"What do you say we blaze the trail," said Roy, "so other scouts will be able to follow it?"

"It seems there's a difference between camping goods and sporting articles," said Artie.

"I say, let's not give up," contributed Tom.

They rose and sallied laughingly forth, through aisles and around corners to the elevator. On the fourth floor they found themselves in a wilderness of carpets and rugs and bureaus, tables, chairs and curtains.

"This beats the hill where we found Stan," said Tom.

"Keep a good heart, scouts," said Roy. "We'll come out all right yet.

This has got the Canadian Rockies beat twenty ways."

"Sporting supplies?" pleaded Roy of the first clerk they saw.

"Two aisles over."

"Scout suits?" he asked, reaching that point.

"One floor down, in the boy's clothing."

Near the stairway they encountered a friendly looking man in black, standing with his hands clasped behind him.

"Hey, mister," said Roy, "we are boy scouts and we're lost. It's getting late and we have to get back to our boat before dark. We can't seem to hit the right trail and we're afraid we'll starve if night comes on. We want to find the place where they sell scout suits."

The man laughed pleasantly and resting his arm over Roy's shoulder, went part way down the stairs with them and pointed to a scout suit on a wooden form at the other side of the store.

"There you are," he said, smiling.

"We thank you," said Roy.

"Don't lose sight of it," suggested Artie.

"We're all right now," said Tom.

Reaching the elusive spot, they found themselves at last at the haven of their desire, for there was the wooden boy scout facing them, his stiff arm raised and his painted fingers sticking upright in the scout salute, as if to greet the tired wayfarers, who sank down, panting ostentatiously, upon a bench close by.

"What do you say we agree not to tell the fellows that we were lost and-and-asked our way?" said Artie.

"All right," said Tom, "we're the three leaders and no one knows it but us. We'll keep quiet."

"If Pee-wee should ever hear of this," said Roy, "and find out that we _asked our way_-G-o-o-dni-ight!"

CHAPTER XVIII THE TRAGIC ADVENTURE OF THE FRECKLED SCOUT

The salesman was busy waiting on two boys, both scouts, one of whom was evidently buying a new outfit. Tom expressed surprise at this, since the uniform which he was wearing seemed almost new.

"I suppose the new one is for Sundays," said Artie.

"We should worry," said Roy.

The boy who was doing the purchasing was of a trim physique, with very red hair and he had as many freckles upon his cheerful countenance as there are stars in the quiet sky. There was much joking, which the Bridgeboro boys could not hear, between these boys and the salesman, and while waiting for the purchase to be wrapped the three formed a little laughing group.

The freckled boy, in particular, interested the waiting scouts who were attracted by his trim figure, his jaunty manner and the shiny redness of his rather curly hair.

"Well, I wish you luck," said the salesman as they left him; "it's some stunt!"

As the two pa.s.sed the bench where the Bridgeboro boys were sitting, the red-headed boy turned and gave them the scout salute with a merry smile.

"They live around here?" Artie asked.

"No," said the salesman, inspecting Tom's scout certificate to be sure that he was ent.i.tled to buy the official suit. "They're down from their camp up Lake Champlain. Quite a pair, aren't they?"

Artie felt that he would like to ask more about them, for he was sure they had been telling "their adventures," as Pee-wee would have said, to the salesman. But scouts are not officious, and these particular scouts believed somewhat in Roy's advice for winning the business badge; _viz._, Mind your own business.

The salesman, however, did vouchsafe them one little morsel of information while he was fitting Tom.

"They've got a great scheme on foot, those kids," said he.

"I think I know what it is," said Tom. "They're going to give a scout suit to a new fellow for a surprise."

"Sherlock n.o.body Holmes again," jeered Roy.

The man only laughed. "You scout fellows don't seem to know what fear is, do you?" he added, pleasantly.

"We wouldn't know it if we met it in the street," said Roy, not, however, understanding the significance of the remark. "Toma.s.so's the courageousest-look out he don't bite you! We've been feeding him meat today."

Tom loosened up and decided he would get a sweater, too, and the joint deliberation over a suitable color put an end to their immediate thought of the stranger scouts.

"A kind of a blackish white would be good," said Roy.

Artie suggested a pale lavender. The salesman was greatly amused at their talk, but Tom was somewhat nettled and embarra.s.sed, and he was glad when the completion of the business put an end to their nonsense.

On the way back to the boats and afterwards they speculated somewhat about the two scouts. There was no particular reason for their doing so except that the red-headed boy lingered in their minds with his trim appearance and his vivacious manner. Later, they recalled his jaunty, careless air, his friendly salute and his winning smile, almost with a shudder.

"We saw the kind of scout that Raymond believes in," taunted Roy, upon their return to the boats. "He had on the full uniform, belt-axe, whistle, bugle, gaiters, hat--"

"That's right," said Mr. Ellsworth, winking at Raymond. "That's what they're for-to be worn."

"There was only one thing wrong with him," Roy concluded.

"What?" demanded Raymond, quite boldly for him.

"He was made of wood," said Roy.