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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/19590-8.txt b/19590-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3dcea94 --- /dev/null +++ b/19590-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5302 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Tom Slade's Double Dare, 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's Double Dare + +Author: Percy Keese Fitzhugh + +Illustrator: R. Emmett Owen + +Release Date: October 20, 2006 [EBook #19590] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM SLADE'S DOUBLE DARE *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +[Illustration: HERVEY FIXED HIS EYES UPON THE ONE REMAINING LIGHT AND RAN +WITH UTTER DESPERATION. Tom Slade's Double Dare. Frontispiece--Page 40] + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +TOM SLADE'S DOUBLE DARE + +BY PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH + +Author of TOM SLADE, BOY SCOUT, TOM SLADE AT BLACK LAKE, ROY BLAKELEY, +ETC. + +ILLUSTRATED BY R. EMMETT OWEN + +Published with the approval of THE BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA + +GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS :: NEW YORK + +Made in the United States of America + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY GROSSET & DUNLAP + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + The life of a scout is bold, + so bold, + His adventures have never been told, + been told. + His legs they are bare, + And he won't take a dare, + The life of a scout is bold. + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + CONTENTS + + CHAPTER PAGE + I THE LIGHT GOES OUT 1 + II THE BRIDGE 10 + III AN IMPORTANT MISSION 14 + IV THE TREE 21 + V WIN OR LOSE 26 + VI SHADOWS OF THE NIGHT 33 + VII THE LIGHT THAT FAILED 37 + VIII ALMOST 44 + IX THE HERO 51 + X PROVEN A SCOUT 57 + XI THE NEW SCOUT 63 + XII THE GRAY ROADSTER 68 + XIII THE UNKNOWN TRAIL 74 + XIV ON THE SUMMIT 80 + XV A SCOUT IS THOROUGH 85 + XVI THE WANDERING MINSTREL 90 + XVII TOM'S INTEREST AROUSED 97 + XVIII TRIUMPH AND---- 101 + XIX HERVEY SHOWS HIS COLORS 104 + XX TOM ADVISES GOLIATH 116 + XXI WORDS 123 + XXII ACTION 130 + XXIII THE MONSTER 133 + XXIV GILBERT'S DISCOVERY 140 + XXV A VOICE IN THE DARK 145 + XXVI LOVE ME, LOVE MY DOG 151 + XXVII TOM LEARNS SOMETHING 157 + XXVIII THE BLACK SHEEP 164 + XXIX STUNTS AND STUNTS 169 + XXX THE DOUBLE DARE 173 + XXXI THE COURT IN SESSION 181 + XXXII OVER THE TOP 187 + XXXIII QUESTIONS 198 + XXXIV THE MESSAGE 205 + XXXV THE HERO 209 + XXXVI HARLOWE'S STORY 213 + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +TOM SLADE'S DOUBLE DARE + +CHAPTER I + +THE LIGHT GOES OUT + + +If it were not for the very remarkable part played by the scouts in this +strange business, perhaps it would have been just as well if the whole +matter had been allowed to die when the newspaper excitement subsided. +Singularly enough, that part of the curious drama which unfolded itself +at Temple Camp is the very part which was never material for glaring +headlines. + +The main occurrence is familiar enough to the inhabitants of the +neighborhood about the scout camp, but the sequel has never been told, +for scouts do not seek notoriety, and the quiet woodland community in +its sequestered hills is as remote from the turmoil and gossip of the +world as if it were located at the North Pole. + +But I know the story of Aaron Harlowe from beginning to end, and the +part that Tom Slade played in it, and all the latter history of Goliath, +as they called him. And I purpose to set all these matters down for your +entertainment, for I think that first and last they make a pretty good +camp-fire yarn. + + * * * * * + +For a week it had been raining at Temple Camp, and the ground was soggy +from the continuous downpour. The thatched roofs of the more primitive +type of cabins looked bedrabbled, like the hair of a bather emerging +from the lake, and the more substantial shelters were crowded with the +overflow from these and from tents deserted by troops and patrols that +had been almost drowned out. + +The grub boards out under the elm trees had been removed to the main +pavilion. The diving springboard was submerged by the swollen lake, the +rowboats rocked logily, half full of water, and the woods across the +lake looked weird and dim through the incessant stream of rain, rain, +rain. + +The spring which supplied the camp and for years had been content to +bubble in its modest abode among the rocks, burst forth from its shady +and sequestered prison and came tumbling, roaring down out of the woods, +like some boisterous marauder, and rushed headlong into the lake. + +Being no respecter of persons, the invader swept straight through the +cabin of the Silver Fox Patrol, and the Silver Fox Patrol took up their +belongings and went over to the pavilion where they sat along the deep +veranda with others, their chairs tilted back, watching the gloomy scene +across the lake. + +"This is good weather for the race," said Roy Blakeley. + +"What race?" demanded Pee-wee Harris. + +"The human race. No sooner said than stung. It's good weather to study +monotony." + +"All we can do is eat," said Pee-wee. + +"Right the first time," Roy responded. "There's only one thing you don't +like about meals and that's the time between them." + +"What are we going to do for two hours, waiting for supper?" a scout +asked. + +"Search _me_," said Roy; "tell riddles, I guess. If we had some ham we'd +have some ham and eggs, if we only had some eggs. We should worry. It's +going to rain for forty-eight hours and three months more. That's what +that scout from Walla-Walla told me." + +"That's a dickens of a name for a city," said Westy Martin of Roy's +patrol. + +"It's a nice place, they liked it so much they named it twice," Roy +said. + +"There's a troop here all the way from Salt Lake," said Dorry Benton. + +"They ought to have plenty of pep," said Roy. + +"There's a troop came from Hoboken, too," Will Dawson observed. + +"I don't blame them," Roy said. "There's a troop coming from Kingston +next week. They've got an Eagle Scout, I understand." + +"Don't you suppose I know that?" Pee-wee shouted. "Uncle Jeb had a +letter from them yesterday; I saw it." + +"Was it in their own handwriting?" + +"What do you mean?" Pee-wee demanded disgustedly. "How can a troop have +a handwriting?" + +"They must be very ignorant," Roy said. "Can you send an animal by +mail?" + +"Sure you can't!" Pee-wee shouted. + +"That's where you're wrong," said Roy. "I got a letter with a seal on +it." + +"Can you unscramble eggs?" Pee-wee demanded. + +"There you go, talking about eats again. Can't you wait two hours?" + +There was nothing to do but wait, and watch the drops as they pattered +down on the lake. + +"This is the longest rain in history except the reign of Queen +Elizabeth," Roy said. "If I ever meet Saint Swithin----" + +This sort of talk was a sample of life at Temple Camp for seven days +past. Those who were not given to jollying and banter had fallen back on +checkers and dominos and other wild sports. A few of the more +adventurous and reckless made birchbark ornaments, while those who were +in utter despair for something to do wrote letters home. + +Several dauntless spirits had braved the rain to catch some fish, but +the fish, themselves disgusted, stayed down at the bottom of the lake, +out of the wet, as Roy said. It was so wet that even the turtles +wouldn't come out without umbrellas. + +Rain, rain, rain. It flowed off the pavilion roof like a waterfall. It +shrunk tent canvas which pulled on the ropes and lifted the pegs out of +the soggy ground. It buried the roads in mud. Hour in and hour out the +scouts sat along the back of the deep veranda, beguiling their enforced +leisure with banter and riddles and camp gossip. + +On Friday afternoon a brisk wind arose and blew the rain sideways so +that most of the scouts withdrew from their last entrenchment and went +inside. You have to take off your hat to a rain which can drive a scout +in out of the open. + +It began blowing in across the veranda in fitful little gusts and within +an hour the wind had lashed itself into a gale. A few of the hardier +spirits, including Roy, held their ground on the veranda, squeezing back +against the shingled side whenever an unusually severe gust assailed +them. + +There is no such thing as twilight in such weather, but the sodden sky +grew darker, and the mountainside across the lake became gloomier and +more forbidding as the night drew on apace. + +The few remaining stragglers on the veranda watched this darkening scene +with a kind of idle half interest, ducking the occasional gusts. + +"How would you like to be out on the lake now?" one asked. + +The question directed their gaze out upon the churning, black sheet of +water before them. The lake, lying amid those frowning, wooded hills, +was somber enough at all times, and a quiet gloom pervaded it which +imparted a rare charm. But now, in the grip of the rain and wind, the +enshrouding night made the lake seem like a place haunted, and the +enclosing mountains desolate and forlorn. + +"I'll swim across with anybody," said Hervey Willetts. + +He belonged in a troop from western New York and reveled in stunts which +bespoke a kind of blithe daring. No one took him up and silence reigned +for a few minutes more. + +"There's the little light on the top of the mountain," said Will Dawson +of Roy's patrol. "If there's anybody up there, I hope he has an +umbrella." + +But of course there was no one up there. For weeks the tiny light away +up on the summit of that mountain wilderness had puzzled the scouts of +camp. They had not, indeed, been able to determine that it was a light; +it seemed rather a tiny patch of brightness which was always brighter +when the moon shone. This had led to the belief that it was caused by +some kind of natural phenomena. + +The scouts fixed their gaze upon it, watching it curiously for a few +moments. + +"It isn't a reflection, that's sure," said Roy, "or we wouldn't see it +on a night like this." + +"It's a phosphate," said Pee-wee. + +"It's a chocolate soda," said Roy. + +"You're crazy!" Pee-wee vociferated. "Phosphate is something that shines +in the dark." + +"You mean phosphorus," said Westy Martin. + +That seemed a not unlikely explanation. But the consensus of opinion in +camp was that the bright patch was the reflection of some powerful light +in the low country on the opposite side of the mountain. + +"It's a mystery," said Pee-wee, "that's what it is." + +Suddenly, while they gazed, it went out. They watched but it did not +come again. And the frowning, jungle-covered, storm beaten summit was +enshrouded again in ghostly darkness. And the increasing gale beat the +lake, and the driven rain assailed the few stragglers on the veranda +with lashing fury. And across the black water, in that ghoul-haunted, +trackless wilderness, could be heard the sound of timber being rent in +splinters and of great trees crashing down the mountainside. + +Suddenly a word from Westy Martin aroused them all like a cannon shot. + +"Look!" he shouted, "_Look! Look at the springboard!_" + +Every one of them looked, speechless, astonished, aghast, at the sight +which they beheld before their very eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE BRIDGE + + +There, just below them was the springboard an inch or two above the +surface of the lake. Ordinarily it projected from the shore nearly a +yard above the water, but lately the swollen lake had risen above it. +Now, however, it was visible again just above the surface. + +This meant that the water had receded more in an hour than it had risen +in a whole week. The strong wind was blowing toward the pavilion and +would naturally force the water up along that shore. But in spite of the +wind the water in the lake was receding at an alarming rate. Something +was wrong. The little trickle from the spring up behind the camp had +grown into a torrent and was pouring into the lake. Yet the water in the +lake was receding. + +Down out of the mountain wilderness across the water came weird noises, +caused no doubt by the tumult of the wind in the intricate fastnesses +and by the falling of great trees, but the sounds struck upon the ears +of the besieged listeners like voices wild and unearthly. The banging of +the big shutters of the pavilion was heard in echo as the furious gale +bore the sounds back from the mountain and the familiar, homely noise +was conjured into a kind of ghostly clamor. + +"There goes Pee-wee's signal tower," a scout remarked, and just as he +spoke, the little rustic edifice which had been the handiwork and pride +of the tenderfoots went crashing to the ground while out of the woods +across the water came sounds as of merry laughter at its downfall. + +"Something's wrong over on the other side," said Westy Martin of Roy's +patrol; "the lake's breaking through over there." + +Scarcely had he uttered the words when all the scouts of the little +group were at the railing craning their necks and straining their eyes +trying to see across the water. But the wind and rain beat in their +faces and the driving downpour formed an impenetrable mist. + +As they withdrew again into the comparative shelter of the porch they +saw a young fellow standing with his bare arm upraised against the +door-jam, watching and listening. This was the young camp assistant, Tom +Slade. He had evidently come out to fasten the noisy shutters and had +paused to contemplate the tempest. + +"Some storm, hey, Tomasso?" said Roy. + +"I think the water's going out through the cove," said Tom. "It must +have washed away the land over there." + +"Let it go, we can't stop it," said Roy. + +"If it's running out into the valley, it's good-night to Berry's garage, +and the bridge too," said Tom. + +The young assistant was popular with the boys at camp, and struck by +this suggestion of imminent catastrophe, they clustered about him, +listening eagerly. So loud was the noise of the storm, so deafening the +sound of rending timber on that gale-swept height before them, that Tom +had to raise his voice to make himself heard. The danger to human life +which he had been the first to think of, gave the storm new terror to +these young watchers. It needed only this touch of mortal peril in that +panorama of dreadfulness to arouse them, good scouts that they were, to +the chances of adventure and the possibility of service. + +"We can't do anything, can we?" one asked. "It's too late now, isn't +it?" + +"It's either too late or it isn't," said Tom Slade; "and it's for us to +see. I was thinking of Berry's place, and I was thinking of the crowd +that's coming up tonight on the bus. If the water has broken through +across the lake and is pouring into the valley, it'll wash away the +bridge. The bus ought to be here now. There are two troops from the +four-twenty train at Catskill. Maybe the train is late on account of the +weather. If the bridge is down...." + +"Call up Berry's place and find out," said Westy Martin. + +"That's just what has me worrying," said Tom; "Berry's doesn't answer." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +AN IMPORTANT MISSION + + +Temple Camp was situated on a gentle slope close to the east shore of +the lake. Save for this small area of habitable land the lake was +entirely surrounded by mountains. And it was the inverted forms of these +mountains reflected in the water which gave it the somber hue whence the +lake derived its name. On sunless days and in the twilight, the water +seemed as black as night. + +Directly across the water from the camp, the most forbidding of those +surrounding heights reared its deeply wooded summit three thousand feet +above the sea level. A wilderness of tangled underbrush, like barbed +wire entanglements, baffled the hardiest adventurer. No scout had +penetrated those dismal fastnesses which the legend of camp reputed to +be haunted. + +Beside the rocky base of this mountain was a tiny cove, a dim, romantic +little place, where the water was as still as in a pool. Its two sides +were the lower reaches of the great mountain and its neighbor, and all +that prevented the cove from being an outlet was a little hubble of land +which separated this secluded nook from a narrow valley, or gully, +beyond. + +Sometimes, indeed, after a rainy spell the water in the cove overflowed +this little hubble of land enough to trickle through into the gully, and +then you could pick fish up with your hands where they flopped about +marooned in the channel below. Probably this gully was an old dried-up +stream bed. + +About a mile from the lake it became wider and was intersected by a +road. Here it was that the bridge spanned the hollow. And here it was, +right in the hollow near the bridge, that Ebon Berry had his rural +garage. Along this road the old bus lumbered daily, bringing new +arrivals to camp and touching at villages beyond. + +If, indeed, the swollen lake had washed away the inner shore of the +cove, the sequel would be serious if not tragic at that quiet road +crossing. The question was, had this happened, and if so, had the bus +reached the fatal spot? All that the boys knew was that the bus was long +overdue and that Berry's "did not answer." And that the fury of the +storm was rising with every minute. + +Tom Slade spoke calmly as was his wont. No storm could arouse him out of +his stolid, thoughtful habit. + +"A couple of scoutmasters have started along the road," he said, "to see +what they can find out. How about you, Hervey? Are you game to skirt the +lake? How about you, Roy? There may be danger over there." + +"Believe me, I hope it'll wait till we get there," said Hervey Willetts. + +"I'll go!" shouted Pee-wee. + +"You'll go--in and get supper," said Tom. "I want just three fellows; +I'm not going to overload a boat in this kind of weather. I'll take Roy +and Hervey and Westy, if you fellows are game to go. You go in and get a +lantern, Pee-wee." + +"And don't forget to leave some pie for those two troops that are coming +on the bus," added Roy. + +Pee-wee did better than bring a lantern; he brought also three oilskin +jackets and hats which the younger boys donned. He must also have +advertised the adventurous expedition during his errand indoors, for a +couple of dozen envious scouts followed him out and watched the little +party depart. + +The four made their way against a blown rain which all but blinded them +and streamed from their hats and rendered their storm jackets quite +useless. Tom wore khaki trousers and a pongee shirt which clung to him +like wet tissue paper. If one cannot be thoroughly dry the next best +thing is to be thoroughly wet. + +They chose the widest and heaviest of the boats, a stout old tub with +two pairs of oarlocks. Each of the four manned an oar and pulled with +both hands. It was almost impossible to get started against the wind, +and when at last their steady, even pulling overcame the deterring power +of the gale they were able to move at but a snail's pace. They followed +the shoreline, keeping as close in as they could, preferring the +circuitous route to the more perilous row across the lake. + +As their roundabout voyage brought them to the opposite shore, their +progress became easier, for the mountain rising sheer above them +protected them from the wind. + +"Let her drift a minute," said Tom, panting; "lift your oars." + +It was the first word that any of them had spoken, so intense had been +their exertions. + +"She's going straight ahead," said Westy. + +"What's that?" said Roy suddenly. "Look out!" + +He spoke just in time to enable them to get out of the path of a +floating tree which was drifting rapidly in the same direction as the +boat. Its great mass of muddy roots brushed against them. + +"It's just as I thought," Tom said; "the water must be pouring out +through the cove. We're caught in it. Let's try to get a little off +shore; we'll have one of those trees come tumbling down on our heads the +first thing we know." + +"Not so easy," said Hervey, as they tried to backwater and at the same +time get out from under the mountain. + +"Put her in reverse," said Roy, who never failed to get the funny squint +on a situation. + +But there was no use, the rushing water had them in its grip and they +were borne along pell-mell, with trees and broken limbs which had fallen +down the mountainside. + +They were directly opposite the camp now, and cheerful lights could be +seen in the pavilion where the whole camp community was congregated, +safe from the storm. The noises which had seemed weird enough at camp +were appalling now, as out of that havoc far above them, great bowlders +came tumbling down into the lake with loud splashes. + +Tom realized, all too late, the cause of the dreadful peril they were +in. Out on the body of the lake and toward the camp shore the wind was +blowing a gale from the mountains and, as it were, forcing the water +back. But directly under the mountain there was no wind, and their +position was as that of a person who is _under_ the curve of a +waterfall. And here, because there was no wind to counteract it, the +water was rushing toward what was left of the cove. It was like a rapid +river flowing close to the shore and bearing upon its hurrying water the +débris which had crashed down from that lonesome, storm-torn height. + +The boat was caught in this rushing water and the danger was increased +by its closeness to the shore where every missile of rock or tree, cast +by that frowning monster, might at any minute dash the craft to +splinters. + +The little flickering lights which shone through the spray and fine +blown rain across that black water seemed very cheerful and inviting +now. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE TREE + + +"We're in a bad fix," said Tom; "let's try to make a landing and see if +we can scramble along shore to the cove." + +It is doubtful whether they could have scrambled along that precipitous +bank, but in any case, so great was the impetus of the rushing water +that even making a landing was impossible. The boat was borne along with +a force that all their exertions could not counteract, headlong for the +cove. + +"What can we do?" Roy asked. + +"The only thing that I know of," said Tom, "is to get within reach of +the shore in the cove. If we can do that we might get to safety even if +we have to jump." + +Presently the boat went careening into the cove; an appalling sound of +scraping, then of tearing, was heard beneath it, it reared up forward, +spilling its occupants into the whirling water and, settling sideways, +remained stationary. + +The boys found themselves clinging to the branches of a broken tree +which was wedged crossways in the cove, its trunk entirely submerged. It +formed a sort of makeshift dam and the boat, caught in its branches, +added to the obstruction. + +If it had not been for this tree the boat would have been borne upon the +flood, with what tragic sequel who shall say? + +"All right," said Tom, "we're lucky; keep hold of the branches, it's +only a few feet to shore; careful how you step. If you let go it's all +over. We could never swim in this torrent." + +"Where do you suppose this tree came from?" Roy asked. + +"From the top of the mountain for all I know," Tom answered. "Watch your +step and follow me. We're in luck." + +"You don't call this luck, do you?" Westy asked. + +"Watch me, I can go scout-pace on the trunk," said Hervey, handing +himself along. + +"Never mind any of those stunts," said Tom; "you watch what you're doing +and follow me." + +"The pleasure is mine," said Hervey; "a scout is always--whoa! There's +where I nearly dipped the dip. Watch me swing over this branch. I bet +you can't hang by your knees--like this." + +There are some people who think that trees were made to bear fruit and +to afford shade, and to supply timber. But that is a mistake; they were +made for Hervey Willetts. They were the scenes of his gayest stunts. He +had even been known to dive under the water and shimmy up a tree that +was reflected there. He even claimed that he got a splinter in his hand, +so doing! Upside down or wedged across a channel under water, trees were +all the same to Hervey Willetts. He lived in trees. He knew nothing +whatever about the different kinds of trees and he could not tell spruce +from walnut. But he could hang by one leg from a rotten branch, the +while playing a harmonica. He was for the boy scout movement, because he +was for movement generally. As long as the scouts kept moving, he was +with them. He had a lot of merit badges but he did not know how many. +"He should worry," as Roy said of him. + +"Here's a good one--known as the jazzy-jump," he exclaimed. "Put your +left foot...." + +"You put your left foot on the trunk and don't let go the branches and +follow me," said Tom, soberly. "Do you think this is a picnic we're on?" + +"After you, my dear Tomasso," said Hervey, blithely. "I guess we're not +going to be killed after all, hey?" + +"I'm afraid not," said Tom. + +"I wish I had an ice cream soda, I know that," said Roy. + +"Careful how you step ashore now," Tom said. + +"Terra cotta at last," said Roy; "I mean terra firma." + +"Jump it," called Hervey, who was behind Roy. + +Thus, emerging from a peril, which none but Tom had fully realized, they +found themselves on the comparatively low shore of the cove. The tree, +itself a victim of the storm, poked its branches up out of the black +water like specters, which seemed the more grewsome as they swayed in +the wind. These had guided the little party to shore. + +So it was that that once stately denizen of the lofty forest had paused +here to make a last stand against the storm which had uprooted it. So it +was that this fallen monarch, friend of the scouts, had contrived to +check somewhat the mad rush of water out of their beloved lake, and had +guided four of them to safety. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +WIN OR LOSE + + +The dying mission of that noble tree suggested a thought to Tom. The +water from the lake was pouring over it, though checked somewhat by the +tree and the boat. If this tree, firmly wedged in place, could be made +the nucleus of a mass of wreckage, the flood might be effectually +checked, temporarily, at least. One thing, a moment's glance at the +condition of the cove showed all too certainly what must have happened +at the road-crossing. That the little rustic bridge there could have +withstood the first overwhelming rush of the flood was quite +unthinkable. Berry's garage too, perched on the edge of the hollow, must +have been swept away. + +[Illustration: THE TREE POKED ITS BRANCHES UP OUT OF THE BLACK WATER +AND GUIDED THEM TO SAFETY. Tom Slade's Double Dare. Page 25] + +[Illustration: (Transcriber's note: Map including Black Lake, the rustic +bridge, and Berry's Garage.)] + +And where was the lumbering old bus? That was the question now. If it +had been a motor bus its lights might have foretold the danger. But it +was one of those old-fashioned horse-drawn stages which are still seen +in mountain districts. + +In all that tumult of storm, Tom Slade paused to think. All about them +was Bedlam. Down the precipitous mountainside hard by, were crashing the +torn and uprooted trophies of the storm high in those dizzy recesses +above, where eagles, undisturbed by any human presence, made their homes +upon the crags. The rending and crashing up there was conjured by the +distance into a hundred weird and uncanny voices which now and again +seemed like the wailing of human souls. + +The rush of water, gathering force in the narrow confines of the cove, +became a torrent and threw a white spray in the faces of the boys as it +beat against the fallen tree. It seemed strange that they could be so +close to this paroxysm of the elements, in the very center of it as one +might say, and yet be safe. Nature was in a mad turmoil all about them, +yet by a lucky chance they stood upon a little oasis of temporary +refuge. + +"There are two things that have to be done--quick," said Tom. "Somebody +has got to pick his way down the west shore back to camp. It's through +the mountains and maybe two of you had better go. Here, take my +compass," he added, handing it to Westy. "Have you got some matches?" + +"I've got my flashlight," said Roy. + +So it fell out that Westy and Roy were the ones to make the journey back +to camp. + +"Keep as close to the shore as you can, it's easier going and shorter," +Tom said. "Anyway, use the compass and keep going straight south till +you see the lights at camp, then turn east. You ought to be able to do +it in an hour. Tell everybody to get busy and throw everything in the +water that'll help plug up the passage. Chuck in the logs from the +woodshed." + +"How about the remains of Pee-wee's signal tower?" + +"Good, chuck that in. Throw in everything that can be spared. Most of it +will drift over here and get caught in the rush. If the wind dies it +will all come over. Hurry up! I'll stay here and try to get in place +anything more that comes in in the meantime. There are a lot of broken +limbs and things around here. Hurry up now, _beat it!_ And don't stop +till you get there.... Don't let anybody try to start over in a boat," +he called after them. + +Scarcely had they set off when he turned to Hervey Willetts, placing +both his hands on the boy's shoulders. The rain was streaming down from +Hervey's streaked hair. The funny little rimless hat cut full of holes +which he wore on the side of his head and which was the pride of his +life had collapsed by reason of being utterly soaked, for he had very +early discarded the oilskin "roof" in preference for this old love. One +of his stockings was falling down and he hoisted this up as Tom spoke to +him. + +"Hervey, I'm glad you're going alone, because you won't have to do any +stunts for anybody's benefit. You're going to keep your mind on just one +thing. Understand?" + +"I can think of nine things at once," said Hervey, blithely, "and sing +_Over There_ and eat a banana at the same time. How's that?" + +"That's fine. Now listen--just two seconds. You're to hit right straight +up through this country--north. You notice I gave the compass to Roy? +That's because I know you can't get rattled when you're alone and when +you put your mind on a thing. You're to go straight north till you +reach the road. I'll have to keep the lantern here, but you won't need +it. You've got about a quarter of a mile of rough country and then easy +going. Straight north beyond the road is Crows Nest Mountain. Turn +around, that's right. Shut your eyes. One--two--three--four--five. Now +open them suddenly. You see that black bulk. That's Crows Nest. Now you +know how to see a dark thing in the dark...." + +"Do you know how to tell time with a clothespin?" + +"Never mind that. About every ten minutes stop and shut your eyes and +old Crows Nest will guide you. Don't get rattled. When you get to the +road wait for the bus and _stop it_. If it has passed by now, we can't +help it. I'm afraid it has. But if it _hasn't_, there are two troops in +it and their _lives depend on you_. Now get out of here--quick!" + +"What was that?" Hervey said, pausing and clutching Tom's arm. + +"What was what?" + +"That sound--away off. Hear it?" + +Amid the wild clamor of the tempest, the dashing of the impeded water +close by, and the ghostly voices up in that mountain wilderness, there +sounded, far off, subdued and steady, a low melodious call, spent and +thin from the distance, and blended with the myriad sounds of the raging +storm. + +"_It's the train_," said Tom. + +Still Hervey did not move, only clutched his companion's arm. One +second--two seconds--three, four, five, six. The sound died away in the +uproar of wind and rain.... Still the two paused for just a moment more, +as if held by a spell. + +"A mile and a half--four miles," said Tom. "Four miles of road. A mile +and a half of hills and swamps. They're at the station now. You _can't_ +do it, kid. But you'd better fail trying than not try at all. What do +you say?" + +There was no answer, for Hervey Willetts had already plunged into the +torrent, by which hazardous act ten minutes might be saved. Or +everything lost. Tom caught a glimpse of that funny perforated hat +bobbing in the rushing water of the cove, pulled tight down over its +young owner's ears. Sober as his thoughts were in the face of harrowing +peril, he could not repress a smile that Hervey should toss his life so +blithely into the enterprise and yet be careful to save that precious +hat. He was more proud of it than of all his deeds of reckless valor. + +Tom knew there was no restraining him, or advising him. He knew no more +of discipline than a skylark does. He was either the best scout in the +world or no scout at all, as you choose to look at it. He was going upon +this business in reckless haste, without forethought or caution. He +would stake his life to save twenty yards of distance. There was no +discretion in his valor. Blithe young gambler that he was, he would do +the thing in his own way. No one could tell him. Tom knew the utter +futility of shouting any last warnings or instructions to him. + +For Hervey Willetts was like a shot out of a rifle. With him it was a +case of hit or miss. He had no rules.... + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +SHADOWS OF THE NIGHT + + +One thing Hervey did bear in mind, and that was what Tom had told him +about how to distinguish a dark object in the dark. He would not +remember this twenty-four hours hence, but he remembered it then, and +that is saying much for him. He tried to improve upon the formula by +experimenting with his eyes cross-eyed, but it didn't work. Skirting the +lower western reach of the mountain and beyond, in the comparatively +flat country, he kept squinting away at old Crows Nest and its shadowy, +black mass guided him. "Slady's got the right dope on mountains," he +said to himself. + +The race was about as Tom had said; four miles for the horses, against a +mile and a half for Hervey. Both routes were bad, Hervey's the worse of +the two. All things considered, hills, muddy roads, trackless woodland, +swampy areas, it should take the heavily loaded team a little over an +hour to reach the bridge. By Tom's calculation it must take Hervey at +least an hour and a half. + +So there you are. + +Going straight north, Hervey would have that dim black mass, hovering on +the verge of invisibility, to guide him. Traveling a little west of +north he might have reached the road at a nearer point. But here the +traveling was bad and the danger of getting lost greater. Tom had +weighed one thing against another and told Hervey to go straight north. + +Hervey found the first half hour of his journey very difficult, picking +his way around the base of the mountain. Beyond the country was flat and +comparatively open, being mostly sparse woodland. The wind was very keen +here, since there was no mountain to break its force and the rain blew +in his face, almost blinding him. + +Again and again he wiped his dripping face with his sleeve and plodded +on, picking out his beacon now and again in the darkness. It was +surprising how easy it was for him to do this by the little trick of +which Tom had told him. His eyes would just catch the mountain for a +second, then it would evaporate in the surrounding blackness, like +breath on a pane of glass. + +Suddenly, something happened which quite unnerved him. He was hurrying +through a patch of woodland when, not more than ten feet ahead of him, +he was certain that he saw something dark glide from one tree to +another. + +He stopped short, his heart in his mouth. The minutes, he knew, were +precious, but he could not move. The wind in the trees moaned like some +lost soul, and in his stark fear the beating of the drops on the leafy +carpet startled him. He heard these because he was standing still, and +the ceasing of his own footfalls emphasized the steady patter. +Somewhere, in all that stormy solitude and desolation, an uncanny owl +hooted its dismal song. + +Hervey did not move. + +It was not till he bethought him of those horses lumbering along the +road ever nearer and nearer to that trap of death that he got control of +himself and started off. + +It was just the gloom of those dark woods, the play of some freakish and +deceptive shadow conjuring itself into a human presence, that he had +seen.... Who would be out in that lonely wood on such a night? + +With a sudden, desperate impulse to challenge his fear and have done +with it, he stepped briskly toward the tree to glance about it and +dispel his illusion. If it was just some branch broken by the wind and +hanging loose.... + +He approached the trunk and edged around it. As he did so a form moved +around the trunk also. Hervey paused. The pounding of his heart seemed +louder