The speeding auto passed, the mighty Bridgeboro scout pinned his missive to his remnant of sandwich and hurled it out into the dark world, the boy up in the little room went on reading with hungry eyes, and that is all there was to that.
Peter belonged to no troop, for in that lonely country there was no troop to belong to.

He had no scoutmaster, no one to track and stalk and go camping with, no one to jolly him as Pee-wee had.

Away off in National Headquarters he was registered as a pioneer scout.

He had his certificate, he had his handbook, that is all.

It is said in that book that a scout is a brother to every other scout, but this scout's brothers were very far away and he had never seen any of them.