"Surest thing you know."

"And will you prove it for me?"

"That's me."

"Then I won't be a tenderfoot any more. I'll be a second-class scout."

"Is that what you have to do to be a second-class scout, Skinny? I
forget about the second-class tests. You have to track an animal, or
something like that? I've got a rotten memory."

"And I'll--I'll have a trail named after me, too; it'll be called McCord
trail. These are _my_ tracks, see? Because I found them. Only maybe
they'll say I'm lying. Anyway, how did _you_ happen to come here?" he
asked as if in sudden fear.

"I was just taking a walk through the woods, Skinny."

Skinny continued to stare at him, still with a kind of lingering
misgiving, but feeling that gentle patting on his shoulder, he seemed
reassured.

"I was just flopping around in the woods, Skinny; just flopping around,
that's all...."