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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/18943-h.zip b/18943-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ed1c611 --- /dev/null +++ b/18943-h.zip diff --git a/18943-h/18943-h.htm b/18943-h/18943-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f5366b9 --- /dev/null +++ b/18943-h/18943-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4829 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Tom Slade at Black Lake, by Percy Keese Fitzhugh + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center; clear: both;} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; + position: absolute; right: 2%; border:1px solid white; + padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; + font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; + color: #444; background-color: #EEE;} + .blockquot {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + hr.full {width:100%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + hr.major {width:75%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + hr.minor {width:30%; margin-top:0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + .caption {font-size: 80%;} + img.border {padding: 0.4em; border: 1px solid;} + .caption {font-size: 80%;} + .everychild {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:80%; margin-left: 8em;} + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; + padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; + font-size: 90% } + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Tom Slade at Black Lake, by Percy Keese Fitzhugh + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Tom Slade at Black Lake + +Author: Percy Keese Fitzhugh + +Illustrator: Howard L. Hastings + +Release Date: July 30, 2006 [EBook #18943] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM SLADE AT BLACK LAKE *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class='figcenter' style='width: 400px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="illus-001" id="illus-001"></a> +<img src='images/illus-fp.jpg' alt='TOM HAULED THE LOGS BY MEANS OF A BLOCK AND FALL--Tom Slade at Black Lake Frontispiece (Page 96)' title='' /><br /> +<span class='caption'>TOM HAULED THE LOGS BY MEANS OF A BLOCK AND FALL<br /><i>Tom Slade at Black Lake Frontispiece</i>—(<i>Page</i> 96)</span> +</div> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<table width="400" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" border="1"> + <col style="width:100%;" /> + <tr> + <td align='center'> + <br /><br /> + <span style='font-size: 240%;'>TOM SLADE</span><br /> + <span style='font-size: 200%;'>AT BLACK LAKE</span><br /><br /><br /> + <span style='font-size: 100%;'>BY</span><br /> + <span style='font-size: 140%;'>PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH</span><br /><br /><br /> + <span style='font-size: 80%; font-variant: small-caps;'>Author of</span><br /> + <span style='font-size: 90%;'>THE TOM SLADE AND</span><br /> + <span style='font-size: 90%;'>THE ROY BLAKELEY BOOKS</span><br /><br /><br /> + <span style='font-size: 80%;'>ILLUSTRATED BY</span><br /> + <span style='font-size: 90%;'>HOWARD L. HASTINGS</span><br /><br /><br /> + <span style='font-size: 80%;'>PUBLISHED WITH THE APPROVAL OF</span><br /> + <span style='font-size: 90%;'>THE BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA</span><br /><br /><br /> + <span style='font-size: 120%;'>GROSSET & DUNLAP</span><br /> + <span style='font-size: 80%;'>PUBLISHERS :: NEW YORK</span><br /><br /><br /> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p style='text-align:center; font-size: 80%;'>Made in the United States of America</p> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<p style='text-align:center'> +Copyright, 1920, by<br />GROSSET & DUNLAP</p> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<h3>PREFACE.</h3> + +<p>Several persons have asked me when Tom Slade was ever going to grow up +and cease to be a Scout. The answer is that he is already grown up and +that he is never going to cease to be a Scout. Once a Scout, always a +Scout. To hear some people talk one would think that scouting is like +the measles; that you get over it and never have it any more.</p> + +<p>Scouting is not a thing to play with, like a tin steam-engine, and then +to throw aside. If you once get caught in the net of scouting, you will +never disentangle yourself. A fellow may grow up and put on long +trousers and go and call on a girl and all that sort of thing, but if he +was a Scout, he will continue to be a Scout, and it will stick out all +over him. You'll find him back in the troop as assistant or scoutmaster +or something or other.</p> + +<p>I think Tom Slade is a very good example. He left the troop to go and +work on a transport; he got into the motorcycle messenger service; he +became one of the greatest daredevils of the air; he came home quite +"grown up" as you would say, and knuckled down to be a big business man.</p> + +<p>Then, when it came to a show down, what did he do? He found out that he +was just a plain Scout, shouldered his axe, and went off and did a big +scout job all alone. So there you are.</p> + +<p>I am sorry for those who would have him too old for scouting, and who +seem to think that a fellow can lay aside all he has learned in the +woods and in the handbook, the same as he can lay aside his short +trousers. It isn't as easy as all that.</p> + +<p>Did you suppose that Tom Slade was going to get acquainted with nature, +with the woods and streams and trees, and make them his friends, and +then repudiate these friends?</p> + +<p>Do you think that a Scout is a quitter?</p> + +<p>Tom Slade was always a queer sort of duck, and goodness only knows what +he will do next. He may go to the North Pole for all I know. But one +thing you may be sure of; he is still a Scout of the Scouts, and if you +think he is too old to be a Scout, then how about Buffalo Bill?</p> + +<p>The fact is that Tom is just beginning to reap the real harvest of +scouting. The best is yet to come, as Pee-wee Harris usually observes, +just before dessert is served at dinner. If it is any satisfaction to +you to know it, Tom is more of a Scout than at any time in his career, +and there is a better chance of his being struck by lightening than his +drifting away from the troop whose adventures you have followed with +his.</p> + +<p>It is true that Tom has grown faster than his companions and found it +necessary to go to work while they are still at school. And this very +circumstance will enable us to see what scouting has done for him.</p> + +<p>Indeed if I could not show you that, then all of those eight stores of +his adventures would have been told to little purpose. The chief matter +of interest about a trail is where it leads to. It may be an easy trail +or a hard trail, but the question is, where does it go to?</p> + +<p>It would be a fine piece of business, I think, to leave Tom sitting on a +rock near the end of the trail without giving you so much as a glimpse +of what is at the end of it.</p> + +<p>So you may tell your parents and your teachers and your uncles and your +aunts not to worry about Tom Slade never growing up. He is just a trifle +over eighteen years old and very strong and husky. Confidentially, I +look upon him as nothing but a kid. I keep tabs on his age and when he +has to go on crutches and is of no more interest to you, I shall be the +first to know it. He is likely to have no end of adventures between +eighteen and twenty.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, don't worry about him. He's just a big overgrown kid and the +best Scout this side of Mars.</p> + +<p style='text-align: right'>P. K. F.</p> + +<hr class='major' /> + + +<h2><a name="Contents" id="Contents"></a>Contents</h2> +<div class="smcap"> +<table border="0" width="600" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<col style="width:15%;" /> +<col style="width:75%;" /> +<col style="width:10%;" /> +<tr><td align="right">I </td><td align="left">TOM LOOKS AT THE MAP</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">II </td><td align="left">HE SENDS A LETTER</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">5</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">III </td><td align="left">THE NEW STRUGGLE</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">10</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">IV </td><td align="left">"LUCKY LUKE"</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">16</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">V </td><td align="left">ABOUT SEEING A THING THROUGH</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">24</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VI </td><td align="left">"THE WOODS PROPERTY"</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">29</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VII </td><td align="left">JUST NONSENSE</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">35</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VIII </td><td align="left">FIVE, SIX, AND SEVEN</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">44</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">IX </td><td align="left">ROY'S NATURE</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">52</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">X </td><td align="left">TOM RECEIVES A SURPRISE</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">55</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XI </td><td align="left">TOM AND ROY</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">59</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XII </td><td align="left">THE LONG TRAIL</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">66</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIII </td><td align="left">ROY'S TRAIL</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">73</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIV </td><td align="left">THE REALLY HARD PART</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">76</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XV </td><td align="left">A LETTER FROM BARNARD</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">80</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVI </td><td align="left">THE EPISODE IN FRANCE</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">86</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVII </td><td align="left">ON THE LONG TRAIL</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">94</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVIII </td><td align="left">TOM LETS THE CAT OUT OF THE BAG</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">101</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIX </td><td align="left">THE SPECTRE OF DEFEAT</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">106</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XX </td><td align="left">THE FRIEND IN NEED</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">110</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXI </td><td align="left">TOM'S GUEST</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">117</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXII </td><td align="left">AN ACCIDENT</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">122</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXIII </td><td align="left">FRIENDS</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">132</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXIV </td><td align="left">TOM GOES ON AN ERRAND</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">138</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXV </td><td align="left">TWO LETTERS</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">147</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXVI </td><td align="left">LUCKY LUKE'S FRIEND</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">152</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXVII </td><td align="left">THORNTON'S STORY</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">158</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXVIII </td><td align="left">RED THORNTON LEARNS SOMETHING ABOUT SCOUTS</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">170</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXIX </td><td align="left">TOM STARTS FOR HOME</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">176</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXX </td><td align="left">THE TROOP ARRIVES</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">182</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXXI </td><td align="left">ARCHER</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">193</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXXII </td><td align="left">TOM LOSES</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">196</a></td></tr> +</table> +</div> +<hr class='major' /> + +<h1>TOM SLADE AT BLACK LAKE</h1> + +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">1</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2><h3>TOM LOOKS AT THE MAP</h3> +</div> + +<p>Tom Slade, bending over the office table, scrutinized the big map of +Temple Camp. It was the first time he had really looked at it since his +return from France, and it made him homesick to see, even in its cold +outlines, the familiar things and scenes which he had so loved as a +scout. The hill trail was nothing but a dotted line, but Tom knew it for +more than that, for it was along its winding way into the dark recesses +of the mountains that he had qualified for the pathfinder's badge. Black +Lake was just an irregular circle, but in his mind's eye he saw there +the moonlight glinting up the water, and canoes gliding silently, and +heard the merry voices of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">2</a></span> scouts diving from the springboard at its +edge.</p> + +<p>He liked this map better than maps of billets and trenches, and to him +the hill trail was more suggestive of adventure than the Hindenburg +Line. He had been very close to the Hindenburg Line and it had meant no +more to him than the equator. He had found the war to be like a +three-ringed circus—it was too big. Temple Camp was about the right +size.</p> + +<p>Tom reached for a slip of paper and laying it upon the map just where +the trail went over the hilltop and off the camp territory altogether, +jotted down the numbers of three cabins which were indicated by little +squares.</p> + +<p>"They're the only three together and kind of separate," he said to +himself.</p> + +<p>Then he went over to the window and gazed out upon the busy scene, which +the city office of Temple Camp overlooked. He did this, not because +there was anything there which he wished particularly to see, but +because he contemplated doing something and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">3</a></span> was in some perplexity +about it. He was going to dictate a letter to Miss Margaret Ellison, the +stenographer.</p> + +<p>Tom had seen cannons and machine guns and hand grenades and depth bombs, +but the thing in all this world that he was most afraid of was the long +sharply pointed pencil which Miss Margaret Ellison always held poised +above her open note book, waiting to record his words. Tom had always +fallen down at the last minute and told her what he wanted to say; +suggesting that she say it in her own sweet way. He did not say <i>sweet</i> +way, though he may have thought it.</p> + +<p>So now he stood at the open window looking down upon Bridgeboro's +surging thoroughfare, while the breath of Spring permeated the Temple +Camp office. If he had been less susceptible of this gentle influence in +the very air, he would still have known it was Spring by the things in +the store windows across the way—straw hats and hammocks and tennis +rackets. There were moving vans, too, with furniture bulging out behind +them, which are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">4</a></span> just as certain signs of merry May as the flowers that +bloom in the Spring. There was something too, in the way that the sun +moved down which bespoke Spring.</p> + +<p>But the surest sign of all was the flood of applications for cabin +accommodations at Temple Camp; that was just as sure and reliable as the +first croaking of the frogs or the softening of the rich, thick mud in +Barrel Alley, where Tom had spent his childhood.</p> + +<p>He moved over to where Miss Margaret Ellison sat at her machine. Mr. +Burton, manager of the Temple Camp office, had told Tom that the only +way to acquire confidence and readiness of speech was to formulate what +he wished to say and to say it, without depending on any one else, and +to this good advice, Peewee Harris, mascot of Tom's Scout Troop had made +the additional suggestion, that it was good to say it whether you had +anything to say or not, on the theory, I suppose, that if you cannot +shoot bullets, it is better to shoot blank cartridges than nothing at +all.</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">5</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2><h3>HE SENDS A LETTER</h3> +</div> + +<p>"Help him, but encourage him to be self-confident; let him take +responsibilities. He understands everything well enough; all he needs is +to get a grip on himself." That is what Mr. Burton had told Margaret +Ellison, and Margaret Ellison, being a girl, understood better than all +the army surgeons in the country.</p> + +<p>You see how it was; they had made a wreck of Tom Slade's nerves as a +trifling incidental to making the world safe for democracy. He started +at every little noise, he broke down in the middle of his talk, he +hesitated to cross the street alone, he shuddered at the report of a +bursting tire on some unlucky auto. He had never been at ease in the +presence of girls, and he was now less at ease than before he had gone +away.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">6</a></span></p> + +<p>He had fought for nearly two years and Uncle Sam liked him so much that +he could not bring himself to part company with him, until by hook or +crook, Mr. Burton and Mr. Temple managed to get him discharged and put +him in the way of finding himself at his old job in Temple Camp office. +It was a great relief to him not to have to salute lieutenants any more. +The shot and shell he did not mind, but his arm was weary with saluting +lieutenants. It was the dream of Tom Slade's life never to see another +lieutenant as long as he lived.</p> + +<p>He leaned against the table near Miss Margaret Ellison and said, "I—I +want—I have to send a letter to a troop that's in Ohio—in a place +called—called Dansburg. Shall I dic—shall I say what I want to tell +them?"</p> + +<p>"Surely," she said cheerily.</p> + +<p>"Maybe if it isn't just right you can fix it up," he said.</p> + +<p>"You say it just the way you want to," she encouraged him.</p> + +<p>"It's to the Second Dansburg Troop and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">7</a></span> the name of the scoutmaster is +William Barnard," Tom said, "and this is what I want to say...."</p> + +<p>"Yes, say it in your own words," she reminded him.</p> + +<p>"We got—I mean received," he dictated hesitatingly, "your letter and we +can give you—can give you—three cabins—three cabins together and kind +of separate like you say—numbers five, six, and seven. They are on the +hill and separate, and we hope to hear from you—soon—because there are +lots of troops asking for cabins, because now the season is beginning. +Yours truly."</p> + +<p>"Is that all right?" he asked rather doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"Surely it is," she said; "and don't forget what Mr. Burton told you +about going home early and resting. Remember, Mr. Burton is your +superior officer now."</p> + +<p>"Are you going home soon?" he asked her.</p> + +<p>"Not till half-past five," she said.</p> + +<p>He hesitated as if he would like to say something more, then retreating +rather clumsily,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">8</a></span> he got his hat and said good-night, and left the +office.</p> + +<p>The letter which he had dictated was not laid upon Mr. Burton's desk for +signature in exactly the phraseology which Tom had used, but Tom never +knew that. This is the way the letter read:</p> + +<div class='blockquot'> +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. William Barnard</span>, Scoutmaster,<br /> + Second Dansburg Troop,<br /> + Dansburg, Ohio.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>:</p> + +<p style='text-align: left;'>Replying to your letter asking for accommodations for your three patrols +for month of August, we can assign you three cabins (Numbers, 5,6 and 7) +covering that time. These are in an isolated spot, as you requested, +being somewhat removed from the body of the camp.</p> + +<p style='text-align: left;'>Circular of rates and particulars is enclosed. Kindly answer promptly, +as applications are numerous.</p> + +<p style='text-align:right'>Yours truly,</p> +</div> + +<p>The letter went out that night, and as it happened, a very considerable +series of adventures resulted.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">9</a></span></p> + +<p>Perhaps if Margaret Ellison had looked at the map or even stopped to +think, she would have consulted with Tom before typing that letter, +which was the cause of such momentous consequences. As for Mr. Burton, +he knew that Tom knew the camp like A. B. C. and he simply signed his +name to the letter and let it go at that.</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">10</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2><h3>THE NEW STRUGGLE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Tom did as he had promised Mr. Burton he would do; he went home and lay +down and rested. It was not much of a home, but it was better than a +dugout. That is, it was cleaner though not very much larger. But there +were no lieutenants.</p> + +<p>It was a tiny hall-room in a boarding house, and the single window +afforded a beautiful view of back fences. It was all the home that Tom +Slade knew. He had no family, no relations, nothing.</p> + +<p>He had been born in a tenement in Barrel Alley, where his mother had +died and from which his good-for-nothing father had disappeared. For a +while he had been a waif and a hoodlum, and by strict attention to the +code of Barrel Alley's gang, he had risen to be king<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">11</a></span> of the hoodlums. +No one, not even Blokey Mattenburg himself, could throw a rock into a +trolley car with the precision of Tom Slade.</p> + +<p>Then, on an evil day, he was tempted to watch the scouts and it proved +fatal. He was drawn head over ears into scouting, and became leader of +the new Elk Patrol in the First Bridgeboro Troop. For three seasons he +was a familiar, if rather odd figure, at Temple Camp, which Mr. John +Temple of Bridgeboro had founded in the Catskills, and when he was old +enough to work it seemed natural that these kindly gentlemen who had his +welfare at heart, should put him into the city office of the camp, which +he left to go to war, and to which he had but lately returned, suffering +from shell-shock.</p> + +<p>He was now eighteen years old, and though no longer a scout in the +ordinary sense, he retained his connection with the troop in capacity of +assistant to Mr. Ellsworth, the troop's scoutmaster.</p> + +<p>He had been rather older than the members of this troop when he made his +spectacular<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">12</a></span> leap from hoodlumism to scouting, and hence while they were +still kicking their heels in the arena he had, as one might say, passed +outside it.</p> + +<p>But his love for the boys and their splendid scoutmaster who had given +him a lift, was founded upon a rock. The camp and the troop room had +been his home, the scouts had been his brothers, and all the simple +associations of his new life were bound up with these three patrols.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was for this reason that among these boys, all younger than +himself, and with whom he had always mingled on such familiar terms, he +showed but few, and those not often, of the distressing symptoms which +bespoke his shattered nerves. Among them he found refuge and was at +peace with himself.</p> + +<p>And the boys, intent upon their own pursuits, knew nothing of the brave +struggle he was making at the office where his days were spent, and in +the poor little shabbily furnished room where he would lie down on his +iron bed and try to rest and forget the war and not hear the noises +outside.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">13</a></span></p> + +<p>How he longed for Friday nights when the troop met, and when he could +forget himself in those diverting games!</p> + +<p>Since the first few days of his return from France, he had seen but +little of the troop, except upon those gala nights. The boys were in +school and he at the office, and it seemed as if their two ways had +parted, after all his hopes that his return might find them reunited and +more intimate than ever before. But after the first joyous welcome, it +had not been so. It could not be so.</p> + +<p>Of course, if they had known how he loved to just sit and listen to them +jolly the life out of Peewee Harris, they would doubtless have arranged +to do this every night for his amusement, for it made no difference to +them how much they jollied Peewee. If they had had the slightest inkling +that it helped him just to listen to Roy Blakeley's nonsense, they would +probably have arranged with Roy for a continuous performance, for so far +as Roy was concerned, there was no danger of a shortage of nonsense. But +you see they did not think of these things.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">14</a></span></p> + +<p>They did much for wounded soldiers, but Tom Slade was not a wounded +soldier. And so it befell that the very thing which he most needed was +the thing he did not have, and that was just the riot of banter and +absurdity which they called their meetings. At all this he would just +sit and smile and forget to interlace his fingers and jerk his head. And +sometimes he would even laugh outright.</p> + +<p>I am afraid that everything was managed wrong from the first. It would +have been better if Mr. Burton or Mr. Ellsworth or somebody or other had +told the troop the full truth about Tom's condition. I suppose they +refrained for fear the boys would stare at him and treat him as one +stricken, and thereby, perhaps make his struggle harder.</p> + +<p>At all events, it was hard enough. And little they knew of this new and +frightful war that he was struggling through with all the power of his +brave, dogged nature. Little they knew how he lay awake night after +night, starting at every chime of the city's clock, of how he did the +best he could each<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">15</a></span> day, waiting and longing for Friday night, hoping, +<i>hoping</i> that Peewee and Roy would surely be there. Poor, distracted, +shell-shocked fighter that he was, he was fighting still, and they were +his only hope and they did not know it. No one knew it. He would not let +them know.</p> + +<p>For that was Tom Slade.</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">16</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2><h3>"LUCKY LUKE"</h3> +</div> + +<p>Next morning Tom had his breakfast in a dingy little restaurant and then +started along Terrace Avenue for the bank building, in which was the +Temple Camp office.</p> + +<p>He still wore the shabby khaki uniform which had seen service at the +front. He was of that physique called thick-set and his face was of the +square type, denoting doggedness and endurance, and a stolid +temperament.</p> + +<p>There had never been anything suggestive of the natty or agile about him +when he had been a scout, and army life, contrary to its reputation, had +not spruced and straightened him up at all. He was about as awkward +looking as a piece of field artillery, and he was just about as reliable +and effective. He was not built on the lines of a rifle, but rather<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">17</a></span> on +the lines of a cannon, or perhaps of a tank. His mouth was long and his +lips set tight, but it twitched nervously at one end, especially when he +waited at the street crossing just before he reached the bank building, +watching the traffic with a kind of fearful, bewildered look.</p> + +<p>Twice, thrice, he made the effort to cross and returned to his place on +the curb, interlacing his fingers distractedly. And yet this young +fellow had pushed through barbed wire entanglements and gone across No +Man's Land, without so much as a shudder in the very face of hostile +fire.</p> + +<p>He always dreaded this street corner in the mornings and was thankful +when he was safe up in his beloved Temple Camp office. If he had been on +crutches some grateful citizen would have helped him across, and +patriotic young ladies would have paused to watch the returned hero and +some one might even have removed his hat in the soldier's presence; for +they did those things—for a while.</p> + +<p>But such honors were only for those who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">18</a></span> were fortunate enough to have +had a leg or an arm shot off or to have been paralyzed. For the hero who +had had his nerves all shot to pieces there were no such spontaneous +tributes.</p> + +<p>And that was the way it had always been with Tom Slade. He had always +made good, but somehow, the applause and the grateful tributes had gone +to others. Nature had not made him prepossessing and he did not know how +to talk; he was just slow and dogged and stolid, like a British tank, as +I said, and just about as homely. You could hardly expect a girl to make +much fuss over a young fellow who is like a British tank, when there are +young fellows like shining machine guns, and soaring airplanes—to say +nothing of poison gas.</p> + +<p>And after two years of service in the thick of danger, with bombs and +bullets flying all about him; after four months' detention in an enemy +prison camp and six weeks of trench fever, to say nothing of frightful +risks, stolidly ignored, in perilous secret missions,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">19</a></span> this young chunk +of the old rock of Gibraltar had come home with his life, just because +it had pleased God not to accept the proffer of it, and because Fritzie +shot wild where Tom was concerned. He couldn't help coming back with his +life—it wasn't his fault. It was just because he was the same old Lucky +Luke, that's all.</p> + +<p>That had been Roy Blakeley's name for him—Lucky Luke; and he had been +known as Lucky Luke to all of his scout comrades.</p> + +<p>You see it was this way: if Tom was going to win a scout award by +finding a certain bird's nest in a certain tree, when he got to the +place he would find that the tree had been chopped down. Once he was +going to win the pathfinder's badge by trailing a burglar, and he +trailed him seven miles through the woods and found that the burglar was +his own good-for-nothing father. So he did not go back and claim the +award. You see? Lucky Luke.</p> + +<p>Once (oh, this happened several years before) he helped a boy in his +patrol to become<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">20</a></span> an Eagle Scout. It was the talk of Temple Camp how, +one more merit badge (astronomy) and Will O'Connor would be an Eagle +Scout and Tom Slade, leader of the Elks, would have the only Eagle Scout +at Camp in his patrol. He didn't care so much about being an Eagle Scout +himself, but he wanted Will O'Connor to be an Eagle Scout; he wanted to +have an Eagle Scout in his patrol.</p> + +<p>Then, just before Will O'Connor qualified for the Astronomy Badge, he +went to live with his uncle in Cincinnati and the Buffalo Patrol of the +Third Cincinnati Troop pretty soon had an Eagle Scout among their +number, and the Cincinnati troop got its name into <i>Scouting</i> and <i>Boy's +Life</i>. Lucky Luke!</p> + +<p>It was characteristic of Tom Slade that he did not show any +disappointment at this sequel of all his striving. Much less had he any +jealousy, for he did not know there was such a word in the dictionary. +He just started in again to make Bert McAlpin an Eagle Scout and when he +had jammed Bert through all the stunts but two, Uncle Sam deliberately<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">21</a></span> +went into the war and Tom started off to work on a transport. So you see +how it worked out; Connie Bennett, new leader of the Elks presently had +an Eagle Scout in his patrol and Tom got himself torpedoed. Mind, I +don't say that Uncle Sam went into the war just to spite Tom Slade. The +point is that Tom Slade didn't get anything, except that he got +torpedoed.</p> + +<p>One thing he did win for himself as a scout and that was the Gold Cross +for life saving, but he didn't know how to wear it, and it was Margaret +Eillson who pinned it on for him properly. I think she had a sneaking +liking for Tom.</p> + +<p>Poor Tom, sometime or other in his stumbling career he had probably +gotten out of the wrong side of his bed, or perhaps he was born on a +Friday. That was what Roy and the scouts always said.</p> + +<p>And so you see, here he was back from the big scrap with nothing to show +for it but a case of shell-shock, and you don't have bandages or +crutches for shell-shock. There was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">22</a></span> young Lieut. Rossie Bent who worked +downstairs in the bank, who had come home with two fingers missing and +all of the girls had fallen at his feet and Tom had had to salute him. +But there was nothing missing about Tom—except his wits and his grip on +himself, sometimes.</p> + +<p>But no one noticed this particularly, unless it was Mr. Burton and +Margaret Ellison, and certainly no one made a fuss over him on account +of it. Why should anybody make a hero of a young fellow just because he +is not quite sure of himself in crossing the street, and because his +mouth twitches? Boy scouts are both observant and patriotic, but they +could not see that there was anything <i>missing</i> about Tom. All they had +noticed was that in resuming his duties at the office he had seemed to +be drifting away from them—from the troop. And when he came on Friday +nights, just to sit and hear Roy jolly Peewee and to enjoy their simple +nonsense, they thought he was "different since he had come back from +France"—perhaps just a little, you know, <i>uppish</i>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">23</a></span></p> + +<p>It would have been a lucky thing for Tom, and for everybody concerned, +if Mr. Ellsworth, scoutmaster, had been at home instead of away on a +business trip; for he would have understood.</p> + +<p>But of course, things couldn't have gone that way—not with Lucky Luke.</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">24</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2><h3>ABOUT SEEING A THING THROUGH</h3> +</div> + +<p>But there was one lucky thing that Tom had done, once upon a time. He +had hit Pete Connegan plunk on the head with a rotten tomato.</p> + +<p>That was before the war; oh, long, long before. It was a young war all +by itself. It happened when Tom was a hoodlum and lived with his drunken +father in Barrel Alley. And in that little affair Tom Slade made a +stand. Filthy little hoodlum that he was, instead of running when Pete +Connegan got down out of his truck and started after him, he turned and +compressed his big mouth and stood there upon his two bare feet, +waiting. It was Tom Slade all over—Barrel Alley or No Man's Land—<i>he +didn't run</i>.</p> + +<p>The slime of the tomato has long since been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">25</a></span> washed off Pete Connegan's +face and the tomato is forgotten. But the way that Tom Slade stood there +waiting—that meant something. It was worth all the rotten tomatoes in +Schmitt's Grocery, where Tom had "acquired" that particular one.</p> + +<p>"Phwat are ye standin' there for?" Pete had roared in righteous fury. +Probably he thought that at least Tom might have paid him that tribute +of respect of fleeing from his wrath.</p> + +<p>"'Cause I ain't a goin' ter run, that's why," Tom had said.</p> + +<p>Strange to relate, Pete Connegan did not kill him. For a moment he stood +staring at his ragged assailant and then he said, "Be gorry, ye got some +nerve, annyhow."</p> + +<p>"If I done a thing I'd see it through, I would; I ain't scared," Tom had +answered.</p> + +<p>"If ye'll dance ye'll pay the fiddler, hey?" his victim had asked in +undisguised admiration....</p> + +<p>Oh well, it was all a long time ago and the only points worth +remembering about it are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">26</a></span> that Tom Slade didn't run, that he was ready +to see the thing through no matter if it left him sprawling in the +gutter, and that he and the burly truck driver had thereafter been good +friends. Now Tom was an ex-scout and a returned soldier and Pete was +janitor of the big bank building.</p> + +<p>He was sweeping off the walk in front of the bank as Tom passed in.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Tommy boy," he said cheerily. "How are ye these days?"</p> + +<p>"I'm pretty well," Tom said, in the dull matter-of-fact way that he had, +"only I get mixed up sometimes and sometimes I forget."</p> + +<p>"Phwill ye evver fergit how you soaked me with the tomater?" Pete asked, +leaning on his broom.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't hard, because I was standing so near," Tom said, always +anxious to belittle his own skill.</p> + +<p>"Yer got a mimory twinty miles long," Pete said, by way of discounting +Tom's doubts of himself. "I'm thinkin' ye don't go round with the scout +boys enough."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">27</a></span></p> + +<p>"I go Friday nights," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"Fer why don't ye go up ter Blakeley's?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"That kid is enough ter make annybody well," Pete said.</p> + +<p>"His folks are rich," Tom said.</p> + +<p>That was just it. He was an odd number among these boys and he knew it. +Fond of them as he had always been, and proud to be among them, he had +always been different, and he knew it. It was the difference between +Barrel Alley and Terrace Hill. He knew it. It had not counted for so +much when he had been a boy scout with them; good scouts that they were, +they had taken care of that end of it. But, you see, he had gone away a +scout and come back not only a soldier, but a young man, and he could +not (even in his present great need) go to Roy's house, or Grove +Bronson's house, or up to the big Bennett place on just the same +familiar terms as before. They thought he didn't want to when in fact he +didn't know how to.</p> + +<p>"Phwen I hurd ye wuz in the war," Pete<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">28</a></span> said, "I says ter meself, I +says, 'that there lad'll make a stand.' I says it ter me ould woman. I +says, says I, 'phwat he starts he'll finish if he has ter clane up the +whole uv France.' That's phwat I said. I says if he makes a bull he'll +turrn the whole wurrld upside down to straighten things out. I got yer +number all roight, Tommy. Get along witcher upstairs and take the advice +of Doctor Pete Connegan—get out amongst them kids more."</p> + +<p>I dare say it was good advice, but the trouble was that Lucky Luke was +probably born on a Friday, and there was no straightening <i>that</i> out.</p> + +<p>As to whether he would turn the world upside down to straighten out some +little error, perhaps Pete was right there, too. Roy Blakeley had once +said that if Tom dropped his scout badge out of a ten-story window, he'd +jump out after it. Indeed that <i>would</i> have been something like Tom.</p> + +<p>Anyway the saying was very much like Roy.</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">29</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2><h3>"THE WOODS PROPERTY"</h3> +</div> + +<p>When Tom reached the office he took a few matters in to Mr. Burton.</p> + +<p>"Well, how are things coming on?" his superior asked him cheerily. +"Getting back in line, all right? This early spring weather ought to be +a tonic to an old scout like you. Here—here's a reminder of spring and +camping for you. Here's the deed for the woods property at last—a +hundred and ninety acres more for Temple Camp. We'll be as big as New +York pretty soon, when we get some of that timber down, and some new +cabins up.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad we got it," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"Well, I should hope," Mr. Burton came back at him. "That's off the +Archer farm, you know. Gift from Mr. Temple. Runs right up to the peak +of the hill—see?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">30</a></span></p> + +<p>Tom looked at the map of the new Temple Camp property, which almost +doubled the size of the camp and at the deed which showed the latest +generous act of the camp's benevolent founder.</p> + +<p>"Next summer, if we have the price, we'll put up a couple of dozen new +cabins on that hill and make a bid for troops from South Africa and +China; what do you say? This should be put in the safe and, let's see, +here are some new applications—Michigan, Virginia—Temple Camp is +getting some reputation in the land."</p> + +<p>"I had an application from Ohio yesterday," Tom said; "a three-patrol +troop. I gave them the cabins on the hill. They're a season troop."</p> + +<p>Mr. Burton glanced suddenly at Tom, then began whistling and drumming +his fingers on the desk. He seemed on the point of saying something in +this connection, but all he did say was, "You find pleasure and +relaxation in the work, Tom?"</p> + +<p>"It's next to camping to be here," Tom said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">31</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, that's what I thought," Mr. Burton said encouragingly. "You must +go slow and take it easy and pretty soon you'll be fit and trim."</p> + +<p>"I got to thank you," Tom said with his characteristic blunt simplicity.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what we should do in the spring rush without your familiar +knowledge of the camp, Tom," Mr. Burton said.</p> + +<p>"I think he thinks more of the office than he does of the scouts," +Margaret ventured to observe. She was sitting alongside Mr. Burton's +desk awaiting his leisure, and Tom was standing awkwardly close by.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it's because they don't grow fast enough," Mr. Burton +laughed; "they can't keep up with him. To my certain knowledge young +Peewee, as they call him, hasn't grown a half an inch in two years. It +isn't because he doesn't eat, either, because I observed him personally +when I visited camp."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he eats <i>terrifically</i>," Margaret said.</p> + +<p>"I like the troop better than anything else," Tom said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">32</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, I guess that's right, Tom," Mr. Burton observed; "old friends are +the best."</p> + +<p>He gathered up an armful of papers and handed them to Tom who went about +his duties.</p> + +<p>The day was long and the routine work tedious. The typewriter machine +rattled drowsily and continuously on, telling troops here and there that +they could have camp accommodations on this or that date. Tom pored over +the big map, jotting down assignments and stumblingly dictated brief +letters which Miss Ellison's readier skill turned out in improved form.</p> + +<p>He was sorry that it was not Friday so that he might go to troop meeting +that night. It was only Tuesday and so there were three long, barren +nights ahead of him, and to him they seemed like twenty nights. All the +next day he worked, making a duplicate of the big map for use at the +camp, but his fingers were not steady and the strain was hard upon his +eyes. He went home (if a hall-room in a boarding house may be called +home) with a splitting headache.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">33</a></span></p> + +<p>On Wednesday he worked on the map and made the last assignment of tent +accommodations. Temple Camp was booked up for the season. It was going +to be a lively summer up there, evidently. One troop was coming all the +way from Idaho—to see Peewee Harris eat pie, perhaps. I can't think for +what other reason they would have made such a journey.</p> + +<p>"And <i>you</i> will live in the pavilion in all your glory, won't you?" +Margaret teased him. "I suppose you'll be very proud to be assistant to +Uncle Jeb. I don't suppose you'll notice poor <i>me</i> if I come up there."</p> + +<p>"I'll take you for a row on the lake," Tom said. That was saying a good +deal, for <i>him</i>.</p> + +<p>On Thursday he sent an order for fifteen thousand wooden plates, which +will give you an idea of how they eat at Temple Camp. He attended to +getting the licenses for the two launches and sent a letter up to old +Uncle Jeb telling him to have a new springboard put up and notifying him +that the woods property now belonged to the camp. It was a long slow day +and a longer, slower night.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">34</a></span></p> + +<p>Once, and only once, since his return, he had tried the movies. The +picture showed soldiers in the trenches and the jerky scenes and figures +made his eyes ache and set his poor sick nerves on edge. Once he had +<i>almost</i> asked Margaret if he might go over to East Bridgeboro and see +her. He was glad when Friday morning came, and the day passed quickly +and gayly, because of the troop meeting that night. He counted the hours +until eight o'clock.</p> + +<p>When at last he set out for the troop room he found that he had +forgotten his scout badge and went back after it. He was particular +always to wear this at meetings, because he wished to emphasize there, +that he was still a scout. He was always forgetting something these +days. It was one of the features of shell-shock. It was like a wound, +only you could not <i>see</i> it....</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">35</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2><h3>JUST NONSENSE</h3> +</div> + +<p>How should those scouts know that Tom Slade had been counting the days +and hours, waiting for that Friday night? They were not mind readers. +They knew that Tom Slade, big business man that he was, had much to +occupy him.</p> + +<p>And they too, had much to occupy them. For with the coming of Spring +came preparations for the sojourn up to camp where they were wont to +spent the month of August. At Temple Camp troops were ever coming and +going and there were new faces each summer, but the Bridgeboro Troop was +an institution there. It was because of his interest in this troop, and +particularly in Tom's reformation, that Mr. John Temple of Bridgeboro, +had founded the big camp in the Catskills. There<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">36</a></span> was no such thing as +favoritism there, of course, but it was natural enough that these boys, +hailing from Mr. Temple's own town, where the business office of the +camp was maintained, should enjoy a kind of prestige there. Their two +chief exhibits (A and B) that is, Roy Blakeley and Peewee Harris +strengthened this prestige somewhat, and their nonsense and banter were +among the chief features of camp entertainment.</p> + +<p>Temple Camp without P. Harris, some one had once said, would be like +mince pie without any mince. And surely Peewee had no use for mince pie +without any mince.</p> + +<p>"Oh, look who's here!" Roy Blakeley shouted, as Tom quietly took a seat +on the long bench, which always stood against the wall. "Tomasso, as I +live! I thought you'd be down at the Opera House to-night."</p> + +<p>"I don't care thirty cents about the movies," Tom said, soberly.</p> + +<p>"You should say thirty-three cents, Tomasso," Roy shot back at him: +"don't forget the three cents war tax."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">37</a></span></p> + +<p>"Are you going to play that geography game?" Tom asked hopefully.</p> + +<p>"Posilutely," said Roy; "we'll start with me. Who discovered America? +Ohio. Correct."</p> + +<p>"What?" yelled Peewee.</p> + +<p>"Columbus is in Ohio; it's the same thing—only different," said Roy; +"you should worry. How about it, Tomasso?"</p> + +<p>Tom was laughing already. It would have done Mr. Burton and Mr. +Ellsworth good to see him.</p> + +<p>"We were having a hot argument about the army, before you came in," +Connie Bennett said. "Peewee claims the infantry is composed of +infants...."</p> + +<p>"Sure," Roy vociferated, "just the same as the quartermaster is the man +who has charge of all the twenty-five cent pieces. Am I right, Lucky +Luke? Hear what Lucky Luke says? I'm right. Correct."</p> + +<p>"Who's going to boss the meeting to-night?" Doc Carson asked.</p> + +<p>"How about you, Tom?" Grove Bronson inquired.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">38</a></span></p> + +<p>Tom smiled and shook his head. "I just like to watch you," said he.</p> + +<p>"It's your job," Doc persisted, "as long as Mr. Ellsworth is away."</p> + +<p>There was just the suggestion of an uncomfortable pause, while the +scouts, or most of them, waited. For just a second even Roy became +sober, looking inquiringly at Tom.</p> + +<p>"I'd rather just watch you," Tom said, uneasily.</p> + +<p>"He doesn't care anything about the scouts any more," Dorry Benton piped +up.</p> + +<p>"Since he's a magnet," Peewee shouted.</p> + +<p>"You mean a magnate," Doc said.</p> + +<p>"What difference does it make what I mean?" the irrepressible Peewee +yelled.</p> + +<p>"As long as you don't mean anything," Roy shouted. "Away dull care; +let's get down to business. To-morrow is Saturday, there's no school."</p> + +<p>"There's a school, only we don't go to it," Peewee shouted.</p> + +<p>"For that take a slap on the wrist and repeat the scout law nineteen +times backward,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">39</a></span> Roy said. "Who's going to boss this meeting?</p> + +<p>"I won't let anybody boss me," Peewee yelled.</p> + +<p>Roy vaulted upon the table, while the others crowded about, Tom all the +while laughing silently. This was just what he liked.</p> + +<p>"Owing to the absence of our beloved scoutmaster," Roy shouted, "and the +sudden rise in the world of Tomasso Slade, alias Lucky Luke, alias +Sherlock Nobody Holmes, and his unwillingness to run this show, because +he saw General Pershing and is too chesty, I nominate for boss and +vice-boss of this meeting, Blakeley and Harris, with a platform...."</p> + +<p>"We don't need any platform," Peewee shouted; "haven't we got the +table?"</p> + +<p>"It's better to stand on the table than to stand on ceremonies," Dorry +Benton vociferated.</p> + +<p>"Sure, or to stand on our dignity like Tomasso Slade," Westy Martin +shouted.</p> + +<p>"Put away your hammer, stop knocking,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">40</a></span> Doc said. "Are we going to hike +to-morrow or are we going to the city?"</p> + +<p>"Answered in the affirmative," Roy said.</p> + +<p>"Which are we going to do?" Peewee yelled.</p> + +<p>"We are!" shouted Roy.</p> + +<p>"Do we go to the city?" Doc asked seriously.</p> + +<p>"Posilutely," said Roy; "that's why I'm asking who's boss of this +meeting; so we can take up a collection."</p> + +<p>"All right, go ahead and be boss as long as you're up there," Connie +Bennett said, "only don't stand on the cake."</p> + +<p>"Don't slip on the icing," Westy shouted.</p> + +<p>"I'll slip on your neck if you don't shut up," Roy called. "If I'm boss, +I'd like to have some silence."</p> + +<p>"Don't look at me, <i>I</i> haven't got any," Peewee piped up.</p> + +<p>"Thou never spak'st a truer word," Westy observed.</p> + +<p>"I would like to have a large chunk of silence," said Roy; "enough to +last for at least thirty seconds."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">41</a></span></p> + +<p>"You'd better ask General Slade," said Doc; "he's the only one that +carries that article around with him."</p> + +<p>"How about that, Tommy?" Wig Weigand asked pleasantly.</p> + +<p>Tom smiled appreciatively, and seemed on the point of saying something, +but he didn't.