Chapter I. Boy Scouts in a Strange Land

"Fine country, this--to get out of!"

"What‘s the difficulty, kid?"

Jimmie McGraw, the first speaker, turned back to the interior of the apartment in which he stood with a look of intense disgust on freckled face.

"Oh, nothin‘ much," he replied, wrinkling his nose comically, "only Broadway an‘ the Bowery are too far away from this town to ever amount to anythin‘. Say, how would you fellers like a chair in front of the grate in the little old Black Bear Patrol clubroom, in the village of N. Y.? What?"

The three boys lying, half covered with empty burlap bags, on the bare earth at the back of the apartment chuckled softly as Jimmie‘s face brightened at the small picture he drew verbally, of the luxurious Boy Scout clubroom in the City of New York.

"New York is a barren island as compared with this place," one of the boys, Jack Bosworth by name, declared. "Just think of the odor of the Orient all around us!

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