“we took that little old banner early last summer,” said wig; “and we’re the only patrol that ever kept it over into another season.”

“what do you mean ‘we took it’?” wilfred asked.

“well then, i took it, if you want to be so particular,” said wig. “but i represented the patrol, didn’t i?”

“i don’t know—did you?”

“you’d better stick around and learn something about patrol spirit,” said wig. “if one scout in a patrol does a thing it’s the same as if they all do it.”

“then i’ve been eating three helpings of dessert at every meal so far,” wilfred observed. “that’s what little harris does. i’ll be getting indigestion from the way he eats if i don’t look out.”

“i have to laugh at you,” said wig, “but just the same you know what i mean.”

“yes, you bet i do,” wilfred agreed.

“you’ll see how it is, it’s always the patrol,” said wig. “you do the stunt, we all get the honor—see?”

“and you did the stunt?” wilfred asked.

“well, yes, if you want to look at it that way——”

“i want to look at it the right way,” wilfred said earnestly.

“all right; well then, suppose you—you’re a fine swimmer——”

“there you go again; i never——”

“all right, suppose you should win the big swimming contest on august tenth——”

“when?”

“on august tenth—mary temple day. you know her, don’t you?”

“i don’t know anybody,” wilfred said wistfully.

“well, you know mr. john temple founded this camp, don’t you? well, she’s his daughter. he lost a son by drowning once, so that’s why he says every fellow should be a good swimmer. august tenth is mary temple’s birthday and she’s seventeen and she’s a mighty nice looking girl—yellow hair——”

“a scout is observant,” said wilfred. “now there’s one thing about scouting i’ve learned.”

“well,” said wig, laughing in spite of himself, “she’s always here on the tenth to give the prize. this year it’s a radio set.”

“yes?” said wilfred, interested.

“and i bet it will be a dandy.”

“well, how about the banner?” said wilfred. “tell me about that so i can forget about radio sets. that’s what i’m crazy about and now you’ve got me thinking about one. let’s have the banner.”

“well,” said wig, “all i was going to say was, if you win that big contest the radio set——”

“there you go, reminding me again.”

“the radio set would be yours,” wig said, “but the honor would be the patrol’s. see?”

“all right, how about the banner?” wilfred asked quietly, rolling over on his back and looking patiently up into the blue sky as if to remind his companion that he was listening.

“that’s another camp institution,” said wig. “about three seasons ago——”

“once upon a time——” mocked wilfred.

“are you going to listen or not? once upon—i mean about three seasons ago a patrol came here from connecticut——”

“that’s where i come from,” said wilfred. “and i’m going back there some day, too. once a yankee, always a yankee, that’s what they say.”

“well, this patrol came from new haven.”

“i lived only about five or six miles from there,” said wilfred. “i lived near short beach. i was going to join a patrol in new haven once—only i didn’t. i know people in new haven. go ahead.”

“well, these fellows brought that pennant from new haven with them. you know yankees are all the time boasting?”

“many thanks,” said wilfred.

“anyway, these fellows are. they planted that emblem outside their patrol tent and then started in saying how it was a symbol and how they always slept with one eye open and all that. that’s why they had that eye on the pennant; that was the patrol eye, always open.”

“i suppose that’s why it was winking at me,” said wilfred; “it saw i came from connecticut.”

“just wait till i finish,” said wig. “those scouts claimed that nobody could take that thing away while they were sleeping in their tent—couldn’t be done—you know how yankees talk. well, there was a fellow here named hervey willetts. that fellow’s specialty is doing things that can’t be done. if a thing can be done he doesn’t bother doing it. late one night he came walking into camp after everybody was asleep—that’s the way he happened to notice that flag outside the new haven patrol’s tent. he didn’t even know there was a challenge; he just tiptoed up to the little old banner and carried it to his own patrol—just as easy! oh, boy, you should have seen that new haven outfit in the morning.”

“well, that was the start. after that that little, old, one-eyed pennant belonged to any patrol that could get it—on the square, i mean. that’s the only contest award, as you might call it, that was started by the fellows here; all the events and prizes and tests and everything were started by the management—like the swimming event i told you about.”

