Some of the boys had been inconsolable ever since they watched the last of the troop vanish over the hill, as Hugh had described. Being ambitious and patriotic lads, they would have liked nothing better than a chance to accompany those artillerymen to camp, and even to the far distant Southwest border where the followers of the Mexican bandit, Villa, were threatening further bold raids across the international line.
Never dreaming of having their ardent wishes suddenly realized, the two boys continued to stand there, chatting of scout affairs in general, and what they expected to do while in camp in particular. Bud, upon turning his head, discovered something which he communicated to Hugh in his breezy fashion:
“Unless I miss my guess, Hugh, we’re going to hear some news worth while. There’s our comrade, Blake Merton, heading this way like a schooner with all sails set. He looks considerably worked up, too. I wonder what ails him? Perhaps something’s happened to keep him from joining the bunch when we start on our hike tomorrow for that camp up near the Pastor farm?”
“We’ll soon know what’s up, for he’s heading our way, and making signals that he wants us to wait for him. I hope it hasn’t anything to do with that case of scarlet fever my folks were talking about this morning, because it happens that the Werner house is close to where Blake lives. If one of his younger sisters came down with the disease they’d have to quarantine the Mertons, and so Blake couldn’t go with us.”
“Wee whiz! that _would_ be tough luck—with vacation just starting in!” the sympathetic Bud went on to say.
“Hello! Hugh!” remarked the newcomer as he arrived, partly out of breath from hurrying so fast, and looking excited as well, “I’ve been searching for you all over town. They put me on several false scents, but I’m awful glad to find you at last!”
“What’s the trouble, Blake?” asked the patrol leader; for, although the Merton boy belonged to the _Hawk_ Patrol, somehow, when he wanted counsel and advice, he turned to the assistant scout master rather than to Walter Osborne, who was the _Hawk_ leader.
Blake glanced toward Bud, and then, as though making up his mind, quickly exclaimed:
“I guess Bud can be depended on to keep a secret as tight as a drum, and so I’m going to speak up. Fact is, Hugh, I’m in a peck of trouble about my cousin, Felix Platt.”