than the noises of the storm. In his throat was a queer burning +sensation. He could not speak. He could not stir. The dark form moved +again, ever so little.... + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE LIGHT THAT FAILED + + +The suspense was worse than any outcome could be, and Hervey, in another +impulse of desperation, took a step to the right, then quickly another +to the left. This ruse brought the two face to face. And in a flash +Hervey realized that he had little to fear from one who had tried so +desperately to escape his notice. + +The figure was that of a young man, his raiment torn and disordered and +utterly drenched. He wore a plaid cap, which being pulled down over his +ears by reason of the wind, gave him an appearance of toughness which +his first words belied. + +"You needn't be afraid," he said. + +"I'm not afraid," said Hervey. "Who are you?" + +"Did you hear some one scream?" the stranger asked. + +"Scream? No. It was the wind, I guess. Are you lost, or what?" + +"I want to get out of here, that's all," the young man said. "This place +is full of children screaming. Did you ever kill anybody?" + +"No," said Hervey, somewhat agitated. + +The stranger placed a trembling hand on Hervey's shoulder. "Do you know +a person can scream after he's dead?" he said. + +"I don't know," said Hervey, somewhat alarmed and not knowing what to +say. "Anyway, I have to hurry; it's up to me to save some people's +lives. There's a bridge washed away along the road." + +He did not wait longer to talk with this singular stranger, but thoughts +of the encounter lingered in his mind, particularly the young fellow's +speech about dead people and children screaming. As he hurried on, +Hervey concluded that the stranger was demented and had probably +wandered away from some village in the neighborhood. He had reason later +to recall this encounter, but he soon forgot it in the more urgent +matter of reaching the road. + +He had now about half a mile of level country to traverse, consisting +of fields separated by stone walls. The land was soggy, and here and +there in the lower places were areas of water. These he would not take +the time to go around, but plunged through them, often going knee deep +into the marshy bottom. It was sometimes with difficulty that he was +able to extricate his leg from these soggy entanglements. + +But he no longer needed the uncertain outline of that black mass amid +the surrounding blackness to guide him, for now the cheerful lights of +an isolated house upon the road shone in the distance. There was the +road, sure enough, though he could not see it. + +"That's what Slady calls deduction," he panted, as he trudged on, +running when he could, and dragging his heavy, mud-bedraggled feet out +of the mire every dozen steps or so. Over a stone wall he went and +scrambled to his feet and hastened on. + +The lights in the house cheered and guided him and he made straight for +this indubitable beacon. "Mountains are all--all right," he panted, "but +kerosene lamps--for--for--mine. I hope that--bunch--doesn't go to--bed." +His heart was pounding and he had a cruel stitch in his side from running, +which pained him excruciatingly when he ran fast. He tried scout pace +but it didn't work; he was not much of a hand for that kind of thing. +"It's--it's--all--right when--you're running through--the--handbook," +he said, "but--but...." + +Over another stone wall he went, tearing a great gash in his trousers, +exposing the limb to rain and wind. The ground was better for a space +and he ran desperately. Every breath he drew pained him, now and again +he staggered slightly, but he kept his feet and plunged frantically on. + +Then one of the lights in the house went out. Then another. There was +only one now. "That's--that's--what--it means for--for--people to--to go +to--to bed early," he panted with difficulty. "I--I always--said----" He +had not the breath to finish, but it is undoubtedly true that he had +always been a staunch advocate of remaining up all night. + +He fixed his eyes upon the one remaining light and ran with utter +desperation. His breathing was spasmodic, he reeled, pulled himself +together by sheer will, and stumbled on. On the next stone wall he made +a momentary concession to his exhaustion and paused just a moment, +holding his aching side. + +Then he was off again, running like mad. The single little light seemed +twinkling and hazy and he brushed his streaming face with his sleeve so +that he might see it the more clearly. But it looked dull, more like a +little patch of brightness than a shining light. Either it was failing, +or he was. + +He had to hold his stinging side and gulp for every breath he drew, but +he ran with all his might and main. He was too spent and dizzy to keep +his direction without that distant light, and he knew it. He was not Tom +Slade to be sure of himself in complete darkness. He was giddy--on the +verge of collapse. The bee-line of his course loosened and became +erratic. But if his legs were weakening his will was strong, and he +staggered, reeled, ran. + +On, on, on, he sped, falling forward now, rather than running, but +keeping his feet by the sheer power of his will. His heart seemed up in +his mouth and choking him. With one hand he grasped the flying shred of +his torn trousers and tried to wipe the blood from the cut in his leg. +Thus for just a second his progress was impeded. + +That was the last straw. The trifling movement lost him his balance, his +exhausted and convulsed body went round like a top and he lay breathing +in little jerks on the swampy ground. + +One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. In another five seconds he would +rise. He raised himself on one trembling arm and looked about. He +brushed his soaking hair back from his eyes and looked again. + +"Where--what--where--is--it--anyway?" he panted. He did not know which +direction was north or south or east or west. He only knew that a dagger +was sticking in his side and that he could not rise.... + +Yes, he could. He pulled himself together, rested a moment on his knees, +staggered to his feet and looked around. + +"Where--where--th--the dickens--is north?" + +He turned and looked around. He looked around the other way. Nothing but +desolation and darkness. He thought of what Tom had told him and, +closing his eyes, opened them suddenly. The mountain must have been too +near to show in outline now; it had probably melted into the general +landscape. There was just an even, solid blackness all about him. The +wind moaned, and somewhere, high and far off, he heard the screech of an +eagle. But at least the rain did not assail him as it had done. This, +however, was small comfort. He had lost, _failed_, and he knew it. + +In pitiable despair, in the anguish of defeat, he looked about him again +in every direction, as if to beseech the angry night to give him back +his one little beacon, and let him only save those people if he died for +it. + +But there was no light anywhere. It had gone out. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +ALMOST + + +Well, he would not go back. They should find him right there, his body +marking the very last foot he had been able to go. He would die as those +brother scouts of his would have to die. He would not go back. + +That good rule of the scouts to stop and think was not in Hervey's line. +But he would do the next best thing--a thing very characteristic of +Hervey Willetts. He would take a chance and start running. Yes, that +would be better. There would be just one chance in four of his going in +the right direction. But he had taken bigger chances than that before. +Anyway, the rain was ceasing. And he soon overcame the sentimental +notion of just lying there. + +The momentary rest had restored some measure of his strength. The +aching in his side was not so acute. The land was not so muddy where he +was and he took off his jacket and washed some of the heavy mud from his +shoes. + +Then he started off pell-mell. Who shall say what good angel prompted +him to look behind? Perhaps it was the little god Billikins of whom you +are to know more in these pages. But look behind Hervey Willetts did. +And there in the distance, very tiny but very clear, was a spark bobbing +in the darkness. + +He paused and watched it over his shoulder. It moved along slowly, very +slowly. It disappeared. Then appeared again. And now it moved a little +faster. A little faster still. Now it moved along at an even, steady +rate. The long, hard pull up Cheery Hill was over, and the horses were +jogging along the road. Oh, how well Hervey knew that lantern which hung +under the rear step of the clumsy, lumbering old bus. + +_Then it had not passed._ + +Hervey Willetts was himself now. Tearing a loose shred from his tattered +trousers, he soaked it in a little puddle, then stuffed it in his mouth. +He clasped his jack-knife in one fist and a twig in the other. He drew +up his belt. He took that precious hat off and stuffed it in his pocket, +campaign buttons and all. Ah, no, he did not throw it away. He ripped +off another rag and tied it fast around his neck and he bound his scarf +around his forehead. He knew all these little tricks of the runner. It +was not thought, but _action_ now. + +But, oh, Hervey, Hervey! What sort of a scout are you? Did you not know +that the shriek of the eagle must have been from the mountain in the +north? Did you not know that eagles live on mountain crags? Why did you +not face into the wind and you would have headed north? When the rain +did not blow in your face or against either cheek, that was because you +were facing _south_. It had not stopped raining. It was raining and +blowing for _your_ sake and you did not know it. You were hunting for a +kerosene lamp! + +But there are scouts and scouts. + +Bareheaded, half naked, he sped through the darkness like a ghostly +specter of the night. He headed for a point some fifty yards ahead of +the bus. He knew that coming from behind he could not catch it in time. +He was running to _intercept_ it, not to _overtake_ it. He was running +at right angles to it and for a point ahead of it. Therein lay his only +chance, and not a very good chance. By all the rules there was _no_ +chance. By the divine law which gives power to desperation, there was--a +little. + +He ran in utter abandonment, in frenzy. Some power outside of himself +bore him on. What else? Like a fiend, with arms swinging and head +swathed in a crazy rag, he moved through wind and storm, invincible, +indomitable! His head throbbed, his mouth was thick, his side ached, but +he seemed beyond the power of these things now. Over the fences he went, +leaving shreds of clothing blowing in the gale, and tearing his flesh on +stone walls. In the madness of despair, and in the insane resolve that +despair begets, he sped on, on, on.... + +The bus was now almost even with his course. He changed his course to +keep ahead of it. The lumbering old rattle-trap gave out a human note +now, which cheered the runner. He could hear the voices within it. Very +faint, but still he could hear them. He knew he could not make himself +heard because the wind was the other way. Besides which, he had not the +voice to call. His whole frame was trembling; he could not have spoken +even. + +On, on, on. The trees passed him like trees seen from a train window. He +turned the wet rag in his mouth to draw a little more moisture from it. +He clutched his sweating hands tighter around the knife and twig. He +shook the blowing, dripping hair from his eyes. Forward, _forward!_ If +he slackened his speed now he would fall--collapse. Like a top, his +speed kept him up. + +Running straight ahead he would about run into the bus, which meant that +it was gaining on him. Again he bent his course to a point ahead of it. +Each maneuver of this kind narrowed the angle between himself and the +bus until soon he would be _pursuing_ it. The angle would be no more. He +would be running _after_ the bus and losing ground. + +By a supreme, final spurt, he had now a fair chance to make the road and +intercept the bus before it reached the broad, level stretch to the +bridge. Should it reach that point his last chance would have vanished. + +In this desperate pass he tried to shout, but found, as the spent runner +usually does, that he was almost voiceless. A feeble call was all he +could manage, and on the contrary wind and noise of the storm, this was +quite inadequate. He could only stumble on, borne up by his indomitable +will. He was weakening and he knew it. + +Yet the light of the bus so near him gave him fresh hope, and with it +fresh strength. It seemed a kind of perversity of fate that he should +have reached a point ordinarily within earshot, and yet could not make +his approach known. + +Just as the bus was passing his course, and when it was perhaps three or +four hundred feet distant, Hervey, putting all his strength into a final +spurt, sped forward in a blind frenzy like one possessed. He saw the bus +go by; heard the voices within it. Throwing his jack-knife from him in a +kind of frantic, maniacal desperation, he tried to scream, and finding +that he could not, that his voice was dead while yet his limbs lived, +and that his panting throat was clogged up and his nerves jangled and +uncontrollable, he bounded forward in a kind of delirium of concentrated +effort. + +Then, suddenly, his foot sank into a hole. Perhaps with a little +calmness and patience he could have released it. But in his wild hurry +he tried to wrench it out. A sudden, sharp pain rewarded this insane +effort. He lost his balance and went sprawling to the ground, another +quick, excruciating twinge accompanying his fall, and lay there on the +soggy ground like a woodchuck in a trap. + +The old bus went lumbering by. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE HERO + + +The best account of this business was given by Darby Curren, the bus +driver, or Curry, as the boys called him. + +"We was jes' comin' onter the good road, we was, and I was jes' about +goin' ter give Lefty a taste o' the whip ter let 'er know ter wake up. +Them kids inside was a hollerin', '_Hit 'er up!" 'Step on 'er!' 'Give +'er the gas!_' and all sech nonsense. Well, by gorry, I never seed sech +a night since Noah sailed away in the ark, I didn't. So ye'll understand +I was'n' fer bein' surprised at nuthin' I see. Ghosts nor nuthin'. + +"Well, all of a sudden Lefty begins to jump and rear step sideways and +was like to drag us all in the ditch when what do I see but that there +thing, like a ghost or somethin' it was, hangin' onter her bridle. It +was makin' some kind of a noise, I dunno what. First off I thought plum +certain it was a ghost. Then I thought it was Hasbrooks' boy, that's +what I thought, on account o' him havin' them fits and maybe bein' +buried alive. It was me that druv the hearse fer 'im only a week back. +And I says then to Corby that was sittin' with me, I says, no son o' +mine that ever had them fits would be buried in three days, not if I +knowed it. Safety first, I said, dead or livin'. + +"Well, I hollered to him what he wanted there and I didn't get no answer +so I got down. And all the rest o' that howlin' pack got out, and the +two men. I guess they thought we was held up, Jesse James like. Only the +little codger stayed inside. + +"Well, there he was, all tore and bloody and not enough duds left to +stop up a rat-hole. And we hed ter force his hand open, he was hangin' +onter the bridle that hard." + +Well, that was about all there was to it; the rest was told by many +mouths. They forced open his grip on the horse's bridle and he collapsed +and lay unconscious on the ground. They lifted him and carried him +gently into the bus, and laid him on one of the long seats. His left +foot was shoeless and lacerated. + +There were a couple of first aid scouts in the party, and they did what +they could for him, bathing his face and trying to restore some measure +of repose to his jangled nerves. They washed his torn foot with +antiseptic while one kept a cautious hold upon his fluttering pulse. +They administered a heart stimulant out of their kit, and waited. He did +not speak nor open his eyes, save momentarily at intervals, when he +stared vacantly. But the stout heart which had served him in his +superhuman effort, would not desert him now, and in a little while the +brother scout who held his wrist laid it gently down and, in a kind of +freakish impulse, made the full scout salute to the unconscious figure. +That seemed odd, too, because at camp he was not thought to be a really +A-1 scout.... + +The two scoutmasters of the arriving troops remained in the bus with the +first aid scouts and a queer little codger who seemed to be lame; the +others walked. Hervey Willetts had ridden on top of that bus (contrary +to orders), but he had never before lain quietly on the seat of it and +been watched by two scoutmasters. He was always being watched by +scoutmasters, but never in just this way.... + +So the old bus lumbered on. Soon he opened his eyes and mumbled +something. + +"Yes, my boy," said one of the scoutmasters; "what is it?" + +"S--sma--smashed--br--," he said incoherently. + +"Yes, we'll have a doctor as soon as we reach camp," the scoutmaster +said soothingly. "Try to bear it. Don't move it and perhaps it won't +pain so." + +Hervey shook his head petulantly as if it were not his foot he spoke of. +"Br--oken--the--br--look out----" And again he seemed to faint away. + +The scoutmaster was puzzled. + +In a few moments he spoke again, his eyes closed. But the word he spoke +was clear. + +"Ahead," he whispered. + +The scoutmaster was still puzzled but he opened the bus door and called, +"Gilbert, suppose you and a couple of the boys go on ahead and watch +your step." Then to the other scoutmaster he said, "I think he's a bit +delirious." + +So it happened that it was Gilbert Tyson of the troop from Hillsburgh, +forty or fifty miles down the line, who shouted to Darby Curren to stop, +that the bridge had been washed away. + +A funny part of the whole business was that the little duffer in the +bus, who was attached to that troop, thought that Tyson was the hero of +the occasion. He was strong on troop loyalty if on nothing else. So far +as he was concerned (and he was very much concerned) Tyson had saved the +lives of every scout in those two troops. Subsequent circumstances +favored this delusion of his. For one thing, Hervey Willetts cared +nothing at all about glory. You could not fit the mantle of heroism on +him to save your life. He never talked about the affair, he was seldom +at camp, except to sleep, and he did not know how he had managed the +last few yards of his triumphal errand. For another thing, the +Hillsburgh troop kept to themselves more or less, occupying one of the +isolated "hill cabins." As for Tom Slade, he seldom talked much. He had +seen too many stunts to lose his head over a new one, and he was a poor +sort of publicity agent for Hervey. + +Thus Goliath, as the little codger came to be known, had the field all +to himself, and he turned out to be a mighty "hero maker." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +PROVEN A SCOUT + + +The bus came to a stop a hundred feet or so from the ruined bridge and +its passengers, going forward cautiously, looked down shudderingly into +the yawning chasm. For a few seconds the very thought of what might have +happened filled them with silent awe. + +Goliath was the first to speak. "It's good Tyson saved our lives, isn't +it?" he piped up. "We'd all be dead, 'wouldn't we?" + +"Very dead," said one of the scouts; "so dead we probably wouldn't know +it." + +"Wouldn't _know_ it?" asked Goliath, puzzled. + +For answer the scout gave him a bantering push and tousled his hair for +him. The little fellow took refuge with one of the scoutmasters. + +"Will we get to that camp soon?" he asked. + +"Pretty soon, I hope. Perhaps some one will come down and show us the +way." + +"Are we lost?" + +"No, we're saved." + +"I'm glad we're in Tyson's troop, aren't you?" + +The scoutmaster laughed. "You bet," he said. + +"Are there wild animals in that camp?" + +"Scouts are all wild animals," the scoutmaster laughed again. + +"Am I a wild animal?" + +"Surest thing you know." + +"Are you?" + +"That's what." + +"Is that fellow that's inside lying on the seat--is he dead?" + +"No--not dead. But you mustn't go in and bother him." + +The scene about the bridge was one of utter ruin. No vestige of the +rustic structure was left; it had probably been carried away in the +first overwhelming rush of water. The flood had subsided by now, and +only a trickle of water passed through the gully. In this, and upon the +sloping banks and the wreckage which had been Ebon Berry's garage, the +scouts climbed about and explored the scene of devastation. + +After a while a scoutmaster and several boys arrived from camp by way +of the road. They had fought their way through mud and storm, bringing +stretchers and a first aid kit, in expectation of finding disaster. + +"This is not a very cheerful welcome to camp," one of the scoutmasters +said. "The lake broke through up yonder. The boys have checked the flood +with a kind of makeshift dam. We were afraid you had met with disaster. +All safe and sound, are you?" + +"Oh, yes, several of our boys went ahead and one of them shouted for us +to stop----" + +"That's the one right there," piped up the little fellow. "Maybe he'll +get a reward, hey? Maybe he'll get a prize." + +"I guess we're all safe and sound," said the other arriving scoutmaster; +"but wet and hungry----" + +"Especially hungry," one of the scouts said. + +"That's a common failing here," said the man from camp. + +"There's a funny fellow inside; want to see him?" piped up Goliath. "He +hasn't got any clothes hardly, and he don't know what he's talking +about; he hasn't got any conscience----" + +"He means he's unconscious," said the scoutmaster. "We ran into him on +the road. He really hasn't spoken yet, so we don't know anything about +him. He seems a kind of victim of the storm--crazed. I think it just +possible he intended--Come inside, won't you? I think we'll have to take +him with us on a stretcher. I suppose he belongs in the countryside +hereabouts." + +Thus it was that Hervey's own scoutmaster looked down upon the +unconscious form of his most troublesome and unruly scout. It was no +wonder that the others had not thought him a scout. He looked more like +a juvenile hobo. But sticking out of his soaking pocket was that one +indubitable sign of identification, his rimless hat cut full of holes +and decorated with its variety of badge buttons. Ruefully, Mr. Denny +lifted this dripping masterpiece of original handiwork, and held it +between his thumb and forefinger. + +"This is one of our choicest youngsters," he said. "He is in my own +troop. The last time I saw him, I explicitly told him not to leave camp +without my permission. I suppose he has been on some escapade or other. +I think he's about due for dismissal----" + +"I don't think he's seriously injured, sir." + +"Oh, no, he has a charmed life. Nine lives like a cat, in fact. Well, +we'll cart him back." + +"He doesn't look like a scout fellow," Goliath said. + +"Well, he isn't what you would call a very good scout fellow, my boy," +Mr. Denny said. "Good scout fellows usually know the law and obey it, if +anybody should ask you." + +"If they ask me, that's what I'll tell 'em," said Goliath, "hey?" + +"You can't go far wrong if you tell them that," Mr. Denny said. + +"And they have to save lives too, don't they?" the little codger piped +up. + +"Why, yes, you seem to have it all down pat," Mr. Denny said. + +"We've got one of them in our troop," the little fellow said; "he's a +hero." + +"Well, I hope he reads the handbook and obeys the scout laws," said Mr. +Denny significantly. + +"I'm always going to have good luck," the little fellow said, rather +irrelevantly. "I got a charm, too. Want to see it?" + +"I think we'd better see if we can get to camp and find some hot stew," +said Mr. Denny. + +"That's the kind of a charm for me," said one of the scouts. + +So it fell out that on this occasion, as on most others, Goliath was not +permitted to dig down into the remote recess of his pocket to show that +wonderful charm. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE NEW SCOUT + + +"Well," laughed Mr. Baxton, scoutmaster of the troop to which that +little brownie of a boy belonged; "since we have a hero, we may as well +use him. Suppose you stay here, Gilbert, and stop any vehicles that +happen along." + +"I think one of our boys from camp ought to do that," said one of the +other scoutmasters. "How about you, Roy?" + +The boy addressed was of a compact, natty build, with brown curly hair, +and with the kind of smile which was positively guaranteed not to wash +out in a storm. On his nose, which was of the aggressive and impudent +type, were five freckles, set like the stars which form the big dipper, +and his even teeth, which were constantly in evidence, were as white as +snow. Across the bridge of his nose was a mark such as is seen upon the +noses of persons who wear spectacles. But he wore no spectacles, though +the imprint between his laughing, dancing eyes was said to have been +caused by glasses--soda water glasses which were continually tipped up +against his nose in obedience to the dictum that a scout shall be +thorough. + +"We'll both stay," he said; "if a Ford comes along we'll carry it +across." + +"Well, don't leave the spot, that's all," said Mr. Denny. + +"Far be it from such," said Roy. "If we go away we'll take it with us. +We should worry our young lives about a spot. Only save some stew for +us. This night has been full of snap so far, it reminds me of a +ginger-snap. We'll sit in one of those old cars, hey?" + +Gilbert Tyson stared at Roy. He thought it wouldn't be half bad to stay +here with this sprightly scout. The rest of the party, guided by Mr. +Denny, started picking their way along the road to camp, carrying Hervey +on a stretcher. Darby Curren, the stage-driver, doubtless tempted by the +mention of hot stew, unharnessed his team and leaving the horses to +graze in the adjacent field, accompanied the party. Roy and Gilbert +Tyson watched the departing cavalcade till it was swallowed in darkness. + +The rain had ceased now, and the wind was dying. In the sky was a little +silvery break, and by its light flaky clouds were seen hurrying away, +all in one direction like a flock of birds. It seemed as if they might +be fleeing quietly from the wreck which they had caused. + +"If one of the lights on those cars is working, we might use it for a +signal," Roy said. + +The cars of which he spoke were in the wreckage of Berry's garage. It +had not been much of a garage, hardly more than a shack, in fact, and +the two cars which now stood more or less damaged and exposed to the +weather, had been its only contents, save for a work-bench and a few +tools. Mr. Berry's flivver was quite beyond repair, having been +overturned and carried some yards and apparently dashed against the +bridge. There is no wreck in the world like the wreck of a Ford. + +The heavier car had evidently withstood the first onrush of water and +had made a stand against the flood, its wheels deep in the mud. This +car was a roadster. Its side curtains were up, completely enclosing the +single seat. It had evidently been used since the rainy weather started. +It was not altogether free from damage, one of the fenders was bent, the +bumper in front almost touched the ground on one side, an ornamental +figurehead had been broken off the radiator cap, and the face of the +radiator was dented. This car was equipped with a searchlight fastened +on one end of the windshield, and as Gilbert Tyson handled this it +lighted, sending a penetrating shaft of brightness into the night. + +"It's funny the battery works after the soaking it got," said Roy. +"Let's keep playing that light on the road. Anybody could see it half a +mile off." + +"Spell danger with it," Gilbert said. + +"Sure, but I don't think anybody from camp will be along." + +"You never can tell who knows the Morse Code and who doesn't," Gilbert +said. "Keep playing it on the road, anyway." + +The position of the car was such that this searchlight could be shown +upon the road for perhaps the space of a quarter of a mile. It would +have been quite sufficient to give pause to any approaching wagon or +machine. Roy and Gilbert climbed into the car and sat upon the seat in +the cosy enclosure formed by the curtains. It was quite pleasant in +there. Since it was more agreeable to be fooling with the light than to +let it shine steadily, Roy amused himself by spelling the word DANGER +again and again. + +Pretty soon one of the curtains opened and a voice said, "What's all the +danger about?" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE GRAY ROADSTER + + +It was Tom Slade. With him was one of the best all-around scouts in +camp, patrol leader of the Royal Bengal Tigers, Eagle Scout and winner +of the Gold Cross, Bert Winton. + +"What's this? The annual electrical show?" he asked. "What's the matter +with you kids? Lost, strayed or stolen? Who's this fellow?" + +"Look at the bridge, it's gone!" said Roy. "Don't bother to look at it. +It isn't there anyway. We're a couple of pickets--I mean sentinels." + +"Well, you guided us through the woods, anyway," said Tom. + +"The pleasure is ours," said Roy. "We can sit in a car and guide people +through the woods; we're real heroes. What's the news?" + +"Do you know anything about the stage?" Tom asked. + +"We know _all_ about it. It's right over there. This fellow comes from +Hillsburgh. He got out and walked ahead and stopped it. Didn't you? +Hervey Willetts blew in from somewhere or other and they're carrying him +to camp. Nothing serious. Got any candy?" + +"The crowd from the bus is all right then?" + +"Positively guaranteed." + +"And Hervey?" + +"He's used up another one of his lives, he's only got three left now. He +must have hit the trail after Westy and I left the cove. He's going to +get called down to-morrow. He should worry, he's used to that." + +"Where did they run into him?" Tom asked. + +"They found him hanging onto one of the horses. Curry thought he was a +ghost, that's all _I_ know. This fellow went ahead and shouted back that +the bridge had sneaked off. Didn't you, Gilly?" It was characteristic of +Roy that he had already found a nickname for Gilbert Tyson. + +"Hervey say anything?" + +"Mumbled something, I don't know what." + +Tom pondered a few moments. "Humph," said he, "that's all right." + +He was satisfied about Hervey. The other phases of the episode did not +interest him. What scoutmasters said and thought did not greatly concern +him. He did not give two thoughts to the fact that Hervey was to be +"called down." He had known scouts to be called down before. He had +known credit and glory to miscarry. Hervey had done this thing and that +was all that the young camp assistant cared about. It would not hurt +Hervey to be called down. + +The picturesque young assistant, the very spirit and embodiment of +adventure and romance, made a good deal of allowance for visiting +scoutmasters and handbook scouts. He was broad and kind as the trees are +broad and kind; exacting about big things, careless about little things. +They knew all about scouting. He was the true scout. They had their +manuals and handbooks. The great spirit of the woods was his. Hervey had +made good. Why bother more about that? + +So he just said, "Not hurt much, huh? Well, if you kids want to go up to +camp, we'll take care of this job." + +"Whose car is this, anyway?" asked Bert Winton. "I never saw it before. +It's got bunged up a little, hey?" + +Tom looked at the roadster rather interestedly, whistling to himself. + +"It's gray," said Bert; "I never saw it before." + +"It wasn't damaged in the flood," said Tom. + +"Why wasn't it?" Roy demanded. + +"Because it's facing down stream. Anything that hit it would have hit it +in the back. I don't know whose it is, but it came here damaged, if you +want to know." + +"Sherlock Nobody Holmes, the boy detective," vociferated Roy. "We're not +going to let it worry our innocent young lives, anyway, are we, Gilly? +Oh, here comes somebody along the road! The plot grows thicker!" + +Tom and Winton had cut through the woods, direct from the cove where +they had been assisting in throwing together the makeshift dam. +Fortunately the searchlight had made their journey easy. The figure +which now approached along the road turned out to be Ebon Berry, owner +of the wrecked garage, who had ventured forth from his home as soon as +the storm had abated. + +"Well, 'tain't no use cryin' over spilled milk, as the feller says," he +observed as he contemplated the ruin all about him. + +"You're about cleaned out, Mr. Berry," said Winton. "Whose car is this? +I never saw it before." + +"That? Well, now, that belongs to a feller that left it here, oh, I +dunno, mebbe close onto a week ago. I ain't seed him since. Said he'd be +back for it nex' day. I ain't seed nothin' of 'im. I guess that's what +you'd call a racer, now, hain't it?" + +"What are you going to do about it?" Tom asked. "It was damaged when it +came here, wasn't it?" + +"Yes, it were. Well, now, I don't jes' know _what_ I'd auter do. Jes' +nothin', I guess." + +"'Tisn't going to do it any good buried here in the mud," Tom said. + +"Well, 'tain't my loss, ony six dollars storage." + +"Let's give it the once over," Tom said, in a way of half interest. The +efforts of the night had been so strenuous that his casual interest in +the car was something in the form of relaxation. It interested him as +whittling a stick might have interested him. "Take a squint into that +pocket there, Roy." + +There was nothing but a piece of cotton waste in the flap pocket of the +door nearest Roy, but Gilbert Tyson's ransacking of the other one +revealed some miscellaneous paraphernalia; there was a pair of +motorist's gloves, a road map, a newspaper, and two letters. + +"Here, I'll give you the light," said Roy, as Tyson handed these things +to Tom. + +"You keep the light on the road," said Tom. "Let's have your +flashlight." + +"Now we're going to find out where the buried treasure lays hid--I mean +hidden," said Roy. "We're going to unravel the mystery, as Pee-wee would +say. 'Twas on a dark and stormy night----" + +"Let's have your flashlight," said Tom, dryly. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE UNKNOWN TRAIL + + +Gilbert Tyson and Roy sat in the car. Tyson had removed one curtain and +Tom, standing close by, examined the papers in the glare of the +flashlight which Tyson held. Bert Winton and Mr. Berry peered curiously +over Tom's shoulder. + +The map was of the usual folding sort, and on a rather large scale, +showing the country for about forty or fifty miles roundabout. + +"There's my little old home town," said Tyson, putting his finger on +Hillsburgh, "home, sweet home." + +"And here's little old Black Lake--before the flood," said Roy. "There's +the camp, right there," he added, indicating the spot to Tyson; "there's +where we eat, right there." + +"And here's a trail up the mountain," said Tom. "See that lead pencil +mark? You go up the back way. See?" + +So there then was indeed a way up that frowning mountain opposite the +camp. It was up the less precipitous slope, the slope which did not face +the lake. The pencil marking had been made to emphasize the fainter +printed line. + +"Humph," said Tom, interested. "There's always _some_ way up a +mountain.... Maybe the light we saw up there ... let's have a squint at +that letter, will you?" + +"Have we got a right to read it?" Winton asked. + +"We may be able to save a life by it," said Tom. "Sure." + +But the letter did not reveal anything of interest. It was, in fact, +only the last page of a letter which had been preserved on account of +some trifling memorandums on the back of the sheet. What there was of +the letter read as follows: + + hope you will come back to England some time or other. I suppose + America seems strange after all these years. You'll have to be + content with shooting Indians and buffaloes now. But we'll save a + fox or two for you. And don't forget how to ride horseback and we'll + try not to forget about the rattle wagons. + + REGGY. + +"That's very kind of Reggy," said Roy. "Indians and buffaloes! Poor +Indians. If he ever comes here, we'll teach him to shoot the shutes. If +he's a good shot maybe we'll let him shoot the rapids." + +"They all think America is full of Indians," said Winton. + +"Indian pudding," said Roy; "_mmm, mmm!