</p> + +<p>There was one other scout, too, who made a specialty of silence in that +hilarious Bedlam, and that was a gaunt, thin, little fellow with streaky +hair and a pale face, who sat huddled up, apparently enjoying the +banter, laughing with a bashful, silent laugh. He made no noise +whatever, except when occasionally he coughed, and the others seemed +content to let him enjoy himself in his own way. His eyes had a singular +brightness, and when he laughed his white teeth and rather drawn mouth +gave him almost a ghastly appearance. He seemed as much of an odd number +as Tom himself, but not in the same way, for Tom was matter-of-fact and +stolid, and this little gnome of a scout seemed all nerves and repressed +excitement.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">42</a></span></p> + +<p>"Let's have a chunk of silence, Alf," Roy called to him.</p> + +<p>"Go ahead," Doc shouted.</p> + +<p>"If there's going to be a collection, let's get it over with," Westy put +in.</p> + +<p>Roy, standing on the table, continued:</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Scouts and Scoutlets</span>:</p> + +<p>"Owing to the high cost of silence, which is as scarce as sugar at these +meetings, I will only detain you a couple of minutes...."</p> + +<p>"Don't step on the cake," Doc yelled.</p> + +<p>"The object of this meeting is, to vote on whether we'll go into the +city to-morrow and get some stuff we'll need up at camp.</p> + +<p>"Artie has got a list of the things we need, and they add up to four +dollars and twenty-two cents. If each fellow chips in a quarter, we'll +have enough. Each fellow that wants to go has to pay his own railroad +fare—Alf is going with me, so he should worry.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose that Marshall Slade will condescend and we should +worry. If we're going up to camp on the first of August, we'll have to +begin getting our stuff together—the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">43</a></span> sooner the quicker—keep still, +I'm not through. We were all saying how numbers look funny on scout +cabins—five, six, seven. It reminds you too much of school. Uncle Jeb +said it would be a good idea for us to paint the pictures of our patrol +animals on the doors and scratch off the numbers, because the way it is +now, the cabins all look as if they had automobile licenses, and he said +Daniel Boone would drop dead if he saw anything like that—Cabin B 26. +<i>Good night!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Daniel Boone is already dead!" shouted Peewee.</p> + +<p>"Take a demerit and stay after school," Roy continued. "So I vote that +we buy some paint and see if we can't paint the heads of our three +patrol animals on the three cabins. Then we'll feel more like scouts and +not so much like convicts. If we do that, it will be thirty cents each +instead of twenty-five."</p> + +<p>Before Roy was through speaking, a scout hat was going around and the +goodly jingle of coins within it, testified to the troops' enthusiasm +for what he had been saying. Tom dropped in three quarters, but no one +noticed that. He seemed abstracted and unusually nervous. The hat was +not passed to little Alfred McCord. Perhaps that was because he was +mascot....</p> + + +<div class='figcenter' style='width: 350px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="illus-002" id="illus-002"></a> +<img src='images/illus-044.jpg' alt='TOM'S HAND CLUNG TO THE BACK OF THE BENCH--Tom Slade at Black Lake--Page 44' title='' /><br /> +<span class='caption'>TOM'S HAND CLUNG TO THE BACK OF THE BENCH.<br /><i>Tom Slade at Black Lake—Page</i> 44</span> +</div> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">44</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2><h3>FIVE, SIX, AND SEVEN</h3> +</div> + +<p>Then Tom Slade stood up. Any one observing him carefully would have +noticed that his hand which clung to the back of the bench moved +nervously, but otherwise he seemed stolid and dull as usual. For just a +second he breathed almost audibly and bit his lip, then he spoke. They +listened, a kind of balm of soothing silence pervaded the room, because +he spoke so seldom these days. They seemed ready enough to pay him the +tribute of their attention when he really seemed to take an interest.</p> + +<p>"I got to tell you something," he said, "and maybe you won't like it. +Those three cabins are already taken by a troop in Ohio."</p> + +<p>"Which three?" Westy Martin asked, apparently dumbfounded.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">46</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh boy, suppose that was true!" Roy said, amused at the very thought of +such a possibility.</p> + +<p>"Which three?" Westy repeated, still apparently in some suspense.</p> + +<p>"Tomasso has Westy's goat," Roy laughed.</p> + +<p>"Look at the straight face he's keeping," Doc laughed, referring to Tom.</p> + +<p>"I might as well tell you the truth," Tom said. "I forget things +sometimes; maybe you don't understand. Maybe it was because I wasn't +here last year—maybe. But I didn't stop to think about those numbers +being your—our—numbers. Now I can remember. I assigned those cabins to +a troop in Ohio. They wanted three that were kind of separate from the +others and—and—I—I didn't remember."</p> + +<p>He seemed a pathetic spectacle as he stood there facing them, jerking +his head nervously in the interval of silence and staring amazement that +followed. There was no joking about it and they knew it. It was not in +Tom's nature to "jolly."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">47</a></span></p> + +<p>"What do you mean, assigned them?" Connie asked, utterly nonplussed. +"You don't mean you gave our three cabins on the hill to another troop?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did," Tom said weakly; "I remember now. I'm sorry."</p> + +<p>For a moment no one spoke, then Dorry Benton said, "Do you mean that?"</p> + +<p>"I got to admit I did," Tom said in his simple, blunt way.</p> + +<p>"Well I'll be——" Roy began. Then suddenly, "You sober old grave +digger," said he laughing; "you're kidding the life out of us and we +don't know it. Let's see you laugh."</p> + +<p>But Tom did not laugh. "I'm sorry, because they were the last three +cabins," he said. "I don't know how I happened to do it. But you've got +no right to misjudge me, you haven't; only yesterday I told Mr. Burton I +liked the troop, you fellows, best——"</p> + +<p>Roy Blakeley did not wait for him to finish; he threw the troop book on +the table and stared at Tom in angry amazement. "All right," he said, +"let it go at that. Now we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">48</a></span> know where you stand. Thanks, we're glad to +know it," he added in a kind of contemptuous disgust. "Ever since you +got back from France I knew you were sick and tired of us—I could see +it. I knew you only came around to please Mr. Ellsworth. I knew you +forgot all about the troop. But I didn't think you'd put one like that +over on us, I'll be hanged if I did! You mean to tell me you didn't know +those three cabins were ours, after we've had them every summer since +the camp started? Mr. Burton will fix it——"</p> + +<p>"He can't fix it," Tom said; "not now."</p> + +<p>"And I suppose we'll have to take tent space," Connie put in. "Gee +williger, that's one raw deal."</p> + +<p>"But <i>you</i> won't have to take tent space, will you?" Roy asked. "You +should worry about <i>us</i>—we're nothing but scouts—kids. We didn't go +over to France and fight. We only stayed here and walked our legs off +selling Liberty Bonds to keep you going. Gee whiz, I knew you were sick +and tired of us, but I didn't think you'd hand us one like that."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">49</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't get excited, Roy," Doc Carson urged.</p> + +<p>"Who's excited?" Roy shouted. "A lot <i>he</i> has to worry about. He'll be +sleeping on his nice metal bed in the pavilion—assistant camp +manager—while we're bunking in tents if we're lucky enough to get any +space. Don't talk to <i>me</i>! I could see this coming. I suppose the +scoutmaster of that troop out in Ohio was a friend of his in France. We +should worry. We can go on a hike in August. It's little Alf I'm +thinking of mostly."</p> + +<p>It was noticeable that Tom Slade said not a word. With him actions +always spoke louder than words and he had no words to explain his +actions.</p> + +<p>"All I've got to say to <i>you</i>" said Roy turning suddenly upon him, "is +that as long as you care so much more about scouts out west than you do +about your own troop, you'd better stay away from here—that's all I've +got to say."</p> + +<p>"That's what I say, too," said Westy.</p> + +<p>"Same here," Connie said; "Jiminies, after<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">50</a></span> all we did for you, to put +one over on us like that; I don't see what you want to come here for +anyway."</p> + +<p>"I—I haven't got any other place to go," said Tom with touching +honesty; "it's kind of like a home——"</p> + +<p>"Well, there's one other place and that's the street," said Roy. "We +haven't got any place to go either, thanks to you. You're a nice one to +be shouting home sweet home—you are."</p> + +<p>With a trembling hand, Tom Slade reached for his hat and fingering it +nervously, paused for just a moment, irresolute.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't stay if I'm not wanted," he said; "I'll say good night."</p> + +<p>No one answered him, and he went forth into the night.</p> + +<p>He had been put out of the tenement where he had once lived with his +poor mother, he had been put out of school as a young boy, and he had +been put out of the Public Library once; so he was not unaccustomed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">51</a></span> to +being put out. Down near the station he climbed the steps of Wop Harry's +lunch wagon and had a sandwich and a cup of coffee. Then he went +home—if one might call it home....</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">52</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2><h3>ROY'S NATURE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Roy Blakeley was a scout of the scouts, and no sooner had he got away +from the atmosphere of resentment and disappointment which pervaded the +troop room, then he began to feel sorry for what he had said. The +picture of Tom picking up his hat and going forth into the night and to +his poor home, lingered in Roy's mind and he lay awake half the night +thinking of it.</p> + +<p>He had no explanation of Tom's singular act, except the very plausible +one that Tom had lost his former lively interest in the troop, even so +much as to have forgotten about those three cabins to which they had +always seemed to have a prior right; which had been like home to them in +the summertime.</p> + +<p>When you look through green glass everything<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">53</a></span> is green, and now Roy +thought he could remember many little instances of Tom's waning interest +in the troop. Naturally enough, Roy thought, these scout games and +preparations for camping seemed tame enough to one who had gone to +France and fought in the trenches. Tom was older now, not only in years +but in experience, and was it any wonder that his interest in "the kids" +should be less keen?</p> + +<p>And Roy was not going to let that break up the friendship. Loyal and +generous as he was, he would not ask himself why Tom had done that +thing; he would not let himself think about it. He and the other scouts +would get ready and go to camp, live in tents there, and have just as +much fun.</p> + +<p>So no longer blaming Tom, he now blamed himself, and the thing he blamed +himself for most of all was his angry declaration that Tom was probably +acquainted with the scoutmaster of that fortunate troop in Ohio. He knew +that must have cut Tom, for in his heart he knew Tom's blunt sense of +fairness.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">54</a></span> Whatever was the cause or reason of Tom's singular act it was +not favoritism, Roy felt sure of that. He would have given anything not +to have said those words. Lukewarm, thoughtless, Tom might be, but he +was not disloyal. It was no new friendship, displacing these old +friendships, which had caused Tom to do what he had done, Roy knew that +well enough.</p> + +<p>In the morning, unknown to any of the troop he went early to the bank +building to wait for Tom there, and to tell him that he was sorry for +the way he had spoken.</p> + +<p>But everything went wrong that morning, the trails did not cross at the +right places. Probably it was because Lucky Luke was concerned in the +matter. The fact is that it being Saturday, a short and busy day, Tom +had gone very early to the Temple Camp office and was already upstairs +when Roy was waiting patiently down at the main door.</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">55</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2><h3>TOM RECEIVES A SURPRISE</h3> +</div> + +<p>When Tom reached the office, he found among the Temple Camp letters, one +addressed to him personally. It was postmarked Dansburg, Ohio, and he +opened it with some curiosity, for the former letters in this +correspondence had been addressed to Mr. Burton, as manager. His +curiosity turned to surprise as he read,</p> + +<div class='blockquot'> +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Slade:</span></p> + +<p style='text-align: left;'>In one of the little circulars of Temple Camp which you sent us, your +name appears as assistant to Mr. Burton in the Temple Camp office.</p> + +<p style='text-align: left;'>I am wondering whether you can be the same Tom Slade who was in the +Motorcycle Corps in France? If so, perhaps you will remember the soldier +who spent the night with you in a shell-hole near Epernay. Do you +remember showing me the Gold Cross and saying that you had won it while +a scout in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">56</a></span> America? I think you said you had been in some Jersey Troop.</p> + +<p style='text-align: left;'>If you are the same Tom Slade, then congratulations to you for getting +home safely, and I will promise my scouts that they will have the chance +this summer of meeting the gamest boy on the west front. I suppose you +will be up at the camp yourself.</p> + +<p style='text-align: left;'>Send me a line and let me know if you're the young fellow whose arm I +bandaged up. I'm thinking the world isn't so big after all.</p> + +<p style='text-align:right'> +Best wishes to you,<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Barnard</span>,<br /> +Scoutmaster 1st Dansburg Troop, B.S.A.,<br /> +Dansburg, Ohio.</p> +</div> + +<p>Tom could hardly believe his eyes as he read the letter. William +Barnard! He had never known that fellow's name, but he knew that the +soldier who had bandaged his arm (whatever his name was) had saved his +life. Would he ever forget the long night spent in that dank, dark +shell-hole? Would he ever forget that chance companion in peril, who had +nursed him and cheered him all through that endless night? He could +smell the damp earth again and the pungent atmosphere of gunpowder which +permeated the place and almost<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">57</a></span> suffocated him. Directly over the +shell-hole a great British tank had stopped and been deserted, locking +them in as in a dungeon. And when he had recovered from the fumes, he +had heard a voice speaking to him and asking him if he was much hurt.</p> + +<p>William Barnard!</p> + +<p>And he had given the three cabins on the hill to Scoutmaster Barnard's +troop in Dansburg, Ohio.</p> + +<p>No one but Tom had arrived at the office and for just a few moments, +standing there near Miss Ellison's typewriter and with the prosy letter +files about, he was again in France. He could hear the booming of the +great guns again, see the flashes of fire....</p> + +<p>He sat down and wrote,</p> + +<div class='blockquot'> +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Barnard:</span></p> + +<p style='text-align: left;'>I got your letter and I am the same Tom Slade. I was going to ask you +where you lived in America so I could know you some more when we got +back, but when the doctors came to take me away, I didn't see you +anywhere. I had to stay in the hospital three weeks, but it wasn't on +account of my arm, because that wasn't so bad. It was the shell-shock<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">58</a></span> +that was bad—it makes you forget things even after you get better.</p> + +<p style='text-align: left;'>I was sorry early this morning that I gave you those cabins, because +they're the same ones that my own troop always used to have, and it was +a crazy thing for me to forget about that. But now I'm glad, because I +have thought of another scheme. I thought of it while I was lying in bed +last night and couldn't sleep. So now I'm glad you have those cabins. +And you bet I'm glad you wrote to me. It's funny how things happen.</p> + +<p style='text-align: left;'>Maybe you'll remember how I thought I was going to die in that hole, and +you said how we could dig our way out with your helmet, because if a +fellow <i>has</i> to do something he can do it. I'm glad you said that, +because I thought about it last night. And thinking of that made me +decide I would do something.</p> + +<p style='text-align: left;'>I would like it if you will write to me again before summer, and you can +send your letters care of Temple Camp, Black Lake.</p> + +<p style='text-align: left;'>When you come, you bet I'll be glad to see you.</p> + +<p style='text-align:right'>Your friend,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Tom Slade</span>.</p> +</div> + +<p>When Tom had sealed and stamped this letter, he laid the other one on +Miss Margaret Ellison's desk, thinking that she might be interested to +read it.</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">59</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2><h3>TOM AND ROY</h3> +</div> + +<p>Anxious that his letter should go as soon as possible, Tom went down in +the elevator and was about to cross the street and post it when he ran +plunk into Roy, who was waiting on the steps.</p> + +<p>"Good night, look who's here," Roy said, in his usual friendly tone; "I +might have known that you were upstairs. You've got the early bird +turning green with envy."</p> + +<p>"I always come early Saturdays," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"I want to tell you that I'm sorry about the way I spoke to you last +night, Tom," Roy spoke up. "I see now that it wasn't so bad. I guess you +have a whole lot to do up in the office, and maybe you just forgot about +how we always had the hill cabins. You<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">60</a></span> can't do <i>everything</i> you want +to do, gee I realize that."</p> + +<p>"I can do anything I want to do," Tom said.</p> + +<p>Roy looked at him as if he did not quite understand.</p> + +<p>"Going back on people isn't the way to square things," Tom said. "You +got to make things right without anybody losing anything. There's always +two ways, only you've got to find the other one."</p> + +<p>Roy did not quite understand the drift of his friend's talk, it was not +always easy to follow Tom, and indeed he did not care much what Tom +meant; he just wanted him to know that their friendship had not been +wrecked—could not be wrecked by any freakish act of Tom's.</p> + +<p>"I don't care thirty cents what anybody says," Tom said; "I got to be +fair."</p> + +<p>"I'm not mad, you old grouch," Roy said, "and you should say sixty +cents, because the price of everything is double. We should worry. I was +waiting here to meet you so as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">61</a></span> to tell you that I don't know why you +did that and I don't care. People have done crazier things than that, I +should hope. We can bunk in tents, all right. So don't be sore, Tomasso. +I'm sorry I said what I did and I know perfectly well that you just +didn't think. You don't suppose I really meant that I thought you knew +anybody in that troop out in Ohio, do you? I just said it because I was +mad. Gee whiz, I know you wouldn't give anybody the choice before +<i>us</i>—before your own fellows. I was mad because I was disappointed. But +now I know how maybe you were all kind of—you know—rattled on account +of being so busy.</p> + +<p>"I ain't mad," said Tom, in his dull, stolid way; "I got to go across +the street and mail this letter."</p> + +<p>"And you'll come to meeting next Friday night?" Roy asked, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"And I'm going to tell the fellows that you assigned five, six, and +seven, to that Ohio troop just because you were thinking about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">62</a></span> +something else when you did it, and that you didn't know anything more +about those fellows than if they were the man in the moon," Roy paused a +moment. "Did you?" he said conclusively.</p> + +<p>"You can tell them whatever you want to," Tom said. "You can tell them +that I didn't know anything about them if you want to. I don't care what +you tell them."</p> + +<p>Roy paused, hardly knowing what to say. In talking with Tom one had to +get him right just as a wrestler must get his victim right and Roy knew +that he must watch his step, so to speak.</p> + +<p>"You can tell them they won't lose anything," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"They'll lose something all right if they lose <i>you</i>, Tomasso," Roy +said, with a note of deep feeling in his voice. "But we're not going to +lose you, I can tell you that. They think you have no use for the scouts +any more, because you met so many people in France, and know a lot of +grown-up people."</p> + +<p>"Is that what they think?" Tom asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">63</a></span></p> + +<p>They both stepped aside for Margaret Ellison, the Temple Camp +stenographer, to pass in, and spoke pleasantly with her until she had +entered the elevator.</p> + +<p>"I don't care what they think," Roy said; "a scout is observant. Can't I +see plain enough that you have your pioneer scout badge on? That shows +you're thinking about the scouts."</p> + +<p>"I put it on for a reason," said Tom.</p> + +<p>"You bet your life you did," Roy said, "and it shows you're a scout. +Once a scout, always a scout; you can't get away from that, Tomasso."</p> + +<p>"Maybe you'll find that out," Tom said, his meaning, as usual, a little +cloudy.</p> + +<p>"I don't have to find it out, Tom," Roy said. "Don't you suppose I know +where you stand? Do you think I'll ever forget how you and I hiked +together, and how we camped up on my lawn together, when you first got +to be a scout—do you think I will? I always liked you better than any +fellow, gee whiz, that's sure. And I know you think more of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">64</a></span> us than you +do of any one else, too. Don't you?"</p> + +<p>"I got to go and mail this letter," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"First you've got to say that you're for the scouts first, last and +always," said Roy gayly, and standing in his friend's path.</p> + +<p>Tom looked straight at him, his eyes glistening.</p> + +<p>"Do you have to ask me that?" he said.</p> + +<p>And then was when the trails went wrong, and didn't cross right and come +out right. Roy went up in the elevator to get some circulars from Temple +Camp office, and Tom, on his way back from across the street went into +the bank to speak with Mr. Temple's secretary. And the girl spoiled +everything, as Peewee Harris always said that girls are forever doing.</p> + +<p>She was in a great hurry to get the cover off her machine and other +matters straightened out, before Mr. Burton came in, so she did not +trouble herself to talk much with Roy. She did, however, think to call +after<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">65</a></span> him just as he was leaving and he heard her words, with a kind of +cold chill, as he stepped into the elevator.</p> + +<p>She called to him in her sweetest tone, "Isn't it too funny! A +scoutmaster, named Barnard, from out in Ohio who is going to be up at +camp knew Tom in France. Won't they have a perfectly <i>scrumptious</i> +vacation together, talking about old times?"</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">66</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2><h3>THE LONG TRAIL</h3> +</div> + +<p>"You can tell them whatever you want to. You <i>can tell them that I +didn't know anything about them</i> if you want to. I don't care what you +tell them." These were the words that rang in Roy Blakeley's mind as he +went down in the elevator, and they made him sick at heart. That Tom had +so much forgotten about the troop, <i>his</i> troop, as to assign their three +cabins to strangers—that Roy could overlook. He could not understand +it, but in his fondness for Tom, he could overlook it, as his talk with +Tom had proved.</p> + +<p>But that Tom should lie to him and make him a party to that lie by +authorizing him to repeat it, that he could not forget or forgive. "<i>You +can tell them that I did not know anything about them if you want to</i>." +And all the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">67</a></span> while he, Tom, had known this Barnard, or whatever his name +was, and had fixed things so that he and Barnard might be together at +Temple Camp. Barnard was a grown-up fellow, Roy told himself, and a +soldier, and he didn't exactly blame Tom, but....</p> + +<p>And then their trails crossed again, right there at the foot of the +elevator shaft, where Tom was waiting to go up.</p> + +<p>Roy's first impulse was to brush past his friend saying nothing, but +when he had all but reached the door he wheeled about and said, "If you +want to hand out any lies to the troop, you'd better do it yourself; I'm +not going to do it for you."</p> + +<p>"What?" said Tom, a little startled out of his usual stolid manner.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you know what, all right," Roy answered sneeringly. "You thought +I'd never find out, didn't you? You didn't think I'd go up to the +office. You thought you'd get away with it and have me lying to the +troop—the fellows that used to be your friends before you met Barnyard +or whatever you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">68</a></span> call him. I know who he is, all right. If you wanted to +give him our cabins, him and his troop, why didn't you come and say so? +Gee whiz, we would have been willing to do them a good turn. We've +camped in tents before, if it comes to that."</p> + +<p>Tom stood perfectly motionless, with no more expression, either of anger +or sorrow or surprise, than he usually showed. His big, tight set, +resolute mouth was very conspicuous, but Roy did not notice that. The +elevator came down, and the metallic sound of its door opening was +emphasized in the tense silence which followed Roy's tirade.</p> + +<p>"Going up," the colored boy said.</p> + +<p>The door rolled shut and still Tom Slade stood there, stolid and without +any show of emotion, looking straight at Roy. "I didn't ever tell a +lie—not since I got in with the scouts," he said simply.</p> + +<p>"Well, that makes two," said Roy mercilessly; "do you mean to tell me +you don't know what's-his-name—Barnard? Will you stand there and say +you don't know him?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">69</a></span></p> + +<p>"I do know him," Tom said; "he saved my life in France."</p> + +<p>"And didn't you tell me only ten minutes ago that I could tell the +fellows that you didn't know anything about—about that troop—about him +and his troop? Didn't you? Do you deny that you did? You told me I could +go back and lie to the fellows—you did! If you think I'll do that +you've got another guess, I can tell you that much!"</p> + +<p>"I never told you you should lie," said Tom with straightforward +simplicity, "and I admit I forgot about the cabins. I was away two +summers. I had a lot of different things to think about. I got +shell-shocked the very same night I met that fellow, and that's got +something to do with it, maybe. But I wouldn't stand here, I wouldn't, +and try to prove that I didn't tell a lie. If you want to think I did, +go ahead and think so. And if the rest of the troop want to think so, +let them do it. If anybody says I forgot about the scouts, he lies. And +you can tell them they won't lose anything, either; you can tell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">70</a></span> them I +said so. I ain't changed. Didn't I—didn't I ride my motorcycle all the +way from Paris to the coast—through the floods—didn't I? Do you think +it's going to be hard to make everything right? I—I can do anything—I +can. And I didn't lie, either. You go up to Temple Camp on the first of +August like you—like we—always did; that's all <i>I</i> say."</p> + +<p>He was excited now, and his hand trembled, and Roy looked at him a bit +puzzled, but he was neither softened nor convinced. "Didn't you as much +as say you didn't know anything about who made that application—didn't +you?" Roy demanded.</p> + +<p>"I said it good and plain and you can go and tell them so, too," Tom +said.</p> + +<p>"And you do know this fellow named Barnard, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"I know him and he saved my life," Tom said, "and if you——"</p> + +<p>"Going up," the colored boy called again.</p> + +<p>And the young fellow, scout and soldier, who would not bother to prove +his truthfulness<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">71</a></span> to his old companion and friend, was gone. He had hit +his own trail in his own way, as he usually did; a long devious, +difficult, lonesome trail. The clearly defined trail of the sidewalk +leading to the troop room, where a few words of explanation might have +straightened everything out, was not the trail for Tom Slade, scout. He +would straighten things out another way. He would face this thing, not +run away from it, just as he had set his big resolute mouth and faced +Pete Connigan. They would lose nothing, these boys. Let them think what +they might, they would lose nothing. To be falsely accused, what was +that, provided these boys lost nothing? That was all that counted. What +difference did it make if they thought he had lied and deceived them, so +long as <i>he</i> knew that he had not?</p> + +<p>And what a lot of fuss about three cabins! Had he not the power to +straighten out his own mistake in the best possible way—the scout way? +And how was that? By going to Mr. Burton and taking the matter up and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">72</a></span> +perhaps causing disappointment to those boys out in Ohio, for the sake +of these boys in Bridgeboro? Robbing Peter to pay Paul?</p> + +<p>Perhaps Mr. Burton would have done that, under all the circumstances. +Perhaps Mr. John Temple, head of the whole shebang, would have approved +this—under the circumstances. Perhaps the average clerk would have +proposed this; would have suggested hitting this convenient little +trail, about as short and prosy as a back alley. All you need on that +trail is a typewriter machine. Perhaps Tom Slade was not a good clerk. +His way out of the difficulty was a longer and more circuitous way. But +it was the scout way. He was a scout and he hit the long trail.</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">73</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2><h3>ROY'S TRAIL</h3> +</div> + +<p>As for Roy, he went home feeling heavy of heart, but he was not sorry +for what he had said. He had known that Tom had been slipping away from +the troop and that his interest in the old associations had waned ever +since his return from France. But that Tom should have lied to him and +that he should use Temple Camp and that old beloved spot up on the hill +for new friends, deliberately giving them precedence over these +companions of his real scouting days—<i>that</i> Roy could not stand. And he +told himself that he was through with Tom, even as Tom was through with +the troop.</p> + +<p>The trail of Roy and his friends is short and easy to follow, and it is +not the main trail of this story. It took them into the city<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">74</a></span> where they +bought a tent, (not a very large one, for they could not get together +much money), but big enough to bunk in and enable them to spend their +vacation at the beloved, familiar spot. He said that "he should worry +about that fellow Barnard," and that he guessed Tom's fondness for that +individual was like Peewee's fondness for mince pie—a case of love at +first bite. But did he forget about Tom, and miss him at the meetings?</p> + +<p>We shall have to guess as to that. Tom was seldom mentioned, at all +events. The first member of the Bridgeboro troop to outgrow his +companions and turn his thoughts to new friends and associates had +broken away from the hallowed circle and deserted them, and repudiated +them with a lie on his lips; that was what the scouts said, or at least, +thought. They had seen it coming, but it had hurt just the same.</p> + +<p>And so the days went by, and the breath of Spring grew heavier in the +air, and the dandelions sprang up in the field down by the river, and +tree blossoms littered the sidewalks,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">75</a></span> and the frogs began croaking in +the marshes. When the frogs begin croaking it is time to think of camp.</p> + +<p>But Tom Slade, late of the scouts, was ahead of the dandelions and the +blossoms and the frogs, for on that very day of his talk with Roy, and +while the three patrols were off on their shopping bee in the city, he +went into Mr. Burton's private office and asked if he might talk to him +about an idea he had.</p> + +<p>"Surest thing you know, Tommy," said his superior cheerily. "You want to +go to the North Pole now?"</p> + +<p>For Mr. Burton knew Tom of old.</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">76</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2><h3>THE REALLY HARD PART</h3> +</div> + +<p>"Maybe you'll remember how you said this would just be a kind of an +experiment, my starting to work again in the office, and maybe it would +turn out to be better for me to go away in the country," said Tom.</p> + +<p>"Yes sir," said Mr. Burton, with prompt good nature intended to put Tom +at his ease.</p> + +<p>"I was wondering if maybe you could keep a secret," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"Well, I could make a stab at it," Mr. Burton said, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Do you think Margaret could?" Tom asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I dare say, but you know how girls are. What's the trouble?"</p> + +<p>"I want to go away," Tom said; "I can't do things right and I want to go +away. I'm all the time forgetting."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">77</a></span></p> + +<p>"I think you're doing fine," said Mr. Burton.</p> + +<p>"I want to go up to Temple Camp until I feel better," Tom said.</p> + +<p>Mr. Burton scrutinized him shrewdly and pursed up his lips and said, +"Don't feel first rate, eh?"</p> + +<p>"I get rattled awful easy and I don't remember things," Tom said. "I +want to go up to camp and stay all alone with Uncle Jeb, like you said I +could if I wanted to."</p> + +<p>Again Mr. Burton studied him thoughtfully, a little fearfully perhaps, +and then he said, "Well, I think perhaps that would be a very good +thing, Tom. You remember that's what I thought in the first place. You +made your own choice. How about the secret?"</p> + +<p>"It isn't anything much, only I thought of something to do while I'm up +there. I got to square myself. I gave the troop cabins to a troop out +west——"</p> + +<p>"Well, I was wondering about that, my boy; but I didn't want to say +anything. You'll have Roy and Peewee and those other<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">78</a></span> gladiators sitting +on your neck, aren't you afraid?"</p> + +<p>"They got no use for me now," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nonsense. We'll straighten that out. You send a letter——"</p> + +<p>"The scoutmaster of that troop out west is a friend of mine," said Tom, +"but I never knew it until this morning, when I got a letter from him. +They think I did it because I knew it was him all the time and liked him +better, but I don't care what they think as long as nobody loses +anything; that's all I care about. So if you'd be willing," he continued +in his dull, matter-of-fact way, as if he were asking permission to go +across the street, "I'd like to go up and stay at Temple Camp before the +season opens and fell some of those trees on the new woods property and +put up three cabins on the hill for Roy and the troop to use when they +get there. I wouldn't want anybody to know I'm doing it."</p> + +<p>"What?" said Mr. Burton.</p> + +<p>"I want to go up there and stay and put up three cabins," said Tom +dully.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">79</a></span></p> + +<p>"Humph," said Mr. Burton, sitting back and surveying him with amused and +frank surprise. "How about the difficulties?"</p> + +<p>"That's the only thing," Tom said; "I was thinking it all over, and the +only difficulty I can think about is, would Margaret keep it a secret +until the work is done, and you too. They think I'm not a scout any +more, and I'm going to show them. If you think I can't do it, you ask +Pete, the janitor. And if I straighten things out that way nobody'll get +left, see? The hard part is really <i>your</i> part—keeping still and making +her keep still."</p> + +<p>"I see," said Mr. Burton, contemplating the stolid, almost +expressionless face of Tom, and trying not to laugh outright.</p> + +<p>"My part is easy," said Tom.</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">80</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2><h3>A LETTER FROM BARNARD</h3> +</div> + +<p>When Tom reached Temple Camp he found a letter awaiting him there. It +was stuck up among the antlers of Uncle Jeb's moose head which hung in +the old camp manager's cabin. He found Uncle Jeb alone in his glory, and +mighty glad to see him.</p> + +<p>It was characteristic of the old western scout and trapper whom Mr. +Temple had brought from Arizona, that he was never surprised at +anything. If a grizzly bear had wandered into camp it would not have +ruffled him in the least. He would have surveyed it with calm, shrewd +deliberation, taken his corncob pipe out of his mouth, knocked the ashes +out of it, and proceeded to business. If the grizzly bear had been one +of the large fraternity who believe in "safety first" he would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">81</a></span> have +withdrawn immediately upon the ominous sound of old Uncle Jeb's pipe +knocking against the nearest hard substance. Uncle Jeb, like Uncle Sam, +moved slowly but very surely.</p> + +<p>It was not altogether uncommon for some nature loving pilgrim to drop in +at camp out of season, and such a one was always sure of that easy-going +western welcome. But if all the kings and emperors in the world (or such +few of them as are left) had dropped in at camp, Uncle Jeb Rushmore +would have eyed them keenly, puffed some awful smoke at them, and said, +"Haow doo." He liked people, but he did not depend on them. The lake and +the trees and the wild life talked to him, and as for human beings, he +was always glad of their company.</p> + +<p>It was also characteristic of Uncle Jeb that no adventurous enterprise, +no foolhardy, daredevil scheme, ever caused him any astonishment. Mr. +Burton, engrossed in a hundred and one matters of detail and routine had +simply laughed at Tom's plan, and let him go<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">82</a></span> to Temple Camp to discover +its absurdity, and then benefit by the quiet life and fresh air. It +would have been better if Tom had been sent up there long before. He had +humored him by promising not to tell, and he was glad that this crazy +notion about the cabins had given Tom the incentive to go. He had +believed that Tom's unfortunate error could be made right by the +romantic expedient of a postage stamp. Mr. Burton was not a scout. And +Tom Slade was the queerest of all scouts.</p> + +<p>So now Uncle Jeb removed his pipe from his mouth, and said, "Reckoned +you'd make a trip up, hey?"</p> + +<p>"I'm going to stay here alone with you until the season opens," Tom +said; "I got shell-shocked. I ain't any good down there. I assigned our +three cabins to a troop in Ohio. So I got to build three more and have +'em ready by August first. I'm going to build them on the hill."</p> + +<p>"Yer ain't cal'latin' on trimming yer timbers much are yer?" Uncle Jeb +asked, going straight to the practical aspects of Tom's plan.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">83</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm going to put them up just like the temporary cabins were when the +camp first opened," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"Ye'll find some of them same logs under the pavilion," Uncle Jeb said; +"enough for two cabins, mebbe. Why doan't you put up four and let that +Peewee kid hev one all by hisself?"</p> + +<p>"Do you think I can do it in six weeks?" Tom asked.</p> + +<p>"I've seed a Injun stockade throwed up in three days," Uncle Jeb +answered. "Me'n General Custer throwed up Fort Bendy in two nights; that +wuz in Montanny. Th' Injuns thought we wuz gods from heaven. But we +wuzn't no gods, as I told the general; leastways <i>I</i> was'n, n'never wuz. +But I had a sharp axe.</p> + +<p>"I knew I could do it," Tom said, "but I wanted it to be a stunt, as you +might say."</p> + +<p>"'Tain't no stunt," Uncle Jeb said. "Who's writin' yer from out in Ohio? +I see the postmark. 'Tain't them kids from out Dayton way, I hope?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">84</a></span></p> + +<p>Tom opened the letter and read aloud:</p> + +<div class='blockquot'> +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Tom:</span></p> + +<p style='text-align: left;'>When I save a fellow's life I claim the right to call him by his first +name, even if I've never seen him. If anybody ever tells me again that +the world is a big place, I'll tell them it's about the size of a +shell-hole, no bigger, and that's small enough, as you and I know. All I +can say is, "Well, well!" And you're the same Thomas Slade!</p> + +<p style='text-align: left;'>And the funny part of it is, we wouldn't know each other if we met in +the street. That's because we met in a shell-hole. I tried to hunt you +up along the line, made inquiries in the hospital at Rheims, and tried +to get a line on you from the Red Cross and Y.M.C.A. Nothing doing. +Somebody told me you were in the Flying Corps. I guess I must have +fainted while they were taking you away. Anyway, when I woke up I was in +a dressing station, trying to get my breath. I asked what became of you +and nobody seemed to know. One said you were in the Messenger Service. +When I left France I didn't even know you were alive.</p> + +<p style='text-align: left;'>And now you turn up in Temple Camp office and tell me to write you at +Temple Camp. What are you doing up there before the season opens, +anyway? I bet you're there for your health.</p> + +<p style='text-align: left;'>Do you know what I'm thinking of doing?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">85</a></span> I'm thinking of making a trip +to camp and looking over our dug-outs and seeing what kind of a place +you have, before I bring my scouts. How would that strike you? I've got +three patrols and take it from me, they're a bigger job than winning the +war. They're all crazy for August first to arrive.</p> + +<p style='text-align: left;'>Well, Tommy old boy, I'm glad I've met you at last. I have a hunch +you're kind of tall, with gray eyes and curly hair. Am I right? I'm +about medium height and very handsome. Hair red—to suggest the +camp-fire.</p> + +<p style='text-align: left;'>I don't know whether my scouts will let me off for a week or two, but my +boss wants me to take a good rest before I knuckle down to work. I'm off +for August anyway. Don't expect me before that, but if I should show up +on a surprise raid, don't drop dead. I may go over the top some fine day +and drop in on you like a hand grenade. Are you there all alone?</p> + +<p style='text-align: left;'>Write me again and let's get acquainted. I'd send you a photo, only I +gave my girl the last one I had.</p> + +<p style='text-align:right'>So long,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Billy Barnard</span>,<br /> +Scoutmaster.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">86</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2><h3>THE EPISODE IN FRANCE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Uncle Jeb smoked his pipe leisurely, listening to this letter. "Kind of +a comic, hey?" he said. "I reckon ye'd like to hev 'em come. Hain't +never seed each other, hey?"</p> + +<p>Tom was silent. The letter meant more to him than Uncle Jeb imagined. It +touched one of the springs of his simple, stolid nature, and his eyes +glistened as he glanced over it again, drinking in its genial, friendly, +familiar tone. So he had at least one friend after all. Cut of all that +turmoil of war, with its dangers and sufferings, had come at least one +friend. The bursting of that shell which had seemed to shake the earth, +and which had shattered his nerves and lost him Roy and all those +treasured friends and comrades of his boyhood, had at least brought him +one true friend. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">87</a></span> had never felt the need of a friend more than at +that very moment. The cheery letter seemed for the moment, to wipe out +the memory of Roy's last words to him, that he was a liar. And it +aroused his memories of France.</p> + +<p>"Maybe you might like to hear about it," he said to Uncle Jeb, in his +simple way. "Kind of, now it makes me think about France. I wouldn't +blame the scouts for not having any use for me—I wouldn't blame +Roy—but anyway, it was that shell that did it. If you say so I'll start +a camp-fire. That's what always makes me think about the +scouts—camp-fire. Maybe you'll say I was to blame. Anyway, they won't +lose anything. And when they come I'll go back home, if they want me to. +That's only fair. Anyway, I like Temple Camp best of all."</p> + +<p>"Kinder like home, Tommy," Uncle Jeb said.</p> + +<p>The sun was going down beyond the hills across the lake and flickering +up the water and casting a crimson glow upon the wooded summits. The +empty cabins, and the boarded-up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">88</a></span> cooking shack, shone clear and sharp +in the gathering twilight. High above, a great bird soared through the +dusk, hastening to its home in the mountains, where Silver Fox trail +wound its way up through the fastness, and where Tom and Roy had often +gone. And the memory of all these fond associations gripped Tom now, and +he had to tighten his big ugly mouth to keep it from showing any tremor +of weakness.</p> + +<p>"Maybe it won't be as easy as Uncle Jeb thinks," he said to himself, +"but anyway, I'll be here and I won't be interfering with them, and I'll +get the cabins finished and I'll go away before they come. They'll have +to like Billy Barnard, that's sure; and maybe he'll tell them about my +not knowing who he was until after I gave them the cabins. They'll all +be on the hill together and they'll have to be friends...."</p> + +<p>Yes, they would all be on the hill together, save one, and they would be +friends and there would be some great times. They would all hike up the +mountain trail, all save one, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">89</a></span> see Devil's Pool up there. Tom hoped +that Roy would surely show Barnard and his troop that interesting +discovery which he and Roy had made. The hard part was already attended +to—making Margaret and Mr. Burton keep still. And, as usual, Lucky +Luke's part was the easiest part of all—just building three cabins and +going away. It was a cinch.</p> + +<p>"Shall I build a camp-fire?" he asked of Uncle Jeb.</p> + +<p>And so, in the waning twilight, Tom Slade, liar and forgetter of his +friends, built a camp-fire, on this first night of his lonely sojourn at +Temple Camp. And he and Uncle Jeb sat by it as the night drew on apace, +and it aroused fond memories in Tom, as only a camp-fire has the magic +to do, and stilled his jangling nerves and made him happy.</p> + +<p>"In about a month there'll be a hundred fellows sitting around one like +this," he said.</p> + +<p>"En that Peewee kid'll be trying to defend hisself agin Roay's +nonsense," Uncle Jeb remarked.</p> + +<p>"I ain't going to stay to be assistant camp<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">90</a></span> manager this season," Tom +said; "I'm going back to work. I'm having my vacation now. I kind of +like being alone with you."</p> + +<p>"What is them shell-holes?" Uncle Jeb asked. "Yer got catched into one, +huh?"</p> + +<p>And then, for the first time since Tom had returned from France, he was +moved to tell the episode which he had never told the scouts, and which +he had always recalled with agitation and horror. Perhaps the camp-fire +and Uncle Jeb's quiet friendliness lulled him to repose and made him +reminiscent. Perhaps it was the letter from Barnard.</p> + +<p>"That's how I got shell-shocked," he repeated. "When you get +shell-shocked it doesn't show like a wound. There's a place named +Veronnes in France. A German airman fell near there. It was pretty near +dark and it was raining, but anyhow I could just see him fall. I could +see him falling down through the dark, like. I was on my way back to the +billets for relief. I had to go through a marsh to get to that place +where he fell. I thought I'd sink, but I didn't.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">91</a></span></p> + +<p>"When I got there I saw his machine was all crumbled up, and he was all +mixed up with the wires and he was dead. I was going to give him first +aid if he wasn't. But anyway, he was dead. So then I searched him and he +had a lot of papers. Some of them were maps. I knew it wouldn't be any +use to take them to billets, because the wires were all down on account +of the rain. So I started through the marshes to get into the road to +Rheims. Those marshes are worse than the ones we have here. Sometimes I +had to swim. It took me two hours, I guess. Anyway, if you <i>have</i> to do +a thing you can do it.</p> + +<p>"When I got to the road it was easy. I knew that road went to Rheims +because when I was in the Motorcycle Service I knew all the roads. +Pretty soon I got to a place where a road crossed it and there were some +soldiers coming along that road. I kept still and let them pass by and +they didn't see me. I knew there were more coming and I could hear the +sound of tanks coming, too. Maybe they were coming back from an attack.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">92</a></span></p> + +<p>"All of a sudden everything seemed bright and I saw a fellow right close +to me and then there was a noise that made my ears ring and dirt flew in +my face and I heard that fellow yell. As soon as I took a couple more +steps I stumbled and fell into a place that was hot—the earth was hot, +just like an oven. That was a new shell-hole I was in.</p> + +<p>"I just lay there and my arm hurt and my ears buzzed and there was a +funny kind of a pain in the back of my neck. That's how shell-shock +begins. I heard that fellow say, 'Are you all right?' I couldn't speak +because my throat was all trembling, like. But I could feel my sleeve +was all wet and my arm throbbed. I heard him say, 'We must have had our +fingers crossed.' Because you know how kids cross their fingers when +they're playing tag, so no one can tag them? The way he says things in +this letter sounds just like the way he said. He's happy-go-lucky, that +fellow, I guess.</p> + +<p>"There was a piece of the shell in there and it was red hot and by that +he saw my arm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">93</a></span> was hurt, and he bandaged it with his shirt. He saw my +scout badge that I wore and he asked me my name. That's all he knows +about me. Pretty soon something that made a lot of noise moved right +over the hole and I guess it got stuck there. He said it must be a tank +that got kind of caught there. Pretty soon I could hardly breathe, but I +could hear him hollering and banging with a stone or something up +against that thing. I heard him say we could dig our way out with his +helmet. Pretty soon I didn't know anything.