that scoutmaster you fellows have, I'd say he would never make a regular tip-top scout. But I think that Mr. What's-his-name—Ellsworth—is a wonder."
"Believe me, you said something," I told him.
"You know yourself," he said, "how that kid talks—shouts, I mean. Stealing silver, picking pockets! What are all these fellows to think? Most of the fellows here come from good folks. They don't understand a poor little codger like Skinny who is half crazy, because he's been half starved, You know yourself that he doesn't fit in here. I don't say he isn't going to. But I'm good at arithmetic, Blakeley—~"
"Gee, you're a peach on tracking, too," I said.
"Well, and I know how to put two and two together," he said. "I knew, I just felt it in my bones, that that gold dust twin with his swell bathing suit and his waterproof mackinaw was going to lose his roll in the water. He carried it loose in his mackinaw pocket—a camper, mind you. He had a wad big enough to pay off the national debt, and I knew it would tumble out and it did, Skinny's one of those poor little codgers that's always unlucky. He happened to be there. He happened to have a key. He happened to go to