_" + +"Well, let's see the newspaper," said Tom. "I don't suppose there's +anything particular in that. Somebody that lived in England has been +trying to go up the mountain--_maybe_. That's about all we know. We +don't know that, even. But anyway, he hasn't come back." + +"Maybe he's up there shooting Indians and buffaloes," said Roy. "We +should worry." + +"When was it he came here?" Tom asked. + +"'Bout several days ago, I reckon," said Mr. Berry. + +"That light's been up there all summer," Winton said. + +"Until to-night," Tom added. + +For a few moments no one spoke. + +"Well, let's see the paper," said Tom, as he took it and began looking +it over. He had not glanced at many of the headings when one attracted +his attention. Following it was an article which he read carefully. + + AUTOIST KILLS CHILD + + Negligence and Reckless Driving Responsible for Accident + + DRIVER ESCAPES + + An accident which will probably prove fatal occurred on the road + above Hillsburgh yesterday when a car described as a gray + roadster ran down and probably mortally injured Willy Corbett, + the eight-year-old son of Thomas Corbett of that place. + + Two laborers in a nearby field, who saw the accident, say + that the machine was running on the left side of the road where + the child was playing and that but for this reckless violation of + the traffic law, the little fellow would not have been run down. + The driver was apparently holding to the left of the road, + because the running was better there. + + Exactly what happened no one seems to know. The autoist + stopped, and started again, and when the two laborers had reached + the spot where the child lay, the machine was going at the rate + of at least forty miles an hour. + + All efforts of town and county authorities to locate the gray + roadster have failed. + +"That's only about ten miles from where I live," said Gilbert Tyson. + +Tom seemed to be thinking. "Let's look at that letter again," said he. +"Humph," he added and handed it back to Roy. + +"What?" Roy asked. + +"Nothing," said Tom. "I guess this is the car all right." + +"I don't see it," said Winton. "Just because it's a gray roadster----" + +"Well, there may be other little things about it, too," said Tom. + +"About the car or the letter or what?" Winton asked. + +"Answered in the affirmative," said Roy. + +"Well, anyway," Tom said, "it looked as if the owner of the car might +have gone up the mountain. And he hasn't come down. At least he hasn't +come after his car. I'd like to get a look at him. I'm going to follow +that trail up a ways----" + +"To-night?" + +"When did you suppose? Next week? I'd like to find out where the trail +goes. I'm not saying any more. The bright spot we saw from camp went out +to-night. And here's a trail on the other side of the mountain that I +never knew of. Here's a man that had a map of it and he went away and +hasn't come back. I'm not asking anybody to go with me." + +"And I'm not asking you to let me," said Roy. "I'll go just for spite. +You don't think you're afraid of me, am I, quoth he. Now that we're +here, we might as well be all separated together. What do you say, +Gilly? Yes, kind sir, said he. We'll _all_ go, what do you say? Indeed +we will, they answered joyously----" + +"Well, come ahead then," said Tom, "and stop your nonsense." + +"Says you," Roy answered. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +ON THE SUMMIT + + +The two facts uppermost in Tom's mind were these: Some one had marked +the trail up that mountain, and the patch of brightness on the top of +the mountain which had lately been familiar to the boys in camp had that +very night disappeared. + +The owner of the gray roadster had not come back for it. He might be the +fugitive of the newspaper article, and he might not. If Tom had any +_particular_ reason for thinking that he was, he did not say so. There +are a good many gray roadsters. One thing which puzzled Tom was this: +the car had been in storage at Berry's for a few days at the very most, +but the bright patch on the mountain had been visible for a month or +more. So if the owner of this machine had gone up the mountain, at least +he was not the originator of the bright patch there. But perhaps, after +all, the bright patch was just some reflection. + +[Illustration: SUDDENLY ROY CALLED, "LOOK HERE! HERE'S A BOARD!" +Tom Slade's Double Dare. Page 83] + +"Let's have another look at that letter," said Tom. + +He read it again with an interest and satisfaction which certainly were +not justified by the simple wording of the missive. + +"Come ahead," he said; "we can't get much wetter than we are already. We +might as well finish the night's work. I guess Mr. Berry'll take care of +the searchlight." + +Mr. Berry had no intention of leaving the scene of his ruined +possessions to the mercy of vandals. Moreover, it seemed likely that +with the abatement of the storm the neighboring village would turn out +to view the devastation. + +Once the end of the trail was located, the ascent of the mountain was +not difficult, and the four explorers made their way up the +comparatively easy slope, hindered only by trees which had fallen across +the path. The old mountain which frowned so forbiddingly down upon the +camp across the lake was very docile when taken from behind. It was just +a big bully. + +As Tom and the three scouts approached the summit, the devastation +caused by the storm became more and more appalling. Great trees had been +torn up as if they had been no more than house plants. These had fallen, +some to the ground and some against other trees, their spreading roots +dislodging big rocks which had gone crashing down against other trees. +Some of these rocks remained poised where the least agitation would +release them. + +Nature cannot be disturbed like this without suffering convulsions +afterwards, and the continual low noises of dripping roots and of trees +and branches sinking and settling and falling from temporary supports, +gave a kind of voice of suffering and anguish to the wilderness. + +These strange sounds were on every hand and they made the wrecked and +drenched woods to seem haunted. Now and again a sound almost human would +startle the cautious wayfarers as they picked their way amid the sodden +chaos. In places it seemed as if the merest footfall would dislodge some +threatening bowlder which would blot their lives out in a second. And +the ragged, gaping chasms left by roots made the soggy ground uncertain +support for yards about. + +Toward the summit the path was quite obliterated under the jumble of the +wreckage, and the party clambered over and threaded their way amid this +débris until the tiny but cheering lights of Temple Camp were visible +far down across the lake. There the two arriving troops were about +finishing their hot stew! Far down and nearer than the camp was a moving +speck of light; some one was on the lake. The boys did not venture too +near that precipitous descent. + +Suddenly Roy, who had been walking along a fallen tree trunk, called, +"Look here! Here's a board!" + +He had hauled it out from under the trunk, and the others, approaching, +looked at it with interest. In all that wild desolation there was +something very human about a fragment of board. Somehow it connected +that unknown wilderness with the world of men. + +"That didn't come up here by itself," said Tom. + +"You're right, it didn't," said Tyson. + +"Here's a rusty nail in it," Roy added. + +The board, unpainted and weather beaten as it was, seemed singularly out +of place in that remote forest. + +Suddenly Roy grasped Tom's arm; his hand trembled; his whole form was +agitated. + +"_Look!_" he whispered hoarsely. "Look--down there--right _there_. See? +Do you see it? Right under.... Oh, boy, it's _awful_...." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A SCOUT IS THOROUGH + + +Scout though he was, Roy's hand trembled as he passed his flashlight to +Tom. He could not, for his life, point that flashlight himself at the +grewsome object which he had seen in the darkness. + +Lying crossways underneath the trunk was the body of a man, his face +looking straight up into the sky with a fixed stare, and a soulless grin +upon his ashen face. Somewhere nearby, mud was dripping from an exposed +root, and the earth laden drops as they fell one by one into the ragged +cavity gave a sound which simulated a kind of unfeeling laughter. It +seemed as if that stark, staring thing might be chuckling through its +rigid, grinning mouth. Roy's weight and movement on the trunk +communicated a slight stir to the ghastly figure and its head moved ever +so little.... + +"No," said Tom, anticipating Winton's question; "he's dead. Get off the +log, Roy." + +"Well, I wish that dripping would stop, anyway," said Winton. + +Tom approached the figure, the others following and standing about in +silence as he examined it. They all avoided the log, the slightest +movement of which had an effect which made them shudder. + +Raising one cold, muddy hand, Tom felt the wrist, laying it gently down +again. There was not even a faint, departing vestige of life in the +trapped, crushed body. + +"Is it him?" Gilbert Tyson asked in a subdued tone. + +"Guess so," said Tom, kneeling. + +The others stood back in a kind of fearful respect, watching, +waiting.... Now and then a leaf or twig fell. And once, some broken tree +limb crackled as it adjusted itself in its fallen estate. And all the +while the mud kept dripping, dripping, dripping.... + +Lying on the dead man's open coat, as if they had fallen from his +pocket, were two cards and a letter. These Tom picked up and glanced +at, using Roy's flashlight. One of the cards was an automobile +registration card. The other was a driver's license card. They were both +of the State of New Jersey and issued to Aaron Harlowe. The letter had +been stamped but not mailed. It was addressed to Thomas Corbett, North +Hillsburgh, New York. This name tallied with the name of the child's +father in the newspaper. + +Here was pretty good proof that the man who had met death here upon this +wild, lonely mountain was none other than the owner of the gray +roadster, the coward who had fled from the consequences of his +negligence, and turned it into a black crime! + +"Are you going to open it?" Bert Winton asked. + +"I guess no one has a right to do that but the coroner," Tom said. "We +have no right to move the body even." + +"Well," said Bert Winton, his awe at the sight of death somewhat +subsiding at thought of the victim's cowardice, "there's an end of Aaron +Harlowe who ran over Willie Corbett with a gray roadster and----" + +"And was going to send a letter to the kid's father," concluded Tom. +"And here's his footprint, too. I'd like to take his shoe off and fit it +into this footprint," Tom said. + +"What for?" Roy asked. + +"Just to make sure." + +But Tom soon dismissed that thought and the others did not relish it. +Moreover, Tom knew that the law prohibited him from doing such a thing. + +With the mystery, as it seemed, cleared up, there remained nothing to do +but explore the immediate vicinity for the sake of scout thoroughness. +Their search revealed other loose boards, a few cooking utensils and +finally the utter wreck of what must have been a very primitive and tiny +shack. This was perhaps a couple of hundred feet from the body and below +the highest point of the mountain. It was conceivable that a fire here +might have shown in a faint glare down at camp. The blaze could not have +been seen. Amid the ruin of the shack were a few rough cooking utensils. +The soaking land and the darkness effectually concealed the charred +remnants of any fire. + +"Well, he'll never shoot any buffaloes and wild Indians," said Roy. + +Tom replaced the cards and letter, or rather put them in the dead man's +pocket for fear the wind might blow them away, though being under the +lee of the trunk they had been somewhat protected. Then the party +retraced their path down the mountain and, circling its lower reaches, +found themselves at last upon the lake shore. + +Thus ended the work of that fretful night, a night ever memorable at +Temple Camp, a night of death and devastation. The mighty wind which +smote the forest and drove the ruinous waters before it, died in the +moment of its triumph. The sodden, sullen heaven which had cast its +gloom and poured its unceasing rain, rain, rain, upon the camp for two +full weeks, cleared and the edges of the departing clouds were bathed in +the silver moonlight. And the next morning the bright, merry sun arose +and smiled down upon Temple Camp and particularly on Goliath who sat +swinging his legs from the springboard. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE WANDERING MINSTREL + + +He was defying, single handed, half a dozen or more scouts who were +flopping about in rowboats under and about the springboard. They had +just rowed across after an inspection of the washed-out cove, and were +resting on their oars, jollying the little fellow whose legs dangled +above them. + +"Where did that big feller go?" he asked. + +"To the village." + +"He found a dead man last night, didn't he?" + +"That's what he did." + +"I know his name, it's Slade." + +"Right the first time. You're a smart fellow." + +"I like that big feller. He says Gilbert Tyson is all right; I asked +him. I bet Gilbert Tyson can beat any of you fellers. He's in my troop, +he is. I bet you were never in a hospital." + +"I bet you were never in prison," a scout ventured. + +"I bet you never got hanged," Goliath piped up. + +"I bet I did," another scout said. + +"When?" + +"To-morrow afternoon." + +"To-morrow afternoon isn't here yet," Goliath said, triumphantly. + +"Sure it is, _this_ is to-morrow afternoon. Somebody told me yesterday. +If it was to-morrow afternoon yesterday it must be to-day." + +"Posolutely," said Roy Blakeley. "What was true yesterday is true +to-day, because the truth is always the same--only different." + +"Sure," concurred another scout, "to-morrow, to-day will be yesterday. +It's as clear as mud." + +Goliath thought for a few moments and then made a flank attack. + +"Gilbert Tyson is a hero," he said; "he saved the lives of everybody in +that bus--he did." + +"That's where he was wrong," said Roy Blakeley; "a scout is supposed to +be generous. He mustn't be all the time saving." + +"Isn't it good to save lives?" Goliath demanded. + +"Sure, but not too many. A scout that's all the time saving gets to be +stingy." + +Goliath pondered a moment. + +"Gilly is all right but he's not a first-class scout," said Roy. + +"A first-class scout," said Westy Martin, "is not supposed to turn back. +Gilbert turned back. Then he shouted '_stop_.' Law three says that a +scout is courteous. He should have said '_please_ stop.' Law ten says +that a scout must face danger, but he turned his back to it. He wasn't +thinking about the danger, all he was thinking about was the bus. All he +was thinking about was being thrifty--saving lives. I've known fellows +like that before. It's just like striking an average; a scout that +strikes an average is a coward." + +"You mean if the average is small?" said Roy. + +"Oh, sure." + +"Because it all depends," Roy continued; "a scout isn't supposed to +fight, is he? But he can strike an attitude. The same as he can hit a +trail. Suppose he hits a poor, little thin trail----" + +"Then he's a coward," said Connie Bennett. + +"Not necessarily," said Westy, "because----" + +"_A scout has to be obedient! You can't deny that!_" Goliath nearly +fell off the springboard in his excitement. "That other feller is going +to get sent away because I heard a man say so!" + +This was not exactly an answer to the well-reasoned arguments of Roy and +his friends, but it had the effect of making them serious. Moreover, +just at that juncture, Mr. Carroll, scoutmaster of the Hillsburgh troop, +appeared and very gently ordered Goliath from his throne upon the +springboard. The little fellow's mind had been somewhat unsettled by the +skillful reasoning of his new friends. He trotted off in obedience to +Mr. Carroll's injunction that he go in and take off his wet shoes. + +"Boys," said the new scoutmaster, in a pleasant, confidential tone which +won all, "I want to say a word to you about the little brownie we have +with us. You'll find him an odd little duck. I'm hoping to make a scout +of him some time or other. Meanwhile, we have to be careful not to get +him excited. It's a rule of our troop to take with us camping each +summer, some little needy inmate of an orphan home or hospital or some +place of the sort, and give him the benefit of the country air. This +little fellow is our charge this year. You won't talk to him about his +past, because we want him to forget that. We want to take him home well +and strong and I look to you for help. Make friends with him and get him +interested in things about camp. His heart isn't strong; be careful." + +Good scouts that they were, they needed no more than these few words. +Temple Camp usually took new boys as it found them, anyway, concerning +itself with their actions and not with the history of their lives. Half +the scouts in the big summer community didn't know where the other half +came from, and cared less. From every corner of the land they came and +all they knew or cared about each other was limited to their intercourse +at camp. + +"You don't suppose that's true, do you?" one of them asked when Mr. +Carroll had gone. + +"What? About Willetts?" + +"Sure." + +"Dare say. He's about due for the G. B., I guess. But if you want to +cook a fish you've got to catch him first." + +"Where is he, anyway?" one asked. "I thought his foot was so bad." + +"I saw him limping off this morning, that's all _I_ know," another said. + +"It would take more than a lame ankle to keep _him_ at camp," said Dorry +Benton of Roy's patrol. "Did you see that crazy stick he was using for a +cane?" + +"The wandering minstrel," another scout commented. + +"He stands pat with Slady, all right." + +"Gee, you can't help liking the fellow." + +"I have to laugh at him," Westy said. + +"You can't pal with him, that's one thing," another observed. + +"That's because you can't keep up with him; even Mr. Denny has a sneaky +liking for him." + +"Do you know what one of his troop told me? He told me he always wears +that crazy hat to school when he's home. Some nut!" + +"Reckless, happy-go-lucky, that's what he is." + +"Come on over and let's look on the bulletin board." + +They all strolled, half idly, to the bulletin board which stood outside +the main pavilion. It was a rule of camp that every scout should read +the announcements there each afternoon. Then there would be no excuse +for ignorance of important matters pertaining to camp plans. Upon the +board were tacked several announcements, a hike for the morrow, letters +uncalled for, etc. Conspicuous among these was the following: + + Hervey Willetts will report _immediately_ to his scoutmaster at + troop's cabin, upon his arrival at camp. + WM. C. DENNY. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +TOM'S INTEREST AROUSED + + +On that same day a solemn little procession picked its way carefully +down the trail from the storm-wrecked summit of the mountain. Four of +the county officials bore a stretcher over which was tied a white sheet. +With the party was Tom Slade who had guided the authorities to the +grewsome discovery of the previous night. In this work, and in the +subsequent assistance which he rendered, he was absent from camp +throughout the day. This unpleasant business had not been advertised in +camp. + +Of the tragic end of Aaron Harlowe nothing more was known. Several days +previously he had come to the neighborhood in his gray roadster, a +fugitive, with the stigma of cowardice upon his conscience. He had tried +to compromise with his conscience, as it appeared, by enclosing a sum +of money in an envelope and addressing it to the father of the child he +had run down. But his death had prevented the mailing of this. The +telltale finger of accusation was pointed at him from the newspaper +which was in his car. + +His identity was established to the satisfaction of the authorities by +the name upon the license and registration cards found with his body. +Why he had ascended the mountain and remained there several days only to +be crushed to death in the storm, no one could guess. The conclusion of +the authorities was that he was crazed by fear and remorse. This seemed +not improbable, for his weak attempt to make amends with money showed +him to be not altogether bad. + +With the taking of the body by the authorities, Tom's participation in +the tragic business ended. Yet there were one or two things which stuck +in his mind and puzzled him. There had been a light on the mountain +before ever this Harlowe had gone up there. There had been a crude shack +near the summit. The light had disappeared amid the storm. The boys, +watching the storm from the pavilion, had seen the light disappear. Did +Harlowe, therefore, climb the mountain to _escape_ man or to _seek_ man? +Harlowe's life went out in that same tempestuous hour when the light +went out. But how came the light there? And where was the originator of +it? + +One rather odd question Tom asked the authorities and got very little +satisfaction from them. "Do you notice any connection between that +article in the newspaper and the letter the dead man got from England?" +he asked. + +"No manner uv connection; leastways none as I kin see," said the +sheriff. "The paper showed what he done; the map showed whar he went; +the license cards showed who he was. And thar ye are, sonny, whole thing +sure's gospel." + +"It's funny about the light," said Tom, respectfully. + +"I ain't botherin' my head 'baout no lights, son. I found Aaron Harlowe +'n that's enough, hain't it?" + +It was in Tom's thoughts to say, "You didn't find him, I found him." But +out of respect for the formidable badge which the sheriff wore on one +strand of his suspenders, he refrained. + +The next morning the newspapers told with conspicuous headlines, the +tragic sequel of Aaron Harlowe's escape. "_Found on lonely mountain_," +they said. "_Fugitive motorist killed in storm_," one of the write-ups +was headed: "_Storm wreaks vengeance on autoist_," which was one of the +best headings of the lot. "_Sheriff's posse makes grewsome find_" was +another. And all told how Aaron Harlowe, fleeing guiltily from his +crime, had met his fate in the storm-tossed wilds of that frowning +mountain. They dwelt on the justice of Providence; they made the storm a +kind of avenging hero. It was pretty good stuff. + +And that, as I said in the beginning, was where the public interest in +Aaron Harlowe ended. The rest of the strange business was connected with +Temple Camp and the scouts, and never got into the papers.... + + * * * * * + +It was exactly like Tom Slade that something should interest him in this +tragic episode which did not interest the authorities. He left them, +quite unsatisfied in his own mind, and with some kind of a bee in his +bonnet.... + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +TRIUMPH AND---- + + +_At_ about the time that Tom was starting back to camp, rather +thoughtful and preoccupied, Hervey Willetts was arriving at camp, not at +all thoughtful or preoccupied. + +His ankle was strained and bruised, and he limped. But his rimless hat +of many holes and button-badges was perched sideways toward the back of +his head and had a new and piquant charm by reason of being faded and +water soaked. Putting not his trust in garters, which had so often, +betrayed him, he had fastened a string to his left stocking by means of +an old liberty loan pin. The upper end of this string was tied to a +stick which he carried over his shoulder, so he had only to exert a +little pressure on the stick in front to adjust his stocking. + +He had evidently been to see one of his farmer friends, for he was +eating a luscious red tomato, and fate decreed that the last of this +should be ready for consumption just as he was passing within a few +yards of the bulletin board. For a moment a terrible conflict raged +within him. Should he despatch the remainder of the tomato into his +mouth, or at the bulletin board? The small remnant was red and mushy and +dripping--and the bulletin board won. + +Brandishing the squashy missile, he uttered his favorite passwords to +good luck, + + One for courage + One for spunk + One to take aim + And then---- + +Suddenly he bethought him of an improvement. Sticking the remnant of +tomato on the end of his stick, he swung it carefully. + + One for courage + One for spunk + One to take aim + And then--_KERPLUNK!_ + +Those magic words were intended, especially, for use in despatching +tomatoes and they never failed to make good. There, upon the bulletin +board was a vivid area which looked like the midday sun. From it +trickled an oozy mass, down over the list of uncalled for letters, +straight through the prize awards of yesterday, obliterating the +_Council Call_, and bathing the list of new arrivals in soft and pulpy +red. The "hike for to-morrow," as shown, was through a crimson sea. + +Hervey approached for a closer glimpse of his triumph. No other +incentive would have taken him so close to that prosy bulletin board. He +had vaulted over it but never read it. But now in the moment of supreme +victory he limped forward, like an elated artist, to inspect his work. + +There, in front of him, with a little red river flowing down across the +middle of it, was the ominous sentence. + + Hervey Willetts will report _immediately_ to his scoutmaster at + troop's cabin upon his return to camp. + WM. C. DENNY. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +HERVEY SHOWS HIS COLORS + + +"_If_ I hadn't fired the tomato I wouldn't have known about that," said +Hervey. Which fact, to him, fully justified the juicy bombardment. "That +shows how you never can tell what's going to happen next." And this was +certainly true of Hervey. + +But to do him justice, what was going to happen next never worried him. +He took things as they came. He was not the one to sidestep an issue. +The ominous notice signed by his scoutmaster had the effect of directing +his ambling course to that officer's presence, on which detour, he might +encounter new adventures. To reach his troop's cabin he would have to +pass the cooking shack where a doughnut might be speared with a stick. +All was for the best. He would as lief go to troop cabin as anywhere +else.... + +In this blithe and carefree spirit, he approached the rustic domicile +which he seldom honored by his presence, singing one of those snatches +of a song which were the delight of camp, and which rounded out his rôle +of wandering minstrel: + + Oh, there is no place like the old camp-fire, + As all the boy scouts know; + And the best little place is home, sweet home-- + When there isn't any other place to go, go, go. + When there isn't any other place to go. + +Mr. Denny, standing in the doorway of the cabin, contemplated him with a +repressed smile. "Hervey," he could not help saying, "since you think so +well of the camp-fire, I wonder you don't choose to see more of it." + +"I can see it from all the way across the lake," said Hervey. "I can see +it no matter where I go." + +"I see. It must arouse fond thoughts. I'm afraid, Hervey, to quote your +own song, there isn't any other place for you to go but home, sweet +home. You seem to have exhausted all the places. Sit down, Hervey, you +and I have got to have a little talk." + +Hervey leaned against the cabin, Mr. Denny sat upon the door sill. None +of the troop was about; it was very quiet. For half a minute or so Mr. +Denny did not speak, only whittled a stick. + +"I sometimes wonder why you joined the scouts, Hervey," he said. "Your +disposition----" + +"A fellow that sat next to me in school dared me to," said Hervey. + +"Oh, it was a sort of a wager?" + +"I wouldn't take a dare from anybody." + +"And so you joined as a stunt?" + +"I heard that scouts jumped off cliffs and all like that." + +"I see. Well, now, Hervey, I've written to your father that I'm sending +you home." + +Hervey began making rings in the soil with his stick but said nothing. +Mr. Denny's last words were perhaps a little more than he expected, but +he gave no other hint of his feelings. + +And so for another minute or so there was silence, except for the +distant voices of some scouts out upon the lake. + +"It is not exactly as a punishment, Hervey; it is just that I can't +take the responsibility, that's all. You see?" + +"Y---- yes, sir." + +"I thought you would. Your father thought the influence of camp would be +good, but you see you are seldom at camp. We can't help you because we +can't find you." + +"You can't cook a fish till you catch it," said Hervey. + +"That's just it, Hervey." + +"If you don't want to leave any tracks the best thing is to swing into +trees every now and then," Hervey informed him. + +"Ah, I see. Now, Hervey, my boy, I'm anxious that you and I should +understand each other. You have done nothing disgraceful and I don't +think you ever will----" + +"I landed plunk on my head once." + +"Well, that was more of a misfortune than a disgrace." + +"It hurt like the dickens." + +"I suppose it did." + +Mr. Denny paused; he was up against the hardest job he had ever tackled. +It was harder than he had thought it would be. + +"You see, Hervey, how it is. Last week you stayed away over night at +some farm. I had told you you must not leave camp without my knowledge. +For that I had you stay here all day, making a birchbark basket. I +thought that was a good punishment." + +"I'll tell the world it was," said Hervey. + +Mr. Denny paused before proceeding. + +"Did it do any good? Not a bit." + +"The basket was a punk one," said Hervey. + +"Again you rode down as far as Barretstown, hitching onto a freight +train." + +"I'd have got all the way down to Jonesville, if it hadn't been for the +conductor. He was some old grouch, believe _me_." + +"Then we had a little talk--you remember. You promised to be here at +meal times. Look at Mr. Ellsworth's troop, Harris, Blakeley and those +boys. Always on hand for meals----" + +"I'll say so; they're some hungry bunch," Hervey commented. + +"And you gave me your word that you wouldn't leave camp without my +permission. _You think as little about breaking your word as you do +about breaking your leg, Hervey_," Mr. Denny added with sober emphasis. + +Hervey began poking the ground again with his stick. + +"That's just the truth, Hervey. And it can't go on any longer." + +"Am I out of the troop?" Hervey asked, wistfully. + +"N--no, you're not. But I want you to learn to be as good a scout in one +way as you are in another. You have won merit badges with an ease which +is surprising to me----" + +"They're a cinch," Hervey interrupted. + +"I want you to go home and stop doing stunts and read the handbook. I +want you to read the oath and the scout laws, so that when the rest of +us come home you can give me your hand and say, 'I'm an all round scout, +not just a doer of stunts.'" + +"H--how soon are--the rest of you coming back?" Hervey asked with just +the faintest suggestion of a break in his voice. + +"Why, you know we're here for six weeks, Hervey. Don't you know anything +about your troop's affairs? You know how much money we have in our +treasury, don't you?" + +Hervey did not miss the reproach. He said nothing, only kept tracing the +circle with his stick. Finally it occurred to him to mark two eyes, a +nose and a mouth in the circle. Mr. Denny sat studying him. I think Mr. +Denny was on the point of weakening. Hervey seemed sober and +preoccupied. But the face on the ground seemed to wink at Mr. Denny as +if to intercede in its young creator's behalf. + +Mr. Denny gathered his strength as one does on the point of taking an +unpalatable medicine. + +"Yesterday, Hervey, I expressly reminded you of your promise not to +leave camp. I did that because I thought the storm might tempt you +forth." + +"They call me----" + +"Yes, I know; they call you the stormy petrel. You went across the lake +with others. They returned but you did not return with them. Where you +went I don't know. And I'm not going to ask you, Hervey, for it makes no +difference. I understand young Mr. Slade was there, but _that_ makes no +difference. Blakeley and one of his troop, Westy Martin, reached camp +and reported conditions in the cove----" + +"He's all right, Blakeley is----" + +"Hours passed, no one knew where you were. I was too proud, or too +ashamed, to go and ask Slade if he knew. I am jealous of our troop's +reputation, Hervey--even if you are not----" + +Hervey leaned against the cabin, looking abstractedly at his handiwork +on the ground. + +"There was great confusion and excitement here," Mr. Denny continued. +"The whole camp turned out to save the lake, to stem the flood. But you +were not here. Your companions in our troop worked till they were dog +tired. But where were you? Helping? _No_, you were off on some vagabond +journey--disobedient, insubordinate." + +Mr. Denny spoke with resolute firmness now and his voice rang as he +uttered his scathing accusations. + +"You were a traitor not only to your troop, but to the camp--the camp +which held out the hand of good fellowship to you when you came here. A +_slacker_----" + +Hervey broke his stick in half and threw it on the ground. His breast +heaved. He looked down. He said nothing. Mr. Denny studied him +curiously for a few seconds. + +"That is the truth, Hervey. One wrong always produces another. You were +disobedient and insubordinate, and that led to--what?" + +Hervey gulped, but whether in shame or remorse or what, Mr. Denny could +not make out, He was to know presently. + +"It led to shirking, whether intentional or not. And to-night, because +there is no train, you are going to sleep in the camp which you +deserted. You will, perhaps, row on the lake which others have saved for +you. You see it now in its true light, don't you? You had better go and +thank Blakeley and his comrade for what they did, if you have any real +feeling for the camp." + +"I----" + +"Don't speak. Nothing you could say would make a difference, Hervey. I +know from Mr. Carroll and his boys where you showed up. I know they +found you clinging to one of the stage horses. I was there later and saw +you. You might have been plunged into that chasm with all the rest of +them and been crushed to pieces, if one of those scouts hadn't gone +ahead, as he was _told_ to do, and if he hadn't kept his mind on what +he had been _told_ to do, instead of disregarding his scoutmaster +and----" + +He paused, for Hervey was shaking perceptibly. He watched the boy +curiously. Should he go on with this thing and see it through? He +summoned his resolution. + +"No, Hervey, as I said, I have written to your father. I have said +nothing against you, only that you are too much for me here, where my +responsibility is great. I want you to get your things together and take +the train in the morning. We'll expect to see you when we come home. +There is no hard feeling, Hervey. When we come home you're going to +start all over again, my boy, and learn the thing right. You----" + +With a kind of spasmodic effort Hervey raised his head and, with a pride +there was no mistaking, looked his scoutmaster straight in the face. He +was trembling visibly. If there was any contrition in his countenance, +Mr. Denny did not see it. He was quite taken aback with the fine show of +spirit which his young delinquent showed. There was even a dignity in +the old cap with its holes and badges, as it sat perched on the side of +his head. There was a touch of pathos, even of dignity too, in his +fallen stocking. + +"I--I--wouldn't stay here--now--I wouldn't--I--not even if you _asked_ +me--I wouldn't. I wouldn't even if you--if you got down on your knees +and begged me----" + +"Hervey, my boy----" + +"No, I won't listen. I--I wouldn't stay even _to-night_--I wouldn't. Do +you think I need a train? I--I can hike to Jonesville, can't I? You say +I'm--I'm no scout--Tom Slade he said----" + +"Hervey----" + +"I don't--anyhow--I don't care anything about the rest of them. I +wouldn't stay even for supper. Even if you--if you apologized--I +wouldn't----" + +"Apologize? Why, Hervey----" + +"For what you said--called me--I wouldn't. I don't give a--a--damn--I +don't--for all the people here--only except one--and I wouldn't stay if +you got down on your knees and begged me--I wouldn't----" + +Mr. Denny contemplated him with consternation in every feature. There +was no stopping him. The accused had become the accuser. There was +something stirring, something righteous, in this fine abandon. In the +setting of the outburst of hurt pride even the profane word seemed to +justify itself. The tables were completely turned and Hervey Willetts +was master of the situation. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +TOM ADVISES GOLIATH + + +It was late afternoon when Tom Slade, tramping home after his day spent +with the minions of the law, crossed the main road and hit into the +woods trail which afforded a short cut to camp. + +It was the laziest hour of the day, the gap between mid afternoon +and supper time. It was a tranquil time, a time of lolling under trees +and playing the wild game of mumbly-peg, and of jollying tenderfoots, +and waiting for supper. Roy Blakeley always said that the next best thing +to supper was waiting for it. The lake always looked black in that +pre-twilight time when the sun was beyond though not below the summit of +the mountain. It was the time of new arrivals. In that mountain-surrounded +retreat they have two twilights--a tenderfoot twilight and a first class +twilight. It was the time when scouts, singly and in groups, came in from +tracking, stalking and what not, and sprawled about and got acquainted. + +But there was one who did not come in on that peaceful afternoon, and +that was the wandering minstrel. If Tom Slade had crossed the main road +ten minutes sooner, he might have seen that blithe singer going along +the road, but not with a song on his lips. The sun of that carefree +nature was under a cloud. But his loyal stocking kept descending, and +his suit-case dangled from a stick over his shoulder. His trick hat +perched jauntily upon his head, Hervey Willetts was himself again. Not +quite, but _almost_. At all events he did not ponder on the injustice of +the world and the cruelty of fate. He was wondering whether he could +make Jonesville in time for the night train or whether he had better try +for the boat at Catskill Landing. The boat had this advantage, that he +could shinny up the flagpole if the pilot did not see him. The train +offered nothing but the railing on the platforms.... + +If Tom had been ten minutes earlier! + +The young camp assistant left the trail and hit down through the grove +and around the main pavilion. The descending sun shone right in his face +as he neared the lake. It made his brown skin seem almost like that of a +mulatto. His sleeves were rolled up as they always were, showing brown +muscular arms, with a leather wristlet (but no watch) on one. His pongee +shirt was open almost down to his waist. His faded khaki trousers were +held up by a heavy whip lash drawn tight around his waist. + +Not a single appurtenance of the scout was upon him. He was rather tall, +and you who have known him as a hulking youngster with bull shoulders +will be interested to know that he had grown somewhat slender and +exceedingly lithe. He had that long stride and silent footfall which the +woods life develops. He was still tow-headed, though he fixed his hair +on occasions, which is saying something. You would have been amused at +his air of quiet assurance. Perhaps he had not humor in the same sense +that Roy Blakeley had, but he had an easy, bantering way which was +captivating to the scouts. + +Dirty little hoodlum that he once was, he was now the most picturesque, +romantic figure in the camp. In Tom Slade, beloved old Uncle Jeb, camp +manager, seemed to have renewed his own youth. Scouts worshipped at the +shrine of this young confidant of the woods, trustees consulted him, +scoutmasters respected him. + +As he emerged around the corner of the storage cabin, several scouts who +had taken their station within inhaling distance of the cooking shack +fell in with him and trotted along beside him. + +"H'lo, Slady, can we go with you?" + +"I'm going to wash my hands," said Tom, giving one of them a shove. + +"Good night! I don't want to go." + +"I thought you wouldn't." + +In Tent Avenue the news of his passing got about and presently a +menagerie of tenderfoots were dogging his heels. + +"Where you been, Slady? Can I go? Take me? Take us on the lake, Slady?" + +As he passed the two-patrol cabins Goliath slid down from the woodpile +and challenged him. "Hey, big feller, I got a souvenir. Want to see it? I +know who you are; you're boss, ain't you?" + +"H'lo, old top," said Tom, tousling his hair for him. "Well, how do you +think you like Temple Camp?" + +Goliath had hard work to keep up with him, but he managed it. + +"I had two pieces of pie," he said. + +"Good for you." + +"Maybe I'll get to be a regular scout, hey?" + +"Not till you can eat six pieces." + +"Were you ever in a hospital?" + +"Yop, over in France." + +"I bet you licked the Germans, didn't you?" + +"Oh, I had a couple of fellows helping me." + +"A fellow in my troop is a hero; he's going to get a badge, maybe. A lot +of fellers said so." + +"That's the way to do," said Tom. + +"His name is Tyson, that's what his name is. Do you know him?" + +"You bet." + +"He saved all the fellers in that wagon from getting killed because he +shouted for the wagon to stop. So he's a hero, ain't he?" + +"Well, I don't know about that," said Tom cheerily; "medals aren't so +easy to get." + +"There was a crazy feller near that wagon. I bet you were never crazy, +were you?" + +"Not so very." + +"Will you help him to get the medal--Tyson?" + +"Well, now, you let me tell you something," said Tom; "don't you pay so +much attention to these fellows around camp. The main thing for you to +do is to eat pie and stew and things. A lot of these fellows think it's +easy to get medals. And they think it's fun to jolly little fellows like +you. Don't you think about medals; you think about dinner." + +"But after I get through thinking about dinner----" + +"Then think about supper. You can't eat medals." + +Goliath seemed to ponder on this undesirable truth. He soon fell behind +and presently deserted Tom to edify a group of scouts near the boat +landing. + +Of course, Tom did not take seriously what Goliath had said about +awards. He knew Tyson and he knew that Tyson would be the last one in +the world to pose as a hero. But he also knew something of the +disappointments which innocent banter and jollying had caused in camp. +He knew that the wholesome spirit of fun in Roy Blakeley and others had +sometimes overreached itself, causing chagrin. There was probably +nothing to this business at all but, for precaution's sake, he would nip +it in the bud. + +One incidental result of his little chat with Goliath was that he was +reminded of Hervey's exploit, a matter which he had entirely forgotten +in his more pressing preoccupations. Tom was no hero maker and he knew +that Hervey would only trip on the hero's mantle if he wore it. As time +had gone on in camp, Tom had found himself less and less interested in +the pomp and ceremony and theatrical clap-trap of awards. Bravery was in +the natural course of things. Why make a fuss about it? + +For that very reason, he was not going to have any heads turned with +rapturous dreams of gold and silver awards. He was not going to have any +new scouts' visit blighted by vain hopes. He did not care greatly about +awards, but he cared a good deal about the scouts.... + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +WORDS + + +After he had prepared for supper he went up the hill to the cabin +occupied by Mr. Carroll's troop. It was pleasantly located on a knoll +and somewhat removed from the main body of camp. Mr. Carroll was himself +about to start down for supper. + +"H'lo, Mr. Carroll," said Tom; "alone in your glory?" + +"The boys have gone down," said Mr. Carroll. "They'll be sorry to have +missed a visit from Tom Slade." + +"Comfortable?" Tom asked. + +"Couldn't be more so, thank you. We can almost see home from up here, +though the boys prefer not to look in that direction." + +Tom glanced about. "Sometimes new troops are kind of backward to ask for +things," he said. "We're not mind readers, you know. So sing out if +there's anything you want." + +"Thank you." + +"Kid comfortable?" + +"Yes, he's giving his attention to pie and awards." + +"Hm," said Tom, seating himself on a stump. "Pie's all right, but you +want to have these fellows go easy on awards. The boys here in camp are +a bunch of jolliers. Of course, you know the handbook----" + +"Oh, yes." + +"And you know Tyson doesn't stand to win any medal for anything he did +last night. Strictly speaking, he saved your lives, I suppose, but it +isn't exactly a case for an award." + +"Oh, mercy, no." + +"I'm glad you see it that way, Mr. Carroll. Because sometimes scouts get +to enjoying themselves so much here, that they forget what's in the +handbook. These things go by rules, you know. I like Gilbert and I +wouldn't want him to get any crazy notions from what these old timers +say. There's some talk among the boys----" + +"I think the little fellow's responsible for that," Mr. Carroll +laughed. "Gilbert is level-headed and sensible." + +"You bet," said Tom. "Well, then, it's all right, and there won't be any +broken hearts. I've seen more broken hearts here at camp than broken +heads.... You're a new troop, aren't you?" he queried. + +"Oh, yes, we haven't got our eyes open yet." + +"Goliath seems to have his mouth open for business." + +"Yes," Mr. Carroll laughed. "Shall we stroll down to supper?" + +"I've got one more call to make if you'll excuse me," said Tom. + +"Come up again, won't you?" + +"Oh, yes, I make inspection every day. You'll be sick of the sight of +me." + +He was off again, striding down the little hill. He passed among the +tents, around Visitors' Bungalow, and toward the cabins in Good Turn +Grove. Somewhat removed from these (a couple of good turns from them, as +Roy Blakeley said) was the cabin of Mr. Denny's troop. + +The boys were getting ready to go down and they greeted Tom cheerily. + +"Where's Hervey?" he asked. + +He had not seen Hervey since late the previous night, just after +returning from the mountain. Hervey was then so exhausted as hardly to +know him. The young assistant fancied a sort of constraint among the +boys and he thought that maybe Hervey's condition had taken an alarming +turn. + +"Ask Mr. D.," said one of the scouts. + +"H'lo, Mr. Denny," said Tom, stepping into one of the cabins. No one was +there but the scoutmaster. "Where's our wandering boy to-night?" + +"He has been dismissed from camp, I'm sorry to say," said Mr. Denny. +"Sit down, won't you?" + +Tom could hardly speak for astonishment. + +"You mean the camp--down at the office----" + +"Oh, no, I sent him home. It was just between him and myself." + +"Oh, I see," said Tom, a trifle relieved, apparently. "It wasn't on +account of his hurt?" + +"Oh, no, he's all right. He just disobeyed me, that's all. That sort of +thing couldn't go on, you know. It was getting worse." + +Mr. Denny had now had a chance to review his conduct and he found it in +all ways justified. He was glad that he had not weakened. Moreover, +there was fresh evidence. + +"Only just now," he said, "one of the scoutmasters came to me with a +notice from the bulletin board utterly ruined by a tomato which Hervey +threw. He was greatly annoyed." + +"Sure," said Tom. + +"I don't exactly blame you, Slade----" + +"Me?" + +"But you took Hervey with you across the lake. He had promised me not to +leave camp. Where he went, I don't know----" + +"You _don't_?" + +"No, and I don't care. He was picked up by the people in the bus, and if +it hadn't been for that I suppose I'd be answerable to his parents for +his death. He was very insolent to me." + +"He didn't say----" + +"Oh, no, he didn't say anything. He assumed an air of boyish +independence; I don't know that I hold that against him." + +"But he didn't tell you where he had been--or anything?" + +"Why, no. I had no desire to hear that. His fault was in _starting_. It +made no difference where he went." + +"Oh." + +For a few seconds Tom said nothing, only drummed with his fingers on the +edge of the cot on which he sat. + +"This is a big surprise to me," he finally said. + +"It is a very regrettable circumstance to me," said Mr. Denny. + +There ensued a few seconds more of silence. The boys outside could be +heard starting for supper. + +Tom was the first to speak. "Of course you won't think I'm trying to +butt in, Mr. Denny, but there's a rule that the camp can call on all its +people in an emergency. The first year the camp opened we had a bad fire +here and every kid in the place was set to work. After that they made a +rule. Sometimes things have to be done in a hurry. I took Hervey and a +couple of others across the lake, because I knew something serious had +happened over there. I think I had a right to do that. But there's +something else. Hervey didn't tell you everything. You said you didn't +want him to." + +"He has never told me everything. I had always been in the dark +concerning him. This tomato throwing makes me rather ashamed, too." + +"Yes," said Tom, "that's bad. But will you listen to me if I tell you +the whole of that story--the whole business? I've been away from camp +all day. I only got here fifteen minutes ago. I know Hervey's a queer +kid--hard to understand. I don't know why he didn't speak out----" + +"Why, it was because I told him it wouldn't make any difference," said +Mr. Denny, a bit nettled. "The important point was known to me and that +was that he disobeyed me. I don't think we can gain anything by talking +this over, Slade." + +"Then you won't listen to me, Mr. Denny?" + +"I don't think it would be any use." + +Tom paused a moment. He was just a bit nettled, too. Then he stood. And +then, just in that brief interval, his lips tightened and his mouth +looked just as it used to look in the old hoodlum days--rugged, strong. +The one saving, hopeful feature which Mr. Ellsworth, his old +scoutmaster, had banked upon then in that sooty, unkempt countenance. +They were the lips of a bulldog: + +"All right, Mr. Denny," he said respectfully. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +ACTION + + +Tom strode down to the messboards which, in pleasant weather, were out +under the trees. He seemed not at all angry; there was a kind of breezy +assurance in his stride and manner. As he reached the messboards where +some of the scouts were already seated on the long benches, several +noticed this buoyancy in his demeanor. + +"H'lo, kiddo," he said to Pee-wee Harris as he passed and ruffled that +young gourmand's hair. + +Reaching Mr. Carroll, he asked in a cheery undertone, "May I use one of +your scouts for a little while?" + +"I'll have the whole troop wrapped up and delivered to you," said Mr. +Carroll. + +"Thanks." + +Reaching Gilbert Tyson, he laid his hand on Gilbert's shoulder and +whispered to him in a pleasant, offhand way, "Get through and come in +the office, I want to speak to you." + +In the office, Tom seated himself at one of the resident trustees' +desks, spilled the contents of a pigeon hole in hauling out a sheet of +the camp stationery, shook his fountain pen with a blithe air of crisp +decision and wrote: + + To Hervey Willetts, Scout:-- + + You are hereby _required_ to present yourself before the resident + Court of Honor at Temple Camp, which sits in the main pavilion on + Saturday, August the second, at ten A. M., and which will at that + time hear testimony and decide on your fitness for the Scout Gold + Cross award for supreme heroism. + By order of the + RESIDENT COUNCIL. + +Pushing back his chair, he strode over to Council Shack, adjoining. + +"Put your sig on that, Mr. Collins," said he. + +He reëntered the office just as Gilbert Tyson, wearing a look of +astonishment and inquiry, and finishing a slice of bread and butter, +entered by the other door. + +"Tyson," said Tom, as he put the missive in an envelope, "I understand +you're a hero, woke up and found yourself famous and all that kind of +stuff. Can you sprint? Good. I'm going to give you the chance of your +life, and no war tax. Hervey Willetts started for home about three +quarters of an hour ago. Never mind why. Deliver this letter to him." + +"Where is he?" Gilbert asked. + +"I haven't the slightest idea." + +"Started for the train, you mean?" + +"Now, Tyson, I don't know any more about it than just that--he started +for home. To-day's Thursday. He must be here Saturday. Now don't waste +time. Here's the letter. Now _get out_!" + +"Just one second," said Gilbert. "How do you _know_ he started for +home?" + +"How do I know it?" Tom shot back, impatiently. + +"Do you think a fellow like Willetts would go home? I'll deliver the +letter wherever he is. But he isn't on his way home. I know him." + +"Tyson," said Tom, "you're a crackerjack scout. Now get out of here +before I throw you out." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE MONSTER + + +It is better to know your man than to know his tracks. Gilbert Tyson had +somehow come to understand Hervey in that one day since his arrival at +camp, and he had no intention of exhausting his breath in a futile chase +along the road. There, indeed, was a scout for you. He was on the job +before he had started. + +The road ran behind the camp, the camp lying between the road and the +lake. To go to Catskill Landing one must go by this road. Also to make a +short cut to Jonesville (where the night express stopped) one must go +for the first mile or so along this road. The road was a state road and +of macadam, and did not show footprints. + +Tyson did not know a great deal about tracking, but he knew something of +human nature, he had heard something of Hervey, and he eliminated the +road. He believed that he would not overtake Hervey there. + +Across the road, at intervals, several trails led up into the thicker +woods. One led to the Morton farm, another to Witches' Pond. + +Tyson, being new at camp, did not know the direction of these trails, +but he knew that all trails go somewhere. He had heard, during the day, +that Hervey was on cordial terms with every farmer, squatter, tollgate +keeper, bridge tender, hobo, and traveling show for miles around. + +So he examined these trails carefully at their beginnings beside the +road. Only one of them interested him. Upon this, about ten feet in from +the road, was a rectangular area impressed in the earth which, in the +woods, was still damp after the storm. With his flashlight Gilbert +examined this. He thought a box might have stood there. Then he noticed +two ruffled places in the earth, each on one of the long sides of the +rectangle. He knew then what it meant; a suit-case had stood there. + +If he had known more about the circumstance of Hervey's leaving, he +might have been touched by the picture of the wandering minstrel +pausing to rest upon his burden, there at the edge of the woods. + +So this was the trail. Elated, Gilbert hurried on, pausing occasionally +to verify his conviction by a footprint in the caked earth. The +consistency of the earth was ideal for footprints. Yes, some one had +passed here not more than an hour before. Here and there was an +occasional hole in the earth where a stick might have been pressed in, +showing that the stormy petrel had sometimes used his stick as a cane. + +For half an hour Gilbert followed this trail with a feeling of elation, +of triumph. Soon he must overtake the wanderer. After a little, the +trail became indistinct where it passed through a low, marshy area. The +drenching of the woods by the late storm was apparent still in the low +places. + +Gilbert trudged through this spongy support, all but losing his balance +occasionally. Soon he saw something black ahead of him. This was +Witches' Pond, though he did not know it by that name. + +As he approached, the ground became more and more spongy and uncertain. +It was apparent that the pond had usurped much of the surrounding marsh +in the recent rainy spell. + +Gilbert had to proceed with caution. Once his leg sank to the knee in +the oozy undergrowth. He was just considering whether he had not better +abandon a trail which was indeed no longer a trail at all, and pick his +way around the pond, when he noticed something a little distance ahead +of him which caused him to pause and strain his eyes to see it better in +the gathering dusk. As he looked a cold shudder went through him. What +he saw was, perhaps, fifty feet off. A log was there, one end of which +was in the ground, the other end projecting at an angle. Its position +suggested the pictures of torpedoed liners going down, and there passed +through Gilbert's agitated mind, all in a flash, a vision of the great +_Lusitania_ sinking--slowly sinking. + +For this great log was going down. Slowly, very slowly; but it was going +down. Or else Gilbert's eyes and the deepening shadows were playing a +strange trick.... + +He dragged his own foot out of the treacherous ground and looked about +for safer support. There was a suction as he dragged his foot up which +sent his heart to his mouth. "_Quicksand_," he muttered, shudderingly. + +Was it too late? He backed cautiously out of the jaws of this horrible +monster of treachery and awful death, feeling his way with each +tentative, cautious step. He stood ankle deep, breathing more easily. He +was back at the edge of that oozy, clinging, all devouring trap. He +breathed easier. + +He looked at the log. It was going down. It stood almost upright now, +and offering no resistance with its bulk, was sinking rapidly. In a +minute it looked like a stump. It shortened. Gilbert stood motionless +and watched it, fascinated. Instinctively he retreated a few feet, to +still more solid support. He was standing in ordinary mud now. + +Down, down.... + +A long legged bird came swooping through the dusk across the pond, lit +upon the sinking trunk, and then was off again. + +"Lucky it has wings," Gilbert said. There was no other way to safety. + +Down, down, down--it was just a hubble. The oozy mass sucked it in, +closed over it. It was gone. + +There was nothing but the dusk and the pond, and the discordant croaking +of frogs. + +Then, close to where the log had been, Gilbert saw something else. It +was a little dab of yellow. It grew smaller; disappeared. There was +nothing to be seen now but a little spot of gray; probably some swamp +growth.... + +No.... + +Just then Gilbert saw upon it a tiny speck which sparkled. There were +other specks. He strained his eyes to pierce the growing darkness. He +was doubtful, then certain, then doubtful. He advanced, ever so +cautiously, a step or two, to see it better. + +Yes. It was. + +Utterly sick at heart he turned his head away. There before him, still +defying by its lightness of weight, the hungry jaws of the heartless, +terrible, devouring monster that eats its prey alive, stood the little +rimless, perforated and decorated cap of Hervey Willetts. Joyous and +buoyant it seemed, defying its inevitable fate with the blithe spirit +of its late owner. It floated still, after the log and the suit-case had +gone down. + +And that was all that was left of the wandering minstrel. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +GILBERT'S DISCOVERY + + +Gilbert Tyson was a scout and he could face the worst. He soon got +control of himself and began considering what he had better do. + +He could not advance one more step without danger. Yet he could not +think of going back to camp, with nothing but the report of something he +had seen from a distance. He had done nothing. Yet what could he do? + +He was at a loss to know how Hervey could have advanced so far into that +treacherous mire. + +He must have picked his way here and there, knee deep, waist deep, like +the reckless youngster he was, until he plunged all unaware into the +fatal spot. The very thought of it made Gilbert shudder. Had he called +for help? Gilbert wondered. How dreadful it must have been to call for +help in those minutes of sinking, and to hear nothing but some mocking +echo. What had the victim thought of, while going down--down? + +Good scout that he was, Gilbert would not go back to camp without +rescuing that one remaining proof of Hervey's tragic end. At least he +would take back all that there was to take back. + +He pulled out of his pocket a fishline wound on a stick. At the end of +the line where a hook was, he fastened several more hooks an inch or two +apart. The sinker was not heavy enough for his purpose so he fastened a +stone to the end of the line. + +As he made these preparations, the rather grewsome thought occurred to +him of what he should do and how he would feel if Hervey's head were +visible when he pulled the cap away. It caused him to hesitate, just for +a few seconds, to make an effort to recover it. Suppose that hat were +still on the smothered victim's head.... + +With his first throw, the stone landed short of the mark and he dragged +back a mass of dripping marsh growth, caught by the fish-hooks. His +second attempt landed the stone a yard or so beyond the hat and the +treacherous character of the ground there was shown by the almost +instant submergence of the missile. It was with difficulty that Gilbert +dragged it out, and with every pull he feared the cord would snap. But +as he pulled, the hat came also. The line was directly across it and the +hooks caught it nicely. There was no vestige of any solid object where +the cap had been. Gilbert wondered how deep the log had sunk, and the +suit-case and--the other.... + +He shook the clinging mud and marsh growth from the hat and looked at +it. He had seen Hervey only twice; once lying unconscious in the bus, +and once that very day, when the young wanderer had started off to visit +his friend, the farmer. But this cap very vividly and very pathetically +suggested its owner. The holes in it were of every shape and size. The +buttons besought the beholder to vote for suffrage, to buy liberty +bonds, to join the Red Cross, to eat at Jim's Lunch Room, to use only +Tyler's fresh cocoanut bars, to give a thought to Ireland. There was a +Camp-fire Girls' badge, a Harding pin, a Cox pin, a Debs pin ... Hervey +had been non-partisan with a vengeance. + +With this cap, the one touching memento of the winner of the Gold Cross, +Gilbert started sorrowfully back to camp. The dreadful manner of +Hervey's death agitated him and weakened his nerve as the discovery of a +body would not have done. There was no provision in the handbook for +this kind of a discovery; no face to cover gently with his scout scarf, +no arms to lay in seemly posture. One who _had been_, was _not_. His +death and burial were one. Gilbert could not fit this horrible thought +to his mind. It was out of all human experience. He could not rid +himself of the ghastly thought of how far down those--those +_things_--had gone. + +Slowly he retraced his steps along the trail--thinking. He had read of +hats being found floating in lakes, indubitable evidence of drowning, +and he had known the owners of these hats to show up at the ends of the +stories. But _this_.... + +He thought of the alighting of that bird upon the sinking end of the +log. How free and independent that bird! How easy its escape. How +impossible the escape of any mortal. To carelessly pause upon a log that +was going down in quicksand and then to fly away. There was blitheness +in the face of danger for you! + +Gilbert took his way along the trail, sick at heart. How could he tell +Tom Slade of this frightful thing? It was his first day at camp and it +would cast a shadow on his whole vacation. Soon he espied a light +shining in the distance. That was a camp, no doubt. By leaving the trail +and following the light, he could shorten his journey. He was not so +sure that he wanted to shorten his journey, but he was ashamed of this +hesitancy to face things, so he abandoned the trail and took the light +for his guide. + +Soon there appeared another light near the first one, and then he knew +that he was saving distance and heading straight for camp. He had +supposed that the trail went pretty straight from the vicinity of camp +to that dismal pond in the woods. But you can never see the whole of a +trail at once and it must have formed a somewhat rambling course. + +Anyway there were the lights of camp off to the west of the path, and +Gilbert Tyson hurried thither. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +A VOICE IN THE DARK + + +Gilbert soon discovered his mistake. When a trail has brought you to a +spot it is best to trust that trail to take you back again. Beacons, +artificial beacons, are fickle things. Gilbert had much to learn. + +He had lost the trail and he soon found that he was following a phantom. +One of the lights was no light at all, but a reflection in a puddle in +the woods. The woods were still full of puddles; though the ground was +firm it still bore these traces of its recent soaking. And the damage +caused by the high wind was apparent on every hand, in fallen trees and +broken limbs. There was a pungent odor to the drenched woods. + +Gilbert picked his way around these impediments of wetness and débris. +The night was clear. There were a few stars but no moon. Doubtless, he +thought, the reflection in the puddle was the reflection of a star. +Presently he saw something black before him. In his maneuvers to keep to +dry ground he had in fact already gone beyond it, and looked back at it, +so to say. + +Now he could see that the reflection in the puddle was derived from a +light on the further side of the black mass. Other little intervening +puddles were touched with a faint, shimmering brightness. + +Gilbert approached the dark object and saw that it was a fallen tree. +The wound in the earth caused by its torn-up roots formed a sort of +cavern where the slenderer tentacles hung limp like tropical foliage. If +there was a means of entrance to this dank little shelter it must be +from the farther side. Even where Gilbert stood the atmosphere was +redolent of the damp earth of this crazy little retreat. For retreat it +certainly was, because there was a light in it. Gilbert could only see +the reflection of the light but he knew whence that reflection was +derived. + +He approached a little closer and was sure he heard voices. He paused, +then advanced a little closer still. Doubtless this freakish little +shelter left by the storm was occupied by a couple of hoboes, perhaps +thieves. + +But Gilbert had played his card and lost. He had forsaken the trail for +a light, and the light had not guided him to camp. He doubted if he +could find his way to camp from here. You are to remember that Gilbert +was a good scout, but a new one. + +He approached a little closer, and now he could distinctly hear a voice. +Not the voice of a hobo, surely, for it was carolling a blithe song to +the listening heavens. Gilbert bent his ear to listen: + + Oh, the life of a scout is free, + is free; + He's happy as happy can be, + can be. + He dresses so neat, + With no shoes on his feet; + The life of a scout is free! + + The life of a scout is bold, + so bold; + His adventures have never been told, + been told. + His legs they are bare, + And he won't take a dare, + The life of a scout is bold! + + The savage gorilla is mild, + is mild; + Compared to the boy scout so wild, + so wild. + He don't go to bed, + And he stands on his head, + The life of a scout is wild! + +Gilbert stood petrified with astonishment. In all his excursions through +the scout handbook he had never encountered any such formula for +scouting as this. No scout hero in _Boys' Life_ had ever consecrated +himself to such a program. + +There was a pause within, during which Gilbert crept a little closer. He +hardly knew any of the boys in camp yet, and the strange voice meant +nothing to him. He knew that no member of _his_ troop was there. + +"Want to hear another?" the singer asked. + +"Shoot," was the laconic reply. + +"This one was writ, wrot, wrote for the Camp-fire Girls around the +blazing oil stove. + + "If I had nine lives like an old tom cat, + I'd chuck eight of them away. + For the more the weight, the less the speed, + And scouts don't carry any more than they need; + And I'd keep just one for a rainy day. + +"Good? Want to hear more? Second verse by special request. They're off: + + "If I could turn like an old windmill, + I'd do good turns all day; + With noble deeds the day I'd fill. + But you see I'm _not_ an old windmill. + And I ain't just built that way, + I ain't." + +Gilbert decided that however unusual were these ballads of scouting, +they did not emanate from thief or hobo; and he climbed resolutely over +the log. Even the comparative mildness of the savage gorilla to this new +kind of scout did not deter him. + +The scout anthem continued. + + "If I was a roaring old camp-fire, + You bet that I'd go out; + Oh, I'd go out and far and near, + For a camp-fire has the right idea; + And knows what it's about!" + +Gilbert crept along the farther side of the log till he came to an +opening among the tangled roots. It was a very small but cozy little +cave that he found himself looking into. In a general way, it suggested +a wicker basket or a cage, except that it was black and damp. Within +was a little fire of twigs. Tending it was a young fellow of perhaps +twenty years of age, wearing a plaid cap. He was stooping over the +little fire. Nearby, in a sort of swing made by binding two hanging +tentacles of root, sat the wandering minstrel, swinging his legs to keep +his makeshift hammock in motion. + +Gilbert Tyson contemplated him in speechless consternation. There he +was, the ideal ragged vagabond, and he did not cease swinging even when +he discovered the visitor. + +"H'lo," he said; "gimme my hat, that's just what I wanted; glad to see +you." + +Dumbfounded, Gilbert tossed the hat over to him. + +"I wouldn't sell that hat," said Hervey, putting it on, "not for a +couple of cups of cup custard. Sit down. Here's the chorus. + + "Then hurrah for the cat with its nine little lives, + And the good turn windmill, too. + And hurrah for the fire that likes to go out, + When the hour is late like a regular scout; + For that's what I like to do, + _I do._ + You bet your life I do!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +LOVE ME, LOVE MY DOG + + +"Where did you find the hat?" Hervey inquired. "I bet you can't sit on +this without holding on. Were you in the swamp? This is my friend, Mr. +Hood--Robin Hood--sometimes I call him _Lid_ instead of _Hood_. Call him +_cap_ if you want to, he doesn't care," he added, still swinging. + +Mr. Robin Hood did not seem as much at ease as his young companion. He +seemed rather troubled and glanced sideways at Gilbert. + +"We should worry about his name if he doesn't want to give it, hey?" +Hervey said, winking at Gilbert. "What's in a name?" + +Gilbert was shrewd enough not to mention Tom but to give his visit the +dignity of highest authority. + +"Well, this is a big surprise to me," he said, "and I'm mighty glad it's +this way," he added with a deep note of sincerity and relief in his +voice. "I was sent from the office to find you and give you this note. I +tracked you to the pond and I thought--golly, I'm glad it isn't so--but +I thought you went down in the quicksand. I near got into it myself." + +"Me?" + +"Yes, how did you----" + +"Easiest thing in the world. I knew if I could get to the log--did you +see the log?" + +"It isn't there now." + +"I knew if I could get to that I could jump from it to the pond." + +"And did you?" + +"Surest thing. I kept chucking the suit-case ahead and stepping on it. I +had an old board, too. I guess they're both gone down by now." + +"Yes." + +"When I got to the log I was all hunk--for half a minute. 