</p> + +<p>"The next thing I knew there was fresh air and people were carrying me on +a stretcher. When I tried to call for that fellow it made me sob—that's +the way it is when you're shell-shocked. You wring your hands, too. +Even—even—now—if I hear a noise——"</p> + +<p>Tom Slade broke down, and began wringing his hands, and his face which +shone in the firelight was one of abject terror. And in another moment +he was crying like a baby.</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">94</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2><h3>ON THE LONG TRAIL</h3> +</div> + +<p>That night he bunked in Uncle Jeb's cabin, and slept as he had not slept +in many a night. In the morning his stolid, stoical nature reasserted +itself, and he set about his task with dogged determination. Uncle Jeb +watched him keenly and a little puzzled, and helped him some, but Tom +seemed to prefer to work alone. The old man knew nothing of that +frightful malady of the great war; his own calm, keen eyes bespoke a +disciplined and iron nerve. But his kindly instinct told him to make no +further reference to the war, and so Tom found in him a helpful and +sympathetic companion. Here at last, so it seemed, was the medicine that +poor Tom needed, and he looked forward to their meals, and the quiet +chats beside their lonely camp-fire, with ever-growing pleasure and +solace.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">95</a></span></p> + +<p>He hauled out from under the porch of the main pavilion the logs which +had been saved from the fire that had all but devastated the camp during +its first season, and saved himself much labor thereby. These he wheeled +up the hill one by one in a wheelbarrow. There were enough of these logs +to make one cabin, all but the roof, and part of another one.</p> + +<p>When Tom had got out the scout pioneer badge which Roy had noticed on +him, it had been by way of defying time and hardship and proclaiming his +faith in himself and his indomitable power of accomplishment. As the +work progressed it became a sort of mania with him; he was engrossed in +it, he lived in it and for it. He would right his wrong to the troop by +scout methods if he tore down the whole forest and killed himself. That +was Tom Slade.</p> + +<p>Up on the new woods property, which included the side of the hill away +from the camp, he felled such trees as he needed, hauling them up to the +summit by means of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">96</a></span> block and falls, where he trimmed them and notched +them, and rolled or pried them up into place. At times whole days would +be spent on that further slope of the hillside and Uncle Jeb, busy with +preparations for the first arrivals, could not see him at all, only hear +the sound of his axe, and sometimes the pulleys creaking. He did not go +down into camp for lunch as a rule, and spent but a few minutes eating +the snack which he had brought with him.</p> + +<p>At last there came a day when five cabins stood upon that isolated +hilltop which overlooked the main body of the camp, and Tom Slade, +leaning upon his axe like Daniel Boone, could look down over the more +closely built area, with its more or less straight rows of cabins and +shacks, and its modern pavilion. Five cabins where there had been only +three. They made a pleasant, secluded little community up there, far +removed from the hustle and bustle of camp life. "No wonder they like it +up here," he mused; "the camp is getting to be sort of like a village. +They'll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">97</a></span> have a lot of fun up here, those two troops, and it's a kind of +a good turn how I bring them together. Nobody loses anything, this way."</p> + +<p>True—nobody but Tom Slade. His hands were covered with blisters so that +he must wind his handkerchief around one of them to ease the chafing of +the axe handle. His hair was streaky and dishevelled and needed cutting, +so that he looked not unlike one of those hardy pioneers of old. And +now, with some of the rough material for the last cabin strewn about him +and with but two weeks in which to finish the work, he was confronted +with a new handicap. The old pain caused by the wound in his arm +returned, and the crippled muscles rebelled against this excessive +usage. Well, that was just a little obstacle in the long trail; he would +put the burden on the other arm. "I'm glad I got two," he said.</p> + +<p>He tried to calculate the remainder of the work in relation to the time +he had to do it. For of one thing he was resolved, and that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">98</a></span> was to be +finished and gone before those two troops arrived, the troop from the +west and his own troop from Bridgeboro. They were to find these six +cabins waiting for them. Everything would be all right....</p> + +<p>He mopped his brow off, and rewound the handkerchief about his sore +hand. The fingers smarted and tingled and he wriggled them to obtain a +little relief from their cramped condition. He buttoned up his flannel +shirt which he always left wide open when he worked, and laid his axe +away in one of the old familiar cabins. It chanced to be one in which he +and Roy had cut their initials, and he paused a moment and glanced +wistfully at their boyish handiwork. Then he went down.</p> + +<p>As he passed through Temple Lane he saw that Uncle Jeb had been busy +taking down the board shutters from the main pavilion—ominous reminder +of the fast approaching season. Soon scouts would be tumbling all over +each other hereabouts. The springboard had been put in place at the +lake's edge, too, and a couple of freshly painted rowboats were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">99</a></span> bobbing +at the float, looking spick and glossy in the dying sunlight. Temple +Camp was beginning to look natural and familiar.</p> + +<p>"I reckon it'll be a lively season," Uncle Jeb said, glancing about +after his own strenuous day's work. "Last summer most of the scouts was +busy with war gardens and war work and 'twas a kind of off season as you +might say. I cal'late they'll come in herds like buffaloes this summer."</p> + +<p>"Every cabin is booked until Columbus Day," Tom said; "and all the tent +space is assigned."</p> + +<p>"Yer reckon to finish by August first?" Uncle Jeb asked.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to finish before anybody comes," Tom said; "but I guess I +can't do that. I'll get away before August first, that's sure. You have +to be sure to see that 5, 6 and 7 go to my troop, and the new ones to +the troop from Ohio. You can tell them it's a kind of a surprise if you +want to. You don't need to tell 'em who did it. It's nice up there on +that hill. It's a kind of a camp all by itself. Do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">100</a></span> you remember that +woodchuck skin you gave Roy? It's hanging up there in the Silver Fox's +cabin now."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with your hand?" Uncle Jeb inquired.</p> + +<p>"It's just blistered and it tingles," Tom said. "It's from holding the +axe."</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">101</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2><h3>TOM LETS THE CAT OUT OF THE BAG</h3> +</div> + +<p>While they were having supper in Uncle Jeb's cabin, Tom hauled out of +his trousers pocket a couple of very much folded and gather crumbled +pieces of paper.</p> + +<p>"Will you keep them for me?" he asked. "They're Liberty Bonds. They get +all sweaty and crumpled in my pocket. They're worth a hundred dollars."</p> + +<p>Mr. Burton had more than once suggested that Tom keep these precious +mementos of his patriotism in the safe, but there was no place in all +the world in which Tom had such abiding faith as his trouser side +pockets, and he had never been able to appreciate the inappropriateness +of the singular receptacle for such important documents. There, at +least, he could feel them, and the magic feel of these badges of his +wealth was better than lock and key.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">102</a></span></p> + +<p>"Keep them for me until I go away," he said.</p> + +<p>Uncle Jeb straightened them out and placed them in his tin strong box.</p> + +<p>"Yer ain't thinkin' uv stayin' on, then?" he queried.</p> + +<p>"Not after I'm finished," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"Mayn't change yer mind, huh?"</p> + +<p>"I never change my mind," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"I wuz thinkin' haow yer'd be lendin' me a hand," Uncle Jeb ventured.</p> + +<p>"I'm going back to work," Tom said; "I had my vacation."</p> + +<p>"'Tain't exactly much of a vacation."</p> + +<p>"I feel better," Tom said.</p> + +<p>Uncle Jeb understood Tom pretty well, and he did not try to argue with +him.</p> + +<p>"Be kinder lonesome back home in Bridgebory, huh? With all the boys up +here?" he ventured.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to buy a motor-boat," Tom confided to him, "and go out on the +river a lot. A fellow I know will sell his for a hundred dollars. I'm +going to buy it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">103</a></span></p> + +<p>"Goin' ter go out in it all alone?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe. I spent a lot of time alone. There's a girl I know that works in +the office. Maybe she'll go out in it. Do you think she will?"</p> + +<p>"Golly, it's hard sayin' what them critters'll do," Uncle Jeb said. +"Take a she bear; you never can tell if she'll run for you or away from +you."</p> + +<p>Tom seemed to ponder on this shrewd observation.</p> + +<p>"Best thing is ter stay up here whar yer sure yer welcome," the old man +took occasion to advise him.</p> + +<p>"One thing I'm sorry about," Tom said, "and that is that Barnard didn't +come. I guess I won't see him."</p> + +<p>"He might come yet," Uncle Jeb said; "and he could give yer a hand."</p> + +<p>"I'd let him," Tom said, "'cause I'm scared maybe I won't get finished +now."</p> + +<p>"I'm comin' up ter give yer a hand myself to-morrer," Uncle Jeb said, +"and we'll see<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">104</a></span> some chips fly, I reckon. Let's get the fire started."</p> + +<p>Uncle Jeb was conscious of a little twinge of remorse that he had not +helped his lonely visitor more, but his own duties had taken much of his +time lately. He realized now the difficulties that Tom had encountered +and surmounted, and he noticed with genuine sympathy that that dogged +bulldog nature was beginning to be haunted with fears of not finishing +the work in time.</p> + +<p>Moreover, in that little talk, Tom had revealed, unwittingly, the two +dominant thoughts that were in his mind. One was the hope, the anxiety, +never expressed until now, that Barnard would come, and perhaps help +him. He had been thinking of this and silently counting on it.</p> + +<p>The other was his plan for buying a motor-boat, with his hundred or some +odd precious dollars, and spending his lonely spare time in it, for the +balance of the summer, back in Bridgeboro. He was going to ask a girl he +knew, the <i>only</i> girl he knew, to go out in it. And he was doubtful +whether she would go.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">105</a></span></p> + +<p>These, then, were his two big enterprises—finishing the third cabin and +taking "that girl" out in the motor-boat which he would buy with his two +Liberty Bonds. And away down deep in his heart he was haunted by doubts +as to both enterprises. Perhaps he would not succeed. He still had his +strong left arm, so far as the last cabin was concerned, and he could +work until he fell in his tracks. But the girl was a new kind of an +enterprise for poor Tom.</p> + +<p>His plan went further than he had allowed any one to know.</p> + +<p>Uncle Jeb, shrewd and gentle as he was saw all this and resolved that +Tom's plans, crazy or not, should not go awry. He would do a little +chopping and log hauling up on that hill next day. Old Uncle Jeb never +missed his aim and when he fixed his eye on the target of August first, +it meant business.</p> + +<p>Then, the next morning, he was summoned by telegram to meet Mr. John +Temple in New York and discuss plans for the woods property.</p> + +<p>So there you are again—Lucky Luke.</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">106</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2><h3>THE SPECTRE OF DEFEAT</h3> +</div> + +<p>So Tom worked on alone. He made his headquarters on the hill now, seldom +going down into the main body of the camp, and worked each day from +sunrise until it was too dark to see. Then he would build himself a +camp-fire and cook his simple meal of beans and coffee and toasted +crackers, and turn in early.</p> + +<p>Every log for this last cabin had to be felled and trimmed of its +branches, and hauled singly up the hillside by means of the rope and +pulleys. Then it had to be notched and rolled into place, which was not +easy after the structure was two or three tiers high.</p> + +<p>Building a log cabin is essentially a work for two. The logs which +flanked the doorway and the window had to be cut to special<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">107</a></span> lengths. +The rough casings he made at night, after the more strenuous work of the +day was done, and this labor he performed by the light of a single +railroad lantern. The work of building the first two cabins had been +largely that of fitting together timbers already cut, and adjusting old +broken casings, but he was now in the midst of such a task as confronted +the indomitable woodsmen of old and he strove on with dogged +perseverance. Often, after a day's work which left him utterly exhausted +and throbbing in every muscle, he saw only one more log in place, as the +result of his laborious striving.</p> + +<p>Thus a week passed, and almost two, and Jeb Rushmore did not return, and +Tom knew that the next Saturday would bring the first arrivals. Not that +he cared so much for that, but he did not see his way clear to finishing +his task by the first of August, and the consciousness of impending +defeat weighed heavily upon him. He must not be caught there with his +saw and axe by the scouts who had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">108</a></span> repudiated him and who believed him a +deserter and a liar.</p> + +<p>He now worked late into the night; the straining of the taut ropes and +the creaking of the pulleys might have been heard at the lake's edge as +he applied the multiple power of leverage against some stubborn log and +hauled it up the slope. Then he would notch and trim it, and in the +morning, when his lame and throbbing arm was rested and his shoulder +less sore after its night's respite, he would lift one end of it and +then the other on his shoulder and so, with many unavailing trials +finally get it lodged in place. He could not get comfortable when he +slept at night, because of his sore shoulders. They tormented him with a +kind of smarting anguish. And still Uncle Jeb did not return.</p> + +<p>At last, one night, that indomitable spirit which had refused to +recognize his ebbing strength, showed signs of giving way. He had been +trying to raise a log into place and its pressure on his bruised +shoulder caused him excruciating pain. He got his sleeping<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">109</a></span> blanket out +of the cabin which he occupied and laid it, folded, on his shoulder, but +his weary frame gave way under the burden and he staggered and fell.</p> + +<p>When he was able to pull himself together, he gathered a few shavings +and built a little pyramid of sticks over them, and piling some larger +pieces close by, kindled a blaze, then spreading his blanket on the +ground, sat down and watched the mounting tongues of flame. Every bone +in his body ached. He was too tired to eat, even to sleep; and he could +find no comfort in the cabin bunk. Here, at least, were cheerfulness and +warmth. He drew as close to the fire as was safe, for he fancied that +the heat soothed the pain in his arm and shoulders. And the cheerful +crackling of the blaze made the fire seem like a companion....</p> + +<p>And then a strange thing happened.</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">110</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2><h3>THE FRIEND IN NEED</h3> +</div> + +<p>Standing on the opposite side of the fire was a young fellow of about +his own age, panting audibly, and smiling at him with an exceedingly +companionable smile. In the light of the fire, Tom could see that his +curly hair was so red that a brick would have seemed blue by comparison, +and the freckles were as thick upon his pleasant face as stars in the +quiet sky. Moreover, his eyes sparkled with a kind of dancing +recklessness, and there was a winning familiarity about him that took +even stolid Tom quite by storm.</p> + +<p>The stranger wore a plaid cap and a mackinaw jacket, the fuzzy texture +of which was liberally besprinkled with burrs, which he was plucking off +one by one, and throwing into the fire in great good humor.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">111</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm a human bramble bush," he said; "a few more of them and I'd be a +nutmeg grater. I'm not conceited but I'm stuck up."</p> + +<p>"I didn't see you until just this minute," Tom said; "or hear you +either. I guess you didn't come by the road. I guess you must have come +by the woods trail to get all those burrs on you."</p> + +<p>For just a moment the stranger seemed a trifle taken aback, but he +quickly regained his composure and said, "I came in through the stage +entrance, I guess. I can see you're an A-1 scout, good at observing and +deducing and all that. I bet you can't guess who I am."</p> + +<p>"I bet I can," said Tom, soberly accepting the challenge; "you're +William Barnard. And I'm glad you're here, too."</p> + +<p>"Right the first time," said the stranger. "And you're Thomas Slade. At +last we have met, as the villain says in the movies. You all alone? +Here, let's get a squint at your mug," he added, sitting on the blanket +and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">112</a></span> holding Tom's chin up so as to obtain a good view of his face.</p> + +<p>Tom's wonted soberness dissolved under this familiar, friendly +treatment, and he said with characteristic blunt frankness, "I'm glad +you came. You're just like I thought you were. I hoped all the time that +you'd come."</p> + +<p>"<i>Get out!</i>" said Barnard, giving him a bantering push and laughing +merrily. "I bet you never gave me a thought. Well, here I am, as large +as life, larger in fact, and now that I'm here, what are you going to do +with me? What's that; a light?" he added, glancing suddenly down to the +main body of the camp.</p> + +<p>"It's just the reflection of this fire in the lake," Tom said; "there +isn't anybody but me in camp now. The season is late starting. I guess +troops will start coming Saturday."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" said his companion, rather interested, apparently. "Well, I don't +suppose they'll bother us much if we stick up here. What are you doing, +building a city? The last time we met was in a hole in the ground,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">113</a></span> hey? +Buried alive; you remember that? Little old France!"</p> + +<p>"I don't want to talk about that," Tom said; "when I told Uncle Jeb +about it, it made me have a headache afterwards. I don't want to think +about that any more. But I'm mighty glad to see you, and I hope you'll +stay. It seems funny, kind of, doesn't it?"</p> + +<p>Prompt to avail himself of Tom's apparent invitation to friendly +intercourse, his companion lay flat on his back, clasped his hands over +his head and said, "As funny as a circus. So here we are again, met once +more like Stanley and Livingstone in South Africa. And do you know, you +look just like I thought you'd look. I said to myself that Tom Slade has +a big mouth—determined."</p> + +<p>"I never thought how you'd look," Tom said soberly; "but I said you were +happy-go-lucky, and I guess you are. I bet your scouts like you. Can you +stay until they come?"</p> + +<p>"They're a pack of wild Indians, but they think I'm the only baby in the +cradle."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">114</a></span></p> + +<p>"I guess they're right," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"So you're all alone in camp, hey? And making your headquarters up here? +Nice and cosy, hey? Remote and secluded, eh? That's the stuff for me. I +tell my scouts, 'Keep away from civilization.' The further back you get +the better. Guess they won't bother you up here much, hey? Regular +hermit's den. No, I'm just on a flying visit, that's all. Came to New +York on biz, and thought I'd run up and give the place the once over. I +might loaf around a week or two if you'll let me. Suppose I <i>could</i> stay +until the kids get here, if it comes to that; <i>my</i> kids, I mean. After +all it would be just a case of beating it back to Ohio and then beating +it back here with them."</p> + +<p>"You might as well stay here now you're here; I hope you will," Tom +said. "As long as you're here I might as well tell you why <i>I'm</i> here, +all alone."</p> + +<p>"Health?"</p> + +<p>"Kind of, but not exactly," Tom said. "These three cabins, the old +ones—that one,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">115</a></span> and that one, and that one," he added, pointing, "are +the ones my troop always had. But I forgot all about it and gave them to +your troop. That got them sore at me. Maybe I could have fixed it for +them, but that would have left you fellows without any cabins, because +all the cabins down below are taken for August. So I came up here to +build three more; that way, nobody'll get left. They don't know I'm +doing it. I only got about two weeks now. I guess I can't finish because +my arm is lame, on account of that wound—<i>you</i> know. And my shoulder is +sore. I wanted to go away before they come—I got reasons."</p> + +<p>His companion raised himself to a sitting posture, clasped his hands +over his knees, and glanced about at the disordered scene which shone in +the firelight. "So that's what you've been up to, hey?" he said.</p> + +<p>"When I told you in my letter to address your letters here, that's what +I was thinking about," Tom said. "Your troop and my—that other—troop +will be good friends, I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">116</a></span> guess. I'm going home when I get through and +I'm going to buy a motor-boat."</p> + +<p>"Well—I'll—be—jiggered!" his friend said. "Thomas Slade, you're an +old hickory-nut."</p> + +<p>"It was just like two trails," Tom said, "and I hit the long one."</p> + +<p>"And you're still in the bush, hey? Well, now you listen here. Can I +bunk up here with you? All right-o. Then I'm yours for a finished job. +Here's my hand. Over the top we go. On July thirty-first, the flag +floats over this last cabin. I'm with you, strong as mustard. Building +cabins is my favorite sport. You can sit and watch me. I'm here to +finish that job with you—what do you say? Comrades to the death?"</p> + +<p>"You can help," said Tom, smiling.</p> + +<p>"That's me," said Billy Barnard.</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">117</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2><h3>TOM'S GUEST</h3> +</div> + +<p>Tom liked his new acquaintance immensely, but he did not altogether +understand him. His apparently reckless and happy-go-lucky temperament +and his breezy manner, were very attractive to sober Tom, but they +seemed rather odd in a scoutmaster. However, he could think of no good +reason why a scoutmaster should not have a reckless nature and a breezy +manner. Perhaps, he thought, it would be well if more scoutmasters were +like that. He thought that returned soldiers must make good +scoutmasters. He suspected that scoutmasters out west must be different. +Of one thing he felt certain, and that was that the scouts in William +Barnard's troop must worship him. If he was different from some +scoutmasters, perhaps this could be accounted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">118</a></span> for by the fact that he +was younger. Tom suspected that here was just the kind of scoutmaster +that the National Organization was after—one with pep. On the whole, he +thought that William Barnard was a bully scoutmaster.</p> + +<p>At all events he seemed to be pretty skillful at woodcraft. The next +morning he set to work in real earnest and Tom took fresh hope and +courage from his strenuous partner.</p> + +<p>"This is <i>your</i> job," his friend would say; "all I'm doing is helping; +sort of a silent partner, as you might say."</p> + +<p>But for all that he worked like a slave, relieving Tom of the heavier +work, and at night he was dog tired, as he admitted himself. Thus the +work went on, and with the help of his new friend, Tom began to see +light through the darkness. "We'll get her finished or bust a trace," +Barnard said. They bunked together in one of the old cabins and Tom +enjoyed the isolation and the pioneer character of their task. Relieved +of the tremendous<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">119</a></span> strain of lifting the logs alone, his shoulder +regained some of its former strength and toughness, and the confidence +of success in time cheered him no less than did the amusing and +sprightly talk of his friend.</p> + +<p>Barnard had not been there two days when his thoughtfulness relieved Tom +of one of the daily tasks which had taken much time from his work. This +was to follow the trail down the hillside and through the woods to where +it ran into the public road and wait there for the mail wagon to pass +and get the letters. "I'll take care of that," he said, as soon as Tom +answered his inquiry as to how mail was received at camp, "don't you +worry. I have to have my little hike every day."</p> + +<p>There was quite an accumulation of mail when Uncle Jeb, looking strange +and laughable in his civilized clothes, as Barnard called them, arrived +on Saturday morning. The bus, which brought him up from Catskill, +brought also the advance guard of the scout army that would shortly +over-run the camp.</p> + +<p>These dozen or so boys and Uncle Jeb<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">120</a></span> strolled up to visit the camp on +the hill, and Uncle Jeb, as usual, expressed no surprise at finding that +Tom's visitor had come. "Glad ter see yer," he said; "yer seem like a +couple of Robinson Crusoes up here. Glad ter see yer givin' Tommy a +hand."</p> + +<p>"I got a right to say he's my visitor, haven't I?" Tom asked, without +any attempt at hinting. "'Cause I knew him, as you might say, over in +France. We catch fish in the brook and we don't use the camp stores +much."</p> + +<p>"Wall, naow, I wouldn' call this bein' in the camp at all; not yet, +leastways," Uncle Jeb said, including the stranger in his shrewd, +friendly glance. "Tommy, here, is a privileged character, as the feller +says. En your troop's coming later, hain't they? I reckon we won't put +you down on the books. You jes stay here with Tommy till he gets his +chore done. You're visitin' him ez I see it. Nobody's a goin' ter bother +yer up here."</p> + +<p>So there was one troublesome matter settled to Tom's satisfaction. He +had wanted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">121</a></span> to consider Barnard as his particular guest on their +hillside retreat and not as a pay guest at the camp. He was glad for +what Uncle Jeb had said. But he was rather surprised that Barnard had +not protested against this hospitality. What he was particularly +surprised at, however, was a certain uneasiness which this scoutmaster +from the west had shown in Uncle Jeb's presence. But it was nothing +worth thinking about, certainly, and Tom ceased to think about it.</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">122</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2><h3>AN ACCIDENT</h3> +</div> + +<p>The time had now come when each day brought new arrivals to the camp, +and August the first loomed large in the near future. It was less than a +week off. The three new cabins stood all but completed, and thanks to +the strenuous and unfailing help of his friend from the West, Tom knew +that his scout dream of atonement was fulfilled.</p> + +<p>"When they get here," he said to Uncle Jeb, "just tell them that they +are to bunk in the cabins up on the hill. Barnard will be here to meet +his own troop, and he'll take them up to the new cabins. Roy and the +fellows will like Barnard, that's sure. It'll be like a kind of a little +separate camp up on the hill; two troops—six patrols."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">123</a></span></p> + +<p>"En yer ain't a goin' ter change yer mind en stay, Tommy?"</p> + +<p>"Nope," said Tom; "I don't want to see them. I'm going down Thursday. +They'll all be here Saturday, I suppose."</p> + +<p>In those last days of the work, little groups of scouts would stroll up +from the main body of the camp to watch the progress of the labor, but +the novelty of this form of entertainment soon passed, for the big camp +had too many other attractions. In those days of hard work, Tom's liking +for his friend had ripened into a feeling of admiring affection, which +his stolid but generous nature was not slow to reveal, and he made the +sprightly visitor his confidant.</p> + +<p>One night—it might have been along about the middle of the week—they +sprawled wearily near their camp-fire, chatting about the work and about +Tom's future plans.</p> + +<p>"One thing, I never could have finished it without you," Tom said, "and +I'm glad you're going to stay, because you can be a kind of scoutmaster +to both troops. I bet you'll be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">124</a></span> glad to see your own fellows. I bet +you'll like Roy, too, and the other fellows I told you about. Peewee +Harris—you'll laugh at him. He has everybody laughing. Their own +scoutmaster, Mr. Ellsworth, is away, so it'll be good, as you might say, +for them to have you. One thing I like about you, and that is you're not +always talking about the law, and giving lectures and things like that. +You're just like another fellow; you're different from a lot of +scoutmasters. You're not always talking about the handbook and good +turns and things."</p> + +<p>His companion seemed a bit uncomfortable but he only laughed and said, +"Actions speak louder than words, don't they, Tommy? We've <i>lived</i> it, +and that's better, huh?"</p> + +<p>"That's mostly the only thing that makes me wish I was going to stay," +Tom said; "so's I'd know you better. I bet you'll keep those fellows on +the jump; I bet you won't be all the time preaching to them. Mostly, the +way my troop comes is across the lake. They hike up from Catskill +through the woods. If<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">125</a></span> your troop comes on the afternoon train, maybe +both troops will come up through the woods together, hey? I'd like to +see some of those scouts of yours. I bet they're crazy about you. You +never told me much about them."</p> + +<p>"We've been building cabins, Tommy, old boy."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but now the work is nearly finished, all we have to do is clear +up, and I'd like to hear something about your troop. Have they got many +merit badges?"</p> + +<p>"'Bout 'steen. Look here, Tommy boy; I think the best thing for you to do +is to forget your grouch at Ray, or Roy, or whatever you call him, and +just make up your mind to stay right here. This job you've done——"</p> + +<p>"You mean <i>we</i>," Tom interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>we</i>, then—it's going to wipe out all hard feeling and +everything is going to be all hunk. You'll make a better scoutmaster to +the whole bunch than I will. I'm better at work than I am at discipline, +Tom. I can't pull that moral suasion bunk at all. I'm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">126</a></span> pretty nifty at +swinging an axe, but I'm weak on the good turn and duty stuff."</p> + +<p>"You did <i>me</i> a good turn, all right," Tom said, with simple gratitude +in his tone.</p> + +<p>"But I mean the big brother stuff," his companion said; "I'm not so much +of a dabster at that. You're the one for that—you're a scoutologist."</p> + +<p>"A what?" Tom said.</p> + +<p>"A scout specialist. One who has studied scoutology. You're the one to +manage, what's-his-name, Peewee? And that other kid—Ray——"</p> + +<p>"Roy," Tom corrected him.</p> + +<p>"I was in hopes you'd weaken and decide to stay and we'd—they'd—elect +you generalissimo of the allied troops, like old Foch."</p> + +<p>Tom only shook his head. "I don't want to be here," he said; "I don't +want to be here when they come. After they see the cabins you can tell +them how I didn't know who you were until long after I—I made the +mistake. They'll admit that this was the only thing for me to do; +they'll admit it when they know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">127</a></span> about it. The only thing is, that I +thought about it before they did, that's all. You got to admit it's the +scout way, 'cause a scout wouldn't try to sneak out of anything the easy +way."</p> + +<p>"I don't know if it's the scout way," his companion said, "but it's the +Tom Slade way."</p> + +<p>"I got to be thankful I was a scout," Tom observed.</p> + +<p>"I think the scouts have to be thankful," his friend said, with a note +of admiration ringing in his voice.</p> + +<p>"They thought I forgot how to be a scout," Tom said. "Now they'll see."</p> + +<p>Barnard raised himself to a sitting posture, clasped his hands over his +knees, in that attitude which had come to be characteristic of him about +their lonely camp-fire, and glanced about at the results of Tom's long, +strenuous, lonesome labors. And he thought how monotonous it must have +been there for Tom through those long days and nights that he had spent +alone on that isolated hilltop. As<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">128</a></span> he glanced about him, the completed +work loomed large and seemed like a monument to the indomitable will and +prowess of this young fellow who seemed to him so simple and +credulous—almost childlike in some ways. He wondered how Tom could ever +have raised those upper logs into their places. It seemed to him that +the trifling instance of thoughtlessness which was the cause of all this +striving, was nothing at all, and in no way justified those weeks of +wearisome labor. A queer fellow, he thought, was this Tom Slade. There +was the work, all but finished, three new cabins standing alongside the +other three, and all the disorder of choppings and bits of wood lying +about.</p> + +<p>He glanced at Tom Slade where he sat near him by the fire, and noticed +the torn shirt, the hand wrapped in a bandage, the bruised spot on that +plain, dogged face, where a chunk of wood had flown up and all but +blinded him. He noticed that big mouth. The whimsical thought occurred +to him that this young fellow's face was, itself, something like a knot<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">129</a></span> +of wood; strong and stubborn, and very plain and homely. And yet he was +so easily imposed upon—not exactly that, perhaps, but he was simple +withal, and trusting and credulous....</p> + +<p>"If I get back before Saturday I can see that fellow," Tom said, "and +buy his boat. He comes home early Saturday afternoons. He said I could +have it for a hundred dollars if I wanted it. I got twenty-five dollars +more than I need."</p> + +<p>"You're rich. And the girl; don't forget <i>her</i>. She's worth more than a +hundred and twenty-five."</p> + +<p>"I'm going to give her a ride in it Sunday, maybe," Tom said.</p> + +<p>For a few minutes neither spoke, and there was no sound but the +crackling of the blaze and the distant voices of scouts down on the +lake. "You can hear them plain up here," Tom said; "are your scouts fond +of boating?"</p> + +<p>Still his companion did not speak.</p> + +<p>"Well, then," he finally said; "if you're going Thursday that means you +go to-morrow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">130</a></span> I was going to try to talk you into changing your mind, +but just now, when I was piking around, and taking a squint at the work +and at your face, I saw it wouldn't be any use. I guess people don't +influence you much, hey?"</p> + +<p>"Roy Blakeley influenced me a lot."</p> + +<p>"Well then," said Barnard, "let's put the finishing touch on this job +while both of us are here to do it. What do you say? Shall we haul up +the flagpole?"</p> + +<p>The shortest way down the hill in the direction of the new property was +across a little gully over which they had laid a log. This was a +convenient way of going when there was no burden to be borne. The +hauling and carrying were done at a point some hundred feet from this +hollow. In the woods beyond, they had cut and hewn a flagstaff and since +two could easily carry it, Barnard's idea was that this should be done +then, so that he might have Tom's assistance.</p> + +<p>With Barnard, to think was to act, he was all impulse, and in two +seconds he was on his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">131</a></span> feet and headed for their makeshift bridge across +the gully. Tom followed him and was startled to see his friend go +tumbling down into the hollow fully three feet from where the log lay. +Before Tom reached the edge a scream, as of excruciating pain, arose, +and he lost not a second in scrambling down into the chasm, where his +companion lay upon the rocks, holding his forehead and groaning.</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">132</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2><h3>FRIENDS</h3> +</div> + +<p>"Take your hand off your forehead," Tom said, trying gently to move it +against the victim's will; "so I can tell if it's bad. Don't be scared, +you're stunned that's all. It's cut, but it isn't bleeding much."</p> + +<p>"I'm all right," Barnard said, trying to rise.</p> + +<p>"Maybe you are," Tom said, "but safety first; lie still. Can you move +your arms? Does your back hurt?"</p> + +<p>"I don't want any doctor," Barnard said.</p> + +<p>"See if you can—no, lie still; see if you can wiggle your fingers. I +guess you're just cut, that's all. Here, let me put my handkerchief +around it. You got off lucky."</p> + +<p>"You don't call <i>that</i> lucky, do you?" Barnard asked. "My head aches +like blazes."</p> + +<p>"Sure it does," said Tom, feeling his friend's pulse, "but you're all +right."</p> + + +<div class='figcenter' style='width: 350px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="illus-003" id="illus-003"></a> +<img src='images/illus-134.jpg' alt='TOM HELPED BARNARD TO THEIR CABIN--Tom Slade at Black Lake--Page 134' title='' /><br /> +<span class='caption'>TOM HELPED BARNARD TO THEIR CABIN<br /><i>Tom Slade at Black Lake—Page</i> 134</span> +</div> + +<p>"I got a good bang in the head," said Barnard; "I'll be all right," he +added, sitting up and gazing about him. "Case of look before you leap, +hey? Do you know what I did?"</p> + +<p>"You stepped on the shadow instead of the log," Tom said. "I was going +to call to you, but I thought that as long as you're a scout you'd know +about that. It was on account of the fire—the way it was shining. +That's what they call a false ford——"</p> + +<p>"Well, the next time I hope there'll be a Maxwell or a Packard there +instead," Barnard said in his funny way.</p> + +<p>"A false ford is a shadow across a hollow place," Tom said. "You see +them mostly in the moonlight. Don't you remember how lots of fellows +were fooled like that, trying to cross trenches. The Germans could make +it look like a bridge where there wasn't any bridge—don't you +remember?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Some</i> engineers!" Barnard observed. "Ouch, but my head hurts! Going +down, hey? I don't like those shadow bridges; it's all a matter of +taste, I suppose. Oh boy, how my head aches!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">134</a></span></p> + +<p>"If it was broken it wouldn't ache," said Tom consolingly, "or you +wouldn't know it if it did. Can you get up?"</p> + +<p>"I can't go up as quick as I came down," Barnard said, sitting there and +holding his head in a way that made even sober Tom smile, "but I guess I +can manage it."</p> + +<p>He arose and Tom helped him through the gully to where it petered out, +and so to their cabin. Barnard's ankle was strained somewhat, and he had +an ugly cut on his forehead, which Tom cleansed and bandaged, and it +being already late, the young man who had tried walking on a shadow +decided that he would turn in and try the remedy of sleep on his +throbbing head.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Slady," he said, after he was settled for the night, "I've +got your number, you old grouch. I know what it means when you get an +idea in your old noddle, so please remember that I don't want any of +that bunch from down below up here, and I don't want any doctor. See? +You're not going to pull any of that stuff on me, are you? Just let<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">135</a></span> me +get a night's sleep and I'll be all right. I'm not on exhibition. I +don't want anybody up here piking around just because I took a double +header into space. And I don't want any doctors from Leeds or Catskill +up here, either. Get me?"</p> + +<p>"If you get to sleep all right and don't have any fever, you won't need +any doctor," Tom said; "and I won't go away till you're all right."</p> + +<p>"You're as white as a snowstorm, Slady," his friend said. "I've had the +time of my life here with you alone. And I'm going to wind up with you +alone. No outsiders. Two's a company, three's a mob."</p> + +<p>Something, he knew not what, impelled sober, impassive Tom to sit down +for a few moments on the edge of the bunk where his friend lay.</p> + +<p>"Red Cross nurse and wounded doughboy, hey?" his friend observed in that +flippant manner which sometimes amused and sometimes annoyed Tom.</p> + +<p>"I liked it, too, being here alone with you,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">136</a></span> Tom said, "even if it +hadn't been for you helping me a lot, I would have liked it. I like you +a whole lot. I knew I'd like you. I used to camp with Roy Blakeley up on +his lawn and it reminded me of that, being up here alone with you. After +I've gone, you'll mix up with the fellows down in the camp, but anyhow, +you'll remember how we were up here alone together, I bet. You bet I'll +remember that—I will."</p> + +<p>Barnard reached out his hand from under the coverings and grasped Tom's +hand. "You're all there, Tommy," he said. "And you won't remember how I +got on your nerves, and how I tried walking on a shadow, and——"</p> + +<p>Tom did not release his friend's hand, or perhaps it was Barnard who did +not release Tom's. At all events, they remained in that attitude, hands +clasped, for still a few moments more. "Only the <i>good</i> things about me, +hey, Tommy boy?" his friend asked.</p> + +<p>"I don't know any other kind of things," Tom said, "and if I heard any I +wouldn't believe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">137</a></span> them. I always said your scouts must think a lot of +you. I think you're different from other scoutmasters. You can <i>make</i> +people like you, that's sure."</p> + +<p>"Sure, eh?"</p> + +<p>"It's sure with <i>me</i> anyway," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"Resolution, determination, friendship—all <i>sure</i> with <i>you</i>. Hey, +Tommy boy? Because you're built out of <i>rocks</i>. Bridges, they may be +nothing but shadows, hey? According to you, you can't depend on half of +them. I wonder if it's that way with friendships, huh?"</p> + +<p>"It ain't with mine," Tom said simply.</p> + +<p>And still Barnard clung to Tom's hand. "Maybe we'll test it some day, +Slady old boy."</p> + +<p>"There's no use testing a thing that's sure," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>And still Barnard did not release his hand.'</p> + +<p>"It's funny you didn't know about false fords," Tom said.</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">138</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2><h3>TOM GOES ON AN ERRAND</h3> +</div> + +<p>Tom had intended to go down into camp for a strip of bandage and to see +Uncle Jeb, but since Barnard was so averse to having his mishap known +and to having visitors, he thought it better not to go down that night. +He did not like the idea of not mentioning his friend's accident to the +old camp manager. Tom had not been able to rid himself of a feeling that +Uncle Jeb did not wholly approve of the sprightly Barnard. He had no +good reason for any such supposition, but the feeling persisted. It made +him uncomfortable when occasionally the keen-eyed old plainsman had +strolled up to look things over, and he was always relieved when Uncle +Jeb went away. Tom could not for the life of him, tell why he had this +feeling, but he had it just the same.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">139</a></span></p> + +<p>So now, in order not to rouse his friend, who seemed at last to have +dozed off, he lingered by the dying embers of their fire. As the last +flickerings of the blaze subsided and the yellow fragments turned to +gray, then black, it seemed to Tom as if this fire symbolized the +petering out of that pleasant comradeship, now so close at hand. In his +heart, he longed to wait there and continue this friendship and be with +Roy and the others, as he had so often been at the big camp.</p> + +<p>He had grown to admire and to like Barnard immensely. It was the liking +born of gratitude and close association, but it was the liking, also, +which the steady, dull, stolid nature is apt to feel for one who is +light and vivacious. Barnard's way of talking, particularly his own +brand of slang, was very captivating to sober Tom, who could do big +things but not little things. He had told himself many times that +Barnard's scouts "must be crazy about him." And Barnard had laughed and +said, "They <i>must</i> be crazy if they like <i>me</i>...."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">140</a></span></p> + +<p>"He says I'm queer," Tom mused, "but he's queer, too, in a way. I guess +a lot of people don't understand him. It's because he's happy-go-lucky. +It's funny he didn't know about shadow bridges, because it's in the +handbook." Then Tom couldn't remember whether it was in the handbook or +not.... "Anyway, he's got the right idea about good turns," he +reflected. "I met lots of scouts that never read the handbook; I met +scoutmasters, too...."</p> + +<p>And indeed there were few scouts, or scoutmasters either, who had +followed the trail through the handbook with the dogged patience of Tom +Slade. He had mastered scouting the same as he had mastered this job.</p> + +<p>Barnard was pretty restive that night, tossed on his bunk, and +complained much of his head aching. "It feels like an egg being beaten +by an egg beater," he said; "I'm off the shadow bridge stuff for good +and all. It throbs to the tune of <i>Over There</i>."</p> + +<p>Tom thought this must be pretty bad—to throb to the tune of <i>Over +There</i>. He had never had a headache like that.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">141</a></span></p> + +<p>"If you could only fall asleep," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess I will; I'm pretty good at falling," his friend observed. +"I fell for you, hey Slady? O-h-h! My head!"</p> + +<p>"It's the same with me," said Tom.</p> + +<p>"You got one too? <i>Good night!</i>"</p> + +<p>"I mean about what you were saying—about falling for me. It's the same +with me."</p> + +<p>"Same here, Slady; go to bed and get some sleep yourself."</p> + +<p>It was two or three o'clock in the morning before the sufferer did get +to sleep, and he slept correspondingly late. Tom knew that the headache +must have stolen off and he felt sure that his companion would awaken +refreshed. "I'll be glad because then I won't have to get the doctor," +he said to himself. He wished to respect Bernard's smallest whim.</p> + +<p>Tom did not sleep much himself, either, and he was up bright and early +to anticipate his friend's waking. He tiptoed out of the cabin and +quietly made himself a cup of coffee. It was one of those beautiful +mornings, which are nowhere more beautiful than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">142</a></span> at Temple Camp. The +soft breeze, wafting the pungent fragrance of pines, bore also up to +that lonely hilltop the distant clatter of dishes and the voices of +scouts from the camp below. The last patches of vapor were dissolving +over the wood embowered lake, and one or two early canoes were already +moving aimlessly upon its placid bosom. A shout and a laugh and a sudden +splash, sounding faint in the distance, told him that some uninitiated +new arrivals were diving from the springboard before breakfast. They +would soon be checked in that pastime, Tom knew.</p> + +<p>From the cooking shack where Chocolate Drop, the camp's famous cook, +held autocratic sway and drove trespassing scouts away with a deadly +frying pan, arose a graceful column of smoke which was carried away off +over the wooded hills toward Leeds. Pretty soon Chocolate Drop would +need <i>two</i> deadly frying pans, for Peewee Harris was coming.</p> + +<p>Tom knew that nothing had been heard from the Bridgeboro scouts since +Uncle Jeb had told him definitely that they were scheduled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">143</a></span> to arrive on +the first, as usual. He knew that no other letter had come, because all +the camp mail had passed through his hands. It had come to be the +regular custom for Barnard to rise early and follow the secluded trail +down to the state road where the mail wagon passed. He had early claimed +it as his own job, and Tom, ever anxious to please him, had let him do +this while he himself was gathering wood and preparing breakfast. +"Always hike to work out west and can't get out of the habit," Barnard +had said. "Like to hobnob with the early birds and first worms, and all +that kind of stuff. Give me a lonesome trail and I'm happy—take one +every morning before breakfast, and after retiring. How about that, old +Doctor Slade?"</p> + +<p>Old Doctor Slade had thought it was a good idea.</p> + +<p>But this morning his friend was sleeping, and old Doctor Slade would not +waken him. He tiptoed to the cabin and looked cautiously within. Barnard +was sleeping the sleep of the righteous—to quote one of his own +favorite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">144</a></span> terms. The bandage had slipped down from his forehead, and +looked not unlike a scout scarf about his neck. A ray of early sunlight +slanted through the crack between the logs and hit him plunk in the +head, making his curly red hair shine like a red danger signal. He was +sound asleep—dead to the wicked world—as he was himself fond of +saying.</p> + +<p style='padding-left: 3em'> +<span style='margin-left: 0em;'>Early to bed and early to rise,</span><br /> +<span style='margin-left: 0em;'>And you won't meet any regular guys.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>As Tom paused, looking at him, he thought of that oft repeated +admonition of his friend. He knew Barnard never meant that seriously. +That was just the trouble—he was always saying things like that, and +that was why people would never understand him and give him credit.... +But Tom understood him, all right; that was what he told himself. "I got +to laugh at him, that's sure," he said. Then he bethought him, and out +of his simple, generous nature, he thought, "Didn't he say actions speak +louder than words? That's what counts."</p> + +<p>He tiptoed over to where that ray of sunlight<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">145</a></span> came in, and hung his +coat over the place. The shiny brightness of Barnard's hair faded, and +the cabin was almost dark. Tom got his cap, and turning in the doorway +to make sure his friend's sleep was undisturbed, picked his way +carefully over the area of chips and twigs where most of the trimming +had been done, and started down through the wooded hillside toward the +trail which afforded a short-cut to the state road.