And then the little fellow turned so that the audience might see his precious badge.

And the wrinkles at the ends of his thin little mouth showed very clearly as he smiled--oh, such a smile.
Then the scouts of Temple Camp showed that their wonted disregard of Skinny was only because they did not understand him, queer little imp that he was.

For cheer after cheer arose as he stood there in a kind of bewilderment of joy.
"Hurrah, for the star tracker!" "Three cheers for the sleuth of the forest!" "No more tenderfoot!" "Hurrah for S-S-S!" Which meant Skinny, second-class scout.
"I congratulate you, Alfred," said Mr.Temple, pleased at the ovation.
"You have the eyes that see, and this feat of tracking which I have heard of is a fitting climax to all your efforts to win your goal--to finish what you began.

Let every tenderfoot follow your example.

And may the scouts of the second-class welcome you with pride." Skinny saw Mr.Temple's hand raised, saw the fingers formed to make the familiar scout salute--the _full_ salute.