"Hold up, there's Bobolink hurrying to catch us; and he acts as if he
might be the bearer of important news," remarked Jack, who had heard a
hail from the rear, and turned his head to see a flitting form.

The other came up, panting heavily.

"Say, you fellows must have the seven league boots, the way you get over
ground. And just after I've gone and made away with a monstrous supper,
too," he managed to say, between gasps. "Let me get my breath, and I've
got something to tell you."

"Is it about Ted Slavin and his cronies?" asked Paul, suspiciously.

"Hit it the first shot," returned Bobolink; "who told you?"

"Why, I haven't heard a word; only I thought that if there was anything
going on, Ted would be apt to have a finger in the pie," returned the
other, grimly.

"Well, he has, all right, as usual. Anyhow his mouthpiece, Ward Kenwood,
has, and it's the same thing. I was taking something in to the dominie at
our church (my mother is at the head of a committee, you know) when he
asked me if I was going to join the new Boy Scout patrol that was being
organized in Stanhope."

"Whew, but those fellows don't believe in letting the grass grow under
their feet, do they? Never thought a thing about it till they heard us
talking matters over; and here they're getting all the credit for being
first in the field," and Jack shrugged his shoulders ruefully as he
spoke.