</p> + +<p>Once, and once only he paused, and that was to glance at a ragged hollow +in the woods where a tree had been uprooted in some winter storm. It +reminded him of the very day that Barnard had arrived, for it was after +a discouraging afternoon with that stubborn old trunk that he had +retraced his steps wearily to his lonesome camp and met the visitor who +had assisted him and beguiled the lonesome days and nights for him ever +since. Barnard, willing and ready, had sawed through that trunk the next +morning. "Say nothing, but saw wood; that's the battle cry, Slady," he +had cheerfully observed, mopping the perspiration from his brow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">146</a></span></p> + +<p>And now, as Tom looked into that jagged hollow, his thoughts went even +further back, and he thought how it was in some such earthen dungeon as +this that he and Barnard had first seen each other—or rather, met. +Barnard had thoughtfully refrained from talking of those things which +were still so agitating and disturbing to poor Tom, but Tom thought of +it now, because his stolid nature was pierced at last, and his heart was +overflowing with gratitude to this new friend, who twice had come to his +rescue—here on the isolated hillside on the edge of the beloved camp, +and over there, in war torn France.</p> + +<p>"You bet <i>I</i> understand him all right," said Tom. "Even if he talks a +lot of crazy nonsense, he can't fool me. You bet <i>I</i> know what he is, +all right. He can make believe, sort of, that he doesn't care much about +anything. But he can't fool me—he can't."</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">147</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2><h3>TWO LETTERS</h3> +</div> + +<p>The trail wound its way through a pleasant stretch of woodland where the +birds sang cheerily, and occasionally a squirrel paused and cocked its +head in pert amazement at this rude intrusion into its domain. It +crossed a little brook where Tom and Roy had fished many times, and +groped for pollywogs and crawfish when Tom was a tenderfoot at Temple +Camp. Those were happy days.</p> + +<p>Where the trail came out into the state road there was a rough board +across two little pedestals of logs, which the scouts of camp had put +there, as a seat on which to wait for the ever welcome mail stage. The +board was thick with carved initials, the handiwork of scouts who had +come and gone, and among these Tom picked out R. B. and W. H. (which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">148</a></span> +stood for Walter Harris for Peewee did not acknowledge officially his +famous nickname). As Tom glanced at these crude reminders of his troop +and former comrades, he noted wistfully how Peewee's initials were +always cut unusually large and imposing, standing out boldly among +others, as if to inform the observer that a giant had been at work. +Everything about Peewee was tremendous—except his size.</p> + +<p>Tom sat on this bench and waited. It reminded him of old times to be +there. But he was not unhappy. He had followed the long trail, the trail +which to his simple nature had seemed the right one, he had done the job +which he had set out to do, they were going to have their three familiar +cabins on the hill, and he was happy. He had renewed that strange, brief +acquaintanceship in France, and found in his war-time friend, a new +comrade. He felt better, his nerves were steady. The time had been well +spent and he was happy. Perhaps it was only a stubborn whim, this going +away now, but that was his nature and he could not change it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">149</a></span></p> + +<p>When the mail wagon came along, its driver greeted him cheerily, for he +remembered him well.</p> + +<p>"Where's the other fellow?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I came instead, to-day," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"That chap is a sketch, ain't he?" the man commented. "He ain't gone +home, has he?"</p> + +<p>"He's going to stay through August," Tom said; "his troop's coming +Saturday."</p> + +<p>"Purty lively young feller," the man said.</p> + +<p>"He's happy-go-lucky," said Tom.</p> + +<p>The man handed him a dozen or so letters and cards and a batch of +papers, and drove on. Tom resumed his seat on the bench and looked them +over. There was no doubt that Roy and the troop were coming; apparently +they were coming in their usual manner, for there was a card from Roy to +Uncle Jeb which said,</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Coming Saturday on afternoon train. Hope you can give us a tent +away from the crowd. Tell Chocolate Drop to have wheat cakes Sunday +morning. Peewee's appetite being sent ahead by express. Pay +charges.</p> + +<p>So long, see you later.</p> + +<p>P.S. Have hot biscuits, too. <span class="smcap">Roy</span>.</p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">150</a></span></p> + +<p>There were a couple of letters to Uncle Jeb from the camp office, and +the rest were to scouts in camp whom Tom did not know, for he had made +no acquaintances. There was one letter for Tom, bearing the postmark of +Dansburg, Ohio, which he opened with curiosity and read with increasing +consternation. It ran:</p> + +<div class='blockquot'> +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Tom Slade</span>:</p> + +<p style='text-align: left;'>I didn't get there after all, but now we're coming, the whole outfit, +bag and baggage. I suppose you think I'm among the missing, not hearing +from me all this time. But on Saturday I'll show you the finest troop of +scouts this side of Mars. So kill the fatted calf for we're coming.</p> + +<p style='text-align: left;'>Slade, as sure as I'm writing you this letter, I started east, +sumpty-sump days ago and was going to drop in on you and have a little +visit, just we two, before this noisy bunch got a chance to interfere. +We'll just have to sneak away from them and get off in the woods alone +and talk about old times in France.</p> + +<p style='text-align: left;'>Maybe you won't believe it, but I got as far as Columbus and there was a +telegram from my boss, "Come in, come in, wherever you are." Can you +beat that? So back I went<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">151</a></span> on the next train. You'll have to take the +will for the deed, old man.</p> + +<p style='text-align: left;'>Don't you care; now I'm coming with my expeditionary forces, and you and +I'll foil them yet. One of our office men was taken sick, that was the +trouble. And I've been so busy doing his work and my own, and getting +this crew of wild Indians ready to invade Temple Camp, that I haven't +had time to write a letter, that's a fact. Even at this very minute, one +young tenderfoot is shouting in my ear that he's crazy to see that +fellow I bunked into in France. He says he thinks the troop you're mixed +up with must think you're a great hero.</p> + +<p style='text-align: left;'>So bye bye, till I see you,</p> + +<p style='text-align:right'><span class="smcap">W. Barnard</span>.</p> +</div> + +<p>Twice, three times, Tom read this letter through, in utter dismay. What +did it mean? He squinted his eyes and scrutinized the signature, as if +to make sure that he read it aright. There was the name, W. Barnard. The +handwriting was Barnard's, too. And the envelope had been postmarked in +Dansburg, Ohio, two days prior to the day of its arrival.</p> + +<p>How could this be? What did it mean?</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">152</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2><h3>LUCKY LUKE'S FRIEND</h3> +</div> + +<p>Tom returned through the woods in a kind of trance, pausing once to +glance through the letter again and to scrutinize the signature. He +found the patient up and about, with no reminder of his mishap save the +cut on his forehead. He was plainly agitated and expectant as he looked +through the woods and saw Tom coming. It was clear that he was in some +suspense, but Tom, who would have noticed the smallest insect or most +indistinct footprint in the path, did not observe this.</p> + +<p>"H'lo, Slady," he said with a fine show of unconcern; "out for the early +worm?" He did not fail to give a sidelong glance at Tom's pocket.</p> + +<p>"Is your headache all gone?" Tom asked.</p> + +<p>"Sneaked off just like you," he said; "I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">153</a></span> was wondering where you were. +I see you were down for the mail. Anything doing?" he asked with +ill-concealed curiosity.</p> + +<p>"They're coming," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"Who's coming?"</p> + +<p>"Roy and the troop," Tom answered.</p> + +<p>"Oh. Nothing important, huh?"</p> + +<p>"I got some mail for camp; I'm going down to Uncle Jeb's cabin; I'll be +right back," Tom said.</p> + +<p>His friend looked at him curiously, anxiously, as Tom started down the +hill.</p> + +<p>"I won't make any breaks," Tom said simply, leaving his friend to make +what he would of this remark. The other watched him for a moment and +seemed satisfied.</p> + +<p>Having delivered the mail without the smallest sign of discomposure, he +tramped up the hill again in his customary plodding manner. His friend +was sitting on the door sill of one of the new cabins, whittling a +stick. He looked as if he might have been reflecting, as one is apt to +do when whittling a stick.</p> + +<p>"You got to tell me who you are?" Tom said, standing directly in front +of him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">154</a></span></p> + +<p>"You got a letter? I thought so," his friend said, quietly. "Sit down, +Slady."</p> + +<p>For just a moment Tom hesitated, then he sat down on the sill alongside +his companion.</p> + +<p>"All right, old man," said the other; "spring it—you're through with me +for good?"</p> + +<p>"You got to tell me who you are," Tom said doggedly; "first you got to +tell me who you are."</p> + +<p>For a few moments they sat there in silence, Tom's companion whittling +the stick and pondering.</p> + +<p>"I ain't mad, anyway," Tom finally said.</p> + +<p>"You're not?" the other asked.</p> + +<p>"It don't make any difference as long as you're my friend, and you +helped me."</p> + +<p>The other looked up at him in surprise, surveying Tom's stolid, almost +expressionless face which was fixed upon the distant camp. "You're +solid, fourteen karat gold, Slady," he finally said. "I'm bad enough, +goodness knows; but to put it over on a fellow like you, just because +you're easy, it's—it just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">155</a></span> makes me feel like—Oh, I don't know—like a +sneak. I'm ashamed to look you in the face, Slady."</p> + +<p>Still Tom said nothing, only looked off through the trees below, where +specks of white could be seen here and there amid the foliage. "They're +putting up the overflow tents," he said, irrelevantly; "there'll be a +lot coming Saturday."</p> + +<p>Then, again, there was silence for a few moments.</p> + +<p>"I'm used to having things turn out different from the way I expected," +Tom said, dully.</p> + +<p>"Slady——" his friend began, but paused.</p> + +<p>And for a few moments there was silence again, save for the distant +sound of splashing down at the lake's edge, where scouts were swimming.</p> + +<p>"Slady—— listen, Slady; as sure as I sit here ... Are you listening, +Slady? As sure as I sit here, I'm going to tell you the truth—every gol +darned last word of it."</p> + +<p>"I never said you lied," Tom said, never looking at him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">156</a></span></p> + +<p>"No? I tried not to tell many. But I've been <i>living</i> one; that's worse. +I'm so contemptible I—it's putting anything over on <i>you</i>—that's what +makes me feel such a contemptible, low down sneak. That's what's got me. +I don't care so much about the other part. It's <i>you</i>—Slady——"</p> + +<p>He put his hand on Tom's shoulder and looked at him with a kind of +expectancy. And still Tom's gaze was fixed upon the camp below them.</p> + +<p>"I don't mind having things go wrong," Tom said, with a kind of pathetic +dullness that must have gone straight to the other's heart. "As long as +I got a friend it doesn't make any difference what one—I mean who he +is. Lots of times the wrong trail takes you to a better place."</p> + +<p>"Do you know where it's taking you <i>this</i> time? It isn't a question of +<i>who</i> I am. It's a question of <i>what</i> I am—Slady. Do you know what I +am?"</p> + +<p>"You're a friend of mine," Tom said.</p> + +<p>His companion slowly drew his hand from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">157</a></span> Tom's shoulder, and gazed, +perplexed and dumfounded, into that square, homely, unimpassioned face.</p> + +<p>"I'm a thief, Slady," he said.</p> + +<p>"I used to steal things," Tom said.</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">158</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2><h3>THORNTON'S STORY</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was very much like Tom Slade that this altogether sensational +disclosure and startling announcement did not greatly agitate him, nor +even make him especially curious. The fact that this seductive stranger +was his friend seemed the one outstanding reality to him. If he had any +other feelings, of humiliation at being so completely deceived, or of +disappointment, he did not show them. But he did reiterate in that dull +way of his, "You got to tell me who you are."</p> + +<p>"I'm <i>going</i> to tell, Slady," his friend said, with a note of sincerity +there was no mistaking; "I'm going to tell you the whole business. What +did <i>you</i> ever steal? An apple out of a grocery store, or something like +that? I thought so. You wouldn't know how to steal if you tried; you'd +make a bungle of it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">159</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's the way I do, sometimes," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"Is it? Well, you didn't this time—old man. If I'm your friend, I'm +going to be worth it. Do you get that?"</p> + +<p>"I told you you was."</p> + +<p>"Slady, I never knew what I was going to get up against, or I would +never have tried to swing this thing. If you'd turned out to be a +different kind of a fellow I wouldn't have felt so much like a sneak. +It's <i>you</i> that makes me feel like a criminal—not those sleuths and +bloodhounds out there. Listen, Slady; it's a kind of a camp-fire story, +as you would call it, that I'm going to tell you."</p> + +<p>He laid his hand on Tom's arm as he talked and so they sat there on the +rough sill of the cabin doorway, Tom silent, the other eager, anxious, +as he related his story. The birds flitted about and chirped in the +trees overhead, busy with their morning games or tasks, and below the +voices of scouts could be heard, thin and spent by the distance, and +occasionally<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">160</a></span> the faint sound of a diver with accompanying shouts and +laughter which Tom seemed to hear as in a dream. Far off, beyond the +mountains, could be heard the shrill whistle of a train, bringing +scouts, perhaps, to crowd the already filled tent space. And amid all +these distant sounds which, subdued, formed a kind of outdoor harmony, +the voice of Tom's companion sounded strangely in his ear.</p> + +<p>"My home is out in Broadvale, Ohio, Slady. Ever hear of it? It's west of +Dansburg—about fifty miles. I worked in a lumber concern out there. Can +you guess the rest? Here's what did it, Slady, (and with admirable +dexterity he went through the motions of shuffling cards and shooting +craps). I swiped a hundred, Slady. Don't ask me why I did it—I don't +know—I was crazy, that's all. So <i>now</i> what have you got to say?" he +inquired with a kind of recklessness, releasing Tom's arm.</p> + +<p>"I ain't got anything to say," said Tom.</p> + +<p>"They don't know it yet, Tommy, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">161</a></span> they'll know it Monday. The +accountants are on the job Monday. So I beat it, while the going was +good. I started east, for little old New York. I intended to change my +name and get a job there and lay low till I could make good. I thought +they'd never find me in New York. My right name is Thornton, Slady. Red +Thornton they call me out home, on account of this brick dome. Tommy, +old boy, as sure as you sit there I don't know any more about the boy +scouts than a pig knows about hygiene. So now you've got my number, +Slady. What is it? Quits?"</p> + +<p>"If you knew anything about scouts," Tom said, with the faintest note of +huskiness in his voice, "you'd know that they don't call quits. If I was +a quitter, do you suppose I'd have stuck up here?"</p> + +<p>Thornton gazed about him at the three new cabins, which this queer +friend of his had built there to rectify a trifling act of +forgetfulness; he looked at Tom's torn shirt, through which his bruised +shoulder could be seen, and at those tough scarred hands.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">162</a></span></p> + +<p>"So now you know something about them," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"I know something about <i>one</i> of them, anyway," Thornton replied +admiringly.</p> + +<p>"If a fellow sticks in one way, he'll stick in another way," Tom said. +"If he makes up his mind to a thing——"</p> + +<p>"You said it, Slady," Thornton concurred, giving Tom a rap on the +shoulder. "And now you know, you won't tell? You won't tell that I've +gone to New York?" he added with sudden anxiety.</p> + +<p>"Who would I tell?" Tom asked. "Nobody ever made me do anything yet that +I didn't want to do." Which was only too true.</p> + +<p>Thornton crossed one knee over the other and talked with more ease and +assurance. "I met Barnard on the train coming east, Slady. He has red +hair like mine, so I thought I'd sit down beside him; we harmonized."</p> + +<p>Tom could not repress a smile. "He told me in a letter that he had red +hair," he observed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">163</a></span></p> + +<p>"Red as a Temple Camp sunset, Tommy old boy. You're going to like that +fellow; he's a hundred per cent, white—only for his hair. He's got +scouting on the brain—clean daft about it. He told me all about you and +how he and his crew of kids were going to spend August here and make +things lively. Your crowd——"</p> + +<p>"Troop," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"Right-o; your troop had better look out for that bunch—excuse me, +<i>troop</i>. Right? I'm learning, hey? I'll be a good scout when I get out +of jail," he added soberly. "Never mind; listen. Barnard thinks you're +the only scout outside of Dansburg, Ohio. He told me how he was coming +here to give you a little surprise call before the season opened and the +kids—guys—scouts, right-o, began coming. Tom," he added seriously, "by +the time we got to Columbus, I knew as much about Temple Camp and you, +as <i>he</i> did. He didn't know so much about <i>you</i> either, if it comes to +that. But I found out that you were pretty nearly all alone here.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">164</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then he got a wire, Tom; I think it was in Columbus. A brakeman came +through the train with a message, calling his name. Oh, boy, but he was +piffed! 'Got to go home,' he said. That's all there was to it, Tom. +Business before pleasure, hey? Poor fellow, I felt sorry for him. He +found out he could get a train back in about an hour.</p> + +<p>"Tommy, listen here. It wasn't until my train started and I looked back +and waved to him out of the window, that this low down game I've put +over on you occurred to me. All the time that we were chatting together, +I was worried, thinking about what I'd do and where I'd go, and how it +would be on the first Monday in August when those pen and ink sleuths +got the goods on me. I could just see them going over my ledger, Slady.</p> + +<p>"Well, I looked out of the car window and there stood Barnard, and the +sun was just going down, Tommy, just like you and I have watched it do +night after night up here, and that red hair of his was just shining in +the light. It came to me just like that, Slady,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">165</a></span> Thornton said, +clapping his hands, "and I said to myself, I'm like that chap in <i>one</i> +way, anyhow, and he and this fellow Slade have <i>never seen each other</i>. +Why can't <i>I</i> go up to that lonely camp in the mountains and be Billy +Barnard for a while? Why can't I lie low there till I can plan what to +do next? That's what I said, Slady. Wouldn't a place like that be better +than New York? Maybe you'll say I took a long chance—reckless. That's +the way it is with red hair, Slady. I took a chance on you being easy +and it worked out, that's all. Or rather, I mean it <i>didn't</i>, for I feel +like a murderer, and it's all on account of you, Slady.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know what to do, I didn't know where to go; I just wanted to +get away from home before the game was up and they nabbed me. It's no +fun being pinched, Tom. I thought I might make the visit that this +friend of yours was going to make, and hang around here where it's quiet +and lonesome, till it was time for him to come. I guess that's about as +far as my plans carried. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">166</a></span> was a crazy idea, I see that well enough +now. But I was rattled—I was just rattled, that's all. I thought that +when the time came that I'd have to leave here, maybe I could tramp up +north further and change my name again and get a job on some farm or +other, till I could earn a little and make good. What I didn't figure on +was the kind of a fellow I was going to meet. I—I——" he stammered, +trying to control himself in a burst of feeling and clutching Tom's +knee, "I—I didn't put it over on you, Tom; maybe it seems that way to +you—but—but I didn't. It's you that win, old man—can't you see? It's +<i>you</i> that win. You've put it all over <i>me</i> and rubbed it in, +and—and—instead of getting away with anything—like I thought—I'll +just beat it away from here feeling like a bigger sneak than I ever +thought I was. I've—I've seen something here—I have. I thought some of +these trees were made of pretty good stuff, but you've got them beat, +Slady. I thought I was a wise guy to dig into this forsaken retreat and +slip the bandage over your eyes,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">167</a></span> but—but the laugh is on me, Slady, +don't—don't you see?" he smiled, his eyes glistening and his hand +trembling on Tom's knee. "You've put it all over me, you old +hickory-nut, and I've told you the whole business, and you've got me in +your power, see?"</p> + +<p>Tom Slade looked straight ahead of him and said never a word.</p> + +<p>"It's—it's a knockout, Slady, and you win. You can go down and tell old +Uncle Jeb the whole business," he fairly sobbed, "I won't stop you. I'm +sick and discouraged—I might as well take my medicine—I'm—I'm sick of +the whole thing—you win—Slady. I'll wait here—I—I won't fool you +again—not once again, by thunder, I won't! Go on down and tell him a +thief has been bunking up here with you—go on—I'll wait."</p> + +<p>There was just a moment of silence, and in that moment, strangely +enough, a merry laugh arose in the camp below.</p> + +<p>"You needn't tell me what to do," said Tom, "because I <i>know</i> what to +do. There's nobody in this world can tell me what to do.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">168</a></span> Mr. Burton, he +wanted to write to those fellows and fix it. But I knew what to do. Do +you call me a quitter? You see these cabins, don't you? Do you think +<i>you</i> can tell me what to do?"</p> + +<p>"Go and send a wire to Broadvale and tell 'em that you've got me," +Thornton said with a kind of bitter resignation; "I heard that scouts +are good at finding missing people—fugitives. You—you <i>have got</i> me, +Tommy, but in a different way than you think. You got me that first +night. Go ahead. But—but listen here. I <i>can't</i> let them take me to-day, +my head is spinning like a buzz-saw, Tommy—I can't, I can't, I <i>can't</i>! +It's the cut in my head. All this starts it aching again—it just——"</p> + +<p>He lowered his head until his wounded forehead rested on Tom's lap. +"I'm—I'm just—beaten," he sobbed. "Let me stay here to-day, +to-night—don't say anything yet—let me stay just this one day more +with you and to-morrow I'll be better and you can go down and tell. I +won't run away—don't you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">169</a></span> believe me? I'll take what's coming to me. +Only wait—my head is all buzzing again now—just wait till to-morrow. +Let me stay here to-day, old man ..."</p> + +<p>Tom Slade lifted the head from his lap and arose. "You can't stay here +to-night," he said; "you can't stay even to-day. You can't stay an hour. +Nobody can tell me what I ought to do. You can't stay here ten minutes. +If you tried to get away I'd trail you, I'd catch you. You stay where +you are till I get back."</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">170</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2><h3>RED THORNTON LEARNS SOMETHING ABOUT SCOUTS</h3> +</div> + +<p>And strange to say Red Thornton did stay just where he was. Perhaps, +seeing that Tom limped as he went down the hill, the fugitive +entertained a momentary thought of flight. If so, he abandoned it, +perhaps in fear, more likely in honor. Who shall say? His agitation had +caused his head to begin aching furiously again, and he was a pitiful +figure as he sat there upon the doorsill, in a kind of desperate +resignation, resting his forehead in his two hands, and occasionally +looking along the path down the hill at Tom as he limped in and out +among the trees, following the beaten trail. It had never occurred to +him before, how lame Tom was, as the result of his injuries and +excessive labors. And he marvelled at the simple confidence which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">171</a></span> would +leave him thus free to escape, if he cared to. Perhaps Tom could have +tracked and caught him, perhaps not. But at all events Tom had beaten +him with character and that was enough. He had him and Thornton knew and +confessed it. It <i>was</i> curious how it worked out, when you come to think +of it.</p> + +<p>Anyway, Thornton had given up all his fine plans and was ready to be +arrested. He would tell the authorities that it was not on account of +them that he gave himself up, but on account of Tom. Tom should have all +the credit, as he deserved. He could hardly realize now that he had +deliberately confessed to Tom. And having done so, he realized that Tom, +being a good citizen, believing in the law and all that sort of thing, +could not do otherwise than hand him over. What in the world else could +Tom Slade do? Say to him, "You stole money; go ahead and escape; I'm +with you?" Hardly.</p> + +<p>There was a minute in Red Thornton's life when he came near making +matters worse<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">172</a></span> with a terrible blunder. After about fifteen or twenty +minutes of waiting, he arose and stepped over to the gully and +considered making a dash through the woods and striking into the road. +Perhaps he would have done this; I cannot say. But happening just at +that moment to glance down the hill in the opposite direction, he was +astonished at seeing Tom plodding up the hill again quite alone. Neither +Uncle Jeb nor any of those formidable scoutmasters or trustees were +anywhere near him. Not so much as an uproarious, aggressive tenderfoot +was at his heels. No constables, no deputy sheriffs, no one.</p> + +<p>And then, just in that fleeting, perilous moment, Red Thornton knew Tom +Slade and he knew that this was their business and no one else's. He +came near to making an awful botch of things. He was breathing heavily +when Tom spoke to him.</p> + +<p>"What are those fellows you were speaking about? Pen and ink sleuths?" +Tom asked. "They come to Temple Camp office, sometimes."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">173</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's them," Thornton said.</p> + +<p>"When did you say they come?"</p> + +<p>"Next Monday, first Monday in August. What's the difference? The sooner +the better," Thornton said.</p> + +<p>"Was it just an even hundred that you took, when you forgot about what +you were doing, sort of?" Tom asked.</p> + +<p>"A hundred and three."</p> + +<p>"Then will twenty-three dollars be enough to get back to that place +where you live?"</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"I'm just asking you."</p> + +<p>"It's twenty-one forty."</p> + +<p>"That means you'll have a dollar sixty for meals," Tom said, "unless you +have some of your own. Have you?"</p> + +<p>Thornton seemed rather puzzled, but he jingled some coin in his pocket +and pulled out a five dollar bill and some change.</p> + +<p>"Then it's all right," Tom said, "'cause if I asked anybody for money I +might have to tell them why. Here's two Liberty Bonds," he said, placing +his precious, and much creased<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">174</a></span> documents in Thornton's hand. "You can +get them cashed in New York. You have to start this morning so as to +catch the eleven twenty train. I guess you'll get home to-morrow night +maybe, hey? You have to give them their money before those fellows get +there. You got to tell them how you made a mistake. Maybe if you don't +have quite enough you'll be able to get a little bit more. This is +because you helped me and on account of our being friends."</p> + +<p>Thornton looked down into his hand and saw, through glistening eyes, the +two dilapidated bonds, and a couple of crumpled ten-dollar bills and +some odds and ends of smaller bills and currency. They represented the +sumptuous fortune of Lucky Luke, alias Tom Slade.</p> + +<p>"And I thought you were going to ..." Thornton began; "Slady, I can't do +this; it's all you've got."</p> + +<p>"It's no good to me," Tom said. "Anyway, you got to go back and get +there before those fellows do. Then you can fix it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">175</a></span></p> + +<p>Thornton hesitated, then shook his head. Then he went over and sat on +the sill where they had talked before. "I can't do it, Tom," he said +finally; "I just can't. Here, take it. This is my affair, not yours."</p> + +<p>"You said we were good friends up here," Tom said; "it's nothing to let +a friend help you. I can see you're smart, and some day you'll make a +lot of money and you'll pay me back. But anyway, I don't care about +that. I only bought them so as to help the government. If they'd let me +help them, I don't see why <i>you</i> shouldn't."</p> + +<p>Thornton, still holding the money in his hand looked up and smiled, half +willingly, at his singular argument.</p> + +<p>"How about the motor-boat—and the girl?" he asked wistfully.</p> + +<p>"You needn't worry about that," Tom said simply, "maybe she wouldn't go +anyway."</p> + +<p>And perhaps she wouldn't have. It would have been just his luck.</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">176</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIX</h2><h3>TOM STARTS FOR HOME</h3> +</div> + +<p>There was nothing now to keep Tom at Temple Camp, yet there was nothing +now to take him home, either. Nothing, indeed, except his work. The +bottom seemed to have dropped out of all his plans, and he lingered on +his lonely hilltop for the remaining day or two before the unsuspecting +tenants of this remote little community should arrive.</p> + +<p>Of course he might have stayed and enjoyed his triumph, but that would +not have been Tom Slade. He had not forgotten those stinging and +accusing words of Roy's that morning when they had last met. He did not +remember them in malice, but he could not forget them, and he did not +wish to see Roy. We have to take Tom Slade as we find him.</p> + +<p>In those last hours of his lonely stay he did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">177</a></span> not go down much into +camp, for he wished to be by himself, and not to have to answer +questions about his departed friend, toward whom, strange to say, he +cherished a stronger feeling of attachment than before. He was even +grateful to Thornton for perhaps saving him the humiliation of Margaret +Ellison's refusing to go out with him in his boat. There was no telling +what a girl might say or do, and at least he was well out of that +peril....</p> + +<p>He busied himself clearing up the litter about the new cabins and +getting them ready for occupancy. On Saturday morning he went down and +told Uncle Jeb that he was starting for home. He was greatly relieved +that the old man did not ask any questions about his companion. Uncle +Jeb was much preoccupied now with the ever-growing multitude of scouts +and their multifarious needs, and gave slight thought to that little +sprig of a camp up on the hill.</p> + +<p>"En so yer ain't fer stayin', Tommy? I kinder cal'lated you'd weaken +when the time come. Ain't goin' ter think better of it,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">178</a></span> huh?" The old +man, smiling through a cloud of tobacco smoke, contemplated Tom with +shrewd, twinkling, expectant eyes. "Fun's jest about startin' naow, +Tommy. 'Member what I told yer baot them critters. Daont yer go back on +account of no gal."</p> + +<p>"I ain't going back on account of a girl," said Tom.</p> + +<p>"What train yer thinkin' uv goin' daon on?" the old man asked.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to hike it," Tom said.</p> + +<p>Uncle Jeb contemplated him for a moment as though puzzled, but after +all, seeing nothing so very remarkable in a hike of a hundred and fifty +miles or so, he simply observed. "Yer be'nt in no hurry ter get back, +huh? Wall, yer better hev a good snack before yer start. You jest tell +Chocolate Drop to put yer up rations fer ter night, too, in case you +camp."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The guests at Temple Camp paid no particular attention to the young +fellow who was leaving. He had not associated with the visiting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">179</a></span> scouts, +and save for an occasional visit to his isolated retreat, where they +found little to interest them, he had been almost a stranger among them. +Doubtless some of them had thought him a mere workman at the camp and +had left him undisturbed accordingly.</p> + +<p>It was almost pitiful, now that he was leaving, to note how slightly he +was known and how little his departure affected the general routine of +pleasure. A few scouts, who were diving from the spring board paused to +glance at him as he rowed across the lake and observed that the "fellow +from up on the hill" was going away. Others waved him a fraternal +farewell, but there was none of that customary gathering at the landing, +which he had known in the happy days when he had been a scout among +scouts at his beloved camp.</p> + +<p>But there was one scout who took enough interest in him to offer to go +across in the rowboat with him, on the pretext of bringing it back, +though both knew that it was customary<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">180</a></span> to keep boats on both sides of +the lake. This fellow was tall and of a quiet demeanor. His name was +Archer, and he had come with his troop from somewhere in the west, where +they breed that particular type of scouts who believe that actions speak +louder than words.</p> + +<p>"Did that job all by yourself, didn't you?" he asked as they rowed +across. He looked a Tom curiously.</p> + +<p>"A friend of mine helped me," Tom said; "he's gone home."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you hit into the main road and go down through Catskill? +You're likely to miss the train this way."</p> + +<p>"I'm going to hike home," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"Far?"</p> + +<p>"In Jersey, about twenty miles from the city."</p> + +<p>"Some jaunt, eh?" Archer inquired pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"I don't mind it," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"What are you goin' home for?"</p> + +<p>"Because I want to; because I'm finished," Tom said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">181</a></span></p> + +<p>This ended the talk but it did not end Archer's rather curious study of +Tom. He said little more, but as he rowed, he watched Tom with an +intense and scrutinizing interest. And even after Tom had said good-bye +to him and started up the trail through the woods, he rowed around, in +the vicinity of the shore, keeping the boat in such position that he +could follow Tom with his eyes as the latter followed the trail in and +out among the trees.</p> + +<p>"Humph," he said to himself; "funny."</p> + +<p>What he thought funny was this: being an observant scout he had noticed +that Tom carried more rations than a scout would be likely to take on a +long hike, through a country where food could easily be bought in a +hundred towns and villages, and also that one who limped as Tom did +should choose to go on a hike of more than a hundred miles.</p> + +<p>A scout, as everybody knows, is observant. And this particular scout was +good at arithmetic. At least he was able to put two and two +together....</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">182</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXX</h2><h3>THE TROOP ARRIVES</h3> +</div> + +<p>The ten forty-seven train out of New York went thundering up the shore +of the lordly Hudson packed and jammed with its surging throng of +vacationists who had turned themselves into sardines in order to enjoy a +breath of fresh air. The crowd was uncommonly large because Saturday and +the first of August came on the same day. They crowded three in a seat +and ate sandwiches and drank cold coffee out of milk bottles and let the +children fly paper-bag kites out of the windows, and crowded six deep at +the water cooler at the end of the car.</p> + +<p>In all that motley throng there was just one individual who had mastered +the art of carrying a brimful paper drinking-cup through the aisle +without spilling so much as a drop of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">183</a></span> water, and his cheerful +ministrations were in great demand by thirsty passengers. This +individual was scout Harris, alias Peewee, alias Kid, alias Shorty, +alias Speck, and he was so small that he might have saved his carfare by +going parcel post if he had cared to do so. If he had, he should have +been registered, for there was only one Peewee Harris in all the wide +world.</p> + +<p>"Are we going to carry the tent or send it up by the camp wagon?" Roy +Blakeley asked, as he and the others crowded each other off the train at +Catskill Landing. "Answer in the positive or negative."</p> + +<p>"You mean the infirmative," Peewee shouted; "that shows how much you +know about rhetoric."</p> + +<p>"You mean logic," Roy said.</p> + +<p>"I know I'm hungry anyway," Peewee shouted as he threw a suitcase from +his vantage point on the platform, with such precision of aim that it +landed plunk on Connie Bennett's head, to the infinite amusement of the +passengers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">184</a></span></p> + +<p>"Did it hurt you?" Peewee called.</p> + +<p>"He isn't injured—just slightly killed," Roy shouted; "hurry up, let's +go up in the wagon and get there in time for a light lunch."</p> + +<p>"You mean a heavy one," Peewee yelled; "here, catch this suitcase."</p> + +<p>The suitcase landed on somebody's head, was promptly hurled at somebody +else, and the usual pandemonium caused by Temple Camp arrivals prevailed +until the entire crowd of scouts found themselves packed in the big camp +stage, and waving their hands and shouting uproariously at the +passengers in the departing train.</p> + +<p>"First season at camp?" Roy asked a scout who almost sat on his lap and +was jogged out of place at every turn in the road.</p> + +<p>"Yop," was the answer, "we've never been east before; we came from Ohio. +We haven't been around anywhere."</p> + +<p>"I've been around a lot," the irrepressible Peewee piped up from his +wobbly seat on an up-ended suitcase.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">185</a></span></p> + +<p>"Sure, he was conductor on a merry-go-round," Roy said. "What part of +Ohio do you fellows come from?"</p> + +<p>"The Ohio River used to be in our geography," Peewee said.</p> + +<p>"It's there yet," Roy said; "we should worry, let it stay there."</p> + +<p>"Do you know where Columbus is?" Peewee shouted.</p> + +<p>"He's dead," Roy said; "do you fellows come from anywhere near Dayton?"</p> + +<p>"We come from Dansburg," said their scoutmaster, a bright-looking young +fellow with red hair, who had been listening amusedly to this bantering +talk.</p> + +<p>A dead silence suddenly prevailed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know who you fellows are," Roy finally said. "You're going to +bunk in the three cabins on the hill, aren't you? Is your name Mr. +Barnard?"</p> + +<p>"Yes sir," the young man answered pleasantly, "and we're the first +Dansburg, Ohio, troop."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">186</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do you like mince-pie?" Peewee shouted.</p> + +<p>"We eat it alive," said scoutmaster Barnard.</p> + +<p>"Can you eat seven pieces?" Peewee demanded.</p> + +<p>"If we can get them," young Mr. Barnard replied.</p> + +<p>"G—o—o—d night!" Peewee commented.</p> + +<p>"Our young hero has a fine voice for eating," Roy observed. "Sometimes +he eats his own words, he's so hungry."</p> + +<p>"I don't think you can beat the Dansburg, Ohio, scouts eating," Mr. +Barnard observed.</p> + +<p>"Is Dansburg on the map?" Peewee wanted to know.</p> + +<p>"Well, it thinks it is," Mr. Barnard smiled.</p> + +<p>"I know all about geography," Peewee piped up, "and natural history, +too. I got E plus in geometry."</p> + +<p>"Can you name five animals that come from the North Pole?" Peewee +demanded, regaining his seat after an inglorious tumble.</p> + +<p>"Four polar bears and a seal," Roy answered;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">187</a></span> "no sooner said than +stung. Our young hero is the camp cut-up. You fellows ought to be glad +he won't be up on the hill with you. He's worse than the mosquitoes."</p> + +<p>"We used to bunk in those cabins on the hill," Peewee said; "there are +snakes and things up there. Are you scared of girls?"</p> + +<p>"Not so you'd notice it," one of the Dansburg scouts said.</p> + +<p>"Gee, I'm not scared of girls, that's one thing," Peewee informed them. +"I'm not scared of any kind of wild animals."</p> + +<p>"And would you call a girl a wild animal?" young Mr. Barnard inquired, +highly amused.</p> + +<p>"They scream when they get in a boat," Peewee said; "most always they +smile at me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's nothing, the first time I ever saw you I laughed out loud," +Roy said.</p> + +<p>And at that everybody laughed out loud, and somebody gave Peewee an +apple which kept him quiet for a while.</p> + +<p>"I'm very sorry we can't all be up on that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">188</a></span> hill together," Mr. Barnard +said, "I gather that it's a rather isolated spot."</p> + +<p>"What's an isolated spot?" Peewee yelled.</p> + +<p>"It's a spot where they cut ice," said Roy; "shut up, will you?"</p> + +<p>"Are there only three cabins up there?" one of the Dansville scouts +wanted to know.</p> + +<p>"That's all," Westy Martin, of Roy's troop answered. "We spent, let's +see, three summers up there. We had the hill all to ourselves. We even +did our own cooking."</p> + +<p>"And eating," Peewee shouted.</p> + +<p>"Oh sure, we never let anyone do that for us," one of the Bridgeboro +scouts laughed.</p> + +<p>"If you want a thing well done, do it yourself—especially eating," Roy +said. "A scout is thorough."</p> + +<p>"Do you know Chocolate Drop? He's cook," Peewee piped up. "He makes +doughnuts as big as automobile tires."</p> + +<p>"Not Cadillac tires," Roy said, "but Ford tires. Peewee knows how to +puncture them, all right."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">189</a></span></p> + +<p>"He'll have a blow-out some day," Connie Bennett observed.</p> + +<p>"So you boys used to be up on the hill, eh?" Mr. Barnard inquired, +turning the conversation to a more serious vein. "And how is it you're +not to bunk up there <i>this</i> year, since you like it so much?"</p> + +<p>As if by common consent Roy's troop left it for him to answer, and even +Peewee was quiet.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," Roy said; "first come, first served; that's the +rule. You fellows got in your application, that's all there was to it. I +guess you know Tom Slade, who works in the camp's city office, don't +you, Mr. Barnard?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I do," young Mr. Barnard said. "We met in a shell hole in +France. We knew each other but have never seen each other. It's rather +odd when you come to think of it."</p> + +<p>"I suppose that's how he happened to assign you the cabins," Connie +Bennett observed; "old time's sake, hey?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">190</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, dear no," young Mr. Barnard laughed. "I should say that you boys +come first if it's a question of old time's sake. No indeed, we should +feel like intruders, usurpers, if there were any question of friendly +preference. No, it was really quite odd when you come to think of it. I +never dreamed who Tom Slade was when our accommodations were assigned +us; indeed, his name did not appear in the correspondence. It was just a +case of first come, first served, as you say. Later, we received some +circular matter of the camp and there was a little note with it, as I +remember, signed by Slade. Oh, no, the thing was all cut and dried +before I knew who Slade was. Then we started a very pleasant +correspondence. I expect to see him up here. He was one of the bravest +young fellows on the west front; a sort of silent, taciturn, young +fellow. Oh, no," young Mr. Barnard laughed in that pleasant way he had, +"you boys can't accuse us of usurping your familiar home. You must come +up and see us there, and I hope we shall all be good friends."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">191</a></span></p> + +<p>Roy Blakeley heard these words as in a dream, and even Peewee was silent. +The others of Roy's troop looked at each other but said not a word. <i>No +indeed, we should feel like usurpers if there were any question of +friendly preference</i>. These words rang in Roy's ears, and as he said +them over to himself there appeared in his mind's eye the picture of Tom +Slade, stolid, unimpassioned, patient, unresentful—standing there near +the doorway of the bank building and listening to the tirade of abuse +which he, Roy, hurled at him. "<i>If you want to think I'm a liar you can +think so. You can tell them that if you want to. I don't care what you +tell them</i>." These words, too, rang in Roy's ears, and burned into his +heart and conscience, and he knew that Tom Slade had not deigned to +answer these charges and recriminations; <i>would</i> not answer them, any +more than the rock of Gibraltar would deign to answer the petulant +threats and menaces of the sea. Oh, if he could only unsay those words +which he had hurled at Tom, his friend and companion! What mattered it +who bunked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">192</a></span> in the cabins, so long as he knew what he knew now? How +small and trifling seemed Tom's act of carelessness or forgetfulness, as +he loomed up now in the strong, dogged pride which would not explain to +one who had no right to doubt or disbelieve. How utterly contemptible +Roy Blakeley seemed to himself now!</p> + +<p>He tried to speak in his customary light and bantering manner, but he +was too sick at heart to carry it off.</p> + +<p>"He's—he's sort of like a rock," he said, by way of answering Barnard's +comments on Tom. "He doesn't say much. You don't—you can't understand +him very easy. Even—even <i>I</i> didn't——. I don't know where he is now. +We haven't seen him for a long time. But one thing you can bet, you're +welcome to the cabins on the hill. He said we wouldn't lose anything. +Anyway, we won't lose much. We've got a tent we're going to put up down +on the tenting space. You bet we'll come up and see you often, and you +bet we'll be good friends. Our both knowing Tom, as you might say, ought +to make us good friends."</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">193</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXI</h2><h3>ARCHER</h3> +</div> + +<p>When these two troops reached camp they found the tall scout Archer +waiting for them. How much he knew or suspected it would be difficult to +surmise.</p> + +<p>"Uncle Jeb told me I might show you up to the hill," he said. "Some of +you fellows came from Ohio, I understand. You're all to bunk up on the +hill."</p> + +<p>"I guess that's a mistake," Roy said.</p> + +<p>"No, I think Uncle Jeb has things down about pat," Archer said in his +easy off-hand manner. "The old man's pretty busy himself and so he told +me to be your guide, philosopher and friend, as old somebody-or-other +said."</p> + +<p>The two troops followed as he led the way,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">194</a></span> the Bridgeboro boys glancing +fondly at the familiar sights all about them.</p> + +<p>"There's where we'll put up our tent," one of them said, pointing at the +area which was already crowded with the canvas domiciles. The place did +not look so attractive as Roy and his companions had tried to picture it +in their mind's eyes. They had never envied the scouts who had been +compelled to make their camp homes there. It seemed so much like a +military encampment, so close and stuffy and temporary, and unlike the +free and remote abode that they were used to. They all of them tried not +to think of it in this way, and Roy was in no mood to cherish any +resentment against Tom now.</p> + +<p>"It's near the cooking shack anyway, that's one good thing," Peewee +observed.</p> + +<p>"Listen to the human famine," Connie Bennett said. "Peewee ought to be +ashamed to look Hoover in the face."</p> + +<p>Roy said nothing. There was one he would be ashamed to look in the face +anyway.</p> + +<p>When they reached the hill, he was the first to pause in amazement.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">195</a></span></p> + +<p>"What do you call this?" Connie asked in utter astonishment.</p> + +<p>There stood the six cabins, the new ones bright and fresh in the +afternoon sun.</p> + +<p>"I—I don't understand it," Roy said, almost speechless with surprise.</p> + +<p>Archer sat down upon a rock and beckoned Roy to him. "There isn't much +to tell you," he said. "A fellow from your town has been up here +building these three cabins, that's all. We fellows down at camp called +him Daniel Boone, but I believe his name is Slade. He's been a kind of a +mystery up here for some time. The cabins are for you and your troop, +there's no mistake about that; Uncle Jeb knows all about it. You can see +him later if you want to; there's no use bothering him now. I just want +to say a word to you there isn't much time to spare. Uncle Jeb tried to +make that fellow stay, but he wouldn't. I don't know anything about his +business, or yours. I'm just going to tell you one thing. That fellow +started away a little while ago, lame and without any money to hike +home to the town where he lives. It's none of <i>my</i> business; I'm just +telling you what I know. I've banged around this country a little since +I came up—I'm a kind of a tramp—I have an idea he's hit into the road +for Kingston. There's a short cut through the woods which comes out on +that road about six or seven miles down. You could save—let's see—oh, +about three miles and—oh, yes, Uncle Jeb told me to say you can have +lunch any time you want it. I suppose you're all hungry."</p> + +<p>Not another word did Archer say—just left abruptly and, amid the +enthusiastic inspection and glowing comments of his companions of both +troops, Roy saw, through glistening eyes, this new acquaintance +strolling down the hill, hitting the wildflowers to the right, and left +with a stick which he carried.</p> + +<p>There was no telling how much he knew or what he suspected. He was a +queer, mysterious sort of fellow....</p> + + +<div class='figcenter' style='width: 350px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="illus-004" id="illus-004"></a> +<img src='images/illus-197.jpg' alt='ROY BLAKEY HELD OUT HIS ARMS SO THAT TOM COULD NOT PASS--Tom Slade at Black Lake.