But none of the troop made any comment.
After the distribution of a dozen or so merit badges, Mr. Temple called
out, "Alfred McCord, Elk Patrol, First Bridgeboro, New Jersey Troop."
There was a slight bustle among the Bridgeboro boys to make way for
their little member who started threading his way among the throng, his
thin little face lighted with a nervous smile of utter delight.
"Bully for Alf!" some one called.
"Greetings, Shorty," another shouted.
He stood before Mr. Temple on the platform, trembling all over, and yet
the picture of joy. His big eyes stared with a kind of exaltation. For
once, his hair was smooth, and it made his face seem all the more gaunt
and pale. This was the crucial moment of his life. He stood as straight
as he could, his little spindle legs shaking, but his hand held up in
the full scout salute to Mr. Temple. Oh, but he was proud and happy. If
Hervey Willetts, wherever he was, saw him one brief thrill of pride and
satisfaction must have been his.
"Alfred McCord," said Mr. Temple; "your friends and I greet you as a
scout of the second-class. Let me place on you the symbol of your
achievement."
He stepped forward, just one step. Oh, but he was happy. He stood upon
the platform, but he walked on air. Mr. Temple shook hands with him--Mr.
John Temple, founder of Temple Camp! Yes, sir, Skinny and Mr. John
Temple shook hands. And then the little fellow turned so that the
audience might see his precious badge.
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