'One to get +ready,' that's what I said. Oh, boy, going down. Toys and stationery in +the basement." + +Just in that moment Gilbert thought of the bird. + +"Yes?" he urged, "and then?" + + "One to get ready, + One to jump high, + One to light in the pond or die." + +"And you did it? I heard you were reckless. Here, read the note," +Gilbert said with unconcealed admiration. The wandering minstrel had +made another capture. + +He was, however, a little sobered as he opened the envelope. He had +never been the subject of an official missive before. He had never been +honored by a courier. He had won badges and had an unique reputation for +stunts. But when the momentary sting had passed it cannot be said that +he left camp with any fond regrets. On the other hand, he bore the camp +and his scoutmaster no malice now. He who forgets orders may also forget +grievances. In Hervey's blithe nature there was no room for abiding +malice. + +"What are they trying to hand me now?" he asked, reading the notice. + +"I don't know anything about it," said Gilbert; "I think you have to +come back, don't you?" + +"Sure, I've got the Gold Cross wished on me." + +"The cross?" said Gilbert in admiring surprise. "What for?" + +"Search me. They're going to test some money or something--testimony, +that's it. Something big is going to happen in my young life." + +"You'll go back?" Gilbert asked anxiously. + +"Sure, if Robin Hood can go with me. Love me, love my dog." + +"I don't want to go there," said the young fellow; "you kids better go." + +"Then that's the end of the red cross," said Hervey, still swinging. "I +mean the Gold Cross or the double cross or whatever you call it. +What'd'you say, Hoody? They have good eats there. Will you come and see +me cop the cross?" + +"He just happened to blow in here," said the stranger, by way of +explaining Hervey's presence to Gilbert. "I was knocking around in the +woods and bunking in here." + +Gilbert was a little puzzled, but he did not ask any questions. He was +thoughtful and tactful. He had a pretty good line on Hervey's nature, +too. + +"Of course, Hervey has to go back," he said, as much for Hervey's +benefit as for the stranger's. "I say all three of us go. You'll like +to see the camp----" + +"They've got a washed-out cove and an oven for making marshmallows, and +a scoutmasters' meeting-place with a drain-pipe you can climb up to the +roof on, 'n everything," said Hervey in a spirit of fairness toward the +camp and its attractions. "They've got messboards you can do +hand-springs on when the cook isn't around. I bet you can't do the +double flop, Hoody." + +"Well, then, we'll all go?" Gilbert asked rather anxiously. + +Hervey spread out his arms by way of saying that anything that suited +Gilbert and the stranger would suit him. + +So the three started off to camp, the stranger rather hesitating, +Gilbert highly elated with his success, and Hervey perfectly agreeable +to anything which meant action. + +It was characteristic of Hervey that he really had not the faintest idea +of why he was to be honored with the highest scout award. He had +apparently forgotten all about his almost superhuman exploit. He would +never have mentioned it nor thought of it. He did recall it in that +moment of humiliation when Mr. Denny had talked with him. But he would +not speak of it even then. He would suffer disgrace first. And how much +less was he likely to think of it now! Surely the Gold Cross had nothing +to do with that fiasco which had ended in unconsciousness. That was not +supreme heroism. There was something wrong, somewhere. _That_ was just a +stunt.... + +Well, he would take things as they came--quicksand, a frantic run in +storm and darkness, new friends, the Gold Cross, anything.... + +Was there one soul in all that great camp that really understood him? + +As they picked their way through the woods, following his lead (for he +alone knew the way) he edified them with another song, for these ballads +which had made him the wandering minstrel he remembered even if he +remembered nothing else. + + "You wouldn't think to look at me + That I'm as good as good can be-- + a little saint. + You wouldn't care to make a bet, + That I'm the teacher's little pet-- + I ain't." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +TOM LEARNS SOMETHING + + +Tom's absence through the day had resulted in an accumulation of work +upon his table. His duties were chiefly active but partly clerical. +After supper he started to clear away these matters. + +The camp had already been in communication with Mr. Temple, its founder, +and plans had been made for an inspection of the washed-out cove by +engineers from the city. It was purposed to build a substantial dam at +that lowest and weakest place on the lake shore. There was a memorandum +asking Tom to be prepared to show these men the fatal spot on the +following morning. + +Matters connected with the meeting of the resident Court of Honor next +day had also to be attended to. Several dreamers of high awards would +have a sleepless night in anticipation of that meeting. Hervey Willetts +would probably sleep peacefully--if he went to bed at all. + +It was half an hour or so before Tom got around to looking over the +names of new arrivals. These were card indexed by the camp clerk, and +Tom always looked the cards over in a kind of casual quest of familiar +names, and also with the purpose of getting a line on first season +troops. It was his habit to make prompt acquaintance with these and help +them over the first hard day or so of strangeness. + +In glancing over these names, he was greatly astonished to find on the +list of Mr. Carroll's troop, the name of William Corbett. The identity +of this name with that of the victim of the automobile accident greatly +interested him, and he recalled then for the first time, that this troop +had come from Hillsburgh, in the vicinity of which the accident had +occurred. Yet, according to the newspaper, the victim of the accident +had been killed, or mortally injured. + +As Tom pondered on this coincidence of names there ran through his mind +one of those snatches of song which Hervey Willetts was fond of +singing: + + Some boys were killed and some were not, + Of those that went to war; + And a lot of boys are dying now, + That never died before. + +Before camp-fire was started Tom hunted up Mr. Carroll. + +"I see you have a William Corbett in your troop, Mr. Carroll," said he. + +"Oh, yes, that's Goliath." + +"He--he wasn't the kid who was knocked down by an auto?" + +"Why, yes, he was. You know about that?" + +Tom hesitated. The newspapers had not yet had time to publish the +sensational accounts of Harlowe's tragic death on the mountain and the +facts about this harrowing business had not been made public in camp. + +"I thought the kid was killed," Tom said. + +"Oh, no, that was just newspaper talk. It's a long way from being +mortally injured in a newspaper to being killed, Mr. Slade." + +"Y-es, I dare say you're right," said Tom, still astonished. + +"Yes, the little codger has a weak heart," said Mr. Carroll. "When the +machine struck him it knocked him down and he was picked up +unconscious. Probably he looked dead as he lay there. I dare say that's +what frightened the man in the machine. No, it was just his heart," he +added. "A couple of the boys in my troop knew the family, mother did +washing for them or something of that sort, and so we got in touch with +the little codger and there was our good turn all cut out for us. + +"You know, Slade, we have a kind of an institution--troop good turn. +Ever hear of anything like that? So we brought him along. He's a kind of +a scout in the chrysalis stage. He doesn't even know what happened to +him. A good part of his life has been spent in hospitals; he'll pick up +though. I think the newspaper reporters did more harm than the autoist. +Do you know, Slade, I think the man may have just got panicky, like some +of the soldiers in the war." + +"I've seen a fellow shrink like a whipped cur at the sound of a cannon +and then I've seen him flying after the enemy like a fiend," said Tom. + +"Yes, human nature's a funny thing," said Mr. Carroll. + +Tom's mind was divided between admiration of this kind, tolerant, +generous scoutmaster and astonishment at what he had learned. + +"Well, that's news to me," he said. + +"Yes, the main thing is to build the little codger up now," Mr. Carroll +mused aloud. + +"Mr. Carroll," said Tom, "Gilbert didn't say anything about going up the +mountain with me last night?" + +"N-no, I don't know that he did." + +"The trustees didn't want anything said about the matter here in camp, +or the whole outfit would be going up the mountain. But I suppose the +papers will have the whole business by to-morrow, and you might as well +have it now. The fellow who ran down the kid was found crushed to death +on the mountain last night. His name was Aaron Harlowe." + +Tom told the whole harrowing episode to Mr. Carroll, who listened with +interest, commenting now and again upon the tragic sequel of the auto +accident. It was plain, throughout, however, that his chief interest was +in his little charge, Goliath. + +"That's a very strange thing," he said; "it has a smack of Divine +justice about it, if one cares to look at it that way. Have you any +theory of just how it happened?" + +"I haven't got any time for theories, Mr. Carroll; not with four new +troops coming to-morrow. It's a closed book now, I suppose. There are +some funny things about the whole business. But one thing sure, the +man's dead. I have a hunch he got crazed and rattled and hid here and +there and was afraid they'd catch him and finally went up the mountain. +He thought he had killed the kid, you see. I'd like to know what went on +inside his head, wouldn't you?" + +"Yes, I would." + +Several of Mr. Carroll's troop, seeing him talking with Tom, approached +and hung about as this chat ended. Wherever Tom Slade was, scouts were +attracted to that spot as flies are attracted to sugar. They stood +about, listening, and staring at the young camp assistant. + +"Well, how do you think you like us up here?" Tom asked, turning +abruptly from his talk with their scoutmaster. "Think you're going to +have a good time?" + +"You said something," one piped up. + +"Where's Gilbert?" another asked. + +"Oh, he'll be back in a little while," Tom said. "I sent him on an +errand and I suppose he got lost." + +"He did _not_!" several vociferated. + +"No?" Tom smiled. + +"You bet he didn't!" + +"Well," said Tom, laughing, "if you fellows want to get into the mix-up, +keep your eyes on the bulletin board. Everything is posted there, hikes +and things. You'll like most of the things you see there." + +"I'm crazy about tomatoes," one of the scouts ventured. + +Tom smiled at Mr. Carroll and Mr. Carroll smiled at Tom. + +There seemed to be a sort of unspoken agreement among them all that +Hervey Willetts should be thought of ruefully, and in a way of +disapproval. But, oddly enough, none of them seemed quite able to +conceal a sneaking liking for him, shown rather than expressed. + +And there you have an illustration of Hervey's status in camp.... + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE BLACK SHEEP + + +The scouts were all around the camp-fire when Gilbert Tyson returned +with his captives. As they crossed the road and came upon the camp +grounds, the stranger seemed apprehensive and ill at ease, but Hervey +with an air of sweeping authority informed him that everything was all +right, that he would fix it for him. + +"Don't you worry," he said; "I know all the high mucks here. You leave +it to me." He was singularly confident for one in disgrace. "I'll get +you a job, all right. When you see Slady or Uncle Jeb you just tell them +you're a friend of mine." Robin Hood seemed somewhat reassured by the +words of one so influential. By way of giving him a cheery reminder of +certain undesirable facts and reconciling him to a life of toil, Hervey +sang as they made their way to the office. + + "You gotta go to work, + You gotta go to work, + You gotta go to work-- + That's true. + And the reason why you gotta go to work + _IS_ + The work won't come to you + _SEE?_ + + "I gotta go to bed, + I gotta go to bed, + Like a good little scout-- + You see. + And the reason why I gotta go to bed + _IS_ + The bed won't come to me. + D'you see? + The bed won't come to me." + +This ballad of toil and duty (which were Hervey's favorite themes) was +accompanied by raps on Gilbert's head with a stick, which became more +and more vigorous as they approached the office. Here the atmosphere of +officialdom did somewhat subdue the returning prodigal son and he +removed his precious hat as they entered. + +This matter was in Tom Slade's hands and he was going to see it through +alone. From camp-fire his watchful eye had seen the trio passing +through the grove and he was in the office before they reached it. + +The office was a dreadful place, where the mighty John Temple himself +held sway on his occasional visits, where councilmen and scoutmasters +conferred, and where there was a bronze statue of Daniel Boone. Hervey +had many times longed to decorate the sturdy face of the old pioneer +with a mustache and whiskers, using a piece of trail-sign chalk. + +At present he was seized by a feeling of respectful diffidence, and +stood hat in hand, a trifle uncomfortable. Robin Hood was uncomfortable +too, but he was in for it now. He was relieved to see that the official +who confronted him was an easy-going offhand young fellow of about his +own age, dressed in extreme negligée, sleeves rolled up, shirt open, +face and throat brown like the brown of autumn. It seemed to make things +easier for the trio that Tom vaulted up onto the bookkeeper's high desk, +as if he were vaulting a fence, and sat there swinging his legs, the +very embodiment of genial companionship. + +"Well, Gilbert, you got away with it, huh?" + +"Here he is," said Gilbert proudly. "I found him in a kind of cave in +the woods----" + +"Gilbert deserves all the credit for finding me," Hervey interrupted. +"You've got to hand it to him, I'll say that much." + +"It isn't everybody who can find you, is it?" said Tom. + +"Believe me, you said something," Hervey ejaculated. + +"Well, I'm going to say some more," Tom laughed. + +"This is my friend," said Hervey; "Robin Hood, but I don't know his real +name. He's a good friend of mine, and he can play the banjo only he +hasn't got one with him, and I want to get him a job." + +"Any friend of yours----" Tom began and winked at Gilbert. + +"What did I tell you?" said Hervey. "Didn't I tell you I'd fix it?" + +"I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Hood," said Tom. "We're expecting to be +pretty busy here, I can say that much," he added cautiously. + +"I was just roaming the woods," said the stranger. "I haven't got any +home; out of luck. The boys insisted on my coming." + +"Strangers always welcome," said Tom cheerily. + +It was, indeed, true that strangers were always welcome. Temple Camp was +down on the hobo's blue book as a hospitable refuge. Stranded show +people had known its sheltering kindness. Moreover, Tom was not likely +to make particular inquiry about Hervey's chance acquaintances. The +wandering minstrel had brought in laid-off farm hands, a strolling organ +grinder with a monkey, not to mention two gypsies, a peddler of rugs and +other strays. + +"Well, Tyson," said Tom, clasping his hands behind his head and swinging +his legs in a way of utmost good humor, "suppose you take Mr. Hood over +to camp-fire and see if he can stand for some of those yarns. Tell Uncle +Jeb he's going to hang around till morning. You stay here, Hervey. I'd +like to hear about your adventures. Let's see, how many lives have you +got left now?" + +"Believe me, I did _some stunt_," said Hervey. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +STUNTS AND STUNTS + + +For a minute or two, Tom sat swinging his legs, contemplating Hervey. + +"When it comes to stunts," said he, "you're down and out. You belong to +the '_also rans_.'" + +"Me?" + +"Yes, you." + +"I can----" + +"Oh, yes, you can do a lot. You ought to join the Camp-fire Girls. You +were asked to stay at camp--I'm not talking about yesterday. I'm talking +about all summer. There's an easy stunt. But you fell down on it. Don't +talk to me about stunts." + +"Do you think it's easy to hang around camp all the time? It's hard, you +can bet." + +"Sure, it's a _stunt_. And you can't do it. Little Pee-wee Harris can +do it, but you can't. Don't talk stunts to me. I know what a stunt is." + +"What's a stunt?" Hervey asked, trying to conceal the weakness of his +attitude with a fine air of defiance. + +"Why, a stunt is something that is hard to do, that's all." + +"You tell me----" + +"I'll tell you something I want you to do and you're afraid to do +it--you're _afraid_." + +"I won't take a dare from anybody," Hervey shouted. + +"Well, you'll take one from me." + +"You dare me to do something and see." + +"All righto. I _dare_ you to go up to your troop's cabin after camp-fire +and tell Mr. Denny that you've been a blamed nuisance and that you're +out to do the biggest stunt you ever did. And that is to do what you're +told. Tell him I dared you to do it, and tell him what you said about +not taking a dare from anybody. Tell him you never knew about its being +a stunt. + +"Of course I know you won't do it, because it's hard, and I know you're +not game. I just want to show you that you're a punk stunt-puller. I +_dare_ you to do it! I _DARE_ you to do it!" + +"I won't take a dare from anybody!" said Hervey, excitedly. + +"Oh, yes, you will. You'll take one from _me_. You're a four-flusher, +that's what you are. Go ahead. I _dare_ you to do it. You won't take a +dare, hey? I _double_ dare you to! There. Now let's see. Go up there and +tell Mr. Denny you're going to get away with the biggest thing you ever +tried--the biggest stunt. And to-morrow morning before the Court meets +you come in here and see Mr. Fuller and Uncle Jeb and me. Now don't ask +any questions. You came in here all swelled up, regular fellow and all +that sort of thing, and I'm calling your bluff." + +"You call me a bluffer?" Hervey shouted. + +"The biggest bluffer outside of Pine Bluff." + +"Me?" + +"Yes, you." + +"I wouldn't take a dare from you or anybody like you!" + +"Actions speak louder than words." + +"I never saw the stunt yet----" + +"Well, here it is right now. I dare you. I _dare_ you," said Tom, +jumping down and looking right in Hervey's face, "I DOUBLE DARE YOU!" + +Hervey grabbed his hat from the bench. + + "A kid that gives a double dare + For shame and grins he must prepare." + +he shouted. + +"That's me," said Tom. + +Before he realized what had happened, he heard the door slam and he +found himself alone, laughing. Hervey had departed, in wrath and +desperation, bent upon his next stunt. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE DOUBLE DARE + + +Mr. Denny's troop had turned in with the warmth of the roaring camp-fire +still lingering in their cheeks when the black sheep went up the hill. +The scoutmaster, sitting in his tepee, was writing up the troop's diary +in the light of a railroad lantern. He showed no great surprise at his +wandering scout's arrival. + +"Well, Hervey," said he. "Back again? I told you it would be better to +wait till morning. Missed the train, eh? You see my advice is sometimes +best after all." He did not look up but continued writing. If Hervey had +expected to create a sensation he was disappointed. "Better go to bed +and catch the nine fifty-two in the morning," said Mr. Denny kindly. + +"I came back because Tom Slade sent for me. I've got to get a medal, +but I don't care anything about that." + +"So? What's that for?" + +"I always said that fellow Slade was a friend of mine, but I wouldn't +let him put one over on me, I wouldn't." + +"You mean he was just fooling you about the medal?" + +"Maybe you can tell," said Hervey. "Because anyway I didn't do anything +to win a--the Gold Cross." + +Mr. Denny raised his eyebrows in frank surprise. "The Gold Cross?" + +"I don't care anything about that, anyway," said Hervey; "but I wouldn't +take a dare from anybody; I never did yet." + +"No?" + +"He said--that fellow said--he said I wouldn't dare to come up here and +tell you that I can--do anything I want to do." + +"That's just what you've been doing, Hervey." + +"But you know I'm good on stunts? And he said--this is just what he +said--he said I couldn't do that kind of a stunt--staying here when I'm +told to. He dared me to. Would you take a double dare if you were me? +They're worse than single ones." + +"N-no, I don't know that I would," said Mr. Denny, thoughtfully. + +"He said I wouldn't dare--do you know what a four flusher is?" + +"Why--y-es." + +"He said I wouldn't _dare_ to come up here and tell you that I know I'm +wrong to make so much trouble and he said I couldn't do a stunt like +staying in camp. Would you let any fellow call you a Camp-fire +Girl--would you? Gee Williger, _that_ stunt's a cinch!" + +Mr. Denny closed his book, leaving his pen in it as a book-mark, and +clasping his hands, listened attentively. It was the first slight sign +of surrender. He looked inquiringly and not unkindly at the figure that +stood before him in the dim lantern light. He noted the torn clothing, +the wrinkled stocking, the outlandish hat with its holes and trinkets. +He could see, just see, those clear gray eyes, honest, reckless, +brave.... + +"Yes, Hervey?" + +"Of course you don't have to keep me here, I don't mean that. Because +that's another thing, anyway. Only I want you to tell Slade that I +_did_ dare, because I wouldn't take a double dare not even from--from +Mr. Temple, I wouldn't. So then he'll know I'm not afraid of you. +Because even you wouldn't say I'm a coward." + +"No." + +"I can do any stunt going, I'll let him know, and I won't take a double +dare from anybody. Because I made a resolution when I was in the third +primary grade." + +"And you've always kept it?" + +"You think I'd bust a resolution? You have bad luck for eight years if +you do that." + +"I see." + +"No, siree!" + +"And so you think you could do this stunt?" + +"I can do any stunt going. Do you know what I did----" + +"Just a second, Hervey. I'd like to see you get away with that stunt." + +"But I'm not asking you to keep me here," Hervey said, giving his +stocking a hitch, "because I'm a good loser, I am. But I want you to +tell that fellow Slade--I used to think he was a friend of mine--I want +you to tell him that I bobbed that dare." + +"Bobbed it?" + +"Yes, that means put it back on him." + +Mr. Denny paused. + +"Why don't you tell him yourself, Hervey?" + +"Because he doesn't have to believe me." + +"Has any one ever accused you of lying, Hervey?" + +"Do you think I'd let anybody?" + +"Hmm, well, I think you'd better bob that dare yourself. But of course +you ought to follow it up with the stunt." + +"Oh, sure--only----" + +"I'll give you the chance to do that. My sporting blood is up now----" + +"That's just the way with me," said Hervey; "that's where you and I are +alike." + +"Yes. I think we'll have to put this fellow Slade where he belongs." + +"You leave that to me," said Hervey. + +There was a pause of a few moments. The whole camp had turned in by now +and distant voices had ceased. A cricket chirped somewhere close by. An +acorn fell from a tree overhead and rolled down the roof of the troop +cabin a few yards distant, the sound of its falling emphasized by the +stillness. Hervey hitched up his stocking again. Mr. Denny watched him. +Perhaps he was studying this wandering minstrel of his more closely than +ever before. It may have been that the silence and isolation were on +Hervey's side.... + +"Anyway, you don't have to keep me here, because--and I didn't come back +for that." + +"Hervey, you spoke about a medal--the Gold Cross. You don't mean the +supreme heroism award, of course. Slade didn't try to lure you back with +hints about such a thing?" + +"Hanged if I know what he meant." + +"He sent a note after you? Have you it with you?" + +"I made paper bullets out of it to shoot at lightning bugs on the way +home." + +"Did he actually mention the Gold Cross?" + +"I think he did--sure I never did anything to win that, you can bet." + +"No. And I think Slade adopted very questionable tactics to get you +back. Doubtless his intentions were good----" + +"I wouldn't let that fellow ruin _my_ young life--don't worry." + +"Well, you'd better turn in now, Hervey, and don't stay awake thinking +about dares and stunts and awards." + +And indeed Hervey did not stay awake thinking of any such things, +especially awards. In more than one tent and cabin on that Friday night +were sleepless heads, tossing and visioning the morrow which would bring +them merit badges, and perhaps awards of higher honor--silver, +bronze.... + +But the head of Hervey Willetts rested quietly and his sleep was sound. +He took things as they came, as he had taken the letter out of Gilbert's +hands. There was a mistake somewhere, or else Tom Slade had caught him +and brought him back by a mean trick and a false promise. But he did not +hold that against Tom. What he held against Tom was that Tom had made +him take a double dare. He knew he had done nothing to win so high an +honor as that golden treasure, so rare, so coveted.... What he had done +was already ancient history and forgotten. And it had no relation to the +Gold Cross. And so he slept peacefully. + +The thing that he most treasured was his decorated hat, and so that this +might not get away from him again, he kept it under his pillow.... + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +THE COURT IN SESSION + + +From his conversation with Tom, Mr. Denny knew (if indeed he had not +known it before) that the young assistant had a strong liking for this +bah, bah black sheep. He knew that Tom had been responsible for Hervey's +latest truancy and he believed that Tom, knowing that a little trick was +the only way to bring Hervey back, might have played such a little +trick, then sent him up the hill to square himself. + +Mr. Denny was quite in sympathy with the stunt and double dare business, +but he did not approve of trying to circumvent Hervey by dangling the +Gold Cross before his eyes. He was afraid that Hervey would not forget +this and that the disappointment would be keen. As we know, Tom was +dead set against this kind of thing. Mr. Denny did not know that. But he +did know that Hervey was unfamiliar with the rigorous requirements for +winning the highest award, for most of the pages in Hervey's handbook +had been used to make torches and paper bullets. Mr. Denny was resolved +that Tom Slade should not get away with such tactics unrebuked. He was +resolved to speak to the Honor Court about it in the morning. He would +not have one of his boys made the victim of vain hopes.... + + * * * * * + +Early in the morning, Tom took a little stroll with Robin Hood and +improved his acquaintance. Tom liked odd people as much as Hervey did +and he found this unfortunate stranger rather interesting. One thing, in +particular, he learned from him which was of immediate interest to him +and which Hervey, with characteristic heedlessness, had forgotten to +mention. + +"I dare say we can dig you up something to do," said Tom, "when the work +on the dam gets started. That'll be in two or three days, I guess. +Suppose you hang around." + +"I'd like to stay right here for the rest of the summer," said the +young fellow. "I'm out of luck and I'm all in." + +"France?" Tom queried. For soldiers out of luck were not uncommon in +camp. + +"No, just hard luck; lost my grip, that's all." + +"Well, hang around and maybe you'll pull together. I've seen lots of +shell-shock; had it myself, in fact." + +"Oh, it's nothing like that." + +"Come in and see the Supreme Court in session, won't you? It's great. We +have this twice during the summer. Reminds you of the League of Nations +in session.... H'lo, Shorty, what are you here for? More merit badges?" + +Outside the main pavilion the choicest spirits of camp were loitering; +Pee-wee Harris still working valiantly on the end of his breakfast, Roy +Blakeley of the Silver Foxes, Bert Winton on from Ohio with the Bengal +Tigers, and Brent Gaylong, leader of the Church Mice from Newburgh. He +was a sort of scoutmaster and patrol leader rolled into one, was Brent, +a lanky, slow moving fellow with a funny squint to his face, and a quiet +way of seeing the funny side of things. You had only to look at him to +laugh. + +"Tickets purchased from speculators not good," he was saying. + +Inside, the place was half filled with scouts, with a sprinkling of +scoutmasters. The members of the resident Court of Honor were already +seated behind a table and business was going forward. Much had already +been despatched. + +After a little while Mr. Denny came in and sat down. Other scoutmasters +sauntered in, and scouts singly and in groups. One proud scout went out +with three new merit badges and was vociferously cheered outside. + +Another didn't quite make the pathfinder's badge; another the camp honor +flag for good turns. Still another got the Life Scout badge, and so it +went. Honor jobs for the ensuing week were given out. There were many +strictly camp awards, not found in the handbook. The Temple Paddle was +awarded to a proud canoeist. Scouts came and went. Sometimes the +interest was keen and sometimes it lagged. + +Hervey Willetts came sauntering up from the boat landing, his hat at a +rakish angle, and trying to balance an oar-lock on his nose. He had an +air of wandering aimlessly so that his arrival at the pavilion seemed +quite a matter of chance. A morning song was on his lips: + + The life of a scout is sweet, + is sweet, + The rubbish he throws in the street, + the street. + He uses soft words, + And he shoots all the birds; + The life of a scout is sweet. + +Being a lone, blithe spirit, a kind of scout skylark as one might say, +he had not many friends in camp. The rank and file laughed at him, were +amused at his naďve independence, and regarded him, not as a poor scout, +but rather as not exactly a scout at all. They did not see enough of +him; he flew too high. He was his own best companion. + +Consequently when he sauntered with a kind of whimsical assurance into +that exalted official conclave most of them thought that he had dropped +in as he might have dropped into the lake. There was a little touch of +pathos, too, in the fact that the loiterers outside did not speak to him +as he passed in. It was just that they did not know him well enough; he +was not one of them. He was the oddest of odd numbers, a stormy petrel +indeed, and they did not know how to take him. + +So he was alone amid three hundred scouts.... + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +OVER THE TOP + + +Tom had waited patiently for Hervey to arrive. His propensity for _not_ +arriving had troubled Tom. But whether by chance or otherwise there he +was, and Tom lost no time in getting to his feet. + +"Before the court closes," he said, "I want to ask to have a blank +filled out to be sent to the National Honor Court, on a claim for the +Gold Cross award. I would like to get it endorsed by the Local Council +to-day so it will get to National Headquarters Monday." + +You could have heard a pin drop in that room. The magic words Gold Cross +brought every whispering, dallying scout to attention. There was a +general rustle of straightening up in seats. The continuous departing +ceased. Faces appeared at the open windows. + +_The Gold Cross._ + +Mr. Denny looked at Tom. The young assistant, in his usual negligée, was +very offhand and thoroughly at ease. He seemed to know what he was +talking about. All eyes were upon him. + +"If you want the detailed statements of the three witnesses written out, +that can be done. But the National Court will take the recommendation +without that if it's endorsed by the Local Council. That was done in the +case of Albert Nesbit, who won the Gold Cross here three years ago. I'd +rather do it that way." + +"What is the name, Mr. Slade?" + +"Willetts--Hervey Willetts. You spell it with two T's." + +"This can be done without witnesses, on examination, Mr. Slade." + +"The winner isn't a good subject for examination," said Tom; "I think +the witnesses would be better." + +"Just so." + +"I might say," said Tom, "that this is the first chance I've had to tell +about this thing. On the night of the storm I sent Willetts from the +cove and told him to catch the bus and stop it before it reached the +bridge. I didn't think he could do it but I didn't say so. He had two +miles to go through the storm, running all the way. The wind was in his +face. Of course we all know what the storm was. His scoutmaster had told +him not to leave camp. If this was an emergency then it comes under +By-law Twenty-seven. You'll have to decide that. It was on account of +the flood I took him, not on account of the bus. The lake was running +out." + +"Did he reach the bus?" Mr. Fuller asked. + +"He reached the bus, but he doesn't know how. The last he remembered is +that he fell because his foot was caught in a hole. I don't know, nobody +knows how he did that thing. Here's a man who was in the woods that +night and saw him. He met him about half way and says he was so +exhausted and excited he couldn't speak. He told this man that he had to +_hurry on to save some people's lives_. He meant the people in the bus. +How he got from the place where he fell to the bus is a mystery. When he +did get there he couldn't speak, so he grabbed one of the horses. His +foot was wrenched and he was unconscious. + +"When they got him in the bus he muttered something and they thought he +was talking about his foot. It was the bridge he was talking about. But +what he said prompted Mr. Carroll to send another scout forward, and +_he_ stopped the bus. That's all there is to it. He got there and it +nearly killed him. Darby Curren, who is here to tell you, thought he was +a spook. + +"Now these three people, Mr. Hood, Darby Curren and Mr. Carroll, can +tell you what they know about it. It's one of those cases where the real +facts didn't come out. Hervey Willetts saved the lives of twenty-two +people at _grave danger_ to his own. That satisfies the handbook. He +doesn't care four cents about the Gold Cross, but right is right, and +I'm here to see that he gets it. Stand up, Hervey. Stand out in the +aisle." Suddenly Tom was seated. + +So there stood the wandering minstrel, alone. Even his champion was not +in evidence. Nor was his troop there to share the glory with him. His +scoutmaster was there, but he seemed too dazed to speak. And so the +stormy petrel stood alone, as he would always stand alone. Because there +was no one like him. + +"Willetts is the name? Hervey Willetts?" + +"I got a middle name, but I don't bother with it." + +"What troop?" + +And so the cut and dried business, so strange and unattractive to +Hervey, of filling in the blank, went on. He did not greatly care for +indoor sports. There was a lull in the general interest. Scouts began +lounging and whispering again. + +In that interval of restlessness, an observant person might have +noticed, sitting in the back part of the room, the rather ungainly +figure of the tall fellow, Brent Gaylong, organizer of the Church Mice +of Newburgh. He seemed to be the center of a clamoring, interested, +little group. + +Roy Blakeley's brown, crinkly hair could be seen through the gaps made +by other heads. Gaylong's knees were up against the back of the seat in +front of him, thus forming a sort of slanting desk, on which he held a +writing tablet. His head was cocked sideways as if in humorous but stern +criticism of his own work. On somebody's suggestion he wrote something +then crossed it out. There were evidently too many cooks at the broth, +but he was ludicrously patient and considerate, being no doubt chief +cook himself. There was something very funny about his calm, +preoccupied demeanor amid that clamoring throng. The proceedings in the +room interested him not. + +Nor did the business interest many others now. There was a continuous +drift toward the door and the crowd of loiterers outside increased and +became noisy. The wandering minstrel stood alone. + +The voice of the chairman droned on, "Hill cabin twenty-two. Right. We +will talk with these gentlemen afterwards. It may be a week or two +before you get this, Willetts. It has to come from the National Court of +Honor. Meanwhile, the Camp thanks you, and is proud of you, for your +extraordinary feat of heroism. It's most unusual----" + +"Trust him for that," some one interrupted. + +"I could run faster than that if I had sneaks," said Hervey. + +"I'm afraid no one would have seen you at all, then," said Mr. Carlson. + +"All you've got to do is double your fists and look through them and you +can see a mile. It's like opera glasses." + +[Illustration: "STAND UP, HERVEY. STAND OUT IN THE AISLE." Tom Slade's +Double Dare. Page 190] + +"So? Well, let us shake hands with you, my boy." + +The next thing Hervey knew, Mr. Denny's arm was over his shoulder, while +with his other hand he was shaking the hand of the young camp assistant. + +"That's all right, Mr. Denny," said Tom. + +"Slade, I want you to know how much I respect you----" + +"It's all in the day's work, Mr. Denny." + +"I want you to know that Hervey appreciates your friendship. You believe +he----" + +"I believe he's a wild Indian," Tom laughed. "Or maybe a squirrel, huh? +Hey, Hervey? On account of climbing.... You know, Mr. Denny, those are +the two things that can't be tamed, an Indian and a squirrel. You can +tame a lion, but you can't tame a squirrel." + +Mr. Denny listened, smiling, all the while patting Hervey's shoulder. + +"Well, after all, who wants to tame a squirrel?" said he. + + * * * * * + +So these two lingered a few minutes to chat about lions and Indians and +squirrels and things. And that was Hervey's chance to get away. + +No admiring throng followed him out. His own troop was not there and +knew nothing of his triumph. Probably he never thought of these things. +A scoutmaster grabbed his hand and said, "Wonderful, my boy!" Hervey +smiled and seemed surprised. + +Outside they were sitting around on railings and steps and squatting on +the grass. There was a little ripple of murmuring as he passed through +the sprawling throng, but no one spoke to him. That was not because they +did not appreciate, but because he was _different_ and a stranger. +Perhaps it was because they did not know just how to take him. He didn't +exactly fit in.... + +His ambling course had taken him perhaps a hundred feet, when he heard +some one shout, "Let'er go!" + +Before he realized it, his own favorite tune filled the air, they were +hurling it straight at him and the voices were loud and clear, though +the words were strange. + +"_Everybody!