Scoutmaster Ned had the floor, also the walls and the ceiling.

He seemed not to care anything about the culprits.

All he seemed to care about was getting his Hunkajunk car back and recounting their adventures.

Perhaps he was even a little grateful to the culprits for affording them such opportunity for adventure.

At all events, he kicked his hat around on the end of his foot and filled the room with his quick, breezy talk.
"Yes sir, we rode to Bridgeboro, New Jersey, got a prize cup for my kindergarten class to try for, looked in at a show, saw a guy with a lot of pistols, got home at about, oh I don't know--rowed over to the island where we're camping, and these two kids rowed back to get the cup out of the car, and found the car gone and sent a signal that nobody saw and we came along in this fellow's Packard.