"All right, then I'm going to start to-night," said Nick; "I'm going to
row across and get that cup out of the car so we all can see it. Let's