_" + + "He's one little bully athlete, + so fleet; + At sprinting he's got us all beat, + yes, beat. + He can climb, he can stalk, + He can win in a walk; + He's a scout from his head to his feet-- + THAT'S YOU. + He's a scout from his head to his feet." + +He turned and stood stark still. Some of them, in the vehemence of their +song, had risen and formed a little compact group. And again they sang +the verse, the words _THAT'S YOU_ pouring out of the throat of Pee-wee +Harris like a thunderbolt. Hervey blinked. His eyes glistened. Through +their haze he could see the lanky figure of the tall fellow, Brent +Gaylong, sitting upon the fence, his feet propped up on the lower rail, +a pair of shell spectacles half way down his nose, and waving a little +stick like the leader of an orchestra. He was very sober and looked +absurdly funny. + +"Let him have the other one!" some one shouted. + +Gaylong rapped upon the fence with his little stick, and then gave it a +graceful twirl which was an improvement on Sousa. + +The voices rose clear and strong: + + "We don't care a rap for the flings he springs; + He doesn't mean half of the things he sings. + We're all down and out + When it comes to a scout + That can run just as if he had wings and things. + That can run just as if he had wings!" + +If Hervey had waited as long on the log in the quicksand as he waited +now, there would have been no Gold Cross. But he could not move, he +stood as one petrified, his eyes glistening. The wandering minstrel had +been caught by his own tune. + +"Over the top," some one shouted. + +He was surrounded. + + "That's you! That's you!" + +they kept singing. He had never been caught in such a mix-up before. He +saw them all crowding about him, saw Roy Blakeley's merry face and the +sober face of Brent Gaylong, the spectacles still half way down his nose +and the baton over his ear like a lead pencil. They took his hat, tossed +it around, and handed it back to him. + +"No room on that for the Cross," said Gaylong; "he'll have to pin it on +his stocking; combination Gold Cross and garter. Supreme +heroism--keeping a stocking up----" + +There was no getting out of this predicament. He could escape the +quicksand but he couldn't escape this. He looked about as if to consider +whether he could make a leap over the throng. + +"Watch out or he'll pull a stunt," one shouted. + +But there was really no hope for him. The wandering minstrel was caught +at last. And the funny part of the whole business was that he was caught +by one of his own favorite tunes. The tunes which had caught so many +others.... + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +QUESTIONS + + +Hervey had now no incentive to leave the vicinity of camp. Doubtless he +could have performed the great stunt without outside help (now that he +knew it to be a stunt) but luck favored him as it usually did, and the +new work going forward in the cove was enough to occupy his undivided +attention. + +He made his headquarters there and hobnobbed with civil engineers and +laborers in the true democratic spirit which was his. The consulting +engineer they called him, which was odd, because Hervey never consulted +anybody about anything. The men all liked him immensely. + +Another to benefit by the work on the new dam was Robin Hood, or Mr. +Hood as he was respectfully called. He ran the flivver truck between +the camp and the cove, carrying stone, and also cement and supplies +which came by the railroad. They had to cut a road from the main road +through to the cove. + +But one thing was not brought by the flivver, and that was the suction +dredge, a horrible monster, a kind of jumble of house and machinery +which came on a big six-ton truck and was launched into the lake. Its +whole ramshackle bulk shook and shivered when it was in operation +sucking the bottom of the lake up through a big pipe and shooting it +through another long pipe which terminated on the land. Thus sand and +gravel were secured and at the same time the lake was dredged by this +mammoth vacuum cleaner. The pipeline which terminated on the shore was +supported on several floats a few yards apart, and the first scout to +perform the stunt of walking on this pulsating thing was---- + +Guess. + +About a week after work on the dam had begun, Tom rode over to the cove +on the truck with Robin Hood. He had struck up a friendship with the +stranger and liked him, as every one did. The young man was quiet, +industrious, intelligent. He did not encourage questions about himself, +but Tom was the last one to criticise reticence. + +Moreover, labor was scarce and willing workers in demand. One thing +which gave the young man favor in camp was his liking for the younger +boys, who frequently rode back and forth with him. + +"Well, it's beginning to look like a dam, isn't it?" Tom said, as they +rode along. "You won't be able to get much more stone up behind the +pavilion.... The dam ought to raise the lake level about five or six +feet, the engineers say. That'll mean moving a couple of the cabins +back. Storm was a good thing after all, huh?" + +"I guess it will be remembered around these parts for a good many +years," Tom's companion said. + +"And you were out in the thick of it," said Tom, in his usual cheery +way. "Up on the mountain it was terrible." + +"On the mountain? I was--I was just in the woods. It was bad enough +there." + +He looked sideways at Tom, rather curiously. He liked Tom but he could +never make up his mind about him. It always seemed to him, as indeed it +seemed to others, that Tom's cheery, simple, offhand talk bespoke a +knowledge of many things which he did not express. It was often hard to +determine what he was really thinking about. + +"I think I'll see that face whenever it storms," Tom said. + +"What face?" + +"Harlowe's; he was just staring up in the air. Ever see a person who has +suffered violent death, Hood?" + +"Once." + +"Funny thing, did you ever hear how the eyes of a dead man reflect the +last thing he saw? I know over in France they often saw images in the +eyes of dead soldiers. Near Toul, where I was stationed, they carried in +a dead Frenchy and you could see an airplane in his eyes just as sure as +day." + +"Did _you_--did you ever see anything like that?" + +"Oh, sure. Ask any army surgeon or nurse." + +Hood did not seem altogether satisfied with the answer. He was clearly +perturbed. But he did not venture another question, and for a few +minutes neither spoke. + +"Another thing, too, speaking of France," said Tom. "We could always +pick out a fellow that came over from England as soon as they set him to +driving an ambulance. He'd always go plunk over to the left side of the +road. You know they have to keep to the left over there instead of to +the right----" + +"Yes, I know----" Hood began, and stopped short. + +"Been over there, eh?" + +"I'm not English, but I lived there several years, and drove a car." + +"Yes?" Tom laughed. "Well, now, I just noticed how _you_ kept edging +over to the left. I didn't think anything about your coming from +England, but I just happened to notice it. Takes a long time to get a +habit out of your nut, doesn't it? People might say you were reckless +and all that when really it would just be that habit that you couldn't +get away from. I've got so as I can tell a Pittsburgh scout, or a +Canadian scout just from little things--little habits." + +"You're a pretty keen observer," said Hood; "that about the eyes of a +dead person interests me. When you made that discovery up on the +mountain, do you mean----" + +"Your engine isn't hitting on all four, Hood," Tom interrupted. + +They both listened for a minute. + +"Guess not," said the driver. + +"Wire off, maybe," Tom suggested. + +Hood stopped the machine and got out. It would have been more like Tom +to jump out and investigate for himself, especially since he had run the +old truck long before Hood had ever seen it. But he did not do it. +Instead, he remained seated. Hood was right, there was nothing whatever +the matter with the engine. He wondered how Tom could have thought there +was. + +Tom seemed not greatly interested until his companion climbed in, then +he craned his neck out and looked down where Hood had been standing. + +"All right," he finally said; "I was wrong, as usual." + +"I think you're usually right," laughed Hood. + +Whatever the cause, Tom seemed thoughtful and preoccupied for the rest +of the journey. He whistled some, and that was a sign that he was +thinking. Once he seemed on the point of saying something. + +"Hood, do you----" he began. Then fell to whistling again. + +And so in a little while they came to the cove. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +THE MESSAGE + + +The altogether thrilling and extraordinary occurrence which is all that +remains to be told in this narrative, was witnessed by a dozen or more +scouts. It happened, as deeds of heroic impulse always happen, suddenly, +so that afterwards accounts differed as to just how the thing had +occurred. There are always several versions of dramatic happenings. But +on one point all were agreed. It was the most conspicuous instance of +outright and supreme heroism that Temple Camp had ever witnessed or +known. And because there was no scout award permissible in the occasion, +the boys of camp, with fine inspiration, named the new dam after the +hero, who with soul possessed challenged the most horrible monster of +which the human mind can conceive, threw his life into the balance with +an abandon nothing less than sublime, and found his reward in the very +jaws of horrible and ghastly death. + +And the dam was well named, too, for it represented strength superseding +weakness. If you should ever visit Temple Camp you should end your +inspection in time to row across the lake in the cool of the twilight, +when the sun has gone down behind the mountain, and take a look at +_Robin Hood's Dam_. + +The scene was the usual morning scene. The slanting sifter was dropping +its rain of dirt through the grating and sending the stones rolling +down. The mixer was revolving. A hundred feet or so from the shore the +clumsy old dredge was drawing up sand from the bottom of the lake, and +the big pipeline running to shore was pulsating so that the floats +supporting it rocked in the water. At the end of this pipeline was a big +pile of wet sand from the lake. Men were carrying this sand off in +wheelbarrows. + +A few of the scouts were busy at their favorite pastime of walking along +this shaking pipeline to the dredge from which they would dive, then +swim to the nearest point on shore and proceed again as before. Hervey +Willetts had been the Christopher Columbus to discover this endless +chain of pleasure and he had punctuated it with many incidental stunts. + +It was not altogether easy to walk on the trembling wet piping, but +those who did it were of course in bathing attire, and with bare feet it +was not so hard, once one got the hang of it. + +The sight of this merry procession proceeding on its endless round +proved too much for one pair of eyes that watched wistfully from the +shore. One after another the dripping scouts came scrambling up out of +the water, proceeded to the shore end of the pipeline, walked cautiously +along it, feet sideways, crossed the dredge, dived and presently +appeared again. "_Follow your leader_" they were singing and it was +funny to hear how they picked up the tune and got into time upon +emerging. + +This kind of thing was hard to resist. It is hard not to dance when the +music is playing. There was an alluring fascination about it. + +Suddenly, to the consternation of every one, there was Goliath in the +procession, moving along the pipeline, keeping his foothold by frantic +gesticulations with his arms. He was laughing all over his little face. +He swayed, he bent, he almost fell, he got his balance, almost lost it, +got along a few steps, and then down he went with a splash into the +water. + +This climax of his wild enterprise occurred in a gap of the procession. +Some scouts had fallen out, others were clambering out the other side of +the dredge. So it happened that the splash was the first thing to +attract attention. + +Goliath did not reappear and before any one had a chance to dive or knew +just where to dive, something was apparent, which sent a shudder through +Tom Slade, who was standing near the end of the pipeline. The pouring +forth of the wet sand out of the pipe ceased, or rather lessened and the +substance shot out in little jerks. Tom, ever quick to see the +significance of a thing, knew this for what it was. It was an awful +message from the bottom of the lake. + +Something was clogging up the suction pipe there. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +THE HERO + + +This thing, as I said, all happened in a flash. There was shouting, +there was running about.... + +"Stop the machinery!" some one yelled. + +"Reverse your engine!" + +Tom felt himself thrust aside, lost his balance and fell into the +deposit of wet sand. The pouring out of this had ceased. + +"_Don't let him do that! He's crazy!_" some one shrieked. + +"Reverse the engine; he'll come up. Don't dive--you! You'll be chewed to +pieces." + +"Who dived?" said Tom, scrambling to his feet. + +"The body will come up when the suction stops." + +"Both bodies, you mean; that crazy fool dived." + +"They won't come up if they're wedged in. Keep her going--reversed." + +Everybody crowded to the shore and to the deck of the dredge. The +pulsating of the big line had ceased. Men shouted to do this, to do +that. Others contradicted. All eyes were upon the water. They crowded +each other, watching, waiting.... + +Then a red spot appeared on the surface. It spread and grew lighter in +color as it mingled with the water. The watchers held their +breath--gasped. The tension was terrible. + +Then (as I said, it all happened in a flash) a hand covered with blood +reached up and tried to grasp the nearest float. It disappeared, but Tom +Slade had seen it and, jumping to the float, he reached down. + +"I've got him--keep back--you'll sink the float----" + +"Don't let go." + +It was not in the nature of Tom Slade to let go. + +Presently a ghastly face with red stained hair streaming over it, +appeared. + +"Let me take him," said Tom. + +But the man with bleeding, mangled shoulder would not give up what he +held, as in a grip of iron, with his other arm. + +And so Tom Slade dragged the wounded creature up onto the float and +there he lay in a pool of blood, still clinging to his burden. + +The little boy was safe. He opened his eyes and looked about. His face +was smeared with mud, one of his shoes was gone, his foot seemed to be +twisted. It was all too plain that he had been _within_ the suction +pipe, within the devouring jaws of that monster serpent, when his +frantic rescuer had dragged him back. But he was safe. + +His rescuer was utterly crazed. Yet he seemed to know Tom. + +"Safe--alive----" he muttered. + +"Yes, he's safe; lie still. Get the doctor, some of you fellows--quick." + +"Send, send--them away--all. You know--do you--I'm square--yes?" + +"Surely," said Tom soothingly. "Lie still." + +"He's alive?" + +"Yes." + +"Listen, come close. I'll tell _you_--now. I _murdered_ a kid +once--now--now I've--I've saved one----" + +"Shh. It's the same one, Harlowe." + +"You--you know?" + +"Yes, I know. We'll talk about it after. Hold your head +still--quiet--that's right. Don't think about it now. Shh--I think your +arm is broken; don't move it." + +"I--I--killed----" + +"No, you never killed any one. Lie still--please. I know all about it. +We can't talk about it now. _But you never killed any one_, remember +that." + +"You know I'm Harlowe?" + +"Yes. Don't talk. That was little Willie Corbett you saved. Now don't +ask me any more now; _please_. You don't think I'm a liar, do you? Well, +I'm telling you you never killed _anybody_. See? You're not a murderer, +you're a hero. I know all about it.... Lie still, that's right.... Don't +move your arm...." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +Harlowe's Story + + +Aaron Harlowe was lying on his cot in the little rustic hospital at +Temple Camp. It was worth being sick to lie in that hospital. It was +just a log cabin. The birds sang outside of it, you could hear the +breeze blowing in the trees, you could hear the ripple of paddles on the +lake. + +Tom Slade sat upon the side of the cot. + +"You see when I found the map, I knew you had gone up the mountain. And +I didn't think you'd go up there unless there was some one up there that +you knew. The light was up there before you went up. Now that you tell +me you went up there to hide with that friend of yours, everything fits +together. I knew there must have been two of you up there, because I saw +your footprint. You have a patch on the sole of your shoe and the dead +man didn't. See? When I asked you to get out of the auto it was just +because I wanted to see your footprint. Your always getting over to the +left hand side of the road made me a little suspicious. Footprints don't +lie and that clinched it." + +"But did you see my image in the eyes of the dead man?" Harlowe asked +weakly. + +"I saw an image of a man; I couldn't tell it was you. But I knew some +one else had been there. Do you feel like telling me the rest now? Or +would you rather wait." + +"You seem to know it all," Harlowe smiled. It was pleasant to see that +smile upon his pale, thin face. + +"It isn't what you _know_, it's what you _do_ that counts," said Tom +softly. "And see what _you_ did. Talk about heroism!" + +It was from the desultory talk which followed that Tom was able to piece +out the story, the mystery of which he had already penetrated. Harlowe, +in fear of capture after his supposed killing of the child, had sought +refuge in the hunting shack of his friend upon the mountain. There the +two had lived till the night of the storm. When Harlowe's friend had +been crushed under the tree, Harlowe had bent over him to make sure that +he was dead. It was then, in the blinding storm, that his license cards +had fallen out of his pocket and, by the merest chance, on the open coat +of the dead man. + +Harlowe said that after that he had intended to give himself up, but +that when he read that _Harlowe_ had been discovered, and no doubt +buried, he had resolved to let his crime and all its consequences be +buried with the dead man, who like himself was without relations. + +But Harlowe's conscience had not been buried, and it was in a kind of +mad attempt to square himself before Heaven, and still the voice of that +silent, haunting accuser, that he had performed the most signal act of +heroism and willing sacrifice ever known at Temple Camp. + +As Tom Slade emerged after his daily call on the convalescent, a song +greeted his ear and he became aware of Hervey Willetts, hat, stocking +and all, coming around the edge of the cooking shack. He was caroling a +verse of his favorite ballad: + + "The life of a scout is kind, + is kind, + His handbook he never can find, + can find. + He don't bother to look, + In the little handbook. + The life of a scout is kind." + +"Hunting for your handbook, Hervey?" + +"I should fret out my young life about the handbook." + +"Walking my way?" + +"Any way, I'm not particular." + +"Cross come yet?" + +"I haven't seen it. Do you think it would look good on my hat?" + +"Why, yes," Tom laughed. "Only be sure to pin it on upside down." + +"Why?" + +"Why, because then when you're standing on your head, it'll be right +side up. See?" + +"Good idea. I guess I will, hey?" + +"Sure, I--I _double dare_ you to," said Tom. + +END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Tom Slade's Double Dare, by Percy Keese Fitzhugh + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM SLADE'S DOUBLE DARE *** + +***** This file should be named 19590-8.txt or 19590-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/5/9/19590/ + +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's Double Dare + +Author: Percy Keese Fitzhugh + +Illustrator: R. Emmett Owen + +Release Date: October 20, 2006 [EBook #19590] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM SLADE'S DOUBLE DARE *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class='figcenter' style='width: 350px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="illus-001" id="illus-001"></a> +<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='HERVEY FIXED HIS EYES UPON THE ONE REMAINING LIGHT AND RAN WITH UTTER DESPERATION.' title='' width = '350' height = '564'/><br /> +<table width='100%' summary='' class='caption'> + <tr> + <td colspan='2'>HERVEY FIXED HIS EYES UPON THE ONE REMAINING LIGHT AND RAN WITH UTTER DESPERATION.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align='left'><i>Tom Slade's Double Dare.</i> </td> + <td align='right'><i>Frontispiece</i>—(<i>Page</i> 40).</td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<table width='450' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='' border='1'><tr><td> +<p class='titleblock' style=' font-size: 260%; margin-top: 30px;'> TOM SLADE'S</p> +<p class='titleblock' style=' font-size: 240%; margin-bottom: 60px;'> DOUBLE DARE</p> +<p class='titleblock' style=' font-size: 80%;'> BY</p> +<p class='titleblock' style=' margin-bottom: 60px;'> PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH</p> +<p class='titleblock' style=' font-size: 80%;'> Author of</p> +<p class='titleblock'> TOM SLADE, BOY SCOUT, TOM SLADE AT BLACK</p> +<p class='titleblock' style=' margin-bottom: 60px;'> LAKE, ROY BLAKELEY, ETC.</p> +<p class='titleblock' style=' font-size: 80%; font-variant: small-caps;'> illustrated by</p> +<p class='titleblock' style=' font-size: 120%; margin-bottom: 40px;'> R. EMMETT OWEN</p> +<p class='titleblock'> Published with the approval of</p> +<p class='titleblock' style=' font-size: 120%; margin-bottom: 40px;'> THE BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA</p> +<p class='titleblock' style=' font-size: 110%;'> GROSSET & DUNLAP</p> +<p class='titleblock' style=' margin-bottom: 30px;'> PUBLISHERS :: NEW YORK</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p style='text-align: center; font-size: 80%;'>Made in the United States of America</p> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1922, by</span> GROSSET & DUNLAP</p> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<table summary=''><tr><td style="font-style: italic"> +<span style='margin-left: 0.0em;'>The life of a scout is bold,</span><br /> +<span style='margin-left: 7em;'>so bold,</span><br /> +<span style='margin-left: 0.0em;'>His adventures have never been told,</span><br /> +<span style='margin-left: 11em;'>been told.</span><br /> +<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>His legs they are bare,</span><br /> +<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>And he won't take a dare,</span><br /> +<span style='margin-left: 0.0em;'>The life of a scout is bold.</span><br /> +</td></tr></table> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<h2><a name="Contents" id="Contents"></a>Contents</h2> +<div class="smcap"> +<table border="0" width="500" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<col style="width:20%;" /> +<col style="width:70%;" /> +<col style="width:10%;" /> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">I</td> + <td align="left">THE LIGHT GOES OUT</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">II</td> + <td align="left">THE BRIDGE</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">10</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">III</td> + <td align="left">AN IMPORTANT MISSION</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">14</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">IV</td> + <td align="left">THE TREE</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">21</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">V</td> + <td align="left">WIN OR LOSE</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">26</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">VI</td> + <td align="left">SHADOWS OF THE NIGHT</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">33</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">VII</td> + <td align="left">THE LIGHT THAT FAILED</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">37</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">VIII</td> + <td align="left">ALMOST</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">44</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">IX</td> + <td align="left">THE HERO</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">51</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">X</td> + <td align="left">PROVEN A SCOUT</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">57</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XI</td> + <td align="left">THE NEW SCOUT</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">63</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XII</td> + <td align="left">THE GRAY ROADSTER</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">68</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XIII</td> + <td align="left">THE UNKNOWN TRAIL</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">74</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XIV</td> + <td align="left">ON THE SUMMIT</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">80</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XV</td> + <td align="left">A SCOUT IS THOROUGH</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">85</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XVI</td> + <td align="left">THE WANDERING MINSTREL</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">90</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XVII</td> + <td align="left">TOM'S INTEREST AROUSED</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">97</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XVIII</td> + <td align="left">TRIUMPH AND——</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">101</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XIX</td> + <td align="left">HERVEY SHOWS HIS COLORS</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">104</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XX</td> + <td align="left">TOM ADVISES GOLIATH</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">116</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XXI</td> + <td align="left">WORDS</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">123</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XXII</td> + <td align="left">ACTION</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">130</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XXIII</td> + <td align="left">THE MONSTER</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">133</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XXIV</td> + <td align="left">GILBERT'S DISCOVERY</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">140</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XXV</td> + <td align="left">A VOICE IN THE DARK</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">145</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XXVI</td> + <td align="left">LOVE ME, LOVE MY DOG</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">151</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XXVII</td> + <td align="left">TOM LEARNS SOMETHING</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">157</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XXVIII</td> + <td align="left">THE BLACK SHEEP</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">164</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XXIX</td> + <td align="left">STUNTS AND STUNTS</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">169</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XXX</td> + <td align="left">THE DOUBLE DARE</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">173</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XXXI</td> + <td align="left">THE COURT IN SESSION</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">181</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XXXII</td> + <td align="left">OVER THE TOP</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">187</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XXXIII</td> + <td align="left">QUESTIONS</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">198</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XXXIV</td> + <td align="left">THE MESSAGE</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">205</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XXXV</td> + <td align="left">THE HERO</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">209</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XXXVI</td> + <td align="left">Harlowe's Story</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">213</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +</div> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<h1><a name="TOM_SLADES_DOUBLE_DARE" id="TOM_SLADES_DOUBLE_DARE"></a>TOM SLADE'S DOUBLE DARE</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>THE LIGHT GOES OUT</h3> +</div> + +<p>If it were not for the very remarkable part played by the scouts in this +strange business, perhaps it would have been just as well if the whole +matter had been allowed to die when the newspaper excitement subsided. +Singularly enough, that part of the curious drama which unfolded itself +at Temple Camp is the very part which was never material for glaring +headlines.</p> + +<p>The main occurrence is familiar enough to the inhabitants of the +neighborhood about the scout camp, but the sequel has never been told, +for scouts do not seek notoriety, and the quiet woodland community in +its sequestered hills is as remote from the turmoil and gossip of the +world as if it were located at the North Pole.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">2</a></span></p> + +<p>But I know the story of Aaron Harlowe from beginning to end, and the +part that Tom Slade played in it, and all the latter history of Goliath, +as they called him. And I purpose to set all these matters down for your +entertainment, for I think that first and last they make a pretty good +camp-fire yarn.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>For a week it had been raining at Temple Camp, and the ground was soggy +from the continuous downpour. The thatched roofs of the more primitive +type of cabins looked bedrabbled, like the hair of a bather emerging +from the lake, and the more substantial shelters were crowded with the +overflow from these and from tents deserted by troops and patrols that +had been almost drowned out.</p> + +<p>The grub boards out under the elm trees had been removed to the main +pavilion. The diving springboard was submerged by the swollen lake, the +rowboats rocked logily, half full of water, and the woods across the +lake looked weird and dim through the incessant stream of rain, rain, +rain.</p> + +<p>The spring which supplied the camp and for years had been content to +bubble in its modest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">3</a></span> abode among the rocks, burst forth from its shady +and sequestered prison and came tumbling, roaring down out of the woods, +like some boisterous marauder, and rushed headlong into the lake.</p> + +<p>Being no respecter of persons, the invader swept straight through the +cabin of the Silver Fox Patrol, and the Silver Fox Patrol took up their +belongings and went over to the pavilion where they sat along the deep +veranda with others, their chairs tilted back, watching the gloomy scene +across the lake.</p> + +<p>"This is good weather for the race," said Roy Blakeley.</p> + +<p>"What race?" demanded Pee-wee Harris.</p> + +<p>"The human race. No sooner said than stung. It's good weather to study +monotony."</p> + +<p>"All we can do is eat," said Pee-wee.</p> + +<p>"Right the first time," Roy responded. "There's only one thing you don't +like about meals and that's the time between them."</p> + +<p>"What are we going to do for two hours, waiting for supper?" a scout +asked.</p> + +<p>"Search <i>me</i>," said Roy; "tell riddles, I guess. If we had some ham we'd +have some ham and eggs, if we only had some eggs. We should<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">4</a></span> worry. It's +going to rain for forty-eight hours and three months more. That's what +that scout from Walla-Walla told me."</p> + +<p>"That's a dickens of a name for a city," said Westy Martin of Roy's +patrol.</p> + +<p>"It's a nice place, they liked it so much they named it twice," Roy +said.</p> + +<p>"There's a troop here all the way from Salt Lake," said Dorry Benton.</p> + +<p>"They ought to have plenty of pep," said Roy.</p> + +<p>"There's a troop came from Hoboken, too," Will Dawson observed.</p> + +<p>"I don't blame them," Roy said. "There's a troop coming from Kingston +next week. They've got an Eagle Scout, I understand."</p> + +<p>"Don't you suppose I know that?" Pee-wee shouted. "Uncle Jeb had a +letter from them yesterday; I saw it."</p> + +<p>"Was it in their own handwriting?"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" Pee-wee demanded disgustedly. "How can a troop have +a handwriting?"</p> + +<p>"They must be very ignorant," Roy said. "Can you send an animal by +mail?"</p> + +<p>"Sure you can't!" Pee-wee shouted.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">5</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's where you're wrong," said Roy. "I got a letter with a seal on +it."</p> + +<p>"Can you unscramble eggs?" Pee-wee demanded.</p> + +<p>"There you go, talking about eats again. Can't you wait two hours?"</p> + +<p>There was nothing to do but wait, and watch the drops as they pattered +down on the lake.</p> + +<p>"This is the longest rain in history except the reign of Queen +Elizabeth," Roy said. "If I ever meet Saint Swithin——"</p> + +<p>This sort of talk was a sample of life at Temple Camp for seven days +past. Those who were not given to jollying and banter had fallen back on +checkers and dominos and other wild sports. A few of the more +adventurous and reckless made birchbark ornaments, while those who were +in utter despair for something to do wrote letters home.</p> + +<p>Several dauntless spirits had braved the rain to catch some fish, but +the fish, themselves disgusted, stayed down at the bottom of the lake, +out of the wet, as Roy said. It was so wet that even the turtles +wouldn't come out without umbrellas.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">6</a></span></p> + +<p>Rain, rain, rain. It flowed off the pavilion roof like a waterfall. It +shrunk tent canvas which pulled on the ropes and lifted the pegs out of +the soggy ground. It buried the roads in mud. Hour in and hour out the +scouts sat along the back of the deep veranda, beguiling their enforced +leisure with banter and riddles and camp gossip.</p> + +<p>On Friday afternoon a brisk wind arose and blew the rain sideways so +that most of the scouts withdrew from their last entrenchment and went +inside. You have to take off your hat to a rain which can drive a scout +in out of the open.</p> + +<p>It began blowing in across the veranda in fitful little gusts and within +an hour the wind had lashed itself into a gale. A few of the hardier +spirits, including Roy, held their ground on the veranda, squeezing back +against the shingled side whenever an unusually severe gust assailed +them.</p> + +<p>There is no such thing as twilight in such weather, but the sodden sky +grew darker, and the mountainside across the lake became gloomier and +more forbidding as the night drew on apace.</p> + +<p>The few remaining stragglers on the veranda watched this darkening scene +with a kind of idle half interest, ducking the occasional gusts.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">7</a></span></p> + +<p>"How would you like to be out on the lake now?" one asked.</p> + +<p>The question directed their gaze out upon the churning, black sheet of +water before them. The lake, lying amid those frowning, wooded hills, +was somber enough at all times, and a quiet gloom pervaded it which +imparted a rare charm. But now, in the grip of the rain and wind, the +enshrouding night made the lake seem like a place haunted, and the +enclosing mountains desolate and forlorn.</p> + +<p>"I'll swim across with anybody," said Hervey Willetts.