They might say it wasn't a half a mile, hey ?" The hand which rested on the little thin shoulder, patted it reassuringly.
"Well, I'll be there to tell them different, won't I, Skinny, old boy ?" "Will you go with me all the way up to where the mountain begins--will you ?" "Surest thing you know." "And will you prove it for me ?" "That's me." "Then I won't be a tenderfoot any more.

I'll be a second-class scout." "Is that what you have to do to be a second-class scout, Skinny?
I forget about the second-class tests.

You have to track an animal, or something like that?
I've got a rotten memory." "And I'll--I'll have a trail named after me, too; it'll be called McCord trail.

These are _my_ tracks, see?
Because I found them.

Only maybe they'll say I'm lying.