“I won’t interfere there,” promised McNulty gently. “Ryan is a decent chap, and so are you; and I know that after a couple of days you will get along together fine. Try to get his point of view. We’ve got a fine bunch of fellows in Tent One this time, and as soon as we get to pulling together, we’re going to show Lenape some speed! I didn’t mean to make you listen to another sermon today,” he ended wryly, “and I don’t expect you to learn everything about camping in a few hours. Come to me next time you feel the urge to do something startling, and I’ll try to put you wise first.”
Dirk smarted under the words, but held back the bitter reply that rose to his lips. He slammed the booby-can on a nail sticking into the front tent-pole, and retired sulkily to his untidy bunk. The other boys, with the exception of the two who were doing the dishes, were stretched about, taking a restful siesta after their bountiful dinner. Across from Dirk sat Brick Ryan, busied as usual over his life-saving manual, and apparently unaware that there was anybody named Van Horn within a thousand miles of him. For the first time, Dirk noticed that Brick wore a curious insignia stitched to the front of his jersey. It was outlined in green and white, and showed a large L superimposed upon a swastika. Dirk’s eyes passed to Lefty Reardon. Lefty also wore the green L.
Dirk decided that the camp monogram would look most attractive on one of his sweaters. He jumped up, and hurried back to the lodge before the small camp store closed.
On the porch of the lodge, a short string of boys stood before the window, waiting their turn to make small purchases of candy, peanuts, and gum. Dirk joined the end of the line. When he came abreast of the window, he issued his demand.
“I want one of those camp letters to put on my sweater.”
Long Jim Avery, the lanky councilor charged with the duty of looking after the camp supplies, leaned far over the counter and looked at the boy with astonishment.
“You want what?” he asked with widening eyes.
“Oh, you know what I mean, sir—one of those green and white things with an L on them. I want to buy one.”
The boy in back of Dirk snickered. Long Jim gulped.
“Somebody’s trying to play a joke on you, Van Horn. Why, I thought even a new boy knew that you can’t buy an honor emblem!”