</p> + +<p>He belonged in a troop from western New York and reveled in stunts which +bespoke a kind of blithe daring. No one took him up and silence reigned +for a few minutes more.</p> + +<p>"There's the little light on the top of the mountain," said Will Dawson +of Roy's patrol. "If there's anybody up there, I hope he has an +umbrella."</p> + +<p>But of course there was no one up there. For weeks the tiny light away +up on the summit of that mountain wilderness had puzzled the scouts of +camp. They had not, indeed, been able to determine<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">8</a></span> that it was a light; +it seemed rather a tiny patch of brightness which was always brighter +when the moon shone. This had led to the belief that it was caused by +some kind of natural phenomena.</p> + +<p>The scouts fixed their gaze upon it, watching it curiously for a few +moments.</p> + +<p>"It isn't a reflection, that's sure," said Roy, "or we wouldn't see it +on a night like this."</p> + +<p>"It's a phosphate," said Pee-wee.</p> + +<p>"It's a chocolate soda," said Roy.</p> + +<p>"You're crazy!" Pee-wee vociferated. "Phosphate is something that shines +in the dark."</p> + +<p>"You mean phosphorus," said Westy Martin.</p> + +<p>That seemed a not unlikely explanation. But the consensus of opinion in +camp was that the bright patch was the reflection of some powerful light +in the low country on the opposite side of the mountain.</p> + +<p>"It's a mystery," said Pee-wee, "that's what it is."</p> + +<p>Suddenly, while they gazed, it went out. They watched but it did not +come again. And the frowning, jungle-covered, storm beaten summit was +enshrouded again in ghostly darkness. And<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">9</a></span> the increasing gale beat the +lake, and the driven rain assailed the few stragglers on the veranda +with lashing fury. And across the black water, in that ghoul-haunted, +trackless wilderness, could be heard the sound of timber being rent in +splinters and of great trees crashing down the mountainside.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a word from Westy Martin aroused them all like a cannon shot.</p> + +<p>"Look!" he shouted, "<i>Look! Look at the springboard!</i>"</p> + +<p>Every one of them looked, speechless, astonished, aghast, at the sight +which they beheld before their very eyes.</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_10" id="Page_10">10</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2><h3>THE BRIDGE</h3> +</div> + +<p>There, just below them was the springboard an inch or two above the +surface of the lake. Ordinarily it projected from the shore nearly a +yard above the water, but lately the swollen lake had risen above it. +Now, however, it was visible again just above the surface.</p> + +<p>This meant that the water had receded more in an hour than it had risen +in a whole week. The strong wind was blowing toward the pavilion and +would naturally force the water up along that shore. But in spite of the +wind the water in the lake was receding at an alarming rate. Something +was wrong. The little trickle from the spring up behind the camp had +grown into a torrent and was pouring into the lake. Yet the water in the +lake was receding.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">11</a></span></p> + +<p>Down out of the mountain wilderness across the water came weird noises, +caused no doubt by the tumult of the wind in the intricate fastnesses +and by the falling of great trees, but the sounds struck upon the ears +of the besieged listeners like voices wild and unearthly. The banging of +the big shutters of the pavilion was heard in echo as the furious gale +bore the sounds back from the mountain and the familiar, homely noise +was conjured into a kind of ghostly clamor.</p> + +<p>"There goes Pee-wee's signal tower," a scout remarked, and just as he +spoke, the little rustic edifice which had been the handiwork and pride +of the tenderfoots went crashing to the ground while out of the woods +across the water came sounds as of merry laughter at its downfall.</p> + +<p>"Something's wrong over on the other side," said Westy Martin of Roy's +patrol; "the lake's breaking through over there."</p> + +<p>Scarcely had he uttered the words when all the scouts of the little +group were at the railing craning their necks and straining their eyes +trying to see across the water. But the wind and rain beat in their +faces and the driving downpour formed an impenetrable mist.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">12</a></span></p> + +<p>As they withdrew again into the comparative shelter of the porch they +saw a young fellow standing with his bare arm upraised against the +door-jam, watching and listening. This was the young camp assistant, Tom +Slade. He had evidently come out to fasten the noisy shutters and had +paused to contemplate the tempest.</p> + +<p>"Some storm, hey, Tomasso?" said Roy.</p> + +<p>"I think the water's going out through the cove," said Tom. "It must +have washed away the land over there."</p> + +<p>"Let it go, we can't stop it," said Roy.</p> + +<p>"If it's running out into the valley, it's good-night to Berry's garage, +and the bridge too," said Tom.</p> + +<p>The young assistant was popular with the boys at camp, and struck by +this suggestion of imminent catastrophe, they clustered about him, +listening eagerly. So loud was the noise of the storm, so deafening the +sound of rending timber on that gale-swept height before them, that Tom +had to raise his voice to make himself heard. The danger to human life +which he had been the first to think of, gave the storm new terror to +these young watchers. It needed only this touch<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">13</a></span> of mortal peril in that +panorama of dreadfulness to arouse them, good scouts that they were, to +the chances of adventure and the possibility of service.</p> + +<p>"We can't do anything, can we?" one asked. "It's too late now, isn't +it?"</p> + +<p>"It's either too late or it isn't," said Tom Slade; "and it's for us to +see. I was thinking of Berry's place, and I was thinking of the crowd +that's coming up tonight on the bus. If the water has broken through +across the lake and is pouring into the valley, it'll wash away the +bridge. The bus ought to be here now. There are two troops from the +four-twenty train at Catskill. Maybe the train is late on account of the +weather. If the bridge is down...."</p> + +<p>"Call up Berry's place and find out," said Westy Martin.</p> + +<p>"That's just what has me worrying," said Tom; "Berry's doesn't answer."</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_14" id="Page_14">14</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2><h3>AN IMPORTANT MISSION</h3> +</div> + +<p>Temple Camp was situated on a gentle slope close to the east shore of +the lake. Save for this small area of habitable land the lake was +entirely surrounded by mountains. And it was the inverted forms of these +mountains reflected in the water which gave it the somber hue whence the +lake derived its name. On sunless days and in the twilight, the water +seemed as black as night.</p> + +<p>Directly across the water from the camp, the most forbidding of those +surrounding heights reared its deeply wooded summit three thousand feet +above the sea level. A wilderness of tangled underbrush, like barbed +wire entanglements, baffled the hardiest adventurer. No scout had +penetrated those dismal fastnesses which the legend of camp reputed to +be haunted.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">15</a></span></p> + +<p>Beside the rocky base of this mountain was a tiny cove, a dim, romantic +little place, where the water was as still as in a pool. Its two sides +were the lower reaches of the great mountain and its neighbor, and all +that prevented the cove from being an outlet was a little hubble of land +which separated this secluded nook from a narrow valley, or gully, +beyond.</p> + +<p>Sometimes, indeed, after a rainy spell the water in the cove overflowed +this little hubble of land enough to trickle through into the gully, and +then you could pick fish up with your hands where they flopped about +marooned in the channel below. Probably this gully was an old dried-up +stream bed.</p> + +<p>About a mile from the lake it became wider and was intersected by a +road. Here it was that the bridge spanned the hollow. And here it was, +right in the hollow near the bridge, that Ebon Berry had his rural +garage. Along this road the old bus lumbered daily, bringing new +arrivals to camp and touching at villages beyond.</p> + +<p>If, indeed, the swollen lake had washed away the inner shore of the +cove, the sequel would be serious if not tragic at that quiet road +crossing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">16</a></span> The question was, had this happened, and if so, had the bus +reached the fatal spot? All that the boys knew was that the bus was long +overdue and that Berry's "did not answer." And that the fury of the +storm was rising with every minute.</p> + +<p>Tom Slade spoke calmly as was his wont. No storm could arouse him out of +his stolid, thoughtful habit.</p> + +<p>"A couple of scoutmasters have started along the road," he said, "to see +what they can find out. How about you, Hervey? Are you game to skirt the +lake? How about you, Roy? There may be danger over there."</p> + +<p>"Believe me, I hope it'll wait till we get there," said Hervey Willetts.</p> + +<p>"I'll go!" shouted Pee-wee.</p> + +<p>"You'll go—in and get supper," said Tom. "I want just three fellows; +I'm not going to overload a boat in this kind of weather. I'll take Roy +and Hervey and Westy, if you fellows are game to go. You go in and get a +lantern, Pee-wee."</p> + +<p>"And don't forget to leave some pie for those two troops that are coming +on the bus," added Roy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">17</a></span></p> + +<p>Pee-wee did better than bring a lantern; he brought also three oilskin +jackets and hats which the younger boys donned. He must also have +advertised the adventurous expedition during his errand indoors, for a +couple of dozen envious scouts followed him out and watched the little +party depart.</p> + +<p>The four made their way against a blown rain which all but blinded them +and streamed from their hats and rendered their storm jackets quite +useless. Tom wore khaki trousers and a pongee shirt which clung to him +like wet tissue paper. If one cannot be thoroughly dry the next best +thing is to be thoroughly wet.</p> + +<p>They chose the widest and heaviest of the boats, a stout old tub with +two pairs of oarlocks. Each of the four manned an oar and pulled with +both hands. It was almost impossible to get started against the wind, +and when at last their steady, even pulling overcame the deterring power +of the gale they were able to move at but a snail's pace. They followed +the shoreline, keeping as close in as they could, preferring the +circuitous route to the more perilous row across the lake.</p> + +<p>As their roundabout voyage brought them to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">18</a></span> the opposite shore, their +progress became easier, for the mountain rising sheer above them +protected them from the wind.</p> + +<p>"Let her drift a minute," said Tom, panting; "lift your oars."</p> + +<p>It was the first word that any of them had spoken, so intense had been +their exertions.</p> + +<p>"She's going straight ahead," said Westy.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" said Roy suddenly. "Look out!"</p> + +<p>He spoke just in time to enable them to get out of the path of a +floating tree which was drifting rapidly in the same direction as the +boat. Its great mass of muddy roots brushed against them.</p> + +<p>"It's just as I thought," Tom said; "the water must be pouring out +through the cove. We're caught in it. Let's try to get a little off +shore; we'll have one of those trees come tumbling down on our heads the +first thing we know."</p> + +<p>"Not so easy," said Hervey, as they tried to backwater and at the same +time get out from under the mountain.</p> + +<p>"Put her in reverse," said Roy, who never failed to get the funny squint +on a situation.</p> + +<p>But there was no use, the rushing water had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">19</a></span> them in its grip and they +were borne along pell-mell, with trees and broken limbs which had fallen +down the mountainside.</p> + +<p>They were directly opposite the camp now, and cheerful lights could be +seen in the pavilion where the whole camp community was congregated, +safe from the storm. The noises which had seemed weird enough at camp +were appalling now, as out of that havoc far above them, great bowlders +came tumbling down into the lake with loud splashes.</p> + +<p>Tom realized, all too late, the cause of the dreadful peril they were +in. Out on the body of the lake and toward the camp shore the wind was +blowing a gale from the mountains and, as it were, forcing the water +back. But directly under the mountain there was no wind, and their +position was as that of a person who is <i>under</i> the curve of a +waterfall. And here, because there was no wind to counteract it, the +water was rushing toward what was left of the cove. It was like a rapid +river flowing close to the shore and bearing upon its hurrying water the +débris which had crashed down from that lonesome, storm-torn height.</p> + +<p>The boat was caught in this rushing water and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">20</a></span> the danger was increased +by its closeness to the shore where every missile of rock or tree, cast +by that frowning monster, might at any minute dash the craft to +splinters.</p> + +<p>The little flickering lights which shone through the spray and fine +blown rain across that black water seemed very cheerful and inviting +now.</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_21" id="Page_21">21</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2><h3>THE TREE</h3> +</div> + +<p>"We're in a bad fix," said Tom; "let's try to make a landing and see if +we can scramble along shore to the cove."</p> + +<p>It is doubtful whether they could have scrambled along that precipitous +bank, but in any case, so great was the impetus of the rushing water +that even making a landing was impossible. The boat was borne along with +a force that all their exertions could not counteract, headlong for the +cove.</p> + +<p>"What can we do?" Roy asked.</p> + +<p>"The only thing that I know of," said Tom, "is to get within reach of +the shore in the cove. If we can do that we might get to safety even if +we have to jump."</p> + +<p>Presently the boat went careening into the cove;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">22</a></span> an appalling sound of +scraping, then of tearing, was heard beneath it, it reared up forward, +spilling its occupants into the whirling water and, settling sideways, +remained stationary.</p> + +<p>The boys found themselves clinging to the branches of a broken tree +which was wedged crossways in the cove, its trunk entirely submerged. It +formed a sort of makeshift dam and the boat, caught in its branches, +added to the obstruction.</p> + +<p>If it had not been for this tree the boat would have been borne upon the +flood, with what tragic sequel who shall say?</p> + +<p>"All right," said Tom, "we're lucky; keep hold of the branches, it's +only a few feet to shore; careful how you step. If you let go it's all +over. We could never swim in this torrent."</p> + +<p>"Where do you suppose this tree came from?" Roy asked.</p> + +<p>"From the top of the mountain for all I know," Tom answered. "Watch your +step and follow me. We're in luck."</p> + +<p>"You don't call this luck, do you?" Westy asked.</p> + +<p>"Watch me, I can go scout-pace on the trunk," said Hervey, handing +himself along.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">23</a></span></p> + +<p>"Never mind any of those stunts," said Tom; "you watch what you're doing +and follow me."</p> + +<p>"The pleasure is mine," said Hervey; "a scout is always—whoa! There's +where I nearly dipped the dip. Watch me swing over this branch. I bet +you can't hang by your knees—like this."</p> + +<p>There are some people who think that trees were made to bear fruit and +to afford shade, and to supply timber. But that is a mistake; they were +made for Hervey Willetts. They were the scenes of his gayest stunts. He +had even been known to dive under the water and shimmy up a tree that +was reflected there. He even claimed that he got a splinter in his hand, +so doing! Upside down or wedged across a channel under water, trees were +all the same to Hervey Willetts. He lived in trees. He knew nothing +whatever about the different kinds of trees and he could not tell spruce +from walnut. But he could hang by one leg from a rotten branch, the +while playing a harmonica. He was for the boy scout movement, because he +was for movement generally. As long as the scouts kept moving, he was +with them. He had a lot of merit badges but he did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">24</a></span> not know how many. +"He should worry," as Roy said of him.</p> + +<p>"Here's a good one—known as the jazzy-jump," he exclaimed. "Put your +left foot...."</p> + +<p>"You put your left foot on the trunk and don't let go the branches and +follow me," said Tom, soberly. "Do you think this is a picnic we're on?"</p> + +<p>"After you, my dear Tomasso," said Hervey, blithely. "I guess we're not +going to be killed after all, hey?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid not," said Tom.</p> + +<p>"I wish I had an ice cream soda, I know that," said Roy.</p> + +<p>"Careful how you step ashore now," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"Terra cotta at last," said Roy; "I mean terra firma."</p> + +<p>"Jump it," called Hervey, who was behind Roy.</p> + +<p>Thus, emerging from a peril, which none but Tom had fully realized, they +found themselves on the comparatively low shore of the cove. The tree, +itself a victim of the storm, poked its branches up out of the black +water like specters, which seemed the more grewsome as they swayed in +the wind. These had guided the little party to shore.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">25</a></span></p> + +<p>So it was that that once stately denizen of the lofty forest had paused +here to make a last stand against the storm which had uprooted it. So it +was that this fallen monarch, friend of the scouts, had contrived to +check somewhat the mad rush of water out of their beloved lake, and had +guided four of them to safety.</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_26" id="Page_26">26</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2><h3>WIN OR LOSE</h3> +</div> + +<p>The dying mission of that noble tree suggested a thought to Tom. The +water from the lake was pouring over it, though checked somewhat by the +tree and the boat. If this tree, firmly wedged in place, could be made +the nucleus of a mass of wreckage, the flood might be effectually +checked, temporarily, at least. One thing, a moment's glance at the +condition of the cove showed all too certainly what must have happened +at the road-crossing. That the little rustic bridge there could have +withstood the first overwhelming rush of the flood was quite +unthinkable. Berry's garage too, perched on the edge of the hollow, must +have been swept away.</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-026.jpg' alt='THE TREE POKED ITS BRANCHES UP OUT OF THE BLACK WATER AND GUIDED THEM TO SAFETY. Tom Slade's Double Dare. Page 25' title='' width = '350' height = '547'/><br /> +<table width='100%' summary='' class='caption'> + <tr> + <td colspan='2'>THE TREE POKED ITS BRANCHES UP OUT OF THE BLACK WATER AND GUIDED THEM TO SAFETY.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align='left'><i> Tom Slade's Double Dare.</i> </td> + <td align='right'><i>Page</i> 25</td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter' style='width: 500px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">27</a></span> +<a name="illus-003" id="illus-003"></a> +<img src='images/illus-027.png' alt='' title='' width = '500' height = '679'/><br /> +</div> + +<p>And where was the lumbering old bus? That was the question now. If it +had been a motor bus its lights might have foretold the danger. But it +was one of those old-fashioned horse-drawn stages which are still seen +in mountain districts.</p> + +<p>In all that tumult of storm, Tom Slade paused to think. All about them +was Bedlam. Down the precipitous mountainside hard by, were crashing the +torn and uprooted trophies of the storm high in those dizzy recesses +above, where eagles, undisturbed by any human presence, made their homes +upon the crags. The rending and crashing up there was conjured by the +distance into a hundred weird and uncanny voices which now and again +seemed like the wailing of human souls.</p> + +<p>The rush of water, gathering force in the narrow confines of the cove, +became a torrent and threw a white spray in the faces of the boys as it +beat against the fallen tree. It seemed strange that they could be so +close to this paroxysm of the elements, in the very center of it as one +might say, and yet be safe. Nature was in a mad turmoil all about them, +yet by a lucky chance they stood upon a little oasis of temporary +refuge.</p> + +<p>"There are two things that have to be done—quick," said Tom. "Somebody +has got to pick his way down the west shore back to camp. It's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">28</a></span> through +the mountains and maybe two of you had better go. Here, take my +compass," he added, handing it to Westy. "Have you got some matches?"</p> + +<p>"I've got my flashlight," said Roy.</p> + +<p>So it fell out that Westy and Roy were the ones to make the journey back +to camp.</p> + +<p>"Keep as close to the shore as you can, it's easier going and shorter," +Tom said. "Anyway, use the compass and keep going straight south till +you see the lights at camp, then turn east. You ought to be able to do +it in an hour. Tell everybody to get busy and throw everything in the +water that'll help plug up the passage. Chuck in the logs from the +woodshed."</p> + +<p>"How about the remains of Pee-wee's signal tower?"</p> + +<p>"Good, chuck that in. Throw in everything that can be spared. Most of it +will drift over here and get caught in the rush. If the wind dies it +will all come over. Hurry up! I'll stay here and try to get in place +anything more that comes in in the meantime. There are a lot of broken +limbs and things around here. Hurry up now, <i>beat it!</i> And don't stop +till you get there....<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">29</a></span> Don't let anybody try to start over in a boat," +he called after them.</p> + +<p>Scarcely had they set off when he turned to Hervey Willetts, placing +both his hands on the boy's shoulders. The rain was streaming down from +Hervey's streaked hair. The funny little rimless hat cut full of holes +which he wore on the side of his head and which was the pride of his +life had collapsed by reason of being utterly soaked, for he had very +early discarded the oilskin "roof" in preference for this old love. One +of his stockings was falling down and he hoisted this up as Tom spoke to +him.</p> + +<p>"Hervey, I'm glad you're going alone, because you won't have to do any +stunts for anybody's benefit. You're going to keep your mind on just one +thing. Understand?"</p> + +<p>"I can think of nine things at once," said Hervey, blithely, "and sing +<i>Over There</i> and eat a banana at the same time. How's that?"</p> + +<p>"That's fine. Now listen—just two seconds. You're to hit right straight +up through this country—north. You notice I gave the compass to Roy? +That's because I know you can't get rattled when you're alone and when +you put your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">30</a></span> mind on a thing. You're to go straight north till you +reach the road. I'll have to keep the lantern here, but you won't need +it. You've got about a quarter of a mile of rough country and then easy +going. Straight north beyond the road is Crows Nest Mountain. Turn +around, that's right. Shut your eyes. One—two—three—four—five. Now +open them suddenly. You see that black bulk. That's Crows Nest. Now you +know how to see a dark thing in the dark...."</p> + +<p>"Do you know how to tell time with a clothespin?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind that. About every ten minutes stop and shut your eyes and +old Crows Nest will guide you. Don't get rattled. When you get to the +road wait for the bus and <i>stop it</i>. If it has passed by now, we can't +help it. I'm afraid it has. But if it <i>hasn't</i>, there are two troops in +it and their <i>lives depend on you</i>. Now get out of here—quick!"</p> + +<p>"What was that?" Hervey said, pausing and clutching Tom's arm.</p> + +<p>"What was what?"</p> + +<p>"That sound—away off. Hear it?"</p> + +<p>Amid the wild clamor of the tempest, the dashing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">31</a></span> of the impeded water +close by, and the ghostly voices up in that mountain wilderness, there +sounded, far off, subdued and steady, a low melodious call, spent and +thin from the distance, and blended with the myriad sounds of the raging +storm.</p> + +<p>"<i>It's the train</i>," said Tom.</p> + +<p>Still Hervey did not move, only clutched his companion's arm. One +second—two seconds—three, four, five, six. The sound died away in the +uproar of wind and rain.... Still the two paused for just a moment more, +as if held by a spell.</p> + +<p>"A mile and a half—four miles," said Tom. "Four miles of road. A mile +and a half of hills and swamps. They're at the station now. You <i>can't</i> +do it, kid. But you'd better fail trying than not try at all. What do +you say?"</p> + +<p>There was no answer, for Hervey Willetts had already plunged into the +torrent, by which hazardous act ten minutes might be saved. Or +everything lost. Tom caught a glimpse of that funny perforated hat +bobbing in the rushing water of the cove, pulled tight down over its +young owner's ears. Sober as his thoughts were in the face of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">32</a></span> harrowing +peril, he could not repress a smile that Hervey should toss his life so +blithely into the enterprise and yet be careful to save that precious +hat. He was more proud of it than of all his deeds of reckless valor.</p> + +<p>Tom knew there was no restraining him, or advising him. He knew no more +of discipline than a skylark does. He was either the best scout in the +world or no scout at all, as you choose to look at it. He was going upon +this business in reckless haste, without forethought or caution. He +would stake his life to save twenty yards of distance. There was no +discretion in his valor. Blithe young gambler that he was, he would do +the thing in his own way. No one could tell him. Tom knew the utter +futility of shouting any last warnings or instructions to him.</p> + +<p>For Hervey Willetts was like a shot out of a rifle. With him it was a +case of hit or miss. He had no rules....</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_33" id="Page_33">33</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2><h3>SHADOWS OF THE NIGHT</h3> +</div> + +<p>One thing Hervey did bear in mind, and that was what Tom had told him +about how to distinguish a dark object in the dark. He would not +remember this twenty-four hours hence, but he remembered it then, and +that is saying much for him. He tried to improve upon the formula by +experimenting with his eyes cross-eyed, but it didn't work. Skirting the +lower western reach of the mountain and beyond, in the comparatively +flat country, he kept squinting away at old Crows Nest and its shadowy, +black mass guided him. "Slady's got the right dope on mountains," he +said to himself.</p> + +<p>The race was about as Tom had said; four miles for the horses, against a +mile and a half for Hervey. Both routes were bad, Hervey's the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">34</a></span> worse of +the two. All things considered, hills, muddy roads, trackless woodland, +swampy areas, it should take the heavily loaded team a little over an +hour to reach the bridge. By Tom's calculation it must take Hervey at +least an hour and a half.</p> + +<p>So there you are.</p> + +<p>Going straight north, Hervey would have that dim black mass, hovering on +the verge of invisibility, to guide him. Traveling a little west of +north he might have reached the road at a nearer point. But here the +traveling was bad and the danger of getting lost greater. Tom had +weighed one thing against another and told Hervey to go straight north.</p> + +<p>Hervey found the first half hour of his journey very difficult, picking +his way around the base of the mountain. Beyond the country was flat and +comparatively open, being mostly sparse woodland. The wind was very keen +here, since there was no mountain to break its force and the rain blew +in his face, almost blinding him.</p> + +<p>Again and again he wiped his dripping face with his sleeve and plodded +on, picking out his beacon now and again in the darkness. It was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">35</a></span> +surprising how easy it was for him to do this by the little trick of +which Tom had told him. His eyes would just catch the mountain for a +second, then it would evaporate in the surrounding blackness, like +breath on a pane of glass.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, something happened which quite unnerved him. He was hurrying +through a patch of woodland when, not more than ten feet ahead of him, +he was certain that he saw something dark glide from one tree to +another.</p> + +<p>He stopped short, his heart in his mouth. The minutes, he knew, were +precious, but he could not move. The wind in the trees moaned like some +lost soul, and in his stark fear the beating of the drops on the leafy +carpet startled him. He heard these because he was standing still, and +the ceasing of his own footfalls emphasized the steady patter. +Somewhere, in all that stormy solitude and desolation, an uncanny owl +hooted its dismal song.</p> + +<p>Hervey did not move.</p> + +<p>It was not till he bethought him of those horses lumbering along the +road ever nearer and nearer to that trap of death that he got control of +himself and started off.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">36</a></span></p> + +<p>It was just the gloom of those dark woods, the play of some freakish and +deceptive shadow conjuring itself into a human presence, that he had +seen.... Who would be out in that lonely wood on such a night?</p> + +<p>With a sudden, desperate impulse to challenge his fear and have done +with it, he stepped briskly toward the tree to glance about it and +dispel his illusion. If it was just some branch broken by the wind and +hanging loose....</p> + +<p>He approached the trunk and edged around it. As he did so a form moved +around the trunk also. Hervey paused. The pounding of his heart seemed +louder than the noises of the storm. In his throat was a queer burning +sensation. He could not speak. He could not stir. The dark form moved +again, ever so little....</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_37" id="Page_37">37</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2><h3>THE LIGHT THAT FAILED</h3> +</div> + +<p>The suspense was worse than any outcome could be, and Hervey, in another +impulse of desperation, took a step to the right, then quickly another +to the left. This ruse brought the two face to face. And in a flash +Hervey realized that he had little to fear from one who had tried so +desperately to escape his notice.</p> + +<p>The figure was that of a young man, his raiment torn and disordered and +utterly drenched. He wore a plaid cap, which being pulled down over his +ears by reason of the wind, gave him an appearance of toughness which +his first words belied.</p> + +<p>"You needn't be afraid," he said.</p> + +<p>"I'm not afraid," said Hervey. "Who are you?"</p> + +<p>"Did you hear some one scream?" the stranger asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">38</a></span></p> + +<p>"Scream? No. It was the wind, I guess. Are you lost, or what?"</p> + +<p>"I want to get out of here, that's all," the young man said. "This place +is full of children screaming. Did you ever kill anybody?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Hervey, somewhat agitated.</p> + +<p>The stranger placed a trembling hand on Hervey's shoulder. "Do you know +a person can scream after he's dead?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Hervey, somewhat alarmed and not knowing what to +say. "Anyway, I have to hurry; it's up to me to save some people's +lives. There's a bridge washed away along the road."</p> + +<p>He did not wait longer to talk with this singular stranger, but thoughts +of the encounter lingered in his mind, particularly the young fellow's +speech about dead people and children screaming. As he hurried on, +Hervey concluded that the stranger was demented and had probably +wandered away from some village in the neighborhood. He had reason later +to recall this encounter, but he soon forgot it in the more urgent +matter of reaching the road.</p> + +<p>He had now about half a mile of level country<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">39</a></span> to traverse, consisting +of fields separated by stone walls. The land was soggy, and here and +there in the lower places were areas of water. These he would not take +the time to go around, but plunged through them, often going knee deep +into the marshy bottom. It was sometimes with difficulty that he was +able to extricate his leg from these soggy entanglements.</p> + +<p>But he no longer needed the uncertain outline of that black mass amid +the surrounding blackness to guide him, for now the cheerful lights of +an isolated house upon the road shone in the distance. There was the +road, sure enough, though he could not see it.</p> + +<p>"That's what Slady calls deduction," he panted, as he trudged on, +running when he could, and dragging his heavy, mud-bedraggled feet out +of the mire every dozen steps or so. Over a stone wall he went and +scrambled to his feet and hastened on.</p> + +<p>The lights in the house cheered and guided him and he made straight for +this indubitable beacon. "Mountains are all—all right," he panted, "but +kerosene lamps—for—for—mine. I hope that—bunch—doesn't go to—bed." +His heart was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">40</a></span> pounding and he had a cruel stitch in his side from running, +which pained him excruciatingly when he ran fast. He tried scout pace +but it didn't work; he was not much of a hand for that kind of thing. +"It's—it's—all—right when—you're running through—the—handbook," +he said, "but—but...."</p> + +<p>Over another stone wall he went, tearing a great gash in his trousers, +exposing the limb to rain and wind. The ground was better for a space +and he ran desperately. Every breath he drew pained him, now and again +he staggered slightly, but he kept his feet and plunged frantically on.</p> + +<p>Then one of the lights in the house went out. Then another. There was +only one now. "That's—that's—what—it means for—for—people to—to go +to—to bed early," he panted with difficulty. "I—I always—said——" He +had not the breath to finish, but it is undoubtedly true that he had +always been a staunch advocate of remaining up all night.</p> + +<p>He fixed his eyes upon the one remaining light and ran with utter +desperation. His breathing was spasmodic, he reeled, pulled himself +together<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">41</a></span> by sheer will, and stumbled on. On the next stone wall he made +a momentary concession to his exhaustion and paused just a moment, +holding his aching side.</p> + +<p>Then he was off again, running like mad. The single little light seemed +twinkling and hazy and he brushed his streaming face with his sleeve so +that he might see it the more clearly. But it looked dull, more like a +little patch of brightness than a shining light. Either it was failing, +or he was.</p> + +<p>He had to hold his stinging side and gulp for every breath he drew, but +he ran with all his might and main. He was too spent and dizzy to keep +his direction without that distant light, and he knew it. He was not Tom +Slade to be sure of himself in complete darkness. He was giddy—on the +verge of collapse. The bee-line of his course loosened and became +erratic. But if his legs were weakening his will was strong, and he +staggered, reeled, ran.