h

Thomas  Slade
William  Bronson
Theodore  Bronson
Connover  Bennet
George  O'Connor
Charles  O'Connor
Wade  Van  Ester

He  blinked  as  he  gazed  at  the  highly  pol-
ished metal,  at  the  names  which  had  meant
labor  and  long  effort  for  him,  and  which  be-
spoke his  success.  His  hand  almost  shook  as
he  fumbled  the  silken  tassel  of  the  beautiful
instrument,  and  the  familiar  names  upon  it


BIRTHDAY  OF  ELK  PATROL  125

seemed  like  fifty  names  wrought  into  an  in-
tricate design.
"That's  all  right,  Tom,"  said  Mr.  Ells-
worth, smiling  and  placing  a  reassuring  hand
on  his  shoulder.  "They  understand."

But  it  was  Roy  who  came  to  his  rescue,  as
he  had  done  more  than  once  before,  and  saved
him  further  embarrassment.
"Blow  it,  Tomasso,"  said  he.  "Maybe
you  can  blow  up  your  other  recruit  if  you
blow  loud  enough."

"Sure,  maybe  it'll  be  like  the  shot  heard
round  the  world,"  said  Pee-wee.
"Or  like  the  music  of  old  Ichabod  Crane,
which  they  say  is  still  heard  in  Sleepy  Hol-
low," said  Mr.  Ellsworth.  "Perhaps  it  will
be  heard  months  hence."

"Blow  for  him,  anyway,"  said  Roy.
"He'll  come  some  day,  you  can  bet,  and  we'll
all  wish  it  at  the  same  time,  while  you're
blowing,  Tom.  Go  ahead!"

Tom  raised  the  bugle  to  his  lips  laughing,
and  as  he  blew  lustily  the  echo  of  its  attenu-
ated final  note  was  borne  back  with  the  fresh-
ening night  breeze,  like  a  faint  answer  from
the  encompassing  hills.
"He  is  here,"  said  an  impassive  voice.