--Page 199' title='' /><br /> +<span class='caption'>ROY BLAKEY HELD OUT HIS ARMS SO THAT TOM COULD NOT PASS<br /><i>Tom Slade at Black Lake.—Page</i> 199</span> +</div> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">196</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXII</h2><h3>TOM LOSES</h3> +</div> + +<p>"<i>Me for lunch! Me for lunch!</i>" Roy heard Peewee scream at the top of +his voice. And for just a moment he stood there in a kind of daze, +watching his companions and new friends tumbling pell mell over each +other down the hill. He was glad to be alone.</p> + +<p>Yet even still he paused and gazed at the task, which Tom Slade, traitor +and liar, had completed. There it was, a herculanean task, the work of +months, as it seemed to Roy. He could hardly control his feelings as he +gazed upon it.</p> + +<p>But he did not pause to torture himself with remorse. Down through the +woods he went, and into the trail which Archer had indicated. Scout +though he was, he was never less hungry in his life. Over fields he +went,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">198</a></span> and through the brook, and up Hawk's Nest mountain, and into the +denser woods beyond. Suppose Archer should be mistaken. Suppose this dim +trail should take him nowhere. Panting, he ran on, trying to conquer +this haunting fear. Beyond Leeds Crossing the trail was hardly +distinguishable and he must pause and lose time to pick it up here and +there. Through woods, and around hills, and into dense, almost +impenetrable thickets he labored on, his side aching, and his heart +thumping like a triphammer.</p> + +<p>At last he came out upon the Kingston road and was down on his knees, +examining minutely every mark in the dusty road, trying to determine +whether Tom had passed. Then he sat down by the roadside and waited, +panting like a dog. And so the minutes passed, and became an hour +and——</p> + +<p>Then he heard someone coming around the bend.</p> + +<p>Roy gulped in suspense as he waited. One second, two seconds, three, +four—Would the pedestrian never appear?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">199</a></span></p> + +<p>And then they met, and Roy Blakeley stood out in the middle of the road +and held his arms out so the wayfarer could not pass. And yet he could +not speak.</p> + +<p>"Tom," he finally managed to say, "I—I came alone because—because I +wanted to come alone. I wanted to meet you all alone. I—I know all +about it, Tom—I do. None of the fellows will bunk in these cabins till +you—till you—come back—they won't. Not even Barnard's troop. I'm +sorry, Tom; I see how I was all wrong. You—you can't get away with it, +you can't Tom—because I won't let you—see? You have to come +back—we—we can't stay there without you——"</p> + +<p>"I told you you wouldn't lose anything," Tom said dully.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and it's a—it's a <i>lie</i>," Roy almost sobbed. "We're losing <i>you</i>, +aren't we? We're losing everything—and it's all <i>my</i> fault. You—you +said we wouldn't lose anything, but we <i>are</i>. Can't you see we are? +You've got to come back, Tom—or I'm going home with you—you old—you +old brick! Barnard wants<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">200</a></span> you, we <i>all</i> want you. We haven't got any +scoutmaster if you don't come back—we haven't."</p> + +<p>Tom Slade who had chopped down trees and dragged them up the hill, found +it hard to answer.</p> + +<p>"I'll go back," he finally said, "as long as you ask me."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>And so, in that pleasant afternoon, they followed the trail back to camp +together, just as they had hiked together so many times before. And they +talked of Peewee and the troop and joked about there not being anything +left to eat when they got there, and Roy said what a fine fellow Barnard +was, and Tom Slade said how he always liked fellows with red hair. He +said he thought you could trust them....</p> + +<p>Let us hope he was right.</p> + +<hr class='full' /> +<p style='text-align: center;'><span style='font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 180%;'>The Tom Slade Books</span><br /> +<span style='font-size: 140%;'>By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH</span><br /> +<span style='font-size: 100%;'>Author of the ROY BLAKELEY BOOKS</span></p> + +<hr class='minor' /> +<p class='center'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list.</p> +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>The Tom Slade books have the official endorsement and recommendation of +THE BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA. In vivid story form they tell of Boy Scout +ways, and how they help a fellow grow into a manhood of which America +may be proud.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p><b>Tom Slade, Boy Scout</b></p> + +<p>Tom Slade lived in Barrel Alley. The story of his thrilling Scout +experiences, how he was gradually changed from the street gangster into +a First Class Scout, is told in almost as moving and stirring a way as +the same narrative related in motion pictures.</p> + +<p><b>Tom Slade at Temple Camp</b></p> + +<p>The boys are at a summer camp in the Adirondack woods, and Tom enters +heart and soul into the work of making possible to other boys the +opportunities in woodcraft and adventure of which he himself has already +had a taste.</p> + +<p><b>Tom Slade on the River</b></p> + +<p>A carrier pigeon falls into the camp of the Bridgeboro Troop of Boy +Scoots. Attached to the bird's leg is a message which starts Tom and his +friends on a search that culminates in a rescue and a surprising +discovery. The boys have great sport on the river, cruising in the +"Honor Scout."</p> + +<p><b>Tom Slade With the Colors</b> <span class="smcap">a war-time boy scout story</span></p> + +<p>When Uncle Sam "pitches in" to help the Allies in the Great War, Tom's +Boy Scout training makes it possible for him to show his patriotism in a +way which is of real service to his country. Tom has many experiences +that any loyal American boy would enjoy going through—or reading about, +as the next best thing.</p> + +<p><b>Tom Slade on a Transport</b></p> + +<p>While working as a mess boy on one of Uncle Sam's big ships, Tom's +cleverness enables him to be of service in locating a disloyal member of +the crew. On his homeward voyage the ship is torpedoed and Tom is taken +aboard a submarine and thence to Germany. He finally escapes and +resolves to reach the American forces in France.</p> + +<p><b>Tom Slade With the Boys Over There</b></p> + +<p>We follow Tom and his friend, Archer, on their flight from Germany, +through many thrilling adventures, until they reach and join the +American Army in France.</p> + +<p><b>Tom Slade, Motorcycle Dispatch Bearer</b></p> + +<p>Tom is now a dispatch rider behind the lines and has some thrilling +experiences in delivering important messages to troop commanders in +France.</p> + +<p><b>Tom Slade With the Flying Corps</b></p> + +<p>At last Tom realizes his dream to scout and fight for Uncle Sam in the +air, and has such experiences as only the world war could make possible.</p> + +<p><b>Tom Slade at Black Lake</b></p> + +<p>Tom has returned home and visits Temple Camp before the season opens. He +builds three cabins and has many adventures.</p> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p> + +<hr class='full' /> +<p style='text-align: center;'><span style='font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 180%;'>The Roy Blakeley Books</span><br /> +<span style='font-size: 140%;'>By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH</span><br /> +<span style='font-size: 100%;'>Author of the TOM SLADE BOOKS</span></p> + +<p class='center'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list.</p> +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p><b>Roy Blakeley</b></p> + +<p>In a book given by a kindly old gentleman. Pee-wee Harris discovers what +he believes to be a sinister looking memorandum, and he becomes +convinced that the old gentleman is a spy. But the laugh is on Pee-wee, +as usual, for the donor of the book turns out to be an author, and the +suspicious memorandum is only a literary mark. The author, however, is +so pleased with the boys' patriotism that he loans them his houseboat, +in which they make the trip to their beloved Temple Camp, which every +boy who has read the TOM SLADE BOOKS will be glad to see once more.</p> + +<p><b>Roy Blakeley's Adventures in Camp</b></p> + +<p>Roy Blakeley and his patrol are found in this book once more happily +established in camp. Roy and his friends incur the wrath of a land +owner, but the doughty Pee-wee saves the situation and the wealthy +landowner as well. The boys wake up one morning to find Black Lake +flooded far over its banks, and the solving of this mystery furnishes +some exciting reading.</p> + +<p><b>Roy Blakeley, Pathfinder</b></p> + +<p>Roy and his comrades, having come to Temple Camp by water, resolve to +make the journey home by foot. On the way they capture a leopard escaped +from a circus, which brings about an acquaintance with the strange +people who belong to the show. The boys are instrumental in solving a +deep mystery, and finding one who has long been missing.</p> + +<p><b>Roy Blakeley's Camp on Wheels</b></p> + +<p>This is the story of a wild and roaming career of a ramshackle old +railroad car which has been given Roy and his companions for a troop +meeting place. The boys fall asleep in the car. In the night, and by a +singular error of the railroad people, the car is "taken up" by a +freight train and is carried westward, so that when the boys awake they +find themselves in a country altogether strange and new. The story tells +of the many and exciting adventures in this car.</p> + +<p><b>Roy Blakeley's Silver Fox Patrol</b></p> + +<p>In the car which Roy Blakeley and his friends have for a meeting place +is discovered an old faded letter, dating from the Klondike gold days, +and it appears to intimate the location of certain bags of gold, buried +by a train robber. The quest for this treasure is made in an automobile +and the strange adventures on this trip constitute the story.</p> + +<p><b>Roy Blakeley's Motor Caravan</b></p> + +<p>Roy and his friends go West to bring back some motor cars. They have +some very amusing, also a few serious, adventures.</p> + +<p><b>Roy Blakeley, Lost, Strayed or Stolen</b></p> + +<p>The troup headquarters car figures largely in this very interesting +volume.</p> + +<p><b>Roy Blakeley's Bee-Line Hike</b></p> + +<p>The boys resolve to hike in a bee-line to a given point, some miles +distant, and have a lively time doing it.</p> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p> + +<hr class='full' /> +<p style='text-align: center;'><span style='font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 180%;'>The Pee-wee Harris Books</span><br /> +<span style='font-size: 140%;'>By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH</span><br /> +<span style='font-size: 100%;'>Author of the THE TOM SLADE and ROY BLAKELEY BOOKS</span></p> + +<p class='center'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list.</p> +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>All readers of the TOM SLADE and the ROY BLAKELEY books are acquainted +with Pee-wee Harris and will surely enjoy reading every volume of this +series.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p><b>Pee-wee Harris</b></p> + +<p>Pee-wee goes to visit his uncle whose farm is located on a by-road. +Pee-wee conceives the idea of starting a little shack along the road in +which to sell refreshments and automobile accessories.</p> + +<p>In accordance with his invariable good luck,—scarcely has he started +this little shack than the bridge upon the highway burns down and the +obscure country road becomes a thoroughway for automobiles. Pee-wee +reaps a large profit from his business during the balance of the summer.</p> + +<p><b>Pee-wee Harris on the Trail</b></p> + +<p>Pee-wee gets into the wrong automobile by mistake and is carried to the +country where he has a great time and many adventures.</p> + +<p><b>Pee-wee Harris in Camp</b></p> + +<p>The scene is set in the beloved and familiar Temple Camp. Here Pee-wee +resigns from the Raven Patrol, intending to start a patrol of his own. +He finds this more difficult than he had expected, but overcame all +obstacles—as usual.</p> + +<p><b>Pee-wee Harris in Luck</b></p> + +<p>Pee-wee goes with his mother to spend the summer on a farm, where he +meets a girl who is bewailing her fate that there is no society at this +obscure retreat. Pee-wee assures her he will fix everything for her—and +proceeds to do so—with his usual success.</p> + +<p><b>Pee-wee Harris Adrift</b></p> + +<p>A little spot of land up the river breaks away and floats down stream, +with a laden apple tree growing upon it. Pee-wee takes possession of +this island and the resulting adventures are decidedly entertaining.</p> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p> + +<hr class='full' /> +<h2><a name="THE_EVERY_CHILD_SHOULD_KNOW_SERIES" id="THE_EVERY_CHILD_SHOULD_KNOW_SERIES"></a>THE EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW SERIES</h2> +<p class='center'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list.</p> +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>BIRDS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW<br /> +<span class='everychild'>By Neltje Blanchan. Illustrated</span></p> + +<p>EARTH AND SKY EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW<br /> +<span class='everychild'>By Julia Ellen Rogers. Illustrated</span></p> + +<p>ESSAYS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW<br /> +<span class='everychild'>Edited by Hamilton W. Mabie</span></p> + +<p>FAIRY TALES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW<br /> +<span class='everychild'>Edited by Hamilton W. Mabie</span></p> + +<p>FAMOUS STORIES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW<br /> +<span class='everychild'>Edited by Hamilton W. Mabie</span></p> + +<p>FOLK TALES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW<br /> +<span class='everychild'>Edited by Hamilton W. Mabie</span></p> + +<p>HEROES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW<br /> +<span class='everychild'>Edited by Hamilton W. Mabie</span></p> + +<p>HEROINES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW<br /> +<span class='everychild'>Coedited by Hamilton W. Mabie and Kate Stephens</span></p> + +<p>HYMNS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW<br /> +<span class='everychild'>Edited by Dolores Bacon</span></p> + +<p>LEGENDS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW<br /> +<span class='everychild'>Edited by Hamilton W. Mabie</span></p> + +<p>MYTHS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW<br /> +<span class='everychild'>Edited by Hamilton W. Mabie</span></p> + +<p>OPERAS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW<br /> +<span class='everychild'>By Dolores Bacon. Illustrated</span></p> + +<p>PICTURES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW<br /> +<span class='everychild'>By Dolores Bacon. Illustrated</span></p> + +<p>POEMS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW<br /> +<span class='everychild'>Edited by Mary E. Burt</span></p> + +<p>PROSE EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW<br /> +<span class='everychild'>Edited by Mary E. Burt</span></p> + +<p>SONGS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW<br /> +<span class='everychild'>Edited by Dolores Bacon</span></p> + +<p>TREES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW<br /> +<span class='everychild'>By Julia Ellen Rogers. Illustrated</span></p> + +<p>WATER WONDERS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW<br /> +<span class='everychild'>By Jean M. Thompson. Illustrated</span></p> + +<p>WILD ANIMALS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW<br /> +<span class='everychild'>By Julia Ellen Rogers. Illustrated</span></p> + +<p>WILD FLOWERS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW<br /> +<span class='everychild'>By Frederic William Stack. Illustrated</span></p> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p> + +<hr class='full' /> + +<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes</h3> +<ol> +<li>Punctuation has been normalized to contemporary standards.</li> +<li>Inconsistent spelling of "Peewee" (57 times) and "Pee-wee" (18 times) retained as in original.</li> +</ol> +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Tom Slade at Black Lake, by Percy Keese Fitzhugh + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM SLADE AT BLACK LAKE *** + +***** This file should be named 18943-h.htm or 18943-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/9/4/18943/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Tom Slade at Black Lake + +Author: Percy Keese Fitzhugh + +Illustrator: Howard L. Hastings + +Release Date: July 30, 2006 [EBook #18943] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM SLADE AT BLACK LAKE *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +[Illustration: TOM HAULED THE LOGS BY MEANS OF A BLOCK AND FALL. +Tom Slade at Black Lake--Frontispiece (Page 96)] + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +TOM SLADE AT BLACK LAKE + +By +PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH + +Author of +THE TOM SLADE AND THE ROY BLAKELEY BOOKS + +Illustrated by +HOWARD L. HASTINGS + +Published with the approval of +THE BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA + +GROSSET & DUNLAP +Publishers--New York + +Made in the United States of America + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Copyright, 1920, by GROSSET & DUNLAP + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +PREFACE. + +Several persons have asked me when Tom Slade was ever going to grow up +and cease to be a Scout. The answer is that he is already grown up and +that he is never going to cease to be a Scout. Once a Scout, always a +Scout. To hear some people talk one would think that scouting is like +the measles; that you get over it and never have it any more. + +Scouting is not a thing to play with, like a tin steam-engine, and then +to throw aside. If you once get caught in the net of scouting, you will +never disentangle yourself. A fellow may grow up and put on long +trousers and go and call on a girl and all that sort of thing, but if he +was a Scout, he will continue to be a Scout, and it will stick out all +over him. You'll find him back in the troop as assistant or scoutmaster +or something or other. + +I think Tom Slade is a very good example. He left the troop to go and +work on a transport; he got into the motorcycle messenger service; he +became one of the greatest daredevils of the air; he came home quite +"grown up" as you would say, and knuckled down to be a big business man. + +Then, when it came to a show down, what did he do? He found out that he +was just a plain Scout, shouldered his axe, and went off and did a big +scout job all alone. So there you are. + +I am sorry for those who would have him too old for scouting, and who +seem to think that a fellow can lay aside all he has learned in the +woods and in the handbook, the same as he can lay aside his short +trousers. It isn't as easy as all that. + +Did you suppose that Tom Slade was going to get acquainted with nature, +with the woods and streams and trees, and make them his friends, and +then repudiate these friends? + +Do you think that a Scout is a quitter? + +Tom Slade was always a queer sort of duck, and goodness only knows what +he will do next. He may go to the North Pole for all I know. But one +thing you may be sure of; he is still a Scout of the Scouts, and if you +think he is too old to be a Scout, then how about Buffalo Bill? + +The fact is that Tom is just beginning to reap the real harvest of +scouting. The best is yet to come, as Pee-wee Harris usually observes, +just before dessert is served at dinner. If it is any satisfaction to +you to know it, Tom is more of a Scout than at any time in his career, +and there is a better chance of his being struck by lightening than his +drifting away from the troop whose adventures you have followed with +his. + +It is true that Tom has grown faster than his companions and found it +necessary to go to work while they are still at school. And this very +circumstance will enable us to see what scouting has done for him. + +Indeed if I could not show you that, then all of those eight stores of +his adventures would have been told to little purpose. The chief matter +of interest about a trail is where it leads to. It may be an easy trail +or a hard trail, but the question is, where does it go to? + +It would be a fine piece of business, I think, to leave Tom sitting on a +rock near the end of the trail without giving you so much as a glimpse +of what is at the end of it. + +So you may tell your parents and your teachers and your uncles and your +aunts not to worry about Tom Slade never growing up. He is just a trifle +over eighteen years old and very strong and husky. Confidentially, I +look upon him as nothing but a kid. I keep tabs on his age and when he +has to go on crutches and is of no more interest to you, I shall be the +first to know it. He is likely to have no end of adventures between +eighteen and twenty. + +Meanwhile, don't worry about him. He's just a big overgrown kid and the +best Scout this side of Mars. + +P. K. F. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + CONTENTS + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I. Tom Looks at the Map 1 + II. He Sends a Letter 5 + III. The New Struggle 10 + IV. "Lucky Luke" 16 + V. About Seeing a Thing Through 24 + VI. "The Woods Property" 29 + VII. Just Nonsense 35 + VIII. Five, Six, and Seven 45 + IX. Roy's Nature 52 + X. Tom Receives a Surprise 55 + XI. Tom and Roy 59 + XII. The Long Trail 66 + XIII. Roy's Trail 73 + XIV. The Really Hard Part 76 + XV. A Letter From Barnard 80 + XVI. The Episode in France 86 + XVII. On the Long Trail 94 +XVIII. Tom Lets the Cat Out of the Bag 101 + XIX. The Spectre of Defeat 106 + XX. The Friend in Need 110 + XXI. Tom's Guest 117 + XXII. An Accident 122 + XXIII. Friends 132 + XXIV. Tom Goes on an Errand 138 + XXV. Two Letters 147 + XXVI. Lucky Luke's Friend 152 + XXVII. Thornton's Story 158 +XXVIII. Red Thornton Learns Something About Scouts 170 + XXIX. Tom Starts for Home 176 + XXX. The Troop Arrives 182 + XXXI. Archer 193 + XXXII. Tom Loses 197 + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + +TOM SLADE AT BLACK LAKE + +CHAPTER I + +TOM LOOKS AT THE MAP + + +Tom Slade, bending over the office table, scrutinized the big map of +Temple Camp. It was the first time he had really looked at it since his +return from France, and it made him homesick to see, even in its cold +outlines, the familiar things and scenes which he had so loved as a +scout. The hill trail was nothing but a dotted line, but Tom knew it for +more than that, for it was along its winding way into the dark recesses +of the mountains that he had qualified for the pathfinder's badge. Black +Lake was just an irregular circle, but in his mind's eye he saw there +the moonlight glinting up the water, and canoes gliding silently, and +heard the merry voices of scouts diving from the springboard at its +edge. + +He liked this map better than maps of billets and trenches, and to him +the hill trail was more suggestive of adventure than the Hindenburg +Line. He had been very close to the Hindenburg Line and it had meant no +more to him than the equator. He had found the war to be like a +three-ringed circus--it was too big. Temple Camp was about the right +size. + +Tom reached for a slip of paper and laying it upon the map just where +the trail went over the hilltop and off the camp territory altogether, +jotted down the numbers of three cabins which were indicated by little +squares. + +"They're the only three together and kind of separate," he said to +himself. + +Then he went over to the window and gazed out upon the busy scene, which +the city office of Temple Camp overlooked. He did this, not because +there was anything there which he wished particularly to see, but +because he contemplated doing something and was in some perplexity +about it. He was going to dictate a letter to Miss Margaret Ellison, the +stenographer. + +Tom had seen cannons and machine guns and hand grenades and depth bombs, +but the thing in all this world that he was most afraid of was the long +sharply pointed pencil which Miss Margaret Ellison always held poised +above her open note book, waiting to record his words. Tom had always +fallen down at the last minute and told her what he wanted to say; +suggesting that she say it in her own sweet way. He did not say _sweet_ +way, though he may have thought it. + +So now he stood at the open window looking down upon Bridgeboro's +surging thoroughfare, while the breath of Spring permeated the Temple +Camp office. If he had been less susceptible of this gentle influence in +the very air, he would still have known it was Spring by the things in +the store windows across the way--straw hats and hammocks and tennis +rackets. There were moving vans, too, with furniture bulging out behind +them, which are just as certain signs of merry May as the flowers that +bloom in the Spring. There was something too, in the way that the sun +moved down which bespoke Spring. + +But the surest sign of all was the flood of applications for cabin +accommodations at Temple Camp; that was just as sure and reliable as the +first croaking of the frogs or the softening of the rich, thick mud in +Barrel Alley, where Tom had spent his childhood. + +He moved over to where Miss Margaret Ellison sat at her machine. Mr. +Burton, manager of the Temple Camp office, had told Tom that the only +way to acquire confidence and readiness of speech was to formulate what +he wished to say and to say it, without depending on any one else, and +to this good advice, Peewee Harris, mascot of Tom's Scout Troop had made +the additional suggestion, that it was good to say it whether you had +anything to say or not, on the theory, I suppose, that if you cannot +shoot bullets, it is better to shoot blank cartridges than nothing at +all. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +HE SENDS A LETTER + + +"Help him, but encourage him to be self-confident; let him take +responsibilities. He understands everything well enough; all he needs is +to get a grip on himself." That is what Mr. Burton had told Margaret +Ellison, and Margaret Ellison, being a girl, understood better than all +the army surgeons in the country. + +You see how it was; they had made a wreck of Tom Slade's nerves as a +trifling incidental to making the world safe for democracy. He started +at every little noise, he broke down in the middle of his talk, he +hesitated to cross the street alone, he shuddered at the report of a +bursting tire on some unlucky auto. He had never been at ease in the +presence of girls, and he was now less at ease than before he had gone +away. + +He had fought for nearly two years and Uncle Sam liked him so much that +he could not bring himself to part company with him, until by hook or +crook, Mr. Burton and Mr. Temple managed to get him discharged and put +him in the way of finding himself at his old job in Temple Camp office. +It was a great relief to him not to have to salute lieutenants any more. +The shot and shell he did not mind, but his arm was weary with saluting +lieutenants. It was the dream of Tom Slade's life never to see another +lieutenant as long as he lived. + +He leaned against the table near Miss Margaret Ellison and said, "I--I +want--I have to send a letter to a troop that's in Ohio--in a place +called--called Dansburg. Shall I dic--shall I say what I want to tell +them?" + +"Surely," she said cheerily. + +"Maybe if it isn't just right you can fix it up," he said. + +"You say it just the way you want to," she encouraged him. + +"It's to the Second Dansburg Troop and the name of the scoutmaster is +William Barnard," Tom said, "and this is what I want to say...." + +"Yes, say it in your own words," she reminded him. + +"We got--I mean received," he dictated hesitatingly, "your letter and we +can give you--can give you--three cabins--three cabins together and kind +of separate like you say--numbers five, six, and seven. They are on the +hill and separate, and we hope to hear from you--soon--because there are +lots of troops asking for cabins, because now the season is beginning. +Yours truly." + +"Is that all right?" he asked rather doubtfully. + +"Surely it is," she said; "and don't forget what Mr. Burton told you +about going home early and resting. Remember, Mr. Burton is your +superior officer now." + +"Are you going home soon?" he asked her. + +"Not till half-past five," she said. + +He hesitated as if he would like to say something more, then retreating +rather clumsily, he got his hat and said good-night, and left the +office. + +The letter which he had dictated was not laid upon Mr. Burton's desk for +signature in exactly the phraseology which Tom had used, but Tom never +knew that. This is the way the letter read: + + + MR. WILLIAM BARNARD, Scoutmaster, + Second Dansburg Troop, + Dansburg, Ohio. + + DEAR SIR: + + Replying to your letter asking for accommodations for your three + patrols for month of August, we can assign you three cabins + (Numbers, 5,6 and 7) covering that time. These are in an isolated + spot, as you requested, being somewhat removed from the body of the + camp. + + Circular of rates and particulars is enclosed. Kindly answer + promptly, as applications are numerous. + + Yours truly, + + +The letter went out that night, and as it happened, a very considerable +series of adventures resulted. + +Perhaps if Margaret Ellison had looked at the map or even stopped to +think, she would have consulted with Tom before typing that letter, +which was the cause of such momentous consequences. As for Mr. Burton, +he knew that Tom knew the camp like A. B. C. and he simply signed his +name to the letter and let it go at that. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE NEW STRUGGLE + + +Tom did as he had promised Mr. Burton he would do; he went home and lay +down and rested. It was not much of a home, but it was better than a +dugout. That is, it was cleaner though not very much larger. But there +were no lieutenants. + +It was a tiny hall-room in a boarding house, and the single window +afforded a beautiful view of back fences. It was all the home that Tom +Slade knew. He had no family, no relations, nothing. + +He had been born in a tenement in Barrel Alley, where his mother had +died and from which his good-for-nothing father had disappeared. For a +while he had been a waif and a hoodlum, and by strict attention to the +code of Barrel Alley's gang, he had risen to be king of the hoodlums. +No one, not even Blokey Mattenburg himself, could throw a rock into a +trolley car with the precision of Tom Slade. + +Then, on an evil day, he was tempted to watch the scouts and it proved +fatal. He was drawn head over ears into scouting, and became leader of +the new Elk Patrol in the First Bridgeboro Troop. For three seasons he +was a familiar, if rather odd figure, at Temple Camp, which Mr. John +Temple of Bridgeboro had founded in the Catskills, and when he was old +enough to work it seemed natural that these kindly gentlemen who had his +welfare at heart, should put him into the city office of the camp, which +he left to go to war, and to which he had but lately returned, suffering +from shell-shock. + +He was now eighteen years old, and though no longer a scout in the +ordinary sense, he retained his connection with the troop in capacity of +assistant to Mr. Ellsworth, the troop's scoutmaster. + +He had been rather older than the members of this troop when he made his +spectacular leap from hoodlumism to scouting, and hence while they were +still kicking their heels in the arena he had, as one might say, passed +outside it. + +But his love for the boys and their splendid scoutmaster who had given +him a lift, was founded upon a rock. The camp and the troop room had +been his home, the scouts had been his brothers, and all the simple +associations of his new life were bound up with these three patrols. + +Perhaps it was for this reason that among these boys, all younger than +himself, and with whom he had always mingled on such familiar terms, he +showed but few, and those not often, of the distressing symptoms which +bespoke his shattered nerves. Among them he found refuge and was at +peace with himself. + +And the boys, intent upon their own pursuits, knew nothing of the brave +struggle he was making at the office where his days were spent, and in +the poor little shabbily furnished room where he would lie down on his +iron bed and try to rest and forget the war and not hear the noises +outside. + +How he longed for Friday nights when the troop met, and when he could +forget himself in those diverting games! + +Since the first few days of his return from France, he had seen but +little of the troop, except upon those gala nights. The boys were in +school and he at the office, and it seemed as if their two ways had +parted, after all his hopes that his return might find them reunited and +more intimate than ever before. But after the first joyous welcome, it +had not been so. It could not be so. + +Of course, if they had known how he loved to just sit and listen to them +jolly the life out of Peewee Harris, they would doubtless have arranged +to do this every night for his amusement, for it made no difference to +them how much they jollied Peewee. If they had had the slightest inkling +that it helped him just to listen to Roy Blakeley's nonsense, they would +probably have arranged with Roy for a continuous performance, for so far +as Roy was concerned, there was no danger of a shortage of nonsense. But +you see they did not think of these things. + +They did much for wounded soldiers, but Tom Slade was not a wounded +soldier. And so it befell that the very thing which he most needed was +the thing he did not have, and that was just the riot of banter and +absurdity which they called their meetings. At all this he would just +sit and smile and forget to interlace his fingers and jerk his head. And +sometimes he would even laugh outright. + +I am afraid that everything was managed wrong from the first. It would +have been better if Mr. Burton or Mr. Ellsworth or somebody or other had +told the troop the full truth about Tom's condition. I suppose they +refrained for fear the boys would stare at him and treat him as one +stricken, and thereby, perhaps make his struggle harder. + +At all events, it was hard enough. And little they knew of this new and +frightful war that he was struggling through with all the power of his +brave, dogged nature. Little they knew how he lay awake night after +night, starting at every chime of the city's clock, of how he did the +best he could each day, waiting and longing for Friday night, hoping, +_hoping_ that Peewee and Roy would surely be there. Poor, distracted, +shell-shocked fighter that he was, he was fighting still, and they were +his only hope and they did not know it. No one knew it. He would not let +them know. + +For that was Tom Slade. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +"LUCKY LUKE" + + +Next morning Tom had his breakfast in a dingy little restaurant and then +started along Terrace Avenue for the bank building, in which was the +Temple Camp office. + +He still wore the shabby khaki uniform which had seen service at the +front. He was of that physique called thick-set and his face was of the +square type, denoting doggedness and endurance, and a stolid +temperament. + +There had never been anything suggestive of the natty or agile about him +when he had been a scout, and army life, contrary to its reputation, had +not spruced and straightened him up at all. He was about as awkward +looking as a piece of field artillery, and he was just about as reliable +and effective. He was not built on the lines of a rifle, but rather on +the lines of a cannon, or perhaps of a tank. His mouth was long and his +lips set tight, but it twitched nervously at one end, especially when he +waited at the street crossing just before he reached the bank building, +watching the traffic with a kind of fearful, bewildered look. + +Twice, thrice, he made the effort to cross and returned to his place on +the curb, interlacing his fingers distractedly. And yet this young +fellow had pushed through barbed wire entanglements and gone across No +Man's Land, without so much as a shudder in the very face of hostile +fire. + +He always dreaded this street corner in the mornings and was thankful +when he was safe up in his beloved Temple Camp office. If he had been on +crutches some grateful citizen would have helped him across, and +patriotic young ladies would have paused to watch the returned hero and +some one might even have removed his hat in the soldier's presence; for +they did those things--for a while. + +But such honors were only for those who were fortunate enough to have +had a leg or an arm shot off or to have been paralyzed. For the hero who +had had his nerves all shot to pieces there were no such spontaneous +tributes. + +And that was the way it had always been with Tom Slade. He had always +made good, but somehow, the applause and the grateful tributes had gone +to others. Nature had not made him prepossessing and he did not know how +to talk; he was just slow and dogged and stolid, like a British tank, as +I said, and just about as homely. You could hardly expect a girl to make +much fuss over a young fellow who is like a British tank, when there are +young fellows like shining machine guns, and soaring airplanes--to say +nothing of poison gas. + +And after two years of service in the thick of danger, with bombs and +bullets flying all about him; after four months' detention in an enemy +prison camp and six weeks of trench fever, to say nothing of frightful +risks, stolidly ignored, in perilous secret missions, this young chunk +of the old rock of Gibraltar had come home with his life, just because +it had pleased God not to accept the proffer of it, and because Fritzie +shot wild where Tom was concerned. He couldn't help coming back with his +life--it wasn't his fault. It was just because he was the same old Lucky +Luke, that's all. + +That had been Roy Blakeley's name for him--Lucky Luke; and he had been +known as Lucky Luke to all of his scout comrades. + +You see it was this way: if Tom was going to win a scout award by +finding a certain bird's nest in a certain tree, when he got to the +place he would find that the tree had been chopped down. Once he was +going to win the pathfinder's badge by trailing a burglar, and he +trailed him seven miles through the woods and found that the burglar was +his own good-for-nothing father. So he did not go back and claim the +award. You see? Lucky Luke. + +Once (oh, this happened several years before) he helped a boy in his +patrol to become an Eagle Scout. It was the talk of Temple Camp how, +one more merit badge (astronomy) and Will O'Connor would be an Eagle +Scout and Tom Slade, leader of the Elks, would have the only Eagle Scout +at Camp in his patrol. He didn't care so much about being an Eagle Scout +himself, but he wanted Will O'Connor to be an Eagle Scout; he wanted to +have an Eagle Scout in his patrol. + +Then, just before Will O'Connor qualified for the Astronomy Badge, he +went to live with his uncle in Cincinnati and the Buffalo Patrol of the +Third Cincinnati Troop pretty soon had an Eagle Scout among their +number, and the Cincinnati troop got its name into _Scouting_ and _Boy's +Life_. Lucky Luke! + +It was characteristic of Tom Slade that he did not show any +disappointment at this sequel of all his striving. Much less had he any +jealousy, for he did not know there was such a word in the dictionary. +He just started in again to make Bert McAlpin an Eagle Scout and when he +had jammed Bert through all the stunts but two, Uncle Sam deliberately +went into the war and Tom started off to work on a transport. So you see +how it worked out; Connie Bennett, new leader of the Elks presently had +an Eagle Scout in his patrol and Tom got himself torpedoed. Mind, I +don't say that Uncle Sam went into the war just to spite Tom Slade. The +point is that Tom Slade didn't get anything, except that he got +torpedoed. + +One thing he did win for himself as a scout and that was the Gold Cross +for life saving, but he didn't know how to wear it, and it was Margaret +Eillson who pinned it on for him properly. I think she had a sneaking +liking for Tom. + +Poor Tom, sometime or other in his stumbling career he had probably +gotten out of the wrong side of his bed, or perhaps he was born on a +Friday. That was what Roy and the scouts always said. + +And so you see, here he was back from the big scrap with nothing to show +for it but a case of shell-shock, and you don't have bandages or +crutches for shell-shock. There was young Lieut. Rossie Bent who worked +downstairs in the bank, who had come home with two fingers missing and +all of the girls had fallen at his feet and Tom had had to salute him. +But there was nothing missing about Tom--except his wits and his grip on +himself, sometimes. + +But no one noticed this particularly, unless it was Mr. Burton and +Margaret Ellison, and certainly no one made a fuss over him on account +of it. Why should anybody make a hero of a young fellow just because he +is not quite sure of himself in crossing the street, and because his +mouth twitches? Boy scouts are both observant and patriotic, but they +could not see that there was anything _missing_ about Tom. All they had +noticed was that in resuming his duties at the office he had seemed to +be drifting away from them--from the troop. And when he came on Friday +nights, just to sit and hear Roy jolly Peewee and to enjoy their simple +nonsense, they thought he was "different since he had come back from +France"--perhaps just a little, you know, _uppish_. + +It would have been a lucky thing for Tom, and for everybody concerned, +if Mr. Ellsworth, scoutmaster, had been at home instead of away on a +business trip; for he would have understood. + +But of course, things couldn't have gone that way--not with Lucky Luke. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +ABOUT SEEING A THING THROUGH + + +But there was one lucky thing that Tom had done, once upon a time. He +had hit Pete Connegan plunk on the head with a rotten tomato. + +That was before the war; oh, long, long before. It was a young war all +by itself. It happened when Tom was a hoodlum and lived with his drunken +father in Barrel Alley. And in that little affair Tom Slade made a +stand. Filthy little hoodlum that he was, instead of running when Pete +Connegan got down out of his truck and started after him, he turned and +compressed his big mouth and stood there upon his two bare feet, +waiting. It was Tom Slade all over--Barrel Alley or No Man's Land--_he +didn't run_. + +The slime of the tomato has long since been washed off Pete Connegan's +face and the tomato is forgotten. But the way that Tom Slade stood there +waiting--that meant something. It was worth all the rotten tomatoes in +Schmitt's Grocery, where Tom had "acquired" that particular one. + +"Phwat are ye standin' there for?" Pete had roared in righteous fury. +Probably he thought that at least Tom might have paid him that tribute +of respect of fleeing from his wrath. + +"'Cause I ain't a goin' ter run, that's why," Tom had said. + +Strange to relate, Pete Connegan did not kill him. For a moment he stood +staring at his ragged assailant and then he said, "Be gorry, ye got some +nerve, annyhow." + +"If I done a thing I'd see it through, I would; I ain't scared," Tom had +answered. + +"If ye'll dance ye'll pay the fiddler, hey?" his victim had asked in +undisguised admiration.... + +Oh well, it was all a long time ago and the only points worth +remembering about it are that Tom Slade didn't run, that he was ready +to see the thing through no matter if it left him sprawling in the +gutter, and that he and the burly truck driver had thereafter been good +friends. Now Tom was an ex-scout and a returned soldier and Pete was +janitor of the big bank building. + +He was sweeping off the walk in front of the bank as Tom passed in. + +"Hello, Tommy boy," he said cheerily. "How are ye these days?" + +"I'm pretty well," Tom said, in the dull matter-of-fact way that he had, +"only I get mixed up sometimes and sometimes I forget." + +"Phwill ye evver fergit how you soaked me with the tomater?" Pete asked, +leaning on his broom. + +"It wasn't hard, because I was standing so near," Tom said, always +anxious to belittle his own skill. + +"Yer got a mimory twinty miles long," Pete said, by way of discounting +Tom's doubts of himself. "I'm thinkin' ye don't go round with the scout +boys enough." + +"I go Friday nights," Tom said. + +"Fer why don't ye go up ter Blakeley's?" + +"I don't know," Tom said. + +"That kid is enough ter make annybody well," Pete said. + +"His folks are rich," Tom said. + +That was just it. He was an odd number among these boys and he knew it. +Fond of them as he had always been, and proud to be among them, he had +always been different, and he knew it. It was the difference between +Barrel Alley and Terrace Hill. He knew it. It had not counted for so +much when he had been a boy scout with them; good scouts that they were, +they had taken care of that end of it. But, you see, he had gone away a +scout and come back not only a soldier, but a young man, and he could +not (even in his present great need) go to Roy's house, or Grove +Bronson's house, or up to the big Bennett place on just the same +familiar terms as before. They thought he didn't want to when in fact he +didn't know how to. + +"Phwen I hurd ye wuz in the war," Pete said, "I says ter meself, I +says, 'that there lad'll make a stand.' I says it ter me ould woman. I +says, says I, 'phwat he starts he'll finish if he has ter clane up the +whole uv France.' That's phwat I said. I says if he makes a bull he'll +turrn the whole wurrld upside down to straighten things out. I got yer +number all roight, Tommy. Get along witcher upstairs and take the advice +of Doctor Pete Connegan--get out amongst them kids more." + +I dare say it was good advice, but the trouble was that Lucky Luke was +probably born on a Friday, and there was no straightening _that_ out. + +As to whether he would turn the world upside down to straighten out some +little error, perhaps Pete was right there, too. Roy Blakeley had once +said that if Tom dropped his scout badge out of a ten-story window, he'd +jump out after it. Indeed that _would_ have been something like Tom. + +Anyway the saying was very much like Roy. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +"THE WOODS PROPERTY" + + +When Tom reached the office he took a few matters in to Mr. Burton. + +"Well, how are things coming on?" his superior asked him cheerily. +"Getting back in line, all right? This early spring weather ought to be +a tonic to an old scout like you. Here--here's a reminder of spring and +camping for you. Here's the deed for the woods property at last--a +hundred and ninety acres more for Temple Camp. We'll be as big as New +York pretty soon, when we get some of that timber down, and some new +cabins up. + +"I'm glad we got it," Tom said. + +"Well, I should hope," Mr. Burton came back at him. "That's off the +Archer farm, you know. Gift from Mr. Temple. Runs right up to the peak +of the hill--see?" + +Tom looked at the map of the new Temple Camp property, which almost +doubled the size of the camp and at the deed which showed the latest +generous act of the camp's benevolent founder. + +"Next summer, if we have the price, we'll put up a couple of dozen new +cabins on that hill and make a bid for troops from South Africa and +China; what do you say? This should be put in the safe and, let's see, +here are some new applications--Michigan, Virginia--Temple Camp is +getting some reputation in the land." + +"I had an application from Ohio yesterday," Tom said; "a three-patrol +troop. I gave them the cabins on the hill. They're a season troop." + +Mr. Burton glanced suddenly at Tom, then began whistling and drumming +his fingers on the desk. He seemed on the point of saying something in +this connection, but all he did say was, "You find pleasure and +relaxation in the work, Tom?" + +"It's next to camping to be here," Tom said. + +"Well, that's what I thought," Mr. Burton said encouragingly. "You must +go slow and take it easy and pretty soon you'll be fit and trim." + +"I got to thank you," Tom said with his characteristic blunt simplicity. + +"I don't know what we should do in the spring rush without your familiar +knowledge of the camp, Tom," Mr. Burton said. + +"I think he thinks more of the office than he does of the scouts," +Margaret ventured to observe. She was sitting alongside Mr. Burton's +desk awaiting his leisure, and Tom was standing awkwardly close by. + +"I suppose it's because they don't grow fast enough," Mr. Burton +laughed; "they can't keep up with him. To my certain knowledge young +Peewee, as they call him, hasn't grown a half an inch in two years. It +isn't because he doesn't eat, either, because I observed him personally +when I visited camp." + +"Oh, he eats _terrifically_," Margaret said. + +"I like the troop better than anything else," Tom said. + +"Well, I guess that's right, Tom," Mr. Burton observed; "old friends are +the best." + +He gathered up an armful of papers and handed them to Tom who went about +his duties. + +The day was long and the routine work tedious. The typewriter machine +rattled drowsily and continuously on, telling troops here and there that +they could have camp accommodations on this or that date. Tom pored over +the big map, jotting down assignments and stumblingly dictated brief +letters which Miss Ellison's readier skill turned out in improved form. + +He was sorry that it was not Friday so that he might go to troop meeting +that night. It was only Tuesday and so there were three long, barren +nights ahead of him, and to him they seemed like twenty nights. All the +next day he worked, making a duplicate of the big map for use at the +camp, but his fingers were not steady and the strain was hard upon his +eyes. He went home (if a hall-room in a boarding house may be called +home) with a splitting headache. + +On Wednesday he worked on the map and made the last assignment of tent +accommodations. Temple Camp was booked up for the season. It was going +to be a lively summer up there, evidently. One troop was coming all the +way from Idaho--to see Peewee Harris eat pie, perhaps. I can't think for +what other reason they would have made such a journey. + +"And _you_ will live in the pavilion in all your glory, won't you?" +Margaret teased him. "I suppose you'll be very proud to be assistant to +Uncle Jeb. I don't suppose you'll notice poor _me_ if I come up there." + +"I'll take you for a row on the lake," Tom said. That was saying a good +deal, for _him_. + +On Thursday he sent an order for fifteen thousand wooden plates, which +will give you an idea of how they eat at Temple Camp. He attended to +getting the licenses for the two launches and sent a letter up to old +Uncle Jeb telling him to have a new springboard put up and notifying him +that the woods property now belonged to the camp. It was a long slow day +and a longer, slower night. + +Once, and only once, since his return, he had tried the movies. The +picture showed soldiers in the trenches and the jerky scenes and figures +made his eyes ache and set his poor sick nerves on edge. Once he had +_almost_ asked Margaret if he might go over to East Bridgeboro and see +her. He was glad when Friday morning came, and the day passed quickly +and gayly, because of the troop meeting that night. He counted the hours +until eight o'clock. + +When at last he set out for the troop room he found that he had +forgotten his scout badge and went back after it. He was particular +always to wear this at meetings, because he wished to emphasize there, +that he was still a scout. He was always forgetting something these +days. It was one of the features of shell-shock. It was like a wound, +only you could not _see_ it.... + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +JUST NONSENSE + + +How should those scouts know that Tom Slade had been counting the days +and hours, waiting for that Friday night? They were not mind readers. +They knew that Tom Slade, big business man that he was, had much to +occupy him. + +And they too, had much to occupy them. For with the coming of Spring +came preparations for the sojourn up to camp where they were wont to +spent the month of August. At Temple Camp troops were ever coming and +going and there were new faces each summer, but the Bridgeboro Troop was +an institution there. It was because of his interest in this troop, and +particularly in Tom's reformation, that Mr. John Temple of Bridgeboro, +had founded the big camp in the Catskills. There was no such thing as +favoritism there, of course, but it was natural enough that these boys, +hailing from Mr. Temple's own town, where the business office of the +camp was maintained, should enjoy a kind of prestige there. Their two +chief exhibits (A and B) that is, Roy Blakeley and Peewee Harris +strengthened this prestige somewhat, and their nonsense and banter were +among the chief features of camp entertainment. + +Temple Camp without P. Harris, some one had once said, would be like +mince pie without any mince. And surely Peewee had no use for mince pie +without any mince. + +"Oh, look who's here!" Roy Blakeley shouted, as Tom quietly took a seat +on the long bench, which always stood against the wall. "Tomasso, as I +live! I thought you'd be down at the Opera House to-night." + +"I don't care thirty cents about the movies," Tom said, soberly. + +"You should say thirty-three cents, Tomasso," Roy shot back at him: +"don't forget the three cents war tax." + +"Are you going to play that geography game?" Tom asked hopefully. + +"Posilutely," said Roy; "we'll start with me. Who discovered America? +Ohio. Correct." + +"What?" yelled Peewee. + +"Columbus is in Ohio; it's the same thing--only different," said Roy; +"you should worry. How about it, Tomasso?" + +Tom was laughing already. It would have done Mr. Burton and Mr. +Ellsworth good to see him. + +"We were having a hot argument about the army, before you came in," +Connie Bennett said. "Peewee claims the infantry is composed of +infants...." + +"Sure," Roy vociferated, "just the same as the quartermaster is the man +who has charge of all the twenty-five cent pieces. Am I right, Lucky +Luke? Hear what Lucky Luke says? I'm right. Correct." + +"Who's going to boss the meeting to-night?" Doc Carson asked. + +"How about you, Tom?" Grove Bronson inquired. + +Tom smiled and shook his head. "I just like to watch you," said he. + +"It's your job," Doc persisted, "as long as Mr. Ellsworth is away." + +There was just the suggestion of an uncomfortable pause, while the +scouts, or most of them, waited. For just a second even Roy became +sober, looking inquiringly at Tom. + +"I'd rather just watch you," Tom said, uneasily. + +"He doesn't care anything about the scouts any more," Dorry Benton piped +up. + +"Since he's a magnet," Peewee shouted. + +"You mean a magnate," Doc said. + +"What difference does it make what I mean?" the irrepressible Peewee +yelled. + +"As long as you don't mean anything," Roy shouted. "Away dull care; +let's get down to business. To-morrow is Saturday, there's no school." + +"There's a school, only we don't go to it," Peewee shouted. + +"For that take a slap on the wrist and repeat the scout law nineteen +times backward," Roy said. "Who's going to boss this meeting? + +"I won't let anybody boss me," Peewee yelled. + +Roy vaulted upon the table, while the others crowded about, Tom all the +while laughing silently. This was just what he liked. + +"Owing to the absence of our beloved scoutmaster," Roy shouted, "and the +sudden rise in the world of Tomasso Slade, alias Lucky Luke, alias +Sherlock Nobody Holmes, and his unwillingness to run this show, because +he saw General Pershing and is too chesty, I nominate for boss and +vice-boss of this meeting, Blakeley and Harris, with a platform...." + +"We don't need any platform," Peewee shouted; "haven't we got the +table?" + +"It's better to stand on the table than to stand on ceremonies," Dorry +Benton vociferated. + +"Sure, or to stand on our dignity like Tomasso Slade," Westy Martin +shouted. + +"Put away your hammer, stop knocking," Doc said. "Are we going to hike +to-morrow or are we going to the city?" + +"Answered in the affirmative," Roy said. + +"Which are we going to do?" Peewee yelled. + +"We are!" shouted Roy. + +"Do we go to the city?" Doc asked seriously. + +"Posilutely," said Roy; "that's why I'm asking who's boss of this +meeting; so we can take up a collection." + +"All right, go ahead and be boss as long as you're up there," Connie +Bennett said, "only don't stand on the cake." + +"Don't slip on the icing," Westy shouted. + +"I'll slip on your neck if you don't shut up," Roy called. "If I'm boss, +I'd like to have some silence." + +"Don't look at me, _I_ haven't got any," Peewee piped up. + +"Thou never spak'st a truer word," Westy observed. + +"I would like to have a large chunk of silence," said Roy; "enough to +last for at least thirty seconds." + +"You'd better ask General Slade," said Doc; "he's the only one that +carries that article around with him." + +"How about that, Tommy?" Wig Weigand asked pleasantly. + +Tom smiled appreciatively, and seemed on the point of saying something, +but he didn't. + +There was one other scout, too, who made a specialty of silence in that +hilarious Bedlam, and that was a gaunt, thin, little fellow with streaky +hair and a pale face, who sat huddled up, apparently enjoying the +banter, laughing with a bashful, silent laugh. He made no noise +whatever, except when occasionally he coughed, and the others seemed +content to let him enjoy himself in his own way. His eyes had a singular +brightness, and when he laughed his white teeth and rather drawn mouth +gave him almost a ghastly appearance. He seemed as much of an odd number +as Tom himself, but not in the same way, for Tom was matter-of-fact and +stolid, and this little gnome of a scout seemed all nerves and repressed +excitement. + +"Let's have a chunk of silence, Alf," Roy called to him. + +"Go ahead," Doc shouted. + +"If there's going to be a collection, let's get it over with," Westy put +in. + +Roy, standing on the table, continued: + +"SCOUTS AND SCOUTLETS: + +"Owing to the high cost of silence, which is as scarce as sugar at these +meetings, I will only detain you a couple of minutes...." + +"Don't step on the cake," Doc yelled. + +"The object of this meeting is, to vote on whether we'll go into the +city to-morrow and get some stuff we'll need up at camp. + +"Artie has got a list of the things we need, and they add up to four +dollars and twenty-two cents. If each fellow chips in a quarter, we'll +have enough. Each fellow that wants to go has to pay his own railroad +fare--Alf is going with me, so he should worry. + +"I don't suppose that Marshall Slade will condescend and we should +worry. If we're going up to camp on the first of August, we'll have to +begin getting our stuff together--the sooner the quicker--keep still, +I'm not through. We were all saying how numbers look funny on scout +cabins--five, six, seven. It reminds you too much of school. Uncle Jeb +said it would be a good idea for us to paint the pictures of our patrol +animals on the doors and scratch off the numbers, because the way it is +now, the cabins all look as if they had automobile licenses, and he said +Daniel Boone would drop dead if he saw anything like that--Cabin B 26. +_Good night!_" + +"Daniel Boone is already dead!" shouted Peewee. + +"Take a demerit and stay after school," Roy continued. "So I vote that +we buy some paint and see if we can't paint the heads of our three +patrol animals on the three cabins. Then we'll feel more like scouts and +not so much like convicts. If we do that, it will be thirty cents each +instead of twenty-five." + +Before Roy was through speaking, a scout hat was going around and the +goodly jingle of coins within it, testified to the troops' enthusiasm +for what he had been saying. Tom dropped in three quarters, but no one +noticed that. He seemed abstracted and unusually nervous. The hat was +not passed to little Alfred McCord. Perhaps that was because he was +mascot.... + +[Illustration: TOM'S HAND CLUNG TO THE BACK OF THE BENCH. Tom Slade at +Black Lake--Page 44] + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +FIVE, SIX, AND SEVEN + + +Then Tom Slade stood up. Any one observing him carefully would have +noticed that his hand which clung to the back of the bench moved +nervously, but otherwise he seemed stolid and dull as usual. For just a +second he breathed almost audibly and bit his lip, then he spoke. They +listened, a kind of balm of soothing silence pervaded the room, because +he spoke so seldom these days. They seemed ready enough to pay him the +tribute of their attention when he really seemed to take an interest. + +"I got to tell you something," he said, "and maybe you won't like it. +Those three cabins are already taken by a troop in Ohio." + +"Which three?" Westy Martin asked, apparently dumbfounded. + +"Oh boy, suppose that was true!" Roy said, amused at the very thought of +such a possibility. + +"Which three?" Westy repeated, still apparently in some suspense. + +"Tomasso has Westy's goat," Roy laughed. + +"Look at the straight face he's keeping," Doc laughed, referring to Tom. + +"I might as well tell you the truth," Tom said. "I forget things +sometimes; maybe you don't understand. Maybe it was because I wasn't +here last year--maybe. But I didn't stop to think about those numbers +being your--our--numbers. Now I can remember. I assigned those cabins to +a troop in Ohio. They wanted three that were kind of separate from the +others and--and--I--I didn't remember." + +He seemed a pathetic spectacle as he stood there facing them, jerking +his head nervously in the interval of silence and staring amazement that +followed. There was no joking about it and they knew it. It was not in +Tom's nature to "jolly." + +"What do you mean, assigned them?" Connie asked, utterly nonplussed. +"You don't mean you gave our three cabins on the hill to another troop?" + +"Yes, I did," Tom said weakly; "I remember now. I'm sorry." + +For a moment no one spoke, then Dorry Benton said, "Do you mean that?" + +"I got to admit I did," Tom said in his simple, blunt way. + +"Well I'll be----" Roy began. Then suddenly, "You sober old grave +digger," said he laughing; "you're kidding the life out of us and we +don't know it. Let's see you laugh." + +But Tom did not laugh. "I'm sorry, because they were the last three +cabins," he said. "I don't know how I happened to do it. But you've got +no right to misjudge me, you haven't; only yesterday I told Mr. Burton I +liked the troop, you fellows, best----" + +Roy Blakeley did not wait for him to finish; he threw the troop book on +the table and stared at Tom in angry amazement. "All right," he said, +"let it go at that. Now we know where you stand. Thanks, we're glad to +know it," he added in a kind of contemptuous disgust. "Ever since you +got back from France I knew you were sick and tired of us--I could see +it. I knew you only came around to please Mr. Ellsworth. I knew you +forgot all about the troop. But I didn't think you'd put one like that +over on us, I'll be hanged if I did! You mean to tell me you didn't know +those three cabins were ours, after we've had them every summer since +the camp started? Mr. Burton will fix it----" + +"He can't fix it," Tom said; "not now." + +"And I suppose we'll have to take tent space," Connie put in. "Gee +williger, that's one raw deal." + +"But _you_ won't have to take tent space, will you?" Roy asked. "You +should worry about _us_--we're nothing but scouts--kids. We didn't go +over to France and fight. We only stayed here and walked our legs off +selling Liberty Bonds to keep you going. Gee whiz, I knew you were sick +and tired of us, but I didn't think you'd hand us one like that." + +"Don't get excited, Roy," Doc Carson urged. + +"Who's excited?" Roy shouted. "A lot _he_ has to worry about. He'll be +sleeping on his nice metal bed in the pavilion--assistant camp +manager--while we're bunking in tents if we're lucky enough to get any +space. Don't talk to _me_! I could see this coming. I suppose the +scoutmaster of that troop out in Ohio was a friend of his in France. We +should worry. We can go on a hike in August. It's little Alf I'm +thinking of mostly." + +It was noticeable that Tom Slade said not a word. With him actions +always spoke louder than words and he had no words to explain his +actions. + +"All I've got to say to _you_" said Roy turning suddenly upon him, "is +that as long as you care so much more about scouts out west than you do +about your own troop, you'd better stay away from here--that's all I've +got to say." + +"That's what I say, too," said Westy. + +"Same here," Connie said; "Jiminies, after all we did for you, to put +one over on us like that; I don't see what you want to come here for +anyway." + +"I--I haven't got any other place to go," said Tom with touching +honesty; "it's kind of like a home----" + +"Well, there's one other place and that's the street," said Roy. "We +haven't got any place to go either, thanks to you. You're a nice one to +be shouting home sweet home--you are." + +With a trembling hand, Tom Slade reached for his hat and fingering it +nervously, paused for just a moment, irresolute. + +"I wouldn't stay if I'm not wanted," he said; "I'll say good night." + +No one answered him, and he went forth into the night. + +He had been put out of the tenement where he had once lived with his +poor mother, he had been put out of school as a young boy, and he had +been put out of the Public Library once; so he was not unaccustomed to +being put out. Down near the station he climbed the steps of Wop Harry's +lunch wagon and had a sandwich and a cup of coffee. Then he went +home--if one might call it home.... + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +ROY'S NATURE + + +Roy Blakeley was a scout of the scouts, and no sooner had he got away +from the atmosphere of resentment and disappointment which pervaded the +troop room, then he began to feel sorry for what he had said. The +picture of Tom picking up his hat and going forth into the night and to +his poor home, lingered in Roy's mind and he lay awake half the night +thinking of it. + +He had no explanation of Tom's singular act, except the very plausible +one that Tom had lost his former lively interest in the troop, even so +much as to have forgotten about those three cabins to which they had +always seemed to have a prior right; which had been like home to them in +the summertime. + +When you look through green glass everything is green, and now Roy +thought he could remember many little instances of Tom's waning interest +in the troop. Naturally enough, Roy thought, these scout games and +preparations for camping seemed tame enough to one who had gone to +France and fought in the trenches. Tom was older now, not only in years +but in experience, and was it any wonder that his interest in "the kids" +should be less keen? + +And Roy was not going to let that break up the friendship. Loyal and +generous as he was, he would not ask himself why Tom had done that +thing; he would not let himself think about it. He and the other scouts +would get ready and go to camp, live in tents there, and have just as +much fun. + +So no longer blaming Tom, he now blamed himself, and the thing he blamed +himself for most of all was his angry declaration that Tom was probably +acquainted with the scoutmaster of that fortunate troop in Ohio. He knew +that must have cut Tom, for in his heart he knew Tom's blunt sense of +fairness. Whatever was the cause or reason of Tom's singular act it was +not favoritism, Roy felt sure of that. He would have given anything not +to have said those words. Lukewarm, thoughtless, Tom might be, but he +was not disloyal. It was no new friendship, displacing these old +friendships, which had caused Tom to do what he had done, Roy knew that +well enough. + +In the morning, unknown to any of the troop he went early to the bank +building to wait for Tom there, and to tell him that he was sorry for +the way he had spoken. + +But everything went wrong that morning, the trails did not cross at the +right places. Probably it was because Lucky Luke was concerned in the +matter. The fact is that it being Saturday, a short and busy day, Tom +had gone very early to the Temple Camp office and was already upstairs +when Roy was waiting patiently down at the main door. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +TOM RECEIVES A SURPRISE + + +When Tom reached the office, he found among the Temple Camp letters, one +addressed to him personally. It was postmarked Dansburg, Ohio, and he +opened it with some curiosity, for the former letters in this +correspondence had been addressed to Mr. Burton, as manager. His +curiosity turned to surprise as he read, + + DEAR MR. SLADE: + + In one of the little circulars of Temple Camp which you sent us, + your name appears as assistant to Mr. Burton in the Temple Camp + office. + + I am wondering whether you can be the same Tom Slade who was in the + Motorcycle Corps in France? If so, perhaps you will remember the + soldier who spent the night with you in a shell-hole near Epernay. + Do you remember showing me the Gold Cross and saying that you had + won it while a scout in America? I think you said you had been in + some Jersey Troop. + + If you are the same Tom Slade, then congratulations to you for + getting home safely, and I will promise my scouts that they will + have the chance this summer of meeting the gamest boy on the west + front. I suppose you will be up at the camp yourself. + + Send me a line and let me know if you're the young fellow whose arm + I bandaged up. I'm thinking the world isn't so big after all. + + + Best wishes to you, + WILLIAM BARNARD, + + Scoutmaster 1st Dansburg Troop, B.S.A., + Dansburg, Ohio. + +Tom could hardly believe his eyes as he read the letter. William +Barnard! He had never known that fellow's name, but he knew that the +soldier who had bandaged his arm (whatever his name was) had saved his +life. Would he ever forget the long night spent in that dank, dark +shell-hole? Would he ever forget that chance companion in peril, who had +nursed him and cheered him all through that endless night? He could +smell the damp earth again and the pungent atmosphere of gunpowder which +permeated the place and almost suffocated him. Directly over the +shell-hole a great British tank had stopped and been deserted, locking +them in as in a dungeon. And when he had recovered from the fumes, he +had heard a voice speaking to him and asking him if he was much hurt. + +William Barnard! + +And he had given the three cabins on the hill to Scoutmaster Barnard's +troop in Dansburg, Ohio. + +No one but Tom had arrived at the office and for just a few moments, +standing there near Miss Ellison's typewriter and with the prosy letter +files about, he was again in France. He could hear the booming of the +great guns again, see the flashes of fire.... + +He sat down and wrote, + + DEAR MR. BARNARD: + + I got your letter and I am the same Tom Slade. I was going to ask + you where you lived in America so I could know you some more when we + got back, but when the doctors came to take me away, I didn't see + you anywhere. I had to stay in the hospital three weeks, but it + wasn't on account of my arm, because that wasn't so bad. It was the + shell-shock that was bad--it makes you forget things even after you + get better. + + I was sorry early this morning that I gave you those cabins, because + they're the same ones that my own troop always used to have, and it + was a crazy thing for me to forget about that. But now I'm glad, + because I have thought of another scheme. I thought of it while I + was lying in bed last night and couldn't sleep. So now I'm glad you + have those cabins. And you bet I'm glad you wrote to me. It's funny + how things happen. + + Maybe you'll remember how I thought I was going to die in that hole, + and you said how we could dig our way out with your helmet, because + if a fellow _has_ to do something he can do it. I'm glad you said + that, because I thought about it last night. And thinking of that + made me decide I would do something. + + I would like it if you will write to me again before summer, and you + can send your letters care of Temple Camp, Black Lake. + + When you come, you bet I'll be glad to see you. + + Your friend, + TOM SLADE. + +When Tom had sealed and stamped this letter, he laid the other one on +Miss Margaret Ellison's desk, thinking that she might be interested to +read it. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +TOM AND ROY + + +Anxious that his letter should go as soon as possible, Tom went down in +the elevator and was about to cross the street and post it when he ran +plunk into Roy, who was waiting on the steps. + +"Good night, look who's here," Roy said, in his usual friendly tone; "I +might have known that you were upstairs. You've got the early bird +turning green with envy." + +"I always come early Saturdays," Tom said. + +"I want to tell you that I'm sorry about the way I spoke to you last +night, Tom," Roy spoke up. "I see now that it wasn't so bad. I guess you +have a whole lot to do up in the office, and maybe you just forgot about +how we always had the hill cabins. You can't do _everything_ you want +to do, gee I realize that." + +"I can do anything I want to do," Tom said. + +Roy looked at him as if he did not quite understand. + +"Going back on people isn't the way to square things," Tom said. "You +got to make things right without anybody losing anything. There's always +two ways, only you've got to find the other one." + +Roy did not quite understand the drift of his friend's talk, it was not +always easy to follow Tom, and indeed he did not care much what Tom +meant; he just wanted him to know that their friendship had not been +wrecked--could not be wrecked by any freakish act of Tom's. + +"I don't care thirty cents what anybody says," Tom said; "I got to be +fair." + +"I'm not mad, you old grouch," Roy said, "and you should say sixty +cents, because the price of everything is double. We should worry. I was +waiting here to meet you so as to tell you that I don't know why you +did that and I don't care. People have done crazier things than that, I +should hope. We can bunk in tents, all right. So don't be sore, Tomasso. +I'm sorry I said what I did and I know perfectly well that you just +didn't think. You don't suppose I really meant that I thought you knew +anybody in that troop out in Ohio, do you? I just said it because I was +mad. Gee whiz, I know you wouldn't give anybody the choice before +_us_--before your own fellows. I was mad because I was disappointed. But +now I know how maybe you were all kind of--you know--rattled on account +of being so busy. + +"I ain't mad," said Tom, in his dull, stolid way; "I got to go across +the street and mail this letter." + +"And you'll come to meeting next Friday night?" Roy asked, anxiously. + +"I don't know," Tom said. + +"And I'm going to tell the fellows that you assigned five, six, and +seven, to that Ohio troop just because you were thinking about +something else when you did it, and that you didn't know anything more +about those fellows than if they were the man in the moon," Roy paused a +moment. "Did you?" he said conclusively. + +"You can tell them whatever you want to," Tom said. "You can tell them +that I didn't know anything about them if you want to. I don't care what +you tell them." + +Roy paused, hardly knowing what to say. In talking with Tom one had to +get him right just as a wrestler must get his victim right and Roy knew +that he must watch his step, so to speak. + +"You can tell them they won't lose anything," Tom said. + +"They'll lose something all right if they lose _you_, Tomasso," Roy +said, with a note of deep feeling in his voice. "But we're not going to +lose you, I can tell you that. They think you have no use for the scouts +any more, because you met so many people in France, and know a lot of +grown-up people." + +"Is that what they think?" Tom asked. + +They both stepped aside for Margaret Ellison, the Temple Camp +stenographer, to pass in, and spoke pleasantly with her until she had +entered the elevator. + +"I don't care what they think," Roy said; "a scout is observant. Can't I +see plain enough that you have your pioneer scout badge on? That shows +you're thinking about the scouts." + +"I put it on for a reason," said Tom. + +"You bet your life you did," Roy said, "and it shows you're a scout. +Once a scout, always a scout; you can't get away from that, Tomasso." + +"Maybe you'll find that out," Tom said, his meaning, as usual, a little +cloudy. + +"I don't have to find it out, Tom," Roy said. "Don't you suppose I know +where you stand? Do you think I'll ever forget how you and I hiked +together, and how we camped up on my lawn together, when you first got +to be a scout--do you think I will? I always liked you better than any +fellow, gee whiz, that's sure. And I know you think more of us than you +do of any one else, too. Don't you?" + +"I got to go and mail this letter," Tom said. + +"First you've got to say that you're for the scouts first, last and +always," said Roy gayly, and standing in his friend's path. + +Tom looked straight at him, his eyes glistening. + +"Do you have to ask me that?" he said. + +And then was when the trails went wrong, and didn't cross right and come +out right. Roy went up in the elevator to get some circulars from Temple +Camp office, and Tom, on his way back from across the street went into +the bank to speak with Mr. Temple's secretary. And the girl spoiled +everything, as Peewee Harris always said that girls are forever doing. + +She was in a great hurry to get the cover off her machine and other +matters straightened out, before Mr. Burton came in, so she did not +trouble herself to talk much with Roy. She did, however, think to call +after him just as he was leaving and he heard her words, with a kind of +cold chill, as he stepped into the elevator. + +She called to him in her sweetest tone, "Isn't it too funny! A +scoutmaster, named Barnard, from out in Ohio who is going to be up at +camp knew Tom in France. Won't they have a perfectly _scrumptious_ +vacation together, talking about old times?" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE LONG TRAIL + + +"You can tell them whatever you want to. You _can tell them that I +didn't know anything about them_ if you want to. I don't care what you +tell them." These were the words that rang in Roy Blakeley's mind as he +went down in the elevator, and they made him sick at heart. That Tom had +so much forgotten about the troop, _his_ troop, as to assign their three +cabins to strangers--that Roy could overlook. He could not understand +it, but in his fondness for Tom, he could overlook it, as his talk with +Tom had proved. + +But that Tom should lie to him and make him a party to that lie by +authorizing him to repeat it, that he could not forget or forgive. "_You +can tell them that I did not know anything about them if you want to_." +And all the while he, Tom, had known this Barnard, or whatever his name +was, and had fixed things so that he and Barnard might be together at +Temple Camp. Barnard was a grown-up fellow, Roy told himself, and a +soldier, and he didn't exactly blame Tom, but.... + +And then their trails crossed again, right there at the foot of the +elevator shaft, where Tom was waiting to go up. + +Roy's first impulse was to brush past his friend saying nothing, but +when he had all but reached the door he wheeled about and said, "If you +want to hand out any lies to the troop, you'd better do it yourself; I'm +not going to do it for you." + +"What?" said Tom, a little startled out of his usual stolid manner. + +"Oh, you know what, all right," Roy answered sneeringly. "You thought +I'd never find out, didn't you? You didn't think I'd go up to the +office. You thought you'd get away with it and have me lying to the +troop--the fellows that used to be your friends before you met Barnyard +or whatever you call him. I know who he is, all right. If you wanted to +give him our cabins, him and his troop, why didn't you come and say so? +Gee whiz, we would have been willing to do them a good turn. We've +camped in tents before, if it comes to that." + +Tom stood perfectly motionless, with no more expression, either of anger +or sorrow or surprise, than he usually showed. His big, tight set, +resolute mouth was very conspicuous, but Roy did not notice that. The +elevator came down, and the metallic sound of its door opening was +emphasized in the tense silence which followed Roy's tirade. + +"Going up," the colored boy said. + +The door rolled shut and still Tom Slade stood there, stolid and without +any show of emotion, looking straight at Roy. "I didn't ever tell a +lie--not since I got in with the scouts," he said simply. + +"Well, that makes two," said Roy mercilessly; "do you mean to tell me +you don't know what's-his-name--Barnard? Will you stand there and say +you don't know him?" + +"I do know him," Tom said; "he saved my life in France." + +"And didn't you tell me only ten minutes ago that I could tell the +fellows that you didn't know anything about--about that troop--about him +and his troop? Didn't you? Do you deny that you did? You told me I could +go back and lie to the fellows--you did! If you think I'll do that +you've got another guess, I can tell you that much!" + +"I never told you you should lie," said Tom with straightforward +simplicity, "and I admit I forgot about the cabins. I was away two +summers. I had a lot of different things to think about. I got +shell-shocked the very same night I met that fellow, and that's got +something to do with it, maybe. But I wouldn't stand here, I wouldn't, +and try to prove that I didn't tell a lie. If you want to think I did, +go ahead and think so. And if the rest of the troop want to think so, +let them do it. If anybody says I forgot about the scouts, he lies. And +you can tell them they won't lose anything, either; you can tell them I +said so. I ain't changed. Didn't I--didn't I ride my motorcycle all the +way from Paris to the coast--through the floods--didn't I? Do you think +it's going to be hard to make everything right? I--I can do anything--I +can. And I didn't lie, either. You go up to Temple Camp on the first of +August like you--like we--always did; that's all _I_ say." + +He was excited now, and his hand trembled, and Roy looked at him a bit +puzzled, but he was neither softened nor convinced. "Didn't you as much +as say you didn't know anything about who made that application--didn't +you?" Roy demanded. + +"I said it good and plain and you can go and tell them so, too," Tom +said. + +"And you do know this fellow named Barnard, don't you?" + +"I know him and he saved my life," Tom said, "and if you----" + +"Going up," the colored boy called again. + +And the young fellow, scout and soldier, who would not bother to prove +his truthfulness to his old companion and friend, was gone. He had hit +his own trail in his own way, as he usually did; a long devious, +difficult, lonesome trail. The clearly defined trail of the sidewalk +leading to the troop room, where a few words of explanation might have +straightened everything out, was not the trail for Tom Slade, scout. He +would straighten things out another way. He would face this thing, not +run away from it, just as he had set his big resolute mouth and faced +Pete Connigan. They would lose nothing, these boys. Let them think what +they might, they would lose nothing. To be falsely accused, what was +that, provided these boys lost nothing? That was all that counted. What +difference did it make if they thought he had lied and deceived them, so +long as _he_ knew that he had not? + +And what a lot of fuss about three cabins! Had he not the power to +straighten out his own mistake in the best possible way--the scout way? +And how was that? By going to Mr. Burton and taking the matter up and +perhaps causing disappointment to those boys out in Ohio, for the sake +of these boys in Bridgeboro? Robbing Peter to pay Paul? + +Perhaps Mr. Burton would have done that, under all the circumstances. +Perhaps Mr. John Temple, head of the whole shebang, would have approved +this--under the circumstances. Perhaps the average clerk would have +proposed this; would have suggested hitting this convenient little +trail, about as short and prosy as a back alley. All you need on that +trail is a typewriter machine. Perhaps Tom Slade was not a good clerk. +His way out of the difficulty was a longer and more circuitous way. But +it was the scout way. He was a scout and he hit the long trail. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +ROY'S TRAIL + + +As for Roy, he went home feeling heavy of heart, but he was not sorry +for what he had said. He had known that Tom had been slipping away from +the troop and that his interest in the old associations had waned ever +since his return from France. But that Tom should have lied to him and +that he should use Temple Camp and that old beloved spot up on the hill +for new friends, deliberately giving them precedence over these +companions of his real scouting days--_that_ Roy could not stand. And he +told himself that he was through with Tom, even as Tom was through with +the troop. + +The trail of Roy and his friends is short and easy to follow, and it is +not the main trail of this story. It took them into the city where they +bought a tent, (not a very large one, for they could not get together +much money), but big enough to bunk in and enable them to spend their +vacation at the beloved, familiar spot. He said that "he should worry +about that fellow Barnard," and that he guessed Tom's fondness for that +individual was like Peewee's fondness for mince pie--a case of love at +first bite. But did he forget about Tom, and miss him at the meetings? + +We shall have to guess as to that. Tom was seldom mentioned, at all +events. The first member of the Bridgeboro troop to outgrow his +companions and turn his thoughts to new friends and associates had +broken away from the hallowed circle and deserted them, and repudiated +them with a lie on his lips; that was what the scouts said, or at least, +thought. They had seen it coming, but it had hurt just the same. + +And so the days went by, and the breath of Spring grew heavier in the +air, and the dandelions sprang up in the field down by the river, and +tree blossoms littered the sidewalks, and the frogs began croaking in +the marshes. When the frogs begin croaking it is time to think of camp. + +But Tom Slade, late of the scouts, was ahead of the dandelions and the +blossoms and the frogs, for on that very day of his talk with Roy, and +while the three patrols were off on their shopping bee in the city, he +went into Mr. Burton's private office and asked if he might talk to him +about an idea he had. + +"Surest thing you know, Tommy," said his superior cheerily. "You want to +go to the North Pole now?" + +For Mr. Burton knew Tom of old. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE REALLY HARD PART + + +"Maybe you'll remember how you said this would just be a kind of an +experiment, my starting to work again in the office, and maybe it would +turn out to be better for me to go away in the country," said Tom. + +"Yes sir," said Mr. Burton, with prompt good nature intended to put Tom +at his ease. + +"I was wondering if maybe you could keep a secret," Tom said. + +"Well, I could make a stab at it," Mr. Burton said, laughing. + +"Do you think Margaret could?" Tom asked. + +"Oh, I dare say, but you know how girls are. What's the trouble?" + +"I want to go away," Tom said; "I can't do things right and I want to go +away. I'm all the time forgetting." + +"I think you're doing fine," said Mr. Burton. + +"I want to go up to Temple Camp until I feel better," Tom said. + +Mr. Burton scrutinized him shrewdly and pursed up his lips and said, +"Don't feel first rate, eh?" + +"I get rattled awful easy and I don't remember things," Tom said. "I +want to go up to camp and stay all alone with Uncle Jeb, like you said I +could if I wanted to." + +Again Mr. Burton studied him thoughtfully, a little fearfully perhaps, +and then he said, "Well, I think perhaps that would be a very good +thing, Tom. You remember that's what I thought in the first place. You +made your own choice. How about the secret?" + +"It isn't anything much, only I thought of something to do while I'm up +there. I got to square myself. I gave the troop cabins to a troop out +west----" + +"Well, I was wondering about that, my boy; but I didn't want to say +anything. You'll have Roy and Peewee and those other gladiators sitting +on your neck, aren't you afraid?" + +"They got no use for me now," Tom said. + +"Oh, nonsense. We'll straighten that out. You send a letter----" + +"The scoutmaster of that troop out west is a friend of mine," said Tom, +"but I never knew it until this morning, when I got a letter from him. +They think I did it because I knew it was him all the time and liked him +better, but I don't care what they think as long as nobody loses +anything; that's all I care about. So if you'd be willing," he continued +in his dull, matter-of-fact way, as if he were asking permission to go +across the street, "I'd like to go up and stay at Temple Camp before the +season opens and fell some of those trees on the new woods property and +put up three cabins on the hill for Roy and the troop to use when they +get there. I wouldn't want anybody to know I'm doing it." + +"What?" said Mr. Burton. + +"I want to go up there and stay and put up three cabins," said Tom +dully. + +"Humph," said Mr. Burton, sitting back and surveying him with amused and +frank surprise. "How about the difficulties?" + +"That's the only thing," Tom said; "I was thinking it all over, and the +only difficulty I can think about is, would Margaret keep it a secret +until the work is done, and you too. They think I'm not a scout any +more, and I'm going to show them. If you think I can't do it, you ask +Pete, the janitor. And if I straighten things out that way nobody'll get +left, see? The hard part is really _your_ part--keeping still and making +her keep still." + +"I see," said Mr. Burton, contemplating the stolid, almost +expressionless face of Tom, and trying not to laugh outright. + +"My part is easy," said Tom. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A LETTER FROM BARNARD + + +When Tom reached Temple Camp he found a letter awaiting him there. It +was stuck up among the antlers of Uncle Jeb's moose head which hung in +the old camp manager's cabin. He found Uncle Jeb alone in his glory, and +mighty glad to see him. + +It was characteristic of the old western scout and trapper whom Mr. +Temple had brought from Arizona, that he was never surprised at +anything. If a grizzly bear had wandered into camp it would not have +ruffled him in the least. He would have surveyed it with calm, shrewd +deliberation, taken his corncob pipe out of his mouth, knocked the ashes +out of it, and proceeded to business. If the grizzly bear had been one +of the large fraternity who believe in "safety first" he would have +withdrawn immediately upon the ominous sound of old Uncle Jeb's pipe +knocking against the nearest hard substance. Uncle Jeb, like Uncle Sam, +moved slowly but very surely. + +It was not altogether uncommon for some nature loving pilgrim to drop in +at camp out of season, and such a one was always sure of that easy-going +western welcome. But if all the kings and emperors in the world (or such +few of them as are left) had dropped in at camp, Uncle Jeb Rushmore +would have eyed them keenly, puffed some awful smoke at them, and said, +"Haow doo." He liked people, but he did not depend on them. The lake and +the trees and the wild life talked to him, and as for human beings, he +was always glad of their company. + +It was also characteristic of Uncle Jeb that no adventurous enterprise, +no foolhardy, daredevil scheme, ever caused him any astonishment. Mr. +Burton, engrossed in a hundred and one matters of detail and routine had +simply laughed at Tom's plan, and let him go to Temple Camp to discover +its absurdity, and then benefit by the quiet life and fresh air. It +would have been better if Tom had been sent up there long before. He had +humored him by promising not to tell, and he was glad that this crazy +notion about the cabins had given Tom the incentive to go. He had +believed that Tom's unfortunate error could be made right by the +romantic expedient of a postage stamp. Mr. Burton was not a scout. And +Tom Slade was the queerest of all scouts. + +So now Uncle Jeb removed his pipe from his mouth, and said, "Reckoned +you'd make a trip up, hey?" + +"I'm going to stay here alone with you until the season opens," Tom +said; "I got shell-shocked. I ain't any good down there. I assigned our +three cabins to a troop in Ohio. So I got to build three more and have +'em ready by August first. I'm going to build them on the hill." + +"Yer ain't cal'latin' on trimming yer timbers much are yer?" Uncle Jeb +asked, going straight to the practical aspects of Tom's plan. + +"I'm going to put them up just like the temporary cabins were when the +camp first opened," Tom said. + +"Ye'll find some of them same logs under the pavilion," Uncle Jeb said; +"enough for two cabins, mebbe. Why doan't you put up four and let that +Peewee kid hev one all by hisself?" + +"Do you think I can do it in six weeks?" Tom asked. + +"I've seed a Injun stockade throwed up in three days," Uncle Jeb +answered. "Me'n General Custer throwed up Fort Bendy in two nights; that +wuz in Montanny. Th' Injuns thought we wuz gods from heaven. But we +wuzn't no gods, as I told the general; leastways _I_ was'n, n'never wuz. +But I had a sharp axe. + +"I knew I could do it," Tom said, "but I wanted it to be a stunt, as you +might say." + +"'Tain't no stunt," Uncle Jeb said. "Who's writin' yer from out in Ohio? +I see the postmark. 'Tain't them kids from out Dayton way, I hope?" + +Tom opened the letter and read aloud: + + DEAR TOM: + + When I save a fellow's life I claim the right to call him by his + first name, even if I've never seen him. If anybody ever tells me + again that the world is a big place, I'll tell them it's about the + size of a shell-hole, no bigger, and that's small enough, as you and + I know. All I can say is, "Well, well!" And you're the same Thomas + Slade! + + And the funny part of it is, we wouldn't know each other if we met + in the street. That's because we met in a shell-hole. I tried to + hunt you up along the line, made inquiries in the hospital at + Rheims, and tried to get a line on you from the Red Cross and + Y.M.C.A. Nothing doing. Somebody told me you were in the Flying + Corps. I guess I must have fainted while they were taking you away. + Anyway, when I woke up I was in a dressing station, trying to get my + breath. I asked what became of you and nobody seemed to know. One + said you were in the Messenger Service. When I left France I didn't + even know you were alive. + + And now you turn up in Temple Camp office and tell me to write you + at Temple Camp. What are you doing up there before the season opens, + anyway? I bet you're there for your health. + + Do you know what I'm thinking of doing? I'm thinking of making a + trip to camp and looking over our dug-outs and seeing what kind of a + place you have, before I bring my scouts. How would that strike you? + I've got three patrols and take it from me, they're a bigger job + than winning the war. They're all crazy for August first to arrive. + + Well, Tommy old boy, I'm glad I've met you at last. I have a hunch + you're kind of tall, with gray eyes and curly hair. Am I right? I'm + about medium height and very handsome. Hair red--to suggest the + camp-fire. + + I don't know whether my scouts will let me off for a week or two, + but my boss wants me to take a good rest before I knuckle down to + work. I'm off for August anyway. Don't expect me before that, but if + I should show up on a surprise raid, don't drop dead. I may go over + the top some fine day and drop in on you like a hand grenade. Are + you there all alone? + + Write me again and let's get acquainted. I'd send you a photo, only + I gave my girl the last one I had. + + So long, + BILLY BARNARD, + Scoutmaster. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE EPISODE IN FRANCE + + +Uncle Jeb smoked his pipe leisurely, listening to this letter. "Kind of +a comic, hey?" he said. "I reckon ye'd like to hev 'em come. Hain't +never seed each other, hey?" + +Tom was silent. The letter meant more to him than Uncle Jeb imagined. It +touched one of the springs of his simple, stolid nature, and his eyes +glistened as he glanced over it again, drinking in its genial, friendly, +familiar tone. So he had at least one friend after all. Cut of all that +turmoil of war, with its dangers and sufferings, had come at least one +friend. The bursting of that shell which had seemed to shake the earth, +and which had shattered his nerves and lost him Roy and all those +treasured friends and comrades of his boyhood, had at least brought him +one true friend. He had never felt the need of a friend more than at +that very moment. The cheery letter seemed for the moment, to wipe out +the memory of Roy's last words to him, that he was a liar. And it +aroused his memories of France. + +"Maybe you might like to hear about it," he said to Uncle Jeb, in his +simple way. "Kind of, now it makes me think about France. I wouldn't +blame the scouts for not having any use for me--I wouldn't blame +Roy--but anyway, it was that shell that did it. If you say so I'll start +a camp-fire. That's what always makes me think about the +scouts--camp-fire. Maybe you'll say I was to blame. Anyway, they won't +lose anything. And when they come I'll go back home, if they want me to. +That's only fair. Anyway, I like Temple Camp best of all." + +"Kinder like home, Tommy," Uncle Jeb said. + +The sun was going down beyond the hills across the lake and flickering +up the water and casting a crimson glow upon the wooded summits. The +empty cabins, and the boarded-up cooking shack, shone clear and sharp +in the gathering twilight. High above, a great bird soared through the +dusk, hastening to its home in the mountains, where Silver Fox trail +wound its way up through the fastness, and where Tom and Roy had often +gone. And the memory of all these fond associations gripped Tom now, and +he had to tighten his big ugly mouth to keep it from showing any tremor +of weakness. + +"Maybe it won't be as easy as Uncle Jeb thinks," he said to himself, +"but anyway, I'll be here and I won't be interfering with them, and I'll +get the cabins finished and I'll go away before they come. They'll have +to like Billy Barnard, that's sure; and maybe he'll tell them about my +not knowing who he was until after I gave them the cabins. They'll all +be on the hill together and they'll have to be friends...." + +Yes, they would all be on the hill together, save one, and they would be +friends and there would be some great times. They would all hike up the +mountain trail, all save one, and see Devil's Pool up there. Tom hoped +that Roy would surely show Barnard and his troop that interesting +discovery which he and Roy had made. The hard part was already attended +to--making Margaret and Mr. Burton keep still. And, as usual, Lucky +Luke's part was the easiest part of all--just building three cabins and +going away. It was a cinch. + +"Shall I build a camp-fire?" he asked of Uncle Jeb. + +And so, in the waning twilight, Tom Slade, liar and forgetter of his +friends, built a camp-fire, on this first night of his lonely sojourn at +Temple Camp. And he and Uncle Jeb sat by it as the night drew on apace, +and it aroused fond memories in Tom, as only a camp-fire has the magic +to do, and stilled his jangling nerves and made him happy. + +"In about a month there'll be a hundred fellows sitting around one like +this," he said. + +"En that Peewee kid'll be trying to defend hisself agin Roay's +nonsense," Uncle Jeb remarked. + +"I ain't going to stay to be assistant camp manager this season," Tom +said; "I'm going back to work. I'm having my vacation now. I kind of +like being alone with you." + +"What is them shell-holes?" Uncle Jeb asked. "Yer got catched into one, +huh?" + +And then, for the first time since Tom had returned from France, he was +moved to tell the episode which he had never told the scouts, and which +he had always recalled with agitation and horror. Perhaps the camp-fire +and Uncle Jeb's quiet friendliness lulled him to repose and made him +reminiscent. Perhaps it was the letter from Barnard. + +"That's how I got shell-shocked," he repeated. "When you get +shell-shocked it doesn't show like a wound. There's a place named +Veronnes in France. A German airman fell near there. It was pretty near +dark and it was raining, but anyhow I could just see him fall. I could +see him falling down through the dark, like. I was on my way back to the +billets for relief. I had to go through a marsh to get to that place +where he fell. I thought I'd sink, but I didn't. + +"When I got there I saw his machine was all crumbled up, and he was all +mixed up with the wires and he was dead. I was going to give him first +aid if he wasn't. But anyway, he was dead. So then I searched him and he +had a lot of papers. Some of them were maps. I knew it wouldn't be any +use to take them to billets, because the wires were all down on account +of the rain. So I started through the marshes to get into the road to +Rheims. Those marshes are worse than the ones we have here. Sometimes I +had to swim. It took me two hours, I guess. Anyway, if you _have_ to do +a thing you can do it. + +"When I got to the road it was easy. I knew that road went to Rheims +because when I was in the Motorcycle Service I knew all the roads. +Pretty soon I got to a place where a road crossed it and there were some +soldiers coming along that road. I kept still and let them pass by and +they didn't see me. I knew there were more coming and I could hear the +sound of tanks coming, too. Maybe they were coming back from an attack. + +"All of a sudden everything seemed bright and I saw a fellow right close +to me and then there was a noise that made my ears ring and dirt flew in +my face and I heard that fellow yell. As soon as I took a couple more +steps I stumbled and fell into a place that was hot--the earth was hot, +just like an oven. That was a new shell-hole I was in. + +"I just lay there and my arm hurt and my ears buzzed and there was a +funny kind of a pain in the back of my neck. That's how shell-shock +begins. I heard that fellow say, 'Are you all right?' I couldn't speak +because my throat was all trembling, like. But I could feel my sleeve +was all wet and my arm throbbed. I heard him say, 'We must have had our +fingers crossed.' Because you know how kids cross their fingers when +they're playing tag, so no one can tag them? The way he says things in +this letter sounds just like the way he said. He's happy-go-lucky, that +fellow, I guess. + +"There was a piece of the shell in there and it was red hot and by that +he saw my arm was hurt, and he bandaged it with his shirt. He saw my +scout badge that I wore and he asked me my name. That's all he knows +about me. Pretty soon something that made a lot of noise moved right +over the hole and I guess it got stuck there. He said it must be a tank +that got kind of caught there. Pretty soon I could hardly breathe, but I +could hear him hollering and banging with a stone or something up +against that thing. I heard him say we could dig our way out with his +helmet. Pretty soon I didn't know anything. + +"The next thing I knew there was fresh air and people were carrying +me on a stretcher. When I tried to call for that fellow it made me +sob--that's the way it is when you're shell-shocked. You wring your +hands, too. Even--even--now--if I hear a noise----" + +Tom Slade broke down, and began wringing his hands, and his face which +shone in the firelight was one of abject terror. And in another moment +he was crying like a baby. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +ON THE LONG TRAIL + + +That night he bunked in Uncle Jeb's cabin, and slept as he had not slept +in many a night. In the morning his stolid, stoical nature reasserted +itself, and he set about his task with dogged determination. Uncle Jeb +watched him keenly and a little puzzled, and helped him some, but Tom +seemed to prefer to work alone. The old man knew nothing of that +frightful malady of the great war; his own calm, keen eyes bespoke a +disciplined and iron nerve. But his kindly instinct told him to make no +further reference to the war, and so Tom found in him a helpful and +sympathetic companion. Here at last, so it seemed, was the medicine that +poor Tom needed, and he looked forward to their meals, and the quiet +chats beside their lonely camp-fire, with ever-growing pleasure and +solace. + +He hauled out from under the porch of the main pavilion the logs which +had been saved from the fire that had all but devastated the camp during +its first season, and saved himself much labor thereby. These he wheeled +up the hill one by one in a wheelbarrow. There were enough of these logs +to make one cabin, all but the roof, and part of another one. + +When Tom had got out the scout pioneer badge which Roy had noticed on +him, it had been by way of defying time and hardship and proclaiming his +faith in himself and his indomitable power of accomplishment. As the +work progressed it became a sort of mania with him; he was engrossed in +it, he lived in it and for it. He would right his wrong to the troop by +scout methods if he tore down the whole forest and killed himself. That +was Tom Slade. + +Up on the new woods property, which included the side of the hill away +from the camp, he felled such trees as he needed, hauling them up to the +summit by means of a block and falls, where he trimmed them and notched +them, and rolled or pried them up into place. At times whole days would +be spent on that further slope of the hillside and Uncle Jeb, busy with +preparations for the first arrivals, could not see him at all, only hear +the sound of his axe, and sometimes the pulleys creaking. He did not go +down into camp for lunch as a rule, and spent but a few minutes eating +the snack which he had brought with him. + +At last there came a day when five cabins stood upon that isolated +hilltop which overlooked the main body of the camp, and Tom Slade, +leaning upon his axe like Daniel Boone, could look down over the more +closely built area, with its more or less straight rows of cabins and +shacks, and its modern pavilion. Five cabins where there had been only +three. They made a pleasant, secluded little community up there, far +removed from the hustle and bustle of camp life. "No wonder they like it +up here," he mused; "the camp is getting to be sort of like a village. +They'll have a lot of fun up here, those two troops, and it's a kind of +a good turn how I bring them together. Nobody loses anything, this way." + +True--nobody but Tom Slade. His hands were covered with blisters so that +he must wind his handkerchief around one of them to ease the chafing of +the axe handle. His hair was streaky and dishevelled and needed cutting, +so that he looked not unlike one of those hardy pioneers of old. And +now, with some of the rough material for the last cabin strewn about him +and with but two weeks in which to finish the work, he was confronted +with a new handicap. The old pain caused by the wound in his arm +returned, and the crippled muscles rebelled against this excessive +usage. Well, that was just a little obstacle in the long trail; he would +put the burden on the other arm. "I'm glad I got two," he said. + +He tried to calculate the remainder of the work in relation to the time +he had to do it. For of one thing he was resolved, and that was to be +finished and gone before those two troops arrived, the troop from the +west and his own troop from Bridgeboro. They were to find these six +cabins waiting for them. Everything would be all right.... + +He mopped his brow off, and rewound the handkerchief about his sore +hand. The fingers smarted and tingled and he wriggled them to obtain a +little relief from their cramped condition. He buttoned up his flannel +shirt which he always left wide open when he worked, and laid his axe +away in one of the old familiar cabins. It chanced to be one in which he +and Roy had cut their initials, and he paused a moment and glanced +wistfully at their boyish handiwork. Then he went down. + +As he passed through Temple Lane he saw that Uncle Jeb had been busy +taking down the board shutters from the main pavilion--ominous reminder +of the fast approaching season. Soon scouts would be tumbling all over +each other hereabouts. The springboard had been put in place at the +lake's edge, too, and a couple of freshly painted rowboats were bobbing +at the float, looking spick and glossy in the dying sunlight. Temple +Camp was beginning to look natural and familiar. + +"I reckon it'll be a lively season," Uncle Jeb said, glancing about +after his own strenuous day's work. "Last summer most of the scouts was +busy with war gardens and war work and 'twas a kind of off season as you +might say. I cal'late they'll come in herds like buffaloes this summer." + +"Every cabin is booked until Columbus Day," Tom said; "and all the tent +space is assigned." + +"Yer reckon to finish by August first?" Uncle Jeb asked. + +"I'd like to finish before anybody comes," Tom said; "but I guess I +can't do that. I'll get away before August first, that's sure. You have +to be sure to see that 5, 6 and 7 go to my troop, and the new ones to +the troop from Ohio. You can tell them it's a kind of a surprise if you +want to. You don't need to tell 'em who did it. It's nice up there on +that hill. It's a kind of a camp all by itself. Do you remember that +woodchuck skin you gave Roy? It's hanging up there in the Silver Fox's +cabin now." + +"What's the matter with your hand?" Uncle Jeb inquired. + +"It's just blistered and it tingles," Tom said. "It's from holding the +axe." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +TOM LETS THE CAT OUT OF THE BAG + + +While they were having supper in Uncle Jeb's cabin, Tom hauled out of +his trousers pocket a couple of very much folded and gather crumbled +pieces of paper. + +"Will you keep them for me?" he asked. "They're Liberty Bonds. They get +all sweaty and crumpled in my pocket. They're worth a hundred dollars." + +Mr. Burton had more than once suggested that Tom keep these precious +mementos of his patriotism in the safe, but there was no place in all +the world in which Tom had such abiding faith as his trouser side +pockets, and he had never been able to appreciate the inappropriateness +of the singular receptacle for such important documents. There, at +least, he could feel them, and the magic feel of these badges of his +wealth was better than lock and key. + +"Keep them for me until I go away," he said. + +Uncle Jeb straightened them out and placed them in his tin strong box. + +"Yer ain't thinkin' uv stayin' on, then?" he queried. + +"Not after I'm finished," Tom said. + +"Mayn't change yer mind, huh?" + +"I never change my mind," Tom said. + +"I wuz thinkin' haow yer'd be lendin' me a hand," Uncle Jeb ventured. + +"I'm going back to work," Tom said; "I had my vacation." + +"'Tain't exactly much of a vacation." + +"I feel better," Tom said. + +Uncle Jeb understood Tom pretty well, and he did not try to argue with +him. + +"Be kinder lonesome back home in Bridgebory, huh? With all the boys up +here?" he ventured. + +"I'm going to buy a motor-boat," Tom confided to him, "and go out on the +river a lot. A fellow I know will sell his for a hundred dollars. I'm +going to buy it." + +"Goin' ter go out in it all alone?" + +"Maybe. I spent a lot of time alone. There's a girl I know that works in +the office. Maybe she'll go out in it. Do you think she will?" + +"Golly, it's hard sayin' what them critters'll do," Uncle Jeb said. +"Take a she bear; you never can tell if she'll run for you or away from +you." + +Tom seemed to ponder on this shrewd observation. + +"Best thing is ter stay up here whar yer sure yer welcome," the old man +took occasion to advise him. + +"One thing I'm sorry about," Tom said, "and that is that Barnard didn't +come. I guess I won't see him." + +"He might come yet," Uncle Jeb said; "and he could give yer a hand." + +"I'd let him," Tom said, "'cause I'm scared maybe I won't get finished +now." + +"I'm comin' up ter give yer a hand myself to-morrer," Uncle Jeb said, +"and we'll see some chips fly, I reckon. Let's get the fire started." + +Uncle Jeb was conscious of a little twinge of remorse that he had not +helped his lonely visitor more, but his own duties had taken much of his +time lately. He realized now the difficulties that Tom had encountered +and surmounted, and he noticed with genuine sympathy that that dogged +bulldog nature was beginning to be haunted with fears of not finishing +the work in time. + +Moreover, in that little talk, Tom had revealed, unwittingly, the two +dominant thoughts that were in his mind. One was the hope, the anxiety, +never expressed until now, that Barnard would come, and perhaps help +him. He had been thinking of this and silently counting on it. + +The other was his plan for buying a motor-boat, with his hundred or some +odd precious dollars, and spending his lonely spare time in it, for the +balance of the summer, back in Bridgeboro. He was going to ask a girl he +knew, the _only_ girl he knew, to go out in it. And he was doubtful +whether she would go. + +These, then, were his two big enterprises--finishing the third cabin and +taking "that girl" out in the motor-boat which he would buy with his two +Liberty Bonds. And away down deep in his heart he was haunted by doubts +as to both enterprises. Perhaps he would not succeed. He still had his +strong left arm, so far as the last cabin was concerned, and he could +work until he fell in his tracks. But the girl was a new kind of an +enterprise for poor Tom. + +His plan went further than he had allowed any one to know. + +Uncle Jeb, shrewd and gentle as he was saw all this and resolved that +Tom's plans, crazy or not, should not go awry. He would do a little +chopping and log hauling up on that hill next day. Old Uncle Jeb never +missed his aim and when he fixed his eye on the target of August first, +it meant business. + +Then, the next morning, he was summoned by telegram to meet Mr. John +Temple in New York and discuss plans for the woods property. + +So there you are again--Lucky Luke. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE SPECTRE OF DEFEAT + + +So Tom worked on alone. He made his headquarters on the hill now, seldom +going down into the main body of the camp, and worked each day from +sunrise until it was too dark to see. Then he would build himself a +camp-fire and cook his simple meal of beans and coffee and toasted +crackers, and turn in early. + +Every log for this last cabin had to be felled and trimmed of its +branches, and hauled singly up the hillside by means of the rope and +pulleys. Then it had to be notched and rolled into place, which was not +easy after the structure was two or three tiers high. + +Building a log cabin is essentially a work for two. The logs which +flanked the doorway and the window had to be cut to special lengths. +The rough casings he made at night, after the more strenuous work of the +day was done, and this labor he performed by the light of a single +railroad lantern. The work of building the first two cabins had been +largely that of fitting together timbers already cut, and adjusting old +broken casings, but he was now in the midst of such a task as confronted +the indomitable woodsmen of old and he strove on with dogged +perseverance. Often, after a day's work which left him utterly exhausted +and throbbing in every muscle, he saw only one more log in place, as the +result of his laborious striving. + +Thus a week passed, and almost two, and Jeb Rushmore did not return, and +Tom knew that the next Saturday would bring the first arrivals. Not that +he cared so much for that, but he did not see his way clear to finishing +his task by the first of August, and the consciousness of impending +defeat weighed heavily upon him. He must not be caught there with his +saw and axe by the scouts who had repudiated him and who believed him a +deserter and a liar. + +He now worked late into the night; the straining of the taut ropes and +the creaking of the pulleys might have been heard at the lake's edge as +he applied the multiple power of leverage against some stubborn log and +hauled it up the slope. Then he would notch and trim it, and in the +morning, when his lame and throbbing arm was rested and his shoulder +less sore after its night's respite, he would lift one end of it and +then the other on his shoulder and so, with many unavailing trials +finally get it lodged in place. He could not get comfortable when he +slept at night, because of his sore shoulders. They tormented him with a +kind of smarting anguish. And still Uncle Jeb did not return. + +At last, one night, that indomitable spirit which had refused to +recognize his ebbing strength, showed signs of giving way. He had been +trying to raise a log into place and its pressure on his bruised +shoulder caused him excruciating pain. He got his sleeping blanket out +of the cabin which he occupied and laid it, folded, on his shoulder, but +his weary frame gave way under the burden and he staggered and fell. + +When he was able to pull himself together, he gathered a few shavings +and built a little pyramid of sticks over them, and piling some larger +pieces close by, kindled a blaze, then spreading his blanket on the +ground, sat down and watched the mounting tongues of flame. Every bone +in his body ached. He was too tired to eat, even to sleep; and he could +find no comfort in the cabin bunk. Here, at least, were cheerfulness and +warmth. He drew as close to the fire as was safe, for he fancied that +the heat soothed the pain in his arm and shoulders. And the cheerful +crackling of the blaze made the fire seem like a companion.... + +And then a strange thing happened. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE FRIEND IN NEED + + +Standing on the opposite side of the fire was a young fellow of about +his own age, panting audibly, and smiling at him with an exceedingly +companionable smile. In the light of the fire, Tom could see that his +curly hair was so red that a brick would have seemed blue by comparison, +and the freckles were as thick upon his pleasant face as stars in the +quiet sky. Moreover, his eyes sparkled with a kind of dancing +recklessness, and there was a winning familiarity about him that took +even stolid Tom quite by storm. + +The stranger wore a plaid cap and a mackinaw jacket, the fuzzy texture +of which was liberally besprinkled with burrs, which he was plucking off +one by one, and throwing into the fire in great good humor. + +"I'm a human bramble bush," he said; "a few more of them and I'd be a +nutmeg grater. I'm not conceited but I'm stuck up." + +"I didn't see you until just this minute," Tom said; "or hear you +either. I guess you didn't come by the road. I guess you must have come +by the woods trail to get all those burrs on you." + +For just a moment the stranger seemed a trifle taken aback, but he +quickly regained his composure and said, "I came in through the stage +entrance, I guess. I can see you're an A-1 scout, good at observing and +deducing and all that. I bet you can't guess who I am." + +"I bet I can," said Tom, soberly accepting the challenge; "you're +William Barnard. And I'm glad you're here, too." + +"Right the first time," said the stranger. "And you're Thomas Slade. At +last we have met, as the villain says in the movies. You all alone? +Here, let's get a squint at your mug," he added, sitting on the blanket +and holding Tom's chin up so as to obtain a good view of his face. + +Tom's wonted soberness dissolved under this familiar, friendly +treatment, and he said with characteristic blunt frankness, "I'm glad +you came. You're just like I thought you were. I hoped all the time that +you'd come." + +"_Get out!_" said Barnard, giving him a bantering push and laughing +merrily. "I bet you never gave me a thought. Well, here I am, as large +as life, larger in fact, and now that I'm here, what are you going to do +with me? What's that; a light?" he added, glancing suddenly down to the +main body of the camp. + +"It's just the reflection of this fire in the lake," Tom said; "there +isn't anybody but me in camp now. The season is late starting. I guess +troops will start coming Saturday." + +"Yes?" said his companion, rather interested, apparently. "Well, I don't +suppose they'll bother us much if we stick up here. What are you doing, +building a city? The last time we met was in a hole in the ground, hey? +Buried alive; you remember that? Little old France!" + +"I don't want to talk about that," Tom said; "when I told Uncle Jeb +about it, it made me have a headache afterwards. I don't want to think +about that any more. But I'm mighty glad to see you, and I hope you'll +stay. It seems funny, kind of, doesn't it?" + +Prompt to avail himself of Tom's apparent invitation to friendly +intercourse, his companion lay flat on his back, clasped his hands over +his head and said, "As funny as a circus. So here we are again, met once +more like Stanley and Livingstone in South Africa. And do you know, you +look just like I thought you'd look. I said to myself that Tom Slade has +a big mouth--determined." + +"I never thought how you'd look," Tom said soberly; "but I said you were +happy-go-lucky, and I guess you are. I bet your scouts like you. Can you +stay until they come?" + +"They're a pack of wild Indians, but they think I'm the only baby in the +cradle." + +"I guess they're right," Tom said. + +"So you're all alone in camp, hey? And making your headquarters up here? +Nice and cosy, hey? Remote and secluded, eh? That's the stuff for me. I +tell my scouts, 'Keep away from civilization.' The further back you get +the better. Guess they won't bother you up here much, hey? Regular +hermit's den. No, I'm just on a flying visit, that's all. Came to New +York on biz, and thought I'd run up and give the place the once over. I +might loaf around a week or two if you'll let me. Suppose I _could_ stay +until the kids get here, if it comes to that; _my_ kids, I mean. After +all it would be just a case of beating it back to Ohio and then beating +it back here with them." + +"You might as well stay here now you're here; I hope you will," Tom +said. "As long as you're here I might as well tell you why _I'm_ here, +all alone." + +"Health?" + +"Kind of, but not exactly," Tom said. "These three cabins, the old +ones--that one, and that one, and that one," he added, pointing, "are +the ones my troop always had. But I forgot all about it and gave them to +your troop. That got them sore at me. Maybe I could have fixed it for +them, but that would have left you fellows without any cabins, because +all the cabins down below are taken for August. So I came up here to +build three more; that way, nobody'll get left. They don't know I'm +doing it. I only got about two weeks now. I guess I can't finish because +my arm is lame, on account of that wound--_you_ know. And my shoulder is +sore. I wanted to go away before they come--I got reasons." + +His companion raised himself to a sitting posture, clasped his hands +over his knees, and glanced about at the disordered scene which shone in +the firelight. "So that's what you've been up to, hey?" he said. + +"When I told you in my letter to address your letters here, that's what +I was thinking about," Tom said. "Your troop and my--that other--troop +will be good friends, I guess. I'm going home when I get through and +I'm going to buy a motor-boat." + +"Well--I'll--be--jiggered!" his friend said. "Thomas Slade, you're an +old hickory-nut." + +"It was just like two trails," Tom said, "and I hit the long one." + +"And you're still in the bush, hey? Well, now you listen here. Can I +bunk up here with you? All right-o. Then I'm yours for a finished job. +Here's my hand. Over the top we go. On July thirty-first, the flag +floats over this last cabin. I'm with you, strong as mustard. Building +cabins is my favorite sport. You can sit and watch me. I'm here to +finish that job with you--what do you say? Comrades to the death?" + +"You can help," said Tom, smiling. + +"That's me," said Billy Barnard. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +TOM'S GUEST + + +Tom liked his new acquaintance immensely, but he did not altogether +understand him. His apparently reckless and happy-go-lucky temperament +and his breezy manner, were very attractive to sober Tom, but they +seemed rather odd in a scoutmaster. However, he could think of no good +reason why a scoutmaster should not have a reckless nature and a breezy +manner. Perhaps, he thought, it would be well if more scoutmasters were +like that. He thought that returned soldiers must make good +scoutmasters. He suspected that scoutmasters out west must be different. +Of one thing he felt certain, and that was that the scouts in William +Barnard's troop must worship him. If he was different from some +scoutmasters, perhaps this could be accounted for by the fact that he +was younger. Tom suspected that here was just the kind of scoutmaster +that the National Organization was after--one with pep. On the whole, he +thought that William Barnard was a bully scoutmaster. + +At all events he seemed to be pretty skillful at woodcraft. The next +morning he set to work in real earnest and Tom took fresh hope and +courage from his strenuous partner. + +"This is _your_ job," his friend would say; "all I'm doing is helping; +sort of a silent partner, as you might say." + +But for all that he worked like a slave, relieving Tom of the heavier +work, and at night he was dog tired, as he admitted himself. Thus the +work went on, and with the help of his new friend, Tom began to see +light through the darkness. "We'll get her finished or bust a trace," +Barnard said. They bunked together in one of the old cabins and Tom +enjoyed the isolation and the pioneer character of their task. Relieved +of the tremendous strain of lifting the logs alone, his shoulder +regained some of its former strength and toughness, and the confidence +of success in time cheered him no less than did the amusing and +sprightly talk of his friend. + +Barnard had not been there two days when his thoughtfulness relieved Tom +of one of the daily tasks which had taken much time from his work. This +was to follow the trail down the hillside and through the woods to where +it ran into the public road and wait there for the mail wagon to pass +and get the letters. "I'll take care of that," he said, as soon as Tom +answered his inquiry as to how mail was received at camp, "don't you +worry. I have to have my little hike every day." + +There was quite an accumulation of mail when Uncle Jeb, looking strange +and laughable in his civilized clothes, as Barnard called them, arrived +on Saturday morning. The bus, which brought him up from Catskill, +brought also the advance guard of the scout army that would shortly +over-run the camp. + +These dozen or so boys and Uncle Jeb strolled up to visit the camp on +the hill, and Uncle Jeb, as usual, expressed no surprise at finding that +Tom's visitor had come. "Glad ter see yer," he said; "yer seem like a +couple of Robinson Crusoes up here. Glad ter see yer givin' Tommy a +hand." + +"I got a right to say he's my visitor, haven't I?" Tom asked, without +any attempt at hinting. "'Cause I knew him, as you might say, over in +France. We catch fish in the brook and we don't use the camp stores +much." + +"Wall, naow, I wouldn' call this bein' in the camp at all; not yet, +leastways," Uncle Jeb said, including the stranger in his shrewd, +friendly glance. "Tommy, here, is a privileged character, as the feller +says. En your troop's coming later, hain't they? I reckon we won't put +you down on the books. You jes stay here with Tommy till he gets his +chore done. You're visitin' him ez I see it. Nobody's a goin' ter bother +yer up here." + +So there was one troublesome matter settled to Tom's satisfaction. He +had wanted to consider Barnard as his particular guest on their +hillside retreat and not as a pay guest at the camp. He was glad for +what Uncle Jeb had said. But he was rather surprised that Barnard had +not protested against this hospitality. What he was particularly +surprised at, however, was a certain uneasiness which this scoutmaster +from the west had shown in Uncle Jeb's presence. But it was nothing +worth thinking about, certainly, and Tom ceased to think about it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +AN ACCIDENT + + +The time had now come when each day brought new arrivals to the camp, +and August the first loomed large in the near future. It was less than a +week off. The three new cabins stood all but completed, and thanks to +the strenuous and unfailing help of his friend from the West, Tom knew +that his scout dream of atonement was fulfilled. + +"When they get here," he said to Uncle Jeb, "just tell them that they +are to bunk in the cabins up on the hill. Barnard will be here to meet +his own troop, and he'll take them up to the new cabins. Roy and the +fellows will like Barnard, that's sure. It'll be like a kind of a little +separate camp up on the hill; two troops--six patrols." + +"En yer ain't a goin' ter change yer mind en stay, Tommy?" + +"Nope," said Tom; "I don't want to see them. I'm going down Thursday. +They'll all be here Saturday, I suppose." + +In those last days of the work, little groups of scouts would stroll up +from the main body of the camp to watch the progress of the labor, but +the novelty of this form of entertainment soon passed, for the big camp +had too many other attractions. In those days of hard work, Tom's liking +for his friend had ripened into a feeling of admiring affection, which +his stolid but generous nature was not slow to reveal, and he made the +sprightly visitor his confidant. + +One night--it might have been along about the middle of the week--they +sprawled wearily near their camp-fire, chatting about the work and about +Tom's future plans. + +"One thing, I never could have finished it without you," Tom said, "and +I'm glad you're going to stay, because you can be a kind of scoutmaster +to both troops. I bet you'll be glad to see your own fellows. I bet +you'll like Roy, too, and the other fellows I told you about. Peewee +Harris--you'll laugh at him. He has everybody laughing. Their own +scoutmaster, Mr. Ellsworth, is away, so it'll be good, as you might say, +for them to have you. One thing I like about you, and that is you're not +always talking about the law, and giving lectures and things like that. +You're just like another fellow; you're different from a lot of +scoutmasters. You're not always talking about the handbook and good +turns and things." + +His companion seemed a bit uncomfortable but he only laughed and said, +"Actions speak louder than words, don't they, Tommy? We've _lived_ it, +and that's better, huh?" + +"That's mostly the only thing that makes me wish I was going to stay," +Tom said; "so's I'd know you better. I bet you'll keep those fellows on +the jump; I bet you won't be all the time preaching to them. Mostly, the +way my troop comes is across the lake. They hike up from Catskill +through the woods. If your troop comes on the afternoon train, maybe +both troops will come up through the woods together, hey? I'd like to +see some of those scouts of yours. I bet they're crazy about you. You +never told me much about them." + +"We've been building cabins, Tommy, old boy." + +"Yes, but now the work is nearly finished, all we have to do is clear +up, and I'd like to hear something about your troop. Have they got many +merit badges?" + +"'Bout 'steen. Look here, Tommy boy; I think the best thing for you to do +is to forget your grouch at Ray, or Roy, or whatever you call him, and +just make up your mind to stay right here. This job you've done----" + +"You mean _we_," Tom interrupted. + +"Well, _we_, then--it's going to wipe out all hard feeling and +everything is going to be all hunk. You'll make a better scoutmaster to +the whole bunch than I will. I'm better at work than I am at discipline, +Tom. I can't pull that moral suasion bunk at all. I'm pretty nifty at +swinging an axe, but I'm weak on the good turn and duty stuff." + +"You did _me_ a good turn, all right," Tom said, with simple gratitude +in his tone. + +"But I mean the big brother stuff," his companion said; "I'm not so much +of a dabster at that. You're the one for that--you're a scoutologist." + +"A what?" Tom said. + +"A scout specialist. One who has studied scoutology. You're the one to +manage, what's-his-name, Peewee? And that other kid--Ray----" + +"Roy," Tom corrected him. + +"I was in hopes you'd weaken and decide to stay and we'd--they'd--elect +you generalissimo of the allied troops, like old Foch." + +Tom only shook his head. "I don't want to be here," he said; "I don't +want to be here when they come. After they see the cabins you can tell +them how I didn't know who you were until long after I--I made the +mistake. They'll admit that this was the only thing for me to do; +they'll admit it when they know about it. The only thing is, that I +thought about it before they did, that's all. You got to admit it's the +scout way, 'cause a scout wouldn't try to sneak out of anything the easy +way." + +"I don't know if it's the scout way," his companion said, "but it's the +Tom Slade way." + +"I got to be thankful I was a scout," Tom observed. + +"I think the scouts have to be thankful," his friend said, with a note +of admiration ringing in his voice. + +"They thought I forgot how to be a scout," Tom said. "Now they'll see." + +Barnard raised himself to a sitting posture, clasped his hands over his +knees, in that attitude which had come to be characteristic of him about +their lonely camp-fire, and glanced about at the results of Tom's long, +strenuous, lonesome labors. And he thought how monotonous it must have +been there for Tom through those long days and nights that he had spent +alone on that isolated hilltop. As he glanced about him, the completed +work loomed large and seemed like a monument to the indomitable will and +prowess of this young fellow who seemed to him so simple and +credulous--almost childlike in some ways. He wondered how Tom could ever +have raised those upper logs into their places. It seemed to him that +the trifling instance of thoughtlessness which was the cause of all this +striving, was nothing at all, and in no way justified those weeks of +wearisome labor. A queer fellow, he thought, was this Tom Slade. There +was the work, all but finished, three new cabins standing alongside the +other three, and all the disorder of choppings and bits of wood lying +about. + +He glanced at Tom Slade where he sat near him by the fire, and noticed +the torn shirt, the hand wrapped in a bandage, the bruised spot on that +plain, dogged face, where a chunk of wood had flown up and all but +blinded him. He noticed that big mouth. The whimsical thought occurred +to him that this young fellow's face was, itself, something like a knot +of wood; strong and stubborn, and very plain and homely. And yet he was +so easily imposed upon--not exactly that, perhaps, but he was simple +withal, and trusting and credulous.... + +"If I get back before Saturday I can see that fellow," Tom said, "and +buy his boat. He comes home early Saturday afternoons. He said I could +have it for a hundred dollars if I wanted it. I got twenty-five dollars +more than I need." + +"You're rich. And the girl; don't forget _her_. She's worth more than a +hundred and twenty-five." + +"I'm going to give her a ride in it Sunday, maybe," Tom said. + +For a few minutes neither spoke, and there was no sound but the +crackling of the blaze and the distant voices of scouts down on the +lake. "You can hear them plain up here," Tom said; "are your scouts fond +of boating?" + +Still his companion did not speak. + +"Well, then," he finally said; "if you're going Thursday that means you +go to-morrow. I was going to try to talk you into changing your mind, +but just now, when I was piking around, and taking a squint at the work +and at your face, I saw it wouldn't be any use. I guess people don't +influence you much, hey?" + +"Roy Blakeley influenced me a lot." + +"Well then," said Barnard, "let's put the finishing touch on this job +while both of us are here to do it. What do you say? Shall we haul up +the flagpole?" + +The shortest way down the hill in the direction of the new property was +across a little gully over which they had laid a log. This was a +convenient way of going when there was no burden to be borne. The +hauling and carrying were done at a point some hundred feet from this +hollow. In the woods beyond, they had cut and hewn a flagstaff and since +two could easily carry it, Barnard's idea was that this should be done +then, so that he might have Tom's assistance. + +With Barnard, to think was to act, he was all impulse, and in two +seconds he was on his feet and headed for their makeshift bridge across +the gully. Tom followed him and was startled to see his friend go +tumbling down into the hollow fully three feet from where the log lay. +Before Tom reached the edge a scream, as of excruciating pain, arose, +and he lost not a second in scrambling down into the chasm, where his +companion lay upon the rocks, holding his forehead and groaning. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +FRIENDS + + +"Take your hand off your forehead," Tom said, trying gently to move it +against the victim's will; "so I can tell if it's bad. Don't be scared, +you're stunned that's all. It's cut, but it isn't bleeding much." + +"I'm all right," Barnard said, trying to rise. + +"Maybe you are," Tom said, "but safety first; lie still. Can you move +your arms? Does your back hurt?" + +"I don't want any doctor," Barnard said. + +"See if you can--no, lie still; see if you can wiggle your fingers. I +guess you're just cut, that's all. Here, let me put my handkerchief +around it. You got off lucky." + +"You don't call _that_ lucky, do you?" Barnard asked. "My head aches +like blazes." + +"Sure it does," said Tom, feeling his friend's pulse, "but you're all +right." + +[Illustration: TOM HELPED BARNARD TO THEIR CABIN. Tom Slade at Black +Lake--Page 134] + +"I got a good bang in the head," said Barnard; "I'll be all right," he +added, sitting up and gazing about him. "Case of look before you leap, +hey? Do you know what I did?" + +"You stepped on the shadow instead of the log," Tom said. "I was going +to call to you, but I thought that as long as you're a scout you'd know +about that. It was on account of the fire--the way it was shining. +That's what they call a false ford----" + +"Well, the next time I hope there'll be a Maxwell or a Packard there +instead," Barnard said in his funny way. + +"A false ford is a shadow across a hollow place," Tom said. "You see +them mostly in the moonlight. Don't you remember how lots of fellows +were fooled like that, trying to cross trenches. The Germans could make +it look like a bridge where there wasn't any bridge--don't you +remember?" + +"_Some_ engineers!" Barnard observed. "Ouch, but my head hurts! Going +down, hey? I don't like those shadow bridges; it's all a matter of +taste, I suppose. Oh boy, how my head aches!" + +"If it was broken it wouldn't ache," said Tom consolingly, "or you +wouldn't know it if it did. Can you get up?" + +"I can't go up as quick as I came down," Barnard said, sitting there and +holding his head in a way that made even sober Tom smile, "but I guess I +can manage it." + +He arose and Tom helped him through the gully to where it petered out, +and so to their cabin. Barnard's ankle was strained somewhat, and he had +an ugly cut on his forehead, which Tom cleansed and bandaged, and it +being already late, the young man who had tried walking on a shadow +decided that he would turn in and try the remedy of sleep on his +throbbing head. + +"Look here, Slady," he said, after he was settled for the night, "I've +got your number, you old grouch. I know what it means when you get an +idea in your old noddle, so please remember that I don't want any of +that bunch from down below up here, and I don't want any doctor. See? +You're not going to pull any of that stuff on me, are you? Just let me +get a night's sleep and I'll be all right. I'm not on exhibition. I +don't want anybody up here piking around just because I took a double +header into space. And I don't want any doctors from Leeds or Catskill +up here, either. Get me?" + +"If you get to sleep all right and don't have any fever, you won't need +any doctor," Tom said; "and I won't go away till you're all right." + +"You're as white as a snowstorm, Slady," his friend said. "I've had the +time of my life here with you alone. And I'm going to wind up with you +alone. No outsiders. Two's a company, three's a mob." + +Something, he knew not what, impelled sober, impassive Tom to sit down +for a few moments on the edge of the bunk where his friend lay. + +"Red Cross nurse and wounded doughboy, hey?" his friend observed in that +flippant manner which sometimes amused and sometimes annoyed Tom. + +"I liked it, too, being here alone with you," Tom said, "even if it +hadn't been for you helping me a lot, I would have liked it. I like you +a whole lot. I knew I'd like you. I used to camp with Roy Blakeley up on +his lawn and it reminded me of that, being up here alone with you. After +I've gone, you'll mix up with the fellows down in the camp, but anyhow, +you'll remember how we were up here alone together, I bet. You bet I'll +remember that--I will." + +Barnard reached out his hand from under the coverings and grasped Tom's +hand. "You're all there, Tommy," he said. "And you won't remember how I +got on your nerves, and how I tried walking on a shadow, and----" + +Tom did not release his friend's hand, or perhaps it was Barnard who did +not release Tom's. At all events, they remained in that attitude, hands +clasped, for still a few moments more. "Only the _good_ things about me, +hey, Tommy boy?" his friend asked. + +"I don't know any other kind of things," Tom said, "and if I heard any I +wouldn't believe them. I always said your scouts must think a lot of +you. I think you're different from other scoutmasters. You can _make_ +people like you, that's sure." + +"Sure, eh?" + +"It's sure with _me_ anyway," Tom said. + +"Resolution, determination, friendship--all _sure_ with _you_. Hey, +Tommy boy? Because you're built out of _rocks_. Bridges, they may be +nothing but shadows, hey? According to you, you can't depend on half of +them. I wonder if it's that way with friendships, huh?" + +"It ain't with mine," Tom said simply. + +And still Barnard clung to Tom's hand. "Maybe we'll test it some day, +Slady old boy." + +"There's no use testing a thing that's sure," Tom said. + +"Yes?" + +And still Barnard did not release his hand.' + +"It's funny you didn't know about false fords," Tom said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +TOM GOES ON AN ERRAND + + +Tom had intended to go down into camp for a strip of bandage and to see +Uncle Jeb, but since Barnard was so averse to having his mishap known +and to having visitors, he thought it better not to go down that night. +He did not like the idea of not mentioning his friend's accident to the +old camp manager. Tom had not been able to rid himself of a feeling that +Uncle Jeb did not wholly approve of the sprightly Barnard. He had no +good reason for any such supposition, but the feeling persisted. It made +him uncomfortable when occasionally the keen-eyed old plainsman had +strolled up to look things over, and he was always relieved when Uncle +Jeb went away. Tom could not for the life of him, tell why he had this +feeling, but he had it just the same. + +So now, in order not to rouse his friend, who seemed at last to have +dozed off, he lingered by the dying embers of their fire. As the last +flickerings of the blaze subsided and the yellow fragments turned to +gray, then black, it seemed to Tom as if this fire symbolized the +petering out of that pleasant comradeship, now so close at hand. In his +heart, he longed to wait there and continue this friendship and be with +Roy and the others, as he had so often been at the big camp. + +He had grown to admire and to like Barnard immensely. It was the liking +born of gratitude and close association, but it was the liking, also, +which the steady, dull, stolid nature is apt to feel for one who is +light and vivacious. Barnard's way of talking, particularly his own +brand of slang, was very captivating to sober Tom, who could do big +things but not little things. He had told himself many times that +Barnard's scouts "must be crazy about him." And Barnard had laughed and +said, "They _must_ be crazy if they like _me_...." + +"He says I'm queer," Tom mused, "but he's queer, too, in a way. I guess +a lot of people don't understand him. It's because he's happy-go-lucky. +It's funny he didn't know about shadow bridges, because it's in the +handbook." Then Tom couldn't remember whether it was in the handbook or +not.... "Anyway, he's got the right idea about good turns," he +reflected. "I met lots of scouts that never read the handbook; I met +scoutmasters, too...." + +And indeed there were few scouts, or scoutmasters either, who had +followed the trail through the handbook with the dogged patience of Tom +Slade. He had mastered scouting the same as he had mastered this job. + +Barnard was pretty restive that night, tossed on his bunk, and +complained much of his head aching. "It feels like an egg being beaten +by an egg beater," he said; "I'm off the shadow bridge stuff for good +and all. It throbs to the tune of _Over There_." + +Tom thought this must be pretty bad--to throb to the tune of _Over +There_. He had never had a headache like that. + +"If you could only fall asleep," Tom said. + +"Well, I guess I will; I'm pretty good at falling," his friend observed. +"I fell for you, hey Slady? O-h-h! My head!" + +"It's the same with me," said Tom. + +"You got one too? _Good night!_" + +"I mean about what you were saying--about falling for me. It's the same +with me." + +"Same here, Slady; go to bed and get some sleep yourself." + +It was two or three o'clock in the morning before the sufferer did get +to sleep, and he slept correspondingly late. Tom knew that the headache +must have stolen off and he felt sure that his companion would awaken +refreshed. "I'll be glad because then I won't have to get the doctor," +he said to himself. He wished to respect Bernard's smallest whim. + +Tom did not sleep much himself, either, and he was up bright and early +to anticipate his friend's waking. He tiptoed out of the cabin and +quietly made himself a cup of coffee. It was one of those beautiful +mornings, which are nowhere more beautiful than at Temple Camp. The +soft breeze, wafting the pungent fragrance of pines, bore also up to +that lonely hilltop the distant clatter of dishes and the voices of +scouts from the camp below. The last patches of vapor were dissolving +over the wood embowered lake, and one or two early canoes were already +moving aimlessly upon its placid bosom. A shout and a laugh and a sudden +splash, sounding faint in the distance, told him that some uninitiated +new arrivals were diving from the springboard before breakfast. They +would soon be checked in that pastime, Tom knew. + +From the cooking shack where Chocolate Drop, the camp's famous cook, +held autocratic sway and drove trespassing scouts away with a deadly +frying pan, arose a graceful column of smoke which was carried away off +over the wooded hills toward Leeds. Pretty soon Chocolate Drop would +need _two_ deadly frying pans, for Peewee Harris was coming. + +Tom knew that nothing had been heard from the Bridgeboro scouts since +Uncle Jeb had told him definitely that they were scheduled to arrive on +the first, as usual. He knew that no other letter had come, because all +the camp mail had passed through his hands. It had come to be the +regular custom for Barnard to rise early and follow the secluded trail +down to the state road where the mail wagon passed. He had early claimed +it as his own job, and Tom, ever anxious to please him, had let him do +this while he himself was gathering wood and preparing breakfast. +"Always hike to work out west and can't get out of the habit," Barnard +had said. "Like to hobnob with the early birds and first worms, and all +that kind of stuff. Give me a lonesome trail and I'm happy--take one +every morning before breakfast, and after retiring. How about that, old +Doctor Slade?" + +Old Doctor Slade had thought it was a good idea. + +But this morning his friend was sleeping, and old Doctor Slade would not +waken him. He tiptoed to the cabin and looked cautiously within. Barnard +was sleeping the sleep of the righteous--to quote one of his own +favorite terms. The bandage had slipped down from his forehead, and +looked not unlike a scout scarf about his neck. A ray of early sunlight +slanted through the crack between the logs and hit him plunk in the +head, making his curly red hair shine like a red danger signal. He was +sound asleep--dead to the wicked world--as he was himself fond of +saying. + + Early to bed and early to rise, + And you won't meet any regular guys. + +As Tom paused, looking at him, he thought of that oft repeated +admonition of his friend. He knew Barnard never meant that seriously. +That was just the trouble--he was always saying things like that, and +that was why people would never understand him and give him credit.... +But Tom understood him, all right; that was what he told himself. "I got +to laugh at him, that's sure," he said. Then he bethought him, and out +of his simple, generous nature, he thought, "Didn't he say actions speak +louder than words? That's what counts." + +He tiptoed over to where that ray of sunlight came in, and hung his +coat over the place. The shiny brightness of Barnard's hair faded, and +the cabin was almost dark. Tom got his cap, and turning in the doorway +to make sure his friend's sleep was undisturbed, picked his way +carefully over the area of chips and twigs where most of the trimming +had been done, and started down through the wooded hillside toward the +trail which afforded a short-cut to the state road. + +Once, and once only he paused, and that was to glance at a ragged hollow +in the woods where a tree had been uprooted in some winter storm. It +reminded him of the very day that Barnard had arrived, for it was after +a discouraging afternoon with that stubborn old trunk that he had +retraced his steps wearily to his lonesome camp and met the visitor who +had assisted him and beguiled the lonesome days and nights for him ever +since. Barnard, willing and ready, had sawed through that trunk the next +morning. "Say nothing, but saw wood; that's the battle cry, Slady," he +had cheerfully observed, mopping the perspiration from his brow. + +And now, as Tom looked into that jagged hollow, his thoughts went even +further back, and he thought how it was in some such earthen dungeon as +this that he and Barnard had first seen each other--or rather, met. +Barnard had thoughtfully refrained from talking of those things which +were still so agitating and disturbing to poor Tom, but Tom thought of +it now, because his stolid nature was pierced at last, and his heart was +overflowing with gratitude to this new friend, who twice had come to his +rescue--here on the isolated hillside on the edge of the beloved camp, +and over there, in war torn France. + +"You bet _I_ understand him all right," said Tom. "Even if he talks a +lot of crazy nonsense, he can't fool me. You bet _I_ know what he is, +all right. He can make believe, sort of, that he doesn't care much about +anything. But he can't fool me--he can't." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +TWO LETTERS + + +The trail wound its way through a pleasant stretch of woodland where the +birds sang cheerily, and occasionally a squirrel paused and cocked its +head in pert amazement at this rude intrusion into its domain. It +crossed a little brook where Tom and Roy had fished many times, and +groped for pollywogs and crawfish when Tom was a tenderfoot at Temple +Camp. Those were happy days. + +Where the trail came out into the state road there was a rough board +across two little pedestals of logs, which the scouts of camp had put +there, as a seat on which to wait for the ever welcome mail stage. The +board was thick with carved initials, the handiwork of scouts who had +come and gone, and among these Tom picked out R. B. and W. H. (which +stood for Walter Harris for Peewee did not acknowledge officially his +famous nickname). As Tom glanced at these crude reminders of his troop +and former comrades, he noted wistfully how Peewee's initials were +always cut unusually large and imposing, standing out boldly among +others, as if to inform the observer that a giant had been at work. +Everything about Peewee was tremendous--except his size. + +Tom sat on this bench and waited. It reminded him of old times to be +there. But he was not unhappy. He had followed the long trail, the trail +which to his simple nature had seemed the right one, he had done the job +which he had set out to do, they were going to have their three familiar +cabins on the hill, and he was happy. He had renewed that strange, brief +acquaintanceship in France, and found in his war-time friend, a new +comrade. He felt better, his nerves were steady. The time had been well +spent and he was happy. Perhaps it was only a stubborn whim, this going +away now, but that was his nature and he could not change it. + +When the mail wagon came along, its driver greeted him cheerily, for he +remembered him well. + +"Where's the other fellow?" he asked. + +"I came instead, to-day," Tom said. + +"That chap is a sketch, ain't he?" the man commented. "He ain't gone +home, has he?" + +"He's going to stay through August," Tom said; "his troop's coming +Saturday." + +"Purty lively young feller," the man said. + +"He's happy-go-lucky," said Tom. + +The man handed him a dozen or so letters and cards and a batch of +papers, and drove on. Tom resumed his seat on the bench and looked them +over. There was no doubt that Roy and the troop were coming; apparently +they were coming in their usual manner, for there was a card from Roy to +Uncle Jeb which said, + + Coming Saturday on afternoon train. Hope you can give us a tent away + from the crowd. Tell Chocolate Drop to have wheat cakes Sunday + morning. Peewee's appetite being sent ahead by express. Pay charges. + + So long, see you later. + + P.S. Have hot biscuits, too. ROY. + +There were a couple of letters to Uncle Jeb from the camp office, and +the rest were to scouts in camp whom Tom did not know, for he had made +no acquaintances. There was one letter for Tom, bearing the postmark of +Dansburg, Ohio, which he opened with curiosity and read with increasing +consternation. It ran: + + DEAR TOM SLADE: + + I didn't get there after all, but now we're coming, the whole + outfit, bag and baggage. I suppose you think I'm among the missing, + not hearing from me all this time. But on Saturday I'll show you the + finest troop of scouts this side of Mars. So kill the fatted calf + for we're coming. + + Slade, as sure as I'm writing you this letter, I started east, + sumpty-sump days ago and was going to drop in on you and have a + little visit, just we two, before this noisy bunch got a chance to + interfere. We'll just have to sneak away from them and get off in + the woods alone and talk about old times in France. + + Maybe you won't believe it, but I got as far as Columbus and there + was a telegram from my boss, "Come in, come in, wherever you are." + Can you beat that? So back I went on the next train. You'll have to + take the will for the deed, old man. + + Don't you care; now I'm coming with my expeditionary forces, and you + and I'll foil them yet. One of our office men was taken sick, that + was the trouble. And I've been so busy doing his work and my own, + and getting this crew of wild Indians ready to invade Temple Camp, + that I haven't had time to write a letter, that's a fact. Even at + this very minute, one young tenderfoot is shouting in my ear that + he's crazy to see that fellow I bunked into in France. He says he + thinks the troop you're mixed up with must think you're a great + hero. + + So bye bye, till I see you, + + W. BARNARD. + +Twice, three times, Tom read this letter through, in utter dismay. What +did it mean? He squinted his eyes and scrutinized the signature, as if +to make sure that he read it aright. There was the name, W. Barnard. The +handwriting was Barnard's, too. And the envelope had been postmarked in +Dansburg, Ohio, two days prior to the day of its arrival. + +How could this be? What did it mean? + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +LUCKY LUKE'S FRIEND + + +Tom returned through the woods in a kind of trance, pausing once to +glance through the letter again and to scrutinize the signature. He +found the patient up and about, with no reminder of his mishap save the +cut on his forehead. He was plainly agitated and expectant as he looked +through the woods and saw Tom coming. It was clear that he was in some +suspense, but Tom, who would have noticed the smallest insect or most +indistinct footprint in the path, did not observe this. + +"H'lo, Slady," he said with a fine show of unconcern; "out for the early +worm?" He did not fail to give a sidelong glance at Tom's pocket. + +"Is your headache all gone?" Tom asked. + +"Sneaked off just like you," he said; "I was wondering where you were. +I see you were down for the mail. Anything doing?" he asked with +ill-concealed curiosity. + +"They're coming," Tom said. + +"Who's coming?" + +"Roy and the troop," Tom answered. + +"Oh. Nothing important, huh?" + +"I got some mail for camp; I'm going down to Uncle Jeb's cabin; I'll be +right back," Tom said. + +His friend looked at him curiously, anxiously, as Tom started down the +hill. + +"I won't make any breaks," Tom said simply, leaving his friend to make +what he would of this remark. The other watched him for a moment and +seemed satisfied. + +Having delivered the mail without the smallest sign of discomposure, he +tramped up the hill again in his customary plodding manner. His friend +was sitting on the door sill of one of the new cabins, whittling a +stick. He looked as if he might have been reflecting, as one is apt to +do when whittling a stick. + +"You got to tell me who you are?" Tom said, standing directly in front +of him. + +"You got a letter? I thought so," his friend said, quietly. "Sit down, +Slady." + +For just a moment Tom hesitated, then he sat down on the sill alongside +his companion. + +"All right, old man," said the other; "spring it--you're through with me +for good?" + +"You got to tell me who you are," Tom said doggedly; "first you got to +tell me who you are." + +For a few moments they sat there in silence, Tom's companion whittling +the stick and pondering. + +"I ain't mad, anyway," Tom finally said. + +"You're not?" the other asked. + +"It don't make any difference as long as you're my friend, and you +helped me." + +The other looked up at him in surprise, surveying Tom's stolid, almost +expressionless face which was fixed upon the distant camp. "You're +solid, fourteen karat gold, Slady," he finally said. "I'm bad enough, +goodness knows; but to put it over on a fellow like you, just because +you're easy, it's--it just makes me feel like--Oh, I don't know--like a +sneak. I'm ashamed to look you in the face, Slady." + +Still Tom said nothing, only looked off through the trees below, where +specks of white could be seen here and there amid the foliage. "They're +putting up the overflow tents," he said, irrelevantly; "there'll be a +lot coming Saturday." + +Then, again, there was silence for a few moments. + +"I'm used to having things turn out different from the way I expected," +Tom said, dully. + +"Slady----" his friend began, but paused. + +And for a few moments there was silence again, save for the distant +sound of splashing down at the lake's edge, where scouts were swimming. + +"Slady----listen, Slady; as sure as I sit here ... Are you listening, +Slady? As sure as I sit here, I'm going to tell you the truth--every gol +darned last word of it." + +"I never said you lied," Tom said, never looking at him. + +"No? I tried not to tell many. But I've been _living_ one; that's worse. +I'm so contemptible I--it's putting anything over on _you_--that's what +makes me feel such a contemptible, low down sneak. That's what's got me. +I don't care so much about the other part. It's _you_--Slady----" + +He put his hand on Tom's shoulder and looked at him with a kind of +expectancy. And still Tom's gaze was fixed upon the camp below them. + +"I don't mind having things go wrong," Tom said, with a kind of pathetic +dullness that must have gone straight to the other's heart. "As long as +I got a friend it doesn't make any difference what one--I mean who he +is. Lots of times the wrong trail takes you to a better place." + +"Do you know where it's taking you _this_ time? It isn't a question of +_who_ I am. It's a question of _what_ I am--Slady. Do you know what I +am?" + +"You're a friend of mine," Tom said. + +His companion slowly drew his hand from Tom's shoulder, and gazed, +perplexed and dumfounded, into that square, homely, unimpassioned face. + +"I'm a thief, Slady," he said. + +"I used to steal things," Tom said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THORNTON'S STORY + + +It was very much like Tom Slade that this altogether sensational +disclosure and startling announcement did not greatly agitate him, nor +even make him especially curious. The fact that this seductive stranger +was his friend seemed the one outstanding reality to him. If he had any +other feelings, of humiliation at being so completely deceived, or of +disappointment, he did not show them. But he did reiterate in that dull +way of his, "You got to tell me who you are." + +"I'm _going_ to tell, Slady," his friend said, with a note of sincerity +there was no mistaking; "I'm going to tell you the whole business. What +did _you_ ever steal? An apple out of a grocery store, or something like +that? I thought so. You wouldn't know how to steal if you tried; you'd +make a bungle of it." + +"That's the way I do, sometimes," Tom said. + +"Is it? Well, you didn't this time--old man. If I'm your friend, I'm +going to be worth it. Do you get that?" + +"I told you you was." + +"Slady, I never knew what I was going to get up against, or I would +never have tried to swing this thing. If you'd turned out to be a +different kind of a fellow I wouldn't have felt so much like a sneak. +It's _you_ that makes me feel like a criminal--not those sleuths and +bloodhounds out there. Listen, Slady; it's a kind of a camp-fire story, +as you would call it, that I'm going to tell you." + +He laid his hand on Tom's arm as he talked and so they sat there on the +rough sill of the cabin doorway, Tom silent, the other eager, anxious, +as he related his story. The birds flitted about and chirped in the +trees overhead, busy with their morning games or tasks, and below the +voices of scouts could be heard, thin and spent by the distance, and +occasionally the faint sound of a diver with accompanying shouts and +laughter which Tom seemed to hear as in a dream. Far off, beyond the +mountains, could be heard the shrill whistle of a train, bringing +scouts, perhaps, to crowd the already filled tent space. And amid all +these distant sounds which, subdued, formed a kind of outdoor harmony, +the voice of Tom's companion sounded strangely in his ear. + +"My home is out in Broadvale, Ohio, Slady. Ever hear of it? It's west of +Dansburg--about fifty miles. I worked in a lumber concern out there. Can +you guess the rest? Here's what did it, Slady, (and with admirable +dexterity he went through the motions of shuffling cards and shooting +craps). I swiped a hundred, Slady. Don't ask me why I did it--I don't +know--I was crazy, that's all. So _now_ what have you got to say?" he +inquired with a kind of recklessness, releasing Tom's arm. + +"I ain't got anything to say," said Tom. + +"They don't know it yet, Tommy, but they'll know it Monday. The +accountants are on the job Monday. So I beat it, while the going was +good. I started east, for little old New York. I intended to change my +name and get a job there and lay low till I could make good. I thought +they'd never find me in New York. My right name is Thornton, Slady. Red +Thornton they call me out home, on account of this brick dome. Tommy, +old boy, as sure as you sit there I don't know any more about the boy +scouts than a pig knows about hygiene. So now you've got my number, +Slady. What is it? Quits?" + +"If you knew anything about scouts," Tom said, with the faintest note of +huskiness in his voice, "you'd know that they don't call quits. If I was +a quitter, do you suppose I'd have stuck up here?" + +Thornton gazed about him at the three new cabins, which this queer +friend of his had built there to rectify a trifling act of +forgetfulness; he looked at Tom's torn shirt, through which his bruised +shoulder could be seen, and at those tough scarred hands. + +"So now you know something about them," Tom said. + +"I know something about _one_ of them, anyway," Thornton replied +admiringly. + +"If a fellow sticks in one way, he'll stick in another way," Tom said. +"If he makes up his mind to a thing----" + +"You said it, Slady," Thornton concurred, giving Tom a rap on the +shoulder. "And now you know, you won't tell? You won't tell that I've +gone to New York?" he added with sudden anxiety. + +"Who would I tell?" Tom asked. "Nobody ever made me do anything yet that +I didn't want to do." Which was only too true. + +Thornton crossed one knee over the other and talked with more ease and +assurance. "I met Barnard on the train coming east, Slady. He has red +hair like mine, so I thought I'd sit down beside him; we harmonized." + +Tom could not repress a smile. "He told me in a letter that he had red +hair," he observed. + +"Red as a Temple Camp sunset, Tommy old boy. You're going to like that +fellow; he's a hundred per cent, white--only for his hair. He's got +scouting on the brain--clean daft about it. He told me all about you and +how he and his crew of kids were going to spend August here and make +things lively. Your crowd----" + +"Troop," Tom said. + +"Right-o; your troop had better look out for that bunch--excuse me, +_troop_. Right? I'm learning, hey? I'll be a good scout when I get out +of jail," he added soberly. "Never mind; listen. Barnard thinks you're +the only scout outside of Dansburg, Ohio. He told me how he was coming +here to give you a little surprise call before the season opened and the +kids--guys--scouts, right-o, began coming. Tom," he added seriously, "by +the time we got to Columbus, I knew as much about Temple Camp and you, +as _he_ did. He didn't know so much about _you_ either, if it comes to +that. But I found out that you were pretty nearly all alone here. + +"Then he got a wire, Tom; I think it was in Columbus. A brakeman came +through the train with a message, calling his name. Oh, boy, but he was +piffed! 'Got to go home,' he said. That's all there was to it, Tom. +Business before pleasure, hey? Poor fellow, I felt sorry for him. He +found out he could get a train back in about an hour. + +"Tommy, listen here. It wasn't until my train started and I looked back +and waved to him out of the window, that this low down game I've put +over on you occurred to me. All the time that we were chatting together, +I was worried, thinking about what I'd do and where I'd go, and how it +would be on the first Monday in August when those pen and ink sleuths +got the goods on me. I could just see them going over my ledger, Slady. + +"Well, I looked out of the car window and there stood Barnard, and the +sun was just going down, Tommy, just like you and I have watched it do +night after night up here, and that red hair of his was just shining in +the light. It came to me just like that, Slady," Thornton said, +clapping his hands, "and I said to myself, I'm like that chap in _one_ +way, anyhow, and he and this fellow Slade have _never seen each other_. +Why can't _I_ go up to that lonely camp in the mountains and be Billy +Barnard for a while? Why can't I lie low there till I can plan what to +do next? That's what I said, Slady. Wouldn't a place like that be better +than New York? Maybe you'll say I took a long chance--reckless. That's +the way it is with red hair, Slady. I took a chance on you being easy +and it worked out, that's all. Or rather, I mean it _didn't_, for I feel +like a murderer, and it's all on account of you, Slady. + +"I didn't know what to do, I didn't know where to go; I just wanted to +get away from home before the game was up and they nabbed me. It's no +fun being pinched, Tom. I thought I might make the visit that this +friend of yours was going to make, and hang around here where it's quiet +and lonesome, till it was time for him to come. I guess that's about as +far as my plans carried. It was a crazy idea, I see that well enough +now. But I was rattled--I was just rattled, that's all. I thought that +when the time came that I'd have to leave here, maybe I could tramp up +north further and change my name again and get a job on some farm or +other, till I could earn a little and make good. What I didn't figure on +was the kind of a fellow I was going to meet. I--I----" he stammered, +trying to control himself in a burst of feeling and clutching Tom's +knee, "I--I didn't put it over on you, Tom; maybe it seems that way to +you--but--but I didn't. It's you that win, old man--can't you see? It's +_you_ that win. You've put it all over _me_ and rubbed it in, +and--and--instead of getting away with anything--like I thought--I'll +just beat it away from here feeling like a bigger sneak than I ever +thought I was. I've--I've seen something here--I have. I thought some of +these trees were made of pretty good stuff, but you've got them beat, +Slady. I thought I was a wise guy to dig into this forsaken retreat and +slip the bandage over your eyes, but--but the laugh is on me, Slady, +don't--don't you see?" he smiled, his eyes glistening and his hand +trembling on Tom's knee. "You've put it all over me, you old +hickory-nut, and I've told you the whole business, and you've got me in +your power, see?" + +Tom Slade looked straight ahead of him and said never a word. + +"It's--it's a knockout, Slady, and you win. You can go down and tell old +Uncle Jeb the whole business," he fairly sobbed, "I won't stop you. I'm +sick and discouraged--I might as well take my medicine--I'm--I'm sick of +the whole thing--you win--Slady. I'll wait here--I--I won't fool you +again--not once again, by thunder, I won't! Go on down and tell him a +thief has been bunking up here with you--go on--I'll wait." + +There was just a moment of silence, and in that moment, strangely +enough, a merry laugh arose in the camp below. + +"You needn't tell me what to do," said Tom, "because I _know_ what to +do. There's nobody in this world can tell me what to do. Mr. Burton, he +wanted to write to those fellows and fix it. But I knew what to do. Do +you call me a quitter? You see these cabins, don't you? Do you think +_you_ can tell me what to do?" + +"Go and send a wire to Broadvale and tell 'em that you've got me," +Thornton said with a kind of bitter resignation; "I heard that scouts +are good at finding missing people--fugitives. You--you _have got_ me, +Tommy, but in a different way than you think. You got me that first +night. Go ahead. But--but listen here. I _can't_ let them take me to-day, +my head is spinning like a buzz-saw, Tommy--I can't, I can't, I _can't_! +It's the cut in my head. All this starts it aching again--it just----" + +He lowered his head until his wounded forehead rested on Tom's lap. +"I'm--I'm just--beaten," he sobbed. "Let me stay here to-day, +to-night--don't say anything yet--let me stay just this one day more +with you and to-morrow I'll be better and you can go down and tell. I +won't run away--don't you believe me? I'll take what's coming to me. +Only wait--my head is all buzzing again now--just wait till to-morrow. +Let me stay here to-day, old man ..." + +Tom Slade lifted the head from his lap and arose. "You can't stay here +to-night," he said; "you can't stay even to-day. You can't stay an hour. +Nobody can tell me what I ought to do. You can't stay here ten minutes. +If you tried to get away I'd trail you, I'd catch you. You stay where +you are till I get back." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +RED THORNTON LEARNS SOMETHING ABOUT SCOUTS + + +And strange to say Red Thornton did stay just where he was. Perhaps, +seeing that Tom limped as he went down the hill, the fugitive +entertained a momentary thought of flight. If so, he abandoned it, +perhaps in fear, more likely in honor. Who shall say? His agitation had +caused his head to begin aching furiously again, and he was a pitiful +figure as he sat there upon the doorsill, in a kind of desperate +resignation, resting his forehead in his two hands, and occasionally +looking along the path down the hill at Tom as he limped in and out +among the trees, following the beaten trail. It had never occurred to +him before, how lame Tom was, as the result of his injuries and +excessive labors. And he marvelled at the simple confidence which would +leave him thus free to escape, if he cared to. Perhaps Tom could have +tracked and caught him, perhaps not. But at all events Tom had beaten +him with character and that was enough. He had him and Thornton knew and +confessed it. It _was_ curious how it worked out, when you come to think +of it. + +Anyway, Thornton had given up all his fine plans and was ready to be +arrested. He would tell the authorities that it was not on account of +them that he gave himself up, but on account of Tom. Tom should have all +the credit, as he deserved. He could hardly realize now that he had +deliberately confessed to Tom. And having done so, he realized that Tom, +being a good citizen, believing in the law and all that sort of thing, +could not do otherwise than hand him over. What in the world else could +Tom Slade do? Say to him, "You stole money; go ahead and escape; I'm +with you?" Hardly. + +There was a minute in Red Thornton's life when he came near making +matters worse with a terrible blunder. After about fifteen or twenty +minutes of waiting, he arose and stepped over to the gully and +considered making a dash through the woods and striking into the road. +Perhaps he would have done this; I cannot say. But happening just at +that moment to glance down the hill in the opposite direction, he was +astonished at seeing Tom plodding up the hill again quite alone. Neither +Uncle Jeb nor any of those formidable scoutmasters or trustees were +anywhere near him. Not so much as an uproarious, aggressive tenderfoot +was at his heels. No constables, no deputy sheriffs, no one. + +And then, just in that fleeting, perilous moment, Red Thornton knew Tom +Slade and he knew that this was their business and no one else's. He +came near to making an awful botch of things. He was breathing heavily +when Tom spoke to him. + +"What are those fellows you were speaking about? Pen and ink sleuths?" +Tom asked. "They come to Temple Camp office, sometimes." + +"That's them," Thornton said. + +"When did you say they come?" + +"Next Monday, first Monday in August. What's the difference? The sooner +the better," Thornton said. + +"Was it just an even hundred that you took, when you forgot about what +you were doing, sort of?" Tom asked. + +"A hundred and three." + +"Then will twenty-three dollars be enough to get back to that place +where you live?" + +"Why?" + +"I'm just asking you." + +"It's twenty-one forty." + +"That means you'll have a dollar sixty for meals," Tom said, "unless you +have some of your own. Have you?" + +Thornton seemed rather puzzled, but he jingled some coin in his pocket +and pulled out a five dollar bill and some change. + +"Then it's all right," Tom said, "'cause if I asked anybody for money I +might have to tell them why. Here's two Liberty Bonds," he said, placing +his precious, and much creased documents in Thornton's hand. "You can +get them cashed in New York. You have to start this morning so as to +catch the eleven twenty train. I guess you'll get home to-morrow night +maybe, hey? You have to give them their money before those fellows get +there. You got to tell them how you made a mistake. Maybe if you don't +have quite enough you'll be able to get a little bit more. This is +because you helped me and on account of our being friends." + +Thornton looked down into his hand and saw, through glistening eyes, the +two dilapidated bonds, and a couple of crumpled ten-dollar bills and +some odds and ends of smaller bills and currency. They represented the +sumptuous fortune of Lucky Luke, alias Tom Slade. + +"And I thought you were going to ..." Thornton began; "Slady, I can't do +this; it's all you've got." + +"It's no good to me," Tom said. "Anyway, you got to go back and get +there before those fellows do. Then you can fix it." + +Thornton hesitated, then shook his head. Then he went over and sat on +the sill where they had talked before. "I can't do it, Tom," he said +finally; "I just can't. Here, take it. This is my affair, not yours." + +"You said we were good friends up here," Tom said; "it's nothing to let +a friend help you. I can see you're smart, and some day you'll make a +lot of money and you'll pay me back. But anyway, I don't care about +that. I only bought them so as to help the government. If they'd let me +help them, I don't see why _you_ shouldn't." + +Thornton, still holding the money in his hand looked up and smiled, half +willingly, at his singular argument. + +"How about the motor-boat--and the girl?" he asked wistfully. + +"You needn't worry about that," Tom said simply, "maybe she wouldn't go +anyway." + +And perhaps she wouldn't have. It would have been just his luck. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +TOM STARTS FOR HOME + + +There was nothing now to keep Tom at Temple Camp, yet there was nothing +now to take him home, either. Nothing, indeed, except his work. The +bottom seemed to have dropped out of all his plans, and he lingered on +his lonely hilltop for the remaining day or two before the unsuspecting +tenants of this remote little community should arrive. + +Of course he might have stayed and enjoyed his triumph, but that would +not have been Tom Slade. He had not forgotten those stinging and +accusing words of Roy's that morning when they had last met. He did not +remember them in malice, but he could not forget them, and he did not +wish to see Roy. We have to take Tom Slade as we find him. + +In those last hours of his lonely stay he did not go down much into +camp, for he wished to be by himself, and not to have to answer +questions about his departed friend, toward whom, strange to say, he +cherished a stronger feeling of attachment than before. He was even +grateful to Thornton for perhaps saving him the humiliation of Margaret +Ellison's refusing to go out with him in his boat. There was no telling +what a girl might say or do, and at least he was well out of that +peril.... + +He busied himself clearing up the litter about the new cabins and +getting them ready for occupancy. On Saturday morning he went down and +told Uncle Jeb that he was starting for home. He was greatly relieved +that the old man did not ask any questions about his companion. Uncle +Jeb was much preoccupied now with the ever-growing multitude of scouts +and their multifarious needs, and gave slight thought to that little +sprig of a camp up on the hill. + +"En so yer ain't fer stayin', Tommy? I kinder cal'lated you'd weaken +when the time come. Ain't goin' ter think better of it, huh?" The old +man, smiling through a cloud of tobacco smoke, contemplated Tom with +shrewd, twinkling, expectant eyes. "Fun's jest about startin' naow, +Tommy. 'Member what I told yer baot them critters. Daont yer go back on +account of no gal." + +"I ain't going back on account of a girl," said Tom. + +"What train yer thinkin' uv goin' daon on?" the old man asked. + +"I'm going to hike it," Tom said. + +Uncle Jeb contemplated him for a moment as though puzzled, but after +all, seeing nothing so very remarkable in a hike of a hundred and fifty +miles or so, he simply observed. "Yer be'nt in no hurry ter get back, +huh? Wall, yer better hev a good snack before yer start. You jest tell +Chocolate Drop to put yer up rations fer ter night, too, in case you +camp." + + * * * * * + +The guests at Temple Camp paid no particular attention to the young +fellow who was leaving. He had not associated with the visiting scouts, +and save for an occasional visit to his isolated retreat, where they +found little to interest them, he had been almost a stranger among them. +Doubtless some of them had thought him a mere workman at the camp and +had left him undisturbed accordingly. + +It was almost pitiful, now that he was leaving, to note how slightly he +was known and how little his departure affected the general routine of +pleasure. A few scouts, who were diving from the spring board paused to +glance at him as he rowed across the lake and observed that the "fellow +from up on the hill" was going away. Others waved him a fraternal +farewell, but there was none of that customary gathering at the landing, +which he had known in the happy days when he had been a scout among +scouts at his beloved camp. + +But there was one scout who took enough interest in him to offer to go +across in the rowboat with him, on the pretext of bringing it back, +though both knew that it was customary to keep boats on both sides of +the lake. This fellow was tall and of a quiet demeanor. His name was +Archer, and he had come with his troop from somewhere in the west, where +they breed that particular type of scouts who believe that actions speak +louder than words. + +"Did that job all by yourself, didn't you?" he asked as they rowed +across. He looked a Tom curiously. + +"A friend of mine helped me," Tom said; "he's gone home." + +"Why didn't you hit into the main road and go down through Catskill? +You're likely to miss the train this way." + +"I'm going to hike home," Tom said. + +"Far?" + +"In Jersey, about twenty miles from the city." + +"Some jaunt, eh?" Archer inquired pleasantly. + +"I don't mind it," Tom said. + +"What are you goin' home for?" + +"Because I want to; because I'm finished," Tom said. + +This ended the talk but it did not end Archer's rather curious study of +Tom. He said little more, but as he rowed, he watched Tom with an +intense and scrutinizing interest. And even after Tom had said good-bye +to him and started up the trail through the woods, he rowed around, in +the vicinity of the shore, keeping the boat in such position that he +could follow Tom with his eyes as the latter followed the trail in and +out among the trees. + +"Humph," he said to himself; "funny." + +What he thought funny was this: being an observant scout he had noticed +that Tom carried more rations than a scout would be likely to take on a +long hike, through a country where food could easily be bought in a +hundred towns and villages, and also that one who limped as Tom did +should choose to go on a hike of more than a hundred miles. + +A scout, as everybody knows, is observant. And this particular scout was +good at arithmetic. At least he was able to put two and two +together.... + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE TROOP ARRIVES + + +The ten forty-seven train out of New York went thundering up the shore +of the lordly Hudson packed and jammed with its surging throng of +vacationists who had turned themselves into sardines in order to enjoy a +breath of fresh air. The crowd was uncommonly large because Saturday and +the first of August came on the same day. They crowded three in a seat +and ate sandwiches and drank cold coffee out of milk bottles and let the +children fly paper-bag kites out of the windows, and crowded six deep at +the water cooler at the end of the car. + +In all that motley throng there was just one individual who had mastered +the art of carrying a brimful paper drinking-cup through the aisle +without spilling so much as a drop of water, and his cheerful +ministrations were in great demand by thirsty passengers. This +individual was scout Harris, alias Peewee, alias Kid, alias Shorty, +alias Speck, and he was so small that he might have saved his carfare by +going parcel post if he had cared to do so. If he had, he should have +been registered, for there was only one Peewee Harris in all the wide +world. + +"Are we going to carry the tent or send it up by the camp wagon?" Roy +Blakeley asked, as he and the others crowded each other off the train at +Catskill Landing. "Answer in the positive or negative." + +"You mean the infirmative," Peewee shouted; "that shows how much you +know about rhetoric." + +"You mean logic," Roy said. + +"I know I'm hungry anyway," Peewee shouted as he threw a suitcase from +his vantage point on the platform, with such precision of aim that it +landed plunk on Connie Bennett's head, to the infinite amusement of the +passengers. + +"Did it hurt you?" Peewee called. + +"He isn't injured--just slightly killed," Roy shouted; "hurry up, let's +go up in the wagon and get there in time for a light lunch." + +"You mean a heavy one," Peewee yelled; "here, catch this suitcase." + +The suitcase landed on somebody's head, was promptly hurled at somebody +else, and the usual pandemonium caused by Temple Camp arrivals prevailed +until the entire crowd of scouts found themselves packed in the big camp +stage, and waving their hands and shouting uproariously at the +passengers in the departing train. + +"First season at camp?" Roy asked a scout who almost sat on his lap and +was jogged out of place at every turn in the road. + +"Yop," was the answer, "we've never been east before; we came from Ohio. +We haven't been around anywhere." + +"I've been around a lot," the irrepressible Peewee piped up from his +wobbly seat on an up-ended suitcase. + +"Sure, he was conductor on a merry-go-round," Roy said. "What part of +Ohio do you fellows come from?" + +"The Ohio River used to be in our geography," Peewee said. + +"It's there yet," Roy said; "we should worry, let it stay there." + +"Do you know where Columbus is?" Peewee shouted. + +"He's dead," Roy said; "do you fellows come from anywhere near Dayton?" + +"We come from Dansburg," said their scoutmaster, a bright-looking young +fellow with red hair, who had been listening amusedly to this bantering +talk. + +A dead silence suddenly prevailed. + +"Oh, I know who you fellows are," Roy finally said. "You're going to +bunk in the three cabins on the hill, aren't you? Is your name Mr. +Barnard?" + +"Yes sir," the young man answered pleasantly, "and we're the first +Dansburg, Ohio, troop." + +"Do you like mince-pie?" Peewee shouted. + +"We eat it alive," said scoutmaster Barnard. + +"Can you eat seven pieces?" Peewee demanded. + +"If we can get them," young Mr. Barnard replied. + +"G--o--o--d night!" Peewee commented. + +"Our young hero has a fine voice for eating," Roy observed. "Sometimes +he eats his own words, he's so hungry." + +"I don't think you can beat the Dansburg, Ohio, scouts eating," Mr. +Barnard observed. + +"Is Dansburg on the map?" Peewee wanted to know. + +"Well, it thinks it is," Mr. Barnard smiled. + +"I know all about geography," Peewee piped up, "and natural history, +too. I got E plus in geometry." + +"Can you name five animals that come from the North Pole?" Peewee +demanded, regaining his seat after an inglorious tumble. + +"Four polar bears and a seal," Roy answered; "no sooner said than +stung. Our young hero is the camp cut-up. You fellows ought to be glad +he won't be up on the hill with you. He's worse than the mosquitoes." + +"We used to bunk in those cabins on the hill," Peewee said; "there are +snakes and things up there. Are you scared of girls?" + +"Not so you'd notice it," one of the Dansburg scouts said. + +"Gee, I'm not scared of girls, that's one thing," Peewee informed them. +"I'm not scared of any kind of wild animals." + +"And would you call a girl a wild animal?" young Mr. Barnard inquired, +highly amused. + +"They scream when they get in a boat," Peewee said; "most always they +smile at me." + +"Oh, that's nothing, the first time I ever saw you I laughed out loud," +Roy said. + +And at that everybody laughed out loud, and somebody gave Peewee an +apple which kept him quiet for a while. + +"I'm very sorry we can't all be up on that hill together," Mr. Barnard +said, "I gather that it's a rather isolated spot." + +"What's an isolated spot?" Peewee yelled. + +"It's a spot where they cut ice," said Roy; "shut up, will you?" + +"Are there only three cabins up there?" one of the Dansville scouts +wanted to know. + +"That's all," Westy Martin, of Roy's troop answered. "We spent, let's +see, three summers up there. We had the hill all to ourselves. We even +did our own cooking." + +"And eating," Peewee shouted. + +"Oh sure, we never let anyone do that for us," one of the Bridgeboro +scouts laughed. + +"If you want a thing well done, do it yourself--especially eating," Roy +said. "A scout is thorough." + +"Do you know Chocolate Drop? He's cook," Peewee piped up. "He makes +doughnuts as big as automobile tires." + +"Not Cadillac tires," Roy said, "but Ford tires. Peewee knows how to +puncture them, all right." + +"He'll have a blow-out some day," Connie Bennett observed. + +"So you boys used to be up on the hill, eh?" Mr. Barnard inquired, +turning the conversation to a more serious vein. "And how is it you're +not to bunk up there _this_ year, since you like it so much?" + +As if by common consent Roy's troop left it for him to answer, and even +Peewee was quiet. + +"Oh, I don't know," Roy said; "first come, first served; that's the +rule. You fellows got in your application, that's all there was to it. I +guess you know Tom Slade, who works in the camp's city office, don't +you, Mr. Barnard?" + +"Indeed I do," young Mr. Barnard said. "We met in a shell hole in +France. We knew each other but have never seen each other. It's rather +odd when you come to think of it." + +"I suppose that's how he happened to assign you the cabins," Connie +Bennett observed; "old time's sake, hey?" + +"Oh, dear no," young Mr. Barnard laughed. "I should say that you boys +come first if it's a question of old time's sake. No indeed, we should +feel like intruders, usurpers, if there were any question of friendly +preference. No, it was really quite odd when you come to think of it. I +never dreamed who Tom Slade was when our accommodations were assigned +us; indeed, his name did not appear in the correspondence. It was just a +case of first come, first served, as you say. Later, we received some +circular matter of the camp and there was a little note with it, as I +remember, signed by Slade. Oh, no, the thing was all cut and dried +before I knew who Slade was. Then we started a very pleasant +correspondence. I expect to see him up here. He was one of the bravest +young fellows on the west front; a sort of silent, taciturn, young +fellow. Oh, no," young Mr. Barnard laughed in that pleasant way he had, +"you boys can't accuse us of usurping your familiar home. You must come +up and see us there, and I hope we shall all be good friends." + +Roy Blakeley heard these words as in a dream, and even Peewee was silent. +The others of Roy's troop looked at each other but said not a word. _No +indeed, we should feel like usurpers if there were any question of +friendly preference_. These words rang in Roy's ears, and as he said +them over to himself there appeared in his mind's eye the picture of Tom +Slade, stolid, unimpassioned, patient, unresentful--standing there near +the doorway of the bank building and listening to the tirade of abuse +which he, Roy, hurled at him. "_If you want to think I'm a liar you can +think so. You can tell them that if you want to. I don't care what you +tell them_." These words, too, rang in Roy's ears, and burned into his +heart and conscience, and he knew that Tom Slade had not deigned to +answer these charges and recriminations; _would_ not answer them, any +more than the rock of Gibraltar would deign to answer the petulant +threats and menaces of the sea. Oh, if he could only unsay those words +which he had hurled at Tom, his friend and companion! What mattered it +who bunked in the cabins, so long as he knew what he knew now? How +small and trifling seemed Tom's act of carelessness or forgetfulness, as +he loomed up now in the strong, dogged pride which would not explain to +one who had no right to doubt or disbelieve. How utterly contemptible +Roy Blakeley seemed to himself now! + +He tried to speak in his customary light and bantering manner, but he +was too sick at heart to carry it off. + +"He's--he's sort of like a rock," he said, by way of answering Barnard's +comments on Tom. "He doesn't say much. You don't--you can't understand +him very easy. Even--even _I_ didn't----. I don't know where he is now. +We haven't seen him for a long time. But one thing you can bet, you're +welcome to the cabins on the hill. He said we wouldn't lose anything. +Anyway, we won't lose much. We've got a tent we're going to put up down +on the tenting space. You bet we'll come up and see you often, and you +bet we'll be good friends. Our both knowing Tom, as you might say, ought +to make us good friends." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +ARCHER + + +When these two troops reached camp they found the tall scout Archer +waiting for them. How much he knew or suspected it would be difficult to +surmise. + +"Uncle Jeb told me I might show you up to the hill," he said. "Some of +you fellows came from Ohio, I understand. You're all to bunk up on the +hill." + +"I guess that's a mistake," Roy said. + +"No, I think Uncle Jeb has things down about pat," Archer said in his +easy off-hand manner. "The old man's pretty busy himself and so he told +me to be your guide, philosopher and friend, as old somebody-or-other +said." + +The two troops followed as he led the way, the Bridgeboro boys glancing +fondly at the familiar sights all about them. + +"There's where we'll put up our tent," one of them said, pointing at the +area which was already crowded with the canvas domiciles. The place did +not look so attractive as Roy and his companions had tried to picture it +in their mind's eyes. They had never envied the scouts who had been +compelled to make their camp homes there. It seemed so much like a +military encampment, so close and stuffy and temporary, and unlike the +free and remote abode that they were used to. They all of them tried not +to think of it in this way, and Roy was in no mood to cherish any +resentment against Tom now. + +"It's near the cooking shack anyway, that's one good thing," Peewee +observed. + +"Listen to the human famine," Connie Bennett said. "Peewee ought to be +ashamed to look Hoover in the face." + +Roy said nothing. There was one he would be ashamed to look in the face +anyway. + +When they reached the hill, he was the first to pause in amazement. + +"What do you call this?" Connie asked in utter astonishment. + +There stood the six cabins, the new ones bright and fresh in the +afternoon sun. + +"I--I don't understand it," Roy said, almost speechless with surprise. + +Archer sat down upon a rock and beckoned Roy to him. "There isn't much +to tell you," he said. "A fellow from your town has been up here +building these three cabins, that's all. We fellows down at camp called +him Daniel Boone, but I believe his name is Slade. He's been a kind of a +mystery up here for some time. The cabins are for you and your troop, +there's no mistake about that; Uncle Jeb knows all about it. You can see +him later if you want to; there's no use bothering him now. I just want +to say a word to you there isn't much time to spare. Uncle Jeb tried to +make that fellow stay, but he wouldn't. I don't know anything about his +business, or yours. I'm just going to tell you one thing. That fellow +started away a little while ago, lame and without any money to hike +home to the town where he lives. It's none of _my_ business; I'm just +telling you what I know. I've banged around this country a little since +I came up--I'm a kind of a tramp--I have an idea he's hit into the road +for Kingston. There's a short cut through the woods which comes out on +that road about six or seven miles down. You could save--let's see--oh, +about three miles and--oh, yes, Uncle Jeb told me to say you can have +lunch any time you want it. I suppose you're all hungry." + +Not another word did Archer say--just left abruptly and, amid the +enthusiastic inspection and glowing comments of his companions of both +troops, Roy saw, through glistening eyes, this new acquaintance +strolling down the hill, hitting the wildflowers to the right, and left +with a stick which he carried. + +There was no telling how much he knew or what he suspected. He was a +queer, mysterious sort of fellow.... + +[Illustration: ROY BLAKELEY HELD OUT HIS ARMS SO THAT TOM COULD NOT PASS. +Tom Slade at Black Lake--Page 199] + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +TOM LOSES + + +"_Me for lunch! Me for lunch!_" Roy heard Peewee scream at the top of +his voice. And for just a moment he stood there in a kind of daze, +watching his companions and new friends tumbling pell mell over each +other down the hill. He was glad to be alone. + +Yet even still he paused and gazed at the task, which Tom Slade, traitor +and liar, had completed. There it was, a herculanean task, the work of +months, as it seemed to Roy. He could hardly control his feelings as he +gazed upon it. + +But he did not pause to torture himself with remorse. Down through the +woods he went, and into the trail which Archer had indicated. Scout +though he was, he was never less hungry in his life. Over fields he +went, and through the brook, and up Hawk's Nest mountain, and into the +denser woods beyond. Suppose Archer should be mistaken. Suppose this dim +trail should take him nowhere. Panting, he ran on, trying to conquer +this haunting fear. Beyond Leeds Crossing the trail was hardly +distinguishable and he must pause and lose time to pick it up here and +there. Through woods, and around hills, and into dense, almost +impenetrable thickets he labored on, his side aching, and his heart +thumping like a triphammer. + +At last he came out upon the Kingston road and was down on his knees, +examining minutely every mark in the dusty road, trying to determine +whether Tom had passed. Then he sat down by the roadside and waited, +panting like a dog. And so the minutes passed, and became an hour +and---- + +Then he heard someone coming around the bend. + +Roy gulped in suspense as he waited. One second, two seconds, three, +four--Would the pedestrian never appear? + +And then they met, and Roy Blakeley stood out in the middle of the road +and held his arms out so the wayfarer could not pass. And yet he could +not speak. + +"Tom," he finally managed to say, "I--I came alone because--because I +wanted to come alone. I wanted to meet you all alone. I--I know all +about it, Tom--I do. None of the fellows will bunk in these cabins till +you--till you--come back--they won't. Not even Barnard's troop. I'm +sorry, Tom; I see how I was all wrong. You--you can't get away with it, +you can't Tom--because I won't let you--see? You have to come +back--we--we can't stay there without you----" + +"I told you you wouldn't lose anything," Tom said dully. + +"Yes, and it's a--it's a _lie_," Roy almost sobbed. "We're losing _you_, +aren't we? We're losing everything--and it's all _my_ fault. You--you +said we wouldn't lose anything, but we _are_. Can't you see we are? +You've got to come back, Tom--or I'm going home with you--you old--you +old brick! Barnard wants you, we _all_ want you. We haven't got any +scoutmaster if you don't come back--we haven't." + +Tom Slade who had chopped down trees and dragged them up the hill, found +it hard to answer. + +"I'll go back," he finally said, "as long as you ask me." + + * * * * * + +And so, in that pleasant afternoon, they followed the trail back to camp +together, just as they had hiked together so many times before. And they +talked of Peewee and the troop and joked about there not being anything +left to eat when they got there, and Roy said what a fine fellow Barnard +was, and Tom Slade said how he always liked fellows with red hair. He +said he thought you could trust them.... + +Let us hope he was right. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + +THE TOM SLADE BOOKS + +By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH + +Author of the ROY BLAKELEY BOOKS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list. + +The Tom Slade books have the official endorsement and recommendation of +THE BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA. In vivid story form they tell of Boy Scout +ways, and how they help a fellow grow into a manhood of which America +may be proud. + + +Tom Slade, Boy Scout + +Tom Slade lived in Barrel Alley. The story of his thrilling Scout +experiences, how he was gradually changed from the street gangster into +a First Class Scout, is told in almost as moving and stirring a way as +the same narrative related in motion pictures. + +Tom Slade at Temple Camp + +The boys are at a summer camp in the Adirondack woods, and Tom enters +heart and soul into the work of making possible to other boys the +opportunities in woodcraft and adventure of which he himself has already +had a taste. + +Tom Slade on the River + +A carrier pigeon falls into the camp of the Bridgeboro Troop of Boy +Scoots. Attached to the bird's leg is a message which starts Tom and his +friends on a search that culminates in a rescue and a surprising +discovery. The boys have great sport on the river, cruising in the +"Honor Scout." + +Tom Slade With the Colors A WAR-TIME BOY SCOUT STORY + +When Uncle Sam "pitches in" to help the Allies in the Great War, Tom's +Boy Scout training makes it possible for him to show his patriotism in a +way which is of real service to his country. Tom has many experiences +that any loyal American boy would enjoy going through--or reading about, +as the next best thing. + +Tom Slade on a Transport + +While working as a mess boy on one of Uncle Sam's big ships, Tom's +cleverness enables him to be of service in locating a disloyal member of +the crew. On his homeward voyage the ship is torpedoed and Tom is taken +aboard a submarine and thence to Germany. He finally escapes and +resolves to reach the American forces in France. + +Tom Slade With the Boys Over There + +We follow Tom and his friend, Archer, on their flight from Germany, +through many thrilling adventures, until they reach and join the +American Army in France. + +Tom Slade, Motorcycle Dispatch Bearer + +Tom is now a dispatch rider behind the lines and has some thrilling +experiences in delivering important messages to troop commanders in +France. + +Tom Slade With the Flying Corps + +At last Tom realizes his dream to scout and fight for Uncle Sam in the +air, and has such experiences as only the world war could make possible. + +Tom Slade at Black Lake + +Tom has returned home and visits Temple Camp before the season opens. He +builds three cabins and has many adventures. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +THE ROY BLAKELEY BOOKS + +By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH + +Author of the TOM SLADE BOOKS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list. + + +Roy Blakeley + +In a book given by a kindly old gentleman. Pee-wee Harris discovers what +he believes to be a sinister looking memorandum, and he becomes +convinced that the old gentleman is a spy. But the laugh is on Pee-wee, +as usual, for the donor of the book turns out to be an author, and the +suspicious memorandum is only a literary mark. The author, however, is +so pleased with the boys' patriotism that he loans them his houseboat, +in which they make the trip to their beloved Temple Camp, which every +boy who has read the TOM SLADE BOOKS will be glad to see once more. + +Roy Blakeley's Adventures in Camp + +Roy Blakeley and his patrol are found in this book once more happily +established in camp. Roy and his friends incur the wrath of a land +owner, but the doughty Pee-wee saves the situation and the wealthy +landowner as well. The boys wake up one morning to find Black Lake +flooded far over its banks, and the solving of this mystery furnishes +some exciting reading. + +Roy Blakeley, Pathfinder + +Roy and his comrades, having come to Temple Camp by water, resolve to +make the journey home by foot. On the way they capture a leopard escaped +from a circus, which brings about an acquaintance with the strange +people who belong to the show. The boys are instrumental in solving a +deep mystery, and finding one who has long been missing. + +Roy Blakeley's Camp on Wheels + +This is the story of a wild and roaming career of a ramshackle old +railroad car which has been given Roy and his companions for a troop +meeting place. The boys fall asleep in the car. In the night, and by a +singular error of the railroad people, the car is "taken up" by a +freight train and is carried westward, so that when the boys awake they +find themselves in a country altogether strange and new. The story tells +of the many and exciting adventures in this car. + +Roy Blakeley's Silver Fox Patrol + +In the car which Roy Blakeley and his friends have for a meeting place +is discovered an old faded letter, dating from the Klondike gold days, +and it appears to intimate the location of certain bags of gold, buried +by a train robber. The quest for this treasure is made in an automobile +and the strange adventures on this trip constitute the story. + +Roy Blakeley's Motor Caravan + +Roy and his friends go West to bring back some motor cars. They have +some very amusing, also a few serious, adventures. + +Roy Blakeley, Lost, Strayed or Stolen + +The troup headquarters car figures largely in this very interesting +volume. + +Roy Blakeley's Bee-Line Hike + +The boys resolve to hike in a bee-line to a given point, some miles +distant, and have a lively time doing it. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +THE PEE-WEE HARRIS BOOKS + +By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH + +Author of THE TOM SLADE and ROY BLAKELEY BOOKS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + +All readers of the TOM SLADE and the ROY BLAKELEY books are acquainted +with Pee-wee Harris and will surely enjoy reading every volume of this +series. + + +Pee-wee Harris + +Pee-wee goes to visit his uncle whose farm is located on a by-road. +Pee-wee conceives the idea of starting a little shack along the road in +which to sell refreshments and automobile accessories. + +In accordance with his invariable good luck,--scarcely has he started +this little shack than the bridge upon the highway burns down and the +obscure country road becomes a thoroughway for automobiles. Pee-wee +reaps a large profit from his business during the balance of the summer. + +Pee-wee Harris on the Trail + +Pee-wee gets into the wrong automobile by mistake and is carried to the +country where he has a great time and many adventures. + +Pee-wee Harris in Camp + +The scene is set in the beloved and familiar Temple Camp. Here Pee-wee +resigns from the Raven Patrol, intending to start a patrol of his own. +He finds this more difficult than he had expected, but overcame all +obstacles--as usual. + +Pee-wee Harris in Luck + +Pee-wee goes with his mother to spend the summer on a farm, where he +meets a girl who is bewailing her fate that there is no society at this +obscure retreat. Pee-wee assures her he will fix everything for her--and +proceeds to do so--with his usual success. + +Pee-wee Harris Adrift + +A little spot of land up the river breaks away and floats down stream, +with a laden apple tree growing upon it. Pee-wee takes possession of +this island and the resulting adventures are decidedly entertaining. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +THE EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW SERIES + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list + + +BIRDS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW +By Neltje Blanchan. Illustrated + +EARTH AND SKY EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW +By Julia Ellen Rogers. Illustrated + +ESSAYS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW +Edited by Hamilton W. Mabie + +FAIRY TALES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW +Edited by Hamilton W. Mabie + +FAMOUS STORIES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW +Edited by Hamilton W. Mabie + +FOLK TALES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW +Edited by Hamilton W. Mabie + +HEROES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW +Edited by Hamilton W. Mabie + +HEROINES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW +Coedited by Hamilton W. Mabie and Kate Stephens + +HYMNS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW +Edited by Dolores Bacon + +LEGENDS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW +Edited by Hamilton W. Mabie + +MYTHS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW +Edited by Hamilton W. Mabie + +OPERAS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW +By Dolores Bacon. Illustrated + +PICTURES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW +By Dolores Bacon. Illustrated + +POEMS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW +Edited by Mary E. Burt + +PROSE EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW +Edited by Mary E. Burt + +SONGS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW +Edited by Dolores Bacon + +TREES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW +By Julia Ellen Rogers. Illustrated + +WATER WONDERS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW +By Jean M. Thompson. Illustrated + +WILD ANIMALS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW +By Julia Ellen Rogers. Illustrated + +WILD FLOWERS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW +By Frederic William Stack. Illustrated + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Transcriber's note: + +1. Punctuation has been normalized to contemporary standards. +2. Inconsistent spelling of "Peewee" (57 times) and "Pee-wee" + (18 times) retained as in original. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Tom Slade at Black Lake, by Percy Keese Fitzhugh + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM SLADE AT BLACK LAKE *** + +***** This file should be named 18943.txt or 18943.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/9/4/18943/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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