"We ought to have a flag with a chicken's head on it.

We counted our chickens before they were hatched." "_Some_ fall-down; we should worry," another said, busy at his tasks.
"Eagle fell asleep at the switch, didn't you, Eagle ?" They called him Eagle in a kind of ironical contempt, and it cut him more than anything else that they said.
"Eagle with clipped wings, hey ?" one of the troop wits observed.
"Help us take down this troop pole, will you ?" Will Connor, Hervey's patrol leader, called.

"We should bother about the eagle; our eagle isn't hatched yet." "Some eggs are rotten," one of the Panthers retorted, which created a general laugh.
Hervey turned scarlet at this and his hands trembled on the oven stone which he was casting away.

He dropped it and stood up straight, only to confront the stolid face of the young camp assistant looking straight at him.
"Getting all cleared up ?" Tom asked in his usual sober but pleasant way.
Hervey Willetts was about to fly off the handle but something in Tom's quiet, keen glance deterred him.
"You fellows going home soon ?" "Tuesday morning," volunteered the Panthers' patrol leader.

"We usually don't stick to the finish.