When he reached the front of the sleeping places an exclamation of
alarm came from a bundle of furs and blankets on the lower bunk and
a boy's frightened face gazed up at him. The boy sat observing the
other with evident suspicion for a moment, until his eyes caught
sight of the Boy Scout medals which adorned the sleeve of the lad's
coat.
Then he extended an arm in the full salute of the Boy Scouts of
America, and sat back with a grin on his face to note the result.
"Beaver Patrol; Chicago," he said directly.
"I know you," George said with an exclamation of surprise. "You're
Thede Carson, and you're about the toughest little wharf rat in
Chicago!"
"That's a nice recommend for a patrol leader to give one of his
scouts," grinned the boy. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself!"
"The last time I saw you," George said, smiling at the memory, "you
were diving into the South Branch to keep out of sight of a police
boat."
"I remember that," grinned Thede. "They said I'd been swiping
bananas up in Gambler's alley, and that wasn't true."
"Well, how in the name of all the seven wonders of the world did
you get into the Hudson Bay country?" demanded George.
"Old Finklebaum," answered Thede.
"Old Finklebaum?" repeated George.
Pages:
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30