“when’s that?” wilfred asked.

“i told you—august tenth.”

“gee whiz, i guess the bunch here think more about that little prize than they do of any award, handbook, camp or anything. nobody awards it and makes a speech and all that stuff; it’s just a case of let’s see you get it.”

“if they’re asleep they don’t see you get it,” said wilfred.

“well, you know what i mean. there aren’t any rules about it at all except the patrol that has it has got to plant it outside their tent or cabin, without any strings going inside or anything like that. you can fix the ground around it with natural things, like you see we did; but you can’t hang a bell on it or anything like that. any scout that can sneak up and take it without being heard or seen, gets it. if a scout wakes up and hears any one outside he can run after him and if he catches him before the fellow reaches his own patrol, the fellow has to give up the flag. he’s not supposed to fight. of course, sometimes they do fight and get on the outs, but they’re not supposed to. the game is to get it and reach your patrol cabin with it without being caught. it’s got to be at night, after everybody has turned in.”

“how many patrols have had it?” wilfred asked.

“oh, jiminies, maybe as many as ten, i guess. the wildcats from washington had it and willetts walked away with it again about two o’clock one morning. then a scout from albany got it and his patrol kept it, oh, a month, i guess. let’s see, the eagles from st. louis had it and the panthers from somewhere or other had it, and, oh, a lot that i can’t remember. then the new haven fellows got it back again—some shouting the next day. they said it had made the round trip and was going to settle down for good where it ‘originally belonged’—you know how yankees talk, all nice words and everything. originally belonged.

“well, it was back home just seven days. then, i woke up accidentally on purpose one fine day in the middle of the night and went down toward the lake for a walk—no shoes. there it was outside their stronghold, winking at me. the moon was up and the breeze was blowing and, honest, billy, it was winking at me, that one eye. i sneaked up so quietly on my hands and knees that it took me about half an hour to go five yards; you’d think i belonged in the snail patrol.”

“and you got it?” wilfred asked.

“there it is, winking at me,” said wig proudly.

wilfred raised himself lazily to a sitting posture observing the coveted and much traveled emblem of scout stealth and prowess. that single eye did seem to be winking at him.

“it knows me. i come from connecticut,” he said. then he acknowledged its fraternal salute with a whimsical wink of his own.

“i bet you’re proud of it,” wig observed.

“i wonder what it means, eyeing me up like that,” wilfred said.

“it means you’re one of us,” said wig, with pride and friendship in his voice.

“thanks,” said wilfred.

“and i bet you’re proud of that banner, too.”

for a few moments neither spoke and wig seemed to be waiting for the reassuring answer from his friend. they had seen so little of wilfred in the patrol and he was so quiet and diffident when among them, that wig found it necessary to his peace of mind to be always trying to check up this odd boy’s loyalty and patrol spirit.

“i bet i am,” said wilfred quietly.

still he sat there, arms about his drawn-up knees, gazing with a kind of amusement at the airy, fluttering emblem and winking at it whenever the breeze gave it the appearance of winking at him. wig watched him, amused too at the whimsical spectacle.

“the best part of it is just that,” said wilfred finally; “no one hands it out, it just has to be taken. i like that idea.”

“isn’t it great?” enthused wig.

“and it kind of started all by itself,” said wilfred.

“and stopped all by itself,” said wig. “it’s going to hang out here for a large bunch of summers, that’s what i told yankee yank.

“yankee yank, who’s he?”

“oh, he’s the patrol leader of that new haven menagerie; allison berry, his name is.”

“allison berry?” wilfred asked, astonished. “i know that fellow, i know him well. his father gave me this scarf pin that i’ve got on.”

“what did he do that for?” wig asked.

“oh, for—just for——”

“what for?” wig insisted.

“oh, for swimming out and helping al get to shore at short beach. didn’t i tell you i knew some fellows in new haven?”

“oh, so you saved his life?”

“come on, let’s go to dinner,” said wilfred.