“Yes,” replied Madaline, edging away.  “We have a lot of fun being scouts.  Good-bye!” and she ran off without affording herself a chance to say anything else.

“Did she take it!” asked Grace unnecessarily.

“Yes, and she just loved it.  But I couldn’t think what to say, and I said we had fun in being scouts, when I saw she couldn’t move for any kind of fun.  Wasn’t that awful?” wailed Madaline.

“No,” the practical Cleo assured her embarrassed companion.  “It is always well to speak of scout work.  Perhaps she will take an interest in it now.  But look!  Here comes Hal.  Oh, I wonder what news he has!”

The girl in the wheel chair was quickly forgotten with the approach of the boy.

“Oh, he has a letter!  See how he wags his head!” exclaimed Grace.

“Yep, I got one!” the boy called, now near enough to make himself heard.  “Do I hear the good news?” he inquired, handing over the yellow envelope.

“It’s for me!” Grace insisted, making sure of the prize.

“It’s addressed to the ‘Scout Bandit’” announced Hal.  “I don’t know that I would stand for that, Grace,” but the girl, nervously attempting to open the yellow envelope, paid no attention to the insinuation.  “Thank you so much, Hal,” Cleo had the politeness to express.  “Come on over to the bridge, and maybe we will tell you what’s in the letter.”

“No, thank you,” he refused.  “I’m due at a baseball practice and late now.  So long, girls.  Hope you make your points, whatever they are, by all that woodland stuff,” and with commendable disregard for possible thrills, Hal turned his wheel in the direction of the ball field.

Now what girl could possibly have resisted the chance of sharing the woodland secret?  Yet, being a boy, Hal ignored the offer and happily raced off to his belated ball practice.

“We can all squat down in this patch of grass,” suggested Madaline, who, as yet, had not even glimpsed the envelope Grace had passed on to Cleo.  “Do let’s read it!” she begged impatiently.

“All right!” and Grace did squat down beside the others on the little patch of grass that hung over the deep gutter.  “Now listen!” (Needless admonition.)

“‘Little Bandits,’” she began, “’if you find this I will know you are going to play our game.  First I must tell you I have to keep my identity secret for some time yet.  My reason for doing so is a worthy one, which I will some day make clear to you.  But I am not a lazy tramp, nor a wild woodsman in the ordinary sense, so, if you will keep faith, we can play a wonderful game.’”

Grace paused and breathed audibly.

“There!” she exclaimed.  “I knew he would be nice.”

“After you decided not to have him a horrid old tramp,” teased Madaline.

“Oh, read it, Grace,” Cleo insisted.  “What does he want us to do?”

She resumed reading the rather broad sheet that might have been called typewriter paper, if the girls had been familiar with its style.