</p> + +<p>On, on, on, he sped, falling forward now, rather than running, but +keeping his feet by the sheer power of his will. His heart seemed up in +his mouth and choking him. With one hand he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">42</a></span> grasped the flying shred of +his torn trousers and tried to wipe the blood from the cut in his leg. +Thus for just a second his progress was impeded.</p> + +<p>That was the last straw. The trifling movement lost him his balance, his +exhausted and convulsed body went round like a top and he lay breathing +in little jerks on the swampy ground.</p> + +<p>One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. In another five seconds he would +rise. He raised himself on one trembling arm and looked about. He +brushed his soaking hair back from his eyes and looked again.</p> + +<p>"Where—what—where—is—it—anyway?" he panted. He did not know which +direction was north or south or east or west. He only knew that a dagger +was sticking in his side and that he could not rise....</p> + +<p>Yes, he could. He pulled himself together, rested a moment on his knees, +staggered to his feet and looked around.</p> + +<p>"Where—where—th—the dickens—is north?"</p> + +<p>He turned and looked around. He looked around the other way. Nothing but +desolation and darkness. He thought of what Tom had told him and, +closing his eyes, opened them suddenly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">43</a></span> The mountain must have been too +near to show in outline now; it had probably melted into the general +landscape. There was just an even, solid blackness all about him. The +wind moaned, and somewhere, high and far off, he heard the screech of an +eagle. But at least the rain did not assail him as it had done. This, +however, was small comfort. He had lost, <i>failed</i>, and he knew it.</p> + +<p>In pitiable despair, in the anguish of defeat, he looked about him again +in every direction, as if to beseech the angry night to give him back +his one little beacon, and let him only save those people if he died for +it.</p> + +<p>But there was no light anywhere. It had gone out.</p> + +<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>ALMOST</h3> +</div> + +<p>Well, he would not go back. They should find him right there, his body +marking the very last foot he had been able to go. He would die as those +brother scouts of his would have to die. He would not go back.</p> + +<p>That good rule of the scouts to stop and think was not in Hervey's line. +But he would do the next best thing—a thing very characteristic of +Hervey Willetts. He would take a chance and start running. Yes, that +would be better. There would be just one chance in four of his going in +the right direction. But he had taken bigger chances than that before. +Anyway, the rain was ceasing. And he soon overcame the sentimental +notion of just lying there.</p> + +<p>The momentary rest had restored some measure<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">45</a></span> of his strength. The +aching in his side was not so acute. The land was not so muddy where he +was and he took off his jacket and washed some of the heavy mud from his +shoes.</p> + +<p>Then he started off pell-mell. Who shall say what good angel prompted +him to look behind? Perhaps it was the little god Billikins of whom you +are to know more in these pages. But look behind Hervey Willetts did. +And there in the distance, very tiny but very clear, was a spark bobbing +in the darkness.</p> + +<p>He paused and watched it over his shoulder. It moved along slowly, very +slowly. It disappeared. Then appeared again. And now it moved a little +faster. A little faster still. Now it moved along at an even, steady +rate. The long, hard pull up Cheery Hill was over, and the horses were +jogging along the road. Oh, how well Hervey knew that lantern which hung +under the rear step of the clumsy, lumbering old bus.</p> + +<p><i>Then it had not passed.</i></p> + +<p>Hervey Willetts was himself now. Tearing a loose shred from his tattered +trousers, he soaked it in a little puddle, then stuffed it in his mouth. +He clasped his jack-knife in one fist<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">46</a></span> and a twig in the other. He drew +up his belt. He took that precious hat off and stuffed it in his pocket, +campaign buttons and all. Ah, no, he did not throw it away. He ripped +off another rag and tied it fast around his neck and he bound his scarf +around his forehead. He knew all these little tricks of the runner. It +was not thought, but <i>action</i> now.</p> + +<p>But, oh, Hervey, Hervey! What sort of a scout are you? Did you not know +that the shriek of the eagle must have been from the mountain in the +north? Did you not know that eagles live on mountain crags? Why did you +not face into the wind and you would have headed north? When the rain +did not blow in your face or against either cheek, that was because you +were facing <i>south</i>. It had not stopped raining. It was raining and +blowing for <i>your</i> sake and you did not know it. You were hunting for a +kerosene lamp!</p> + +<p>But there are scouts and scouts.</p> + +<p>Bareheaded, half naked, he sped through the darkness like a ghostly +specter of the night. He headed for a point some fifty yards ahead of +the bus. He knew that coming from behind he could not catch it in time. +He was running to <i>intercept</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">47</a></span> it, not to <i>overtake</i> it. He was running +at right angles to it and for a point ahead of it. Therein lay his only +chance, and not a very good chance. By all the rules there was <i>no</i> +chance. By the divine law which gives power to desperation, there was—a +little.</p> + +<p>He ran in utter abandonment, in frenzy. Some power outside of himself +bore him on. What else? Like a fiend, with arms swinging and head +swathed in a crazy rag, he moved through wind and storm, invincible, +indomitable! His head throbbed, his mouth was thick, his side ached, but +he seemed beyond the power of these things now. Over the fences he went, +leaving shreds of clothing blowing in the gale, and tearing his flesh on +stone walls. In the madness of despair, and in the insane resolve that +despair begets, he sped on, on, on....</p> + +<p>The bus was now almost even with his course. He changed his course to +keep ahead of it. The lumbering old rattle-trap gave out a human note +now, which cheered the runner. He could hear the voices within it. Very +faint, but still he could hear them. He knew he could not make himself +heard because the wind was the other way. Besides<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">48</a></span> which, he had not the +voice to call. His whole frame was trembling; he could not have spoken +even.</p> + +<p>On, on, on. The trees passed him like trees seen from a train window. He +turned the wet rag in his mouth to draw a little more moisture from it. +He clutched his sweating hands tighter around the knife and twig. He +shook the blowing, dripping hair from his eyes. Forward, <i>forward!</i> If +he slackened his speed now he would fall—collapse. Like a top, his +speed kept him up.</p> + +<p>Running straight ahead he would about run into the bus, which meant that +it was gaining on him. Again he bent his course to a point ahead of it. +Each maneuver of this kind narrowed the angle between himself and the +bus until soon he would be <i>pursuing</i> it. The angle would be no more. He +would be running <i>after</i> the bus and losing ground.</p> + +<p>By a supreme, final spurt, he had now a fair chance to make the road and +intercept the bus before it reached the broad, level stretch to the +bridge. Should it reach that point his last chance would have vanished.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">49</a></span></p> + +<p>In this desperate pass he tried to shout, but found, as the spent runner +usually does, that he was almost voiceless. A feeble call was all he +could manage, and on the contrary wind and noise of the storm, this was +quite inadequate. He could only stumble on, borne up by his indomitable +will. He was weakening and he knew it.</p> + +<p>Yet the light of the bus so near him gave him fresh hope, and with it +fresh strength. It seemed a kind of perversity of fate that he should +have reached a point ordinarily within earshot, and yet could not make +his approach known.</p> + +<p>Just as the bus was passing his course, and when it was perhaps three or +four hundred feet distant, Hervey, putting all his strength into a final +spurt, sped forward in a blind frenzy like one possessed. He saw the bus +go by; heard the voices within it. Throwing his jack-knife from him in a +kind of frantic, maniacal desperation, he tried to scream, and finding +that he could not, that his voice was dead while yet his limbs lived, +and that his panting throat was clogged up and his nerves jangled and +uncontrollable, he bounded forward in a kind of delirium of concentrated +effort.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">50</a></span></p> + +<p>Then, suddenly, his foot sank into a hole. Perhaps with a little +calmness and patience he could have released it. But in his wild hurry +he tried to wrench it out. A sudden, sharp pain rewarded this insane +effort. He lost his balance and went sprawling to the ground, another +quick, excruciating twinge accompanying his fall, and lay there on the +soggy ground like a woodchuck in a trap.</p> + +<p>The old bus went lumbering by.</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_51" id="Page_51">51</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2><h3>THE HERO</h3> +</div> + +<p>The best account of this business was given by Darby Curren, the bus +driver, or Curry, as the boys called him.</p> + +<p>"We was jes' comin' onter the good road, we was, and I was jes' about +goin' ter give Lefty a taste o' the whip ter let 'er know ter wake up. +Them kids inside was a hollerin', '<i>Hit 'er up!" 'Step on 'er!' 'Give +'er the gas!</i>' and all sech nonsense. Well, by gorry, I never seed sech +a night since Noah sailed away in the ark, I didn't. So ye'll understand +I was'n' fer bein' surprised at nuthin' I see. Ghosts nor nuthin'.</p> + +<p>"Well, all of a sudden Lefty begins to jump and rear step sideways and +was like to drag us all in the ditch when what do I see but that there +thing, like a ghost or somethin' it was, hangin' onter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">52</a></span> her bridle. It +was makin' some kind of a noise, I dunno what. First off I thought plum +certain it was a ghost. Then I thought it was Hasbrooks' boy, that's +what I thought, on account o' him havin' them fits and maybe bein' +buried alive. It was me that druv the hearse fer 'im only a week back. +And I says then to Corby that was sittin' with me, I says, no son o' +mine that ever had them fits would be buried in three days, not if I +knowed it. Safety first, I said, dead or livin'.</p> + +<p>"Well, I hollered to him what he wanted there and I didn't get no answer +so I got down. And all the rest o' that howlin' pack got out, and the +two men. I guess they thought we was held up, Jesse James like. Only the +little codger stayed inside.</p> + +<p>"Well, there he was, all tore and bloody and not enough duds left to +stop up a rat-hole. And we hed ter force his hand open, he was hangin' +onter the bridle that hard."</p> + +<p>Well, that was about all there was to it; the rest was told by many +mouths. They forced open his grip on the horse's bridle and he collapsed +and lay unconscious on the ground. They<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">53</a></span> lifted him and carried him +gently into the bus, and laid him on one of the long seats. His left +foot was shoeless and lacerated.</p> + +<p>There were a couple of first aid scouts in the party, and they did what +they could for him, bathing his face and trying to restore some measure +of repose to his jangled nerves. They washed his torn foot with +antiseptic while one kept a cautious hold upon his fluttering pulse. +They administered a heart stimulant out of their kit, and waited. He did +not speak nor open his eyes, save momentarily at intervals, when he +stared vacantly. But the stout heart which had served him in his +superhuman effort, would not desert him now, and in a little while the +brother scout who held his wrist laid it gently down and, in a kind of +freakish impulse, made the full scout salute to the unconscious figure. +That seemed odd, too, because at camp he was not thought to be a really +A-1 scout....</p> + +<p>The two scoutmasters of the arriving troops remained in the bus with the +first aid scouts and a queer little codger who seemed to be lame; the +others walked. Hervey Willetts had ridden on top of that bus (contrary +to orders), but he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">54</a></span> never before lain quietly on the seat of it and +been watched by two scoutmasters. He was always being watched by +scoutmasters, but never in just this way....</p> + +<p>So the old bus lumbered on. Soon he opened his eyes and mumbled +something.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my boy," said one of the scoutmasters; "what is it?"</p> + +<p>"S—sma—smashed—br—," he said incoherently.</p> + +<p>"Yes, we'll have a doctor as soon as we reach camp," the scoutmaster +said soothingly. "Try to bear it. Don't move it and perhaps it won't +pain so."</p> + +<p>Hervey shook his head petulantly as if it were not his foot he spoke of. +"Br—oken—the—br—look out——" And again he seemed to faint away.</p> + +<p>The scoutmaster was puzzled.</p> + +<p>In a few moments he spoke again, his eyes closed. But the word he spoke +was clear.</p> + +<p>"Ahead," he whispered.</p> + +<p>The scoutmaster was still puzzled but he opened the bus door and called, +"Gilbert, suppose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">55</a></span> you and a couple of the boys go on ahead and watch +your step." Then to the other scoutmaster he said, "I think he's a bit +delirious."</p> + +<p>So it happened that it was Gilbert Tyson of the troop from Hillsburgh, +forty or fifty miles down the line, who shouted to Darby Curren to stop, +that the bridge had been washed away.</p> + +<p>A funny part of the whole business was that the little duffer in the +bus, who was attached to that troop, thought that Tyson was the hero of +the occasion. He was strong on troop loyalty if on nothing else. So far +as he was concerned (and he was very much concerned) Tyson had saved the +lives of every scout in those two troops. Subsequent circumstances +favored this delusion of his. For one thing, Hervey Willetts cared +nothing at all about glory. You could not fit the mantle of heroism on +him to save your life. He never talked about the affair, he was seldom +at camp, except to sleep, and he did not know how he had managed the +last few yards of his triumphal errand. For another thing, the +Hillsburgh troop kept to themselves more or less, occupying one of the +isolated "hill cabins." As for Tom Slade, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">56</a></span> seldom talked much. He had +seen too many stunts to lose his head over a new one, and he was a poor +sort of publicity agent for Hervey.</p> + +<p>Thus Goliath, as the little codger came to be known, had the field all +to himself, and he turned out to be a mighty "hero maker."</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_57" id="Page_57">57</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2><h3>PROVEN A SCOUT</h3> +</div> + +<p>The bus came to a stop a hundred feet or so from the ruined bridge and +its passengers, going forward cautiously, looked down shudderingly into +the yawning chasm. For a few seconds the very thought of what might have +happened filled them with silent awe.</p> + +<p>Goliath was the first to speak. "It's good Tyson saved our lives, isn't +it?" he piped up. "We'd all be dead, 'wouldn't we?"</p> + +<p>"Very dead," said one of the scouts; "so dead we probably wouldn't know +it."</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't <i>know</i> it?" asked Goliath, puzzled.</p> + +<p>For answer the scout gave him a bantering push and tousled his hair for +him. The little fellow took refuge with one of the scoutmasters.</p> + +<p>"Will we get to that camp soon?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Pretty soon, I hope. Perhaps some one will come down and show us the +way."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">58</a></span></p> + +<p>"Are we lost?"</p> + +<p>"No, we're saved."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad we're in Tyson's troop, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>The scoutmaster laughed. "You bet," he said.</p> + +<p>"Are there wild animals in that camp?"</p> + +<p>"Scouts are all wild animals," the scoutmaster laughed again.</p> + +<p>"Am I a wild animal?"</p> + +<p>"Surest thing you know."</p> + +<p>"Are you?"</p> + +<p>"That's what."</p> + +<p>"Is that fellow that's inside lying on the seat—is he dead?"</p> + +<p>"No—not dead. But you mustn't go in and bother him."</p> + +<p>The scene about the bridge was one of utter ruin. No vestige of the +rustic structure was left; it had probably been carried away in the +first overwhelming rush of water. The flood had subsided by now, and +only a trickle of water passed through the gully. In this, and upon the +sloping banks and the wreckage which had been Ebon Berry's garage, the +scouts climbed about and explored the scene of devastation.</p> + +<p>After a while a scoutmaster and several boys<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">59</a></span> arrived from camp by way +of the road. They had fought their way through mud and storm, bringing +stretchers and a first aid kit, in expectation of finding disaster.</p> + +<p>"This is not a very cheerful welcome to camp," one of the scoutmasters +said. "The lake broke through up yonder. The boys have checked the flood +with a kind of makeshift dam. We were afraid you had met with disaster. +All safe and sound, are you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, several of our boys went ahead and one of them shouted for us +to stop——"</p> + +<p>"That's the one right there," piped up the little fellow. "Maybe he'll +get a reward, hey? Maybe he'll get a prize."</p> + +<p>"I guess we're all safe and sound," said the other arriving scoutmaster; +"but wet and hungry——"</p> + +<p>"Especially hungry," one of the scouts said.</p> + +<p>"That's a common failing here," said the man from camp.</p> + +<p>"There's a funny fellow inside; want to see him?" piped up Goliath. "He +hasn't got any clothes hardly, and he don't know what he's talking +about; he hasn't got any conscience——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">60</a></span></p> + +<p>"He means he's unconscious," said the scoutmaster. "We ran into him on +the road. He really hasn't spoken yet, so we don't know anything about +him. He seems a kind of victim of the storm—crazed. I think it just +possible he intended—Come inside, won't you? I think we'll have to take +him with us on a stretcher. I suppose he belongs in the countryside +hereabouts."</p> + +<p>Thus it was that Hervey's own scoutmaster looked down upon the +unconscious form of his most troublesome and unruly scout. It was no +wonder that the others had not thought him a scout. He looked more like +a juvenile hobo. But sticking out of his soaking pocket was that one +indubitable sign of identification, his rimless hat cut full of holes +and decorated with its variety of badge buttons. Ruefully, Mr. Denny +lifted this dripping masterpiece of original handiwork, and held it +between his thumb and forefinger.</p> + +<p>"This is one of our choicest youngsters," he said. "He is in my own +troop. The last time I saw him, I explicitly told him not to leave camp +without my permission. I suppose he has been on some escapade or other. +I think he's about due for dismissal——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">61</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't think he's seriously injured, sir."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, he has a charmed life. Nine lives like a cat, in fact. Well, +we'll cart him back."</p> + +<p>"He doesn't look like a scout fellow," Goliath said.</p> + +<p>"Well, he isn't what you would call a very good scout fellow, my boy," +Mr. Denny said. "Good scout fellows usually know the law and obey it, if +anybody should ask you."</p> + +<p>"If they ask me, that's what I'll tell 'em," said Goliath, "hey?"</p> + +<p>"You can't go far wrong if you tell them that," Mr. Denny said.</p> + +<p>"And they have to save lives too, don't they?" the little codger piped +up.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, you seem to have it all down pat," Mr. Denny said.</p> + +<p>"We've got one of them in our troop," the little fellow said; "he's a +hero."</p> + +<p>"Well, I hope he reads the handbook and obeys the scout laws," said Mr. +Denny significantly.</p> + +<p>"I'm always going to have good luck," the little fellow said, rather +irrelevantly. "I got a charm, too. Want to see it?"</p> + +<p>"I think we'd better see if we can get to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">62</a></span> camp and find some hot stew," +said Mr. Denny.</p> + +<p>"That's the kind of a charm for me," said one of the scouts.</p> + +<p>So it fell out that on this occasion, as on most others, Goliath was not +permitted to dig down into the remote recess of his pocket to show that +wonderful charm.</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_63" id="Page_63">63</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2><h3>THE NEW SCOUT</h3> +</div> + +<p>"Well," laughed Mr. Baxton, scoutmaster of the troop to which that +little brownie of a boy belonged; "since we have a hero, we may as well +use him. Suppose you stay here, Gilbert, and stop any vehicles that +happen along."</p> + +<p>"I think one of our boys from camp ought to do that," said one of the +other scoutmasters. "How about you, Roy?"</p> + +<p>The boy addressed was of a compact, natty build, with brown curly hair, +and with the kind of smile which was positively guaranteed not to wash +out in a storm. On his nose, which was of the aggressive and impudent +type, were five freckles, set like the stars which form the big dipper, +and his even teeth, which were constantly in evidence, were as white as +snow. Across the bridge<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">64</a></span> of his nose was a mark such as is seen upon the +noses of persons who wear spectacles. But he wore no spectacles, though +the imprint between his laughing, dancing eyes was said to have been +caused by glasses—soda water glasses which were continually tipped up +against his nose in obedience to the dictum that a scout shall be +thorough.</p> + +<p>"We'll both stay," he said; "if a Ford comes along we'll carry it +across."</p> + +<p>"Well, don't leave the spot, that's all," said Mr. Denny.</p> + +<p>"Far be it from such," said Roy. "If we go away we'll take it with us. +We should worry our young lives about a spot. Only save some stew for +us. This night has been full of snap so far, it reminds me of a +ginger-snap. We'll sit in one of those old cars, hey?"</p> + +<p>Gilbert Tyson stared at Roy. He thought it wouldn't be half bad to stay +here with this sprightly scout. The rest of the party, guided by Mr. +Denny, started picking their way along the road to camp, carrying Hervey +on a stretcher. Darby Curren, the stage-driver, doubtless tempted by the +mention of hot stew, unharnessed his team and leaving the horses to +graze in the adjacent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">65</a></span> field, accompanied the party. Roy and Gilbert +Tyson watched the departing cavalcade till it was swallowed in darkness.</p> + +<p>The rain had ceased now, and the wind was dying. In the sky was a little +silvery break, and by its light flaky clouds were seen hurrying away, +all in one direction like a flock of birds. It seemed as if they might +be fleeing quietly from the wreck which they had caused.</p> + +<p>"If one of the lights on those cars is working, we might use it for a +signal," Roy said.</p> + +<p>The cars of which he spoke were in the wreckage of Berry's garage. It +had not been much of a garage, hardly more than a shack, in fact, and +the two cars which now stood more or less damaged and exposed to the +weather, had been its only contents, save for a work-bench and a few +tools. Mr. Berry's flivver was quite beyond repair, having been +overturned and carried some yards and apparently dashed against the +bridge. There is no wreck in the world like the wreck of a Ford.</p> + +<p>The heavier car had evidently withstood the first onrush of water and +had made a stand against the flood, its wheels deep in the mud. This +car<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">66</a></span> was a roadster. Its side curtains were up, completely enclosing the +single seat. It had evidently been used since the rainy weather started. +It was not altogether free from damage, one of the fenders was bent, the +bumper in front almost touched the ground on one side, an ornamental +figurehead had been broken off the radiator cap, and the face of the +radiator was dented. This car was equipped with a searchlight fastened +on one end of the windshield, and as Gilbert Tyson handled this it +lighted, sending a penetrating shaft of brightness into the night.</p> + +<p>"It's funny the battery works after the soaking it got," said Roy. +"Let's keep playing that light on the road. Anybody could see it half a +mile off."</p> + +<p>"Spell danger with it," Gilbert said.</p> + +<p>"Sure, but I don't think anybody from camp will be along."</p> + +<p>"You never can tell who knows the Morse Code and who doesn't," Gilbert +said. "Keep playing it on the road, anyway."</p> + +<p>The position of the car was such that this searchlight could be shown +upon the road for perhaps the space of a quarter of a mile. It would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">67</a></span> +have been quite sufficient to give pause to any approaching wagon or +machine. Roy and Gilbert climbed into the car and sat upon the seat in +the cosy enclosure formed by the curtains. It was quite pleasant in +there. Since it was more agreeable to be fooling with the light than to +let it shine steadily, Roy amused himself by spelling the word DANGER +again and again.</p> + +<p>Pretty soon one of the curtains opened and a voice said, "What's all the +danger about?"</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_68" id="Page_68">68</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2><h3>THE GRAY ROADSTER</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was Tom Slade. With him was one of the best all-around scouts in +camp, patrol leader of the Royal Bengal Tigers, Eagle Scout and winner +of the Gold Cross, Bert Winton.</p> + +<p>"What's this? The annual electrical show?" he asked. "What's the matter +with you kids? Lost, strayed or stolen? Who's this fellow?"</p> + +<p>"Look at the bridge, it's gone!" said Roy. "Don't bother to look at it. +It isn't there anyway. We're a couple of pickets—I mean sentinels."</p> + +<p>"Well, you guided us through the woods, anyway," said Tom.</p> + +<p>"The pleasure is ours," said Roy. "We can sit in a car and guide people +through the woods; we're real heroes. What's the news?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">69</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do you know anything about the stage?" Tom asked.</p> + +<p>"We know <i>all</i> about it. It's right over there. This fellow comes from +Hillsburgh. He got out and walked ahead and stopped it. Didn't you? +Hervey Willetts blew in from somewhere or other and they're carrying him +to camp. Nothing serious. Got any candy?"</p> + +<p>"The crowd from the bus is all right then?"</p> + +<p>"Positively guaranteed."</p> + +<p>"And Hervey?"</p> + +<p>"He's used up another one of his lives, he's only got three left now. He +must have hit the trail after Westy and I left the cove. He's going to +get called down to-morrow. He should worry, he's used to that."</p> + +<p>"Where did they run into him?" Tom asked.</p> + +<p>"They found him hanging onto one of the horses. Curry thought he was a +ghost, that's all <i>I</i> know. This fellow went ahead and shouted back that +the bridge had sneaked off. Didn't you, Gilly?" It was characteristic of +Roy that he had already found a nickname for Gilbert Tyson.</p> + +<p>"Hervey say anything?"</p> + +<p>"Mumbled something, I don't know what."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">70</a></span></p> + +<p>Tom pondered a few moments. "Humph," said he, "that's all right."</p> + +<p>He was satisfied about Hervey. The other phases of the episode did not +interest him. What scoutmasters said and thought did not greatly concern +him. He did not give two thoughts to the fact that Hervey was to be +"called down." He had known scouts to be called down before. He had +known credit and glory to miscarry. Hervey had done this thing and that +was all that the young camp assistant cared about. It would not hurt +Hervey to be called down.</p> + +<p>The picturesque young assistant, the very spirit and embodiment of +adventure and romance, made a good deal of allowance for visiting +scoutmasters and handbook scouts. He was broad and kind as the trees are +broad and kind; exacting about big things, careless about little things. +They knew all about scouting. He was the true scout. They had their +manuals and handbooks. The great spirit of the woods was his. Hervey had +made good. Why bother more about that?</p> + +<p>So he just said, "Not hurt much, huh? Well, if you kids want to go up to +camp, we'll take care of this job."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">71</a></span></p> + +<p>"Whose car is this, anyway?" asked Bert Winton. "I never saw it before. +It's got bunged up a little, hey?"</p> + +<p>Tom looked at the roadster rather interestedly, whistling to himself.</p> + +<p>"It's gray," said Bert; "I never saw it before."</p> + +<p>"It wasn't damaged in the flood," said Tom.</p> + +<p>"Why wasn't it?" Roy demanded.</p> + +<p>"Because it's facing down stream. Anything that hit it would have hit it +in the back. I don't know whose it is, but it came here damaged, if you +want to know."</p> + +<p>"Sherlock Nobody Holmes, the boy detective," vociferated Roy. "We're not +going to let it worry our innocent young lives, anyway, are we, Gilly? +Oh, here comes somebody along the road! The plot grows thicker!"</p> + +<p>Tom and Winton had cut through the woods, direct from the cove where +they had been assisting in throwing together the makeshift dam. +Fortunately the searchlight had made their journey easy. The figure +which now approached along the road turned out to be Ebon Berry, owner +of the wrecked garage, who had ventured forth from his home as soon as +the storm had abated.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">72</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, 'tain't no use cryin' over spilled milk, as the feller says," he +observed as he contemplated the ruin all about him.</p> + +<p>"You're about cleaned out, Mr. Berry," said Winton. "Whose car is this? +I never saw it before."</p> + +<p>"That? Well, now, that belongs to a feller that left it here, oh, I +dunno, mebbe close onto a week ago. I ain't seed him since. Said he'd be +back for it nex' day. I ain't seed nothin' of 'im. I guess that's what +you'd call a racer, now, hain't it?"</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do about it?" Tom asked. "It was damaged when it +came here, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it were. Well, now, I don't jes' know <i>what</i> I'd auter do. Jes' +nothin', I guess."</p> + +<p>"'Tisn't going to do it any good buried here in the mud," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"Well, 'tain't my loss, ony six dollars storage."</p> + +<p>"Let's give it the once over," Tom said, in a way of half interest. The +efforts of the night had been so strenuous that his casual interest in +the car was something in the form of relaxation. It interested him as +whittling a stick might have interested<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">73</a></span> him. "Take a squint into that +pocket there, Roy."</p> + +<p>There was nothing but a piece of cotton waste in the flap pocket of the +door nearest Roy, but Gilbert Tyson's ransacking of the other one +revealed some miscellaneous paraphernalia; there was a pair of +motorist's gloves, a road map, a newspaper, and two letters.</p> + +<p>"Here, I'll give you the light," said Roy, as Tyson handed these things +to Tom.</p> + +<p>"You keep the light on the road," said Tom. "Let's have your +flashlight."</p> + +<p>"Now we're going to find out where the buried treasure lays hid—I mean +hidden," said Roy. "We're going to unravel the mystery, as Pee-wee would +say. 'Twas on a dark and stormy night——"</p> + +<p>"Let's have your flashlight," said Tom, dryly.</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_74" id="Page_74">74</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2><h3>THE UNKNOWN TRAIL</h3> +</div> + +<p>Gilbert Tyson and Roy sat in the car. Tyson had removed one curtain and +Tom, standing close by, examined the papers in the glare of the +flashlight which Tyson held. Bert Winton and Mr. Berry peered curiously +over Tom's shoulder.</p> + +<p>The map was of the usual folding sort, and on a rather large scale, +showing the country for about forty or fifty miles roundabout.</p> + +<p>"There's my little old home town," said Tyson, putting his finger on +Hillsburgh, "home, sweet home."</p> + +<p>"And here's little old Black Lake—before the flood," said Roy. "There's +the camp, right there," he added, indicating the spot to Tyson; "there's +where we eat, right there."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">75</a></span></p> + +<p>"And here's a trail up the mountain," said Tom. "See that lead pencil +mark? You go up the back way. See?"</p> + +<p>So there then was indeed a way up that frowning mountain opposite the +camp. It was up the less precipitous slope, the slope which did not face +the lake. The pencil marking had been made to emphasize the fainter +printed line.</p> + +<p>"Humph," said Tom, interested. "There's always <i>some</i> way up a +mountain.... Maybe the light we saw up there ...let's have a squint at +that letter, will you?"</p> + +<p>"Have we got a right to read it?" Winton asked.</p> + +<p>"We may be able to save a life by it," said Tom. "Sure."</p> + +<p>But the letter did not reveal anything of interest. It was, in fact, +only the last page of a letter which had been preserved on account of +some trifling memorandums on the back of the sheet. What there was of +the letter read as follows:</p> + +<div class='blockquot'> +<p>hope you will come back to England some time or other. I suppose +America seems strange after all these years. You'll have to be +content with shooting Indians and buffaloes now. But we'll save a +fox or two for you. And don't forget how to ride horseback and we'll +try not to forget about the rattle wagons.</p> +<p style='text-align: right' class="smcap">Reggy.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">76</a></span>"That's very kind of Reggy," said Roy. "Indians and buffaloes! Poor +Indians. If he ever comes here, we'll teach him to shoot the shutes. If +he's a good shot maybe we'll let him shoot the rapids."</p> + +<p>"They all think America is full of Indians," said Winton.</p> + +<p>"Indian pudding," said Roy; "<i>mmm, mmm!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Well, let's see the newspaper," said Tom. "I don't suppose there's +anything particular in that. Somebody that lived in England has been +trying to go up the mountain—<i>maybe</i>. That's about all we know. We +don't know that, even. But anyway, he hasn't come back."</p> + +<p>"Maybe he's up there shooting Indians and buffaloes," said Roy. "We +should worry."</p> + +<p>"When was it he came here?" Tom asked.</p> + +<p>"'Bout several days ago, I reckon," said Mr. Berry.</p> + +<p>"That light's been up there all summer," Winton said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">77</a></span></p> + +<p>"Until to-night," Tom added.</p> + +<p>For a few moments no one spoke.</p> + +<p>"Well, let's see the paper," said Tom, as he took it and began looking +it over. He had not glanced at many of the headings when one attracted +his attention. Following it was an article which he read carefully.</p> + +<div class='blockquot'> +<p style='text-align: center'>AUTOIST KILLS CHILD<br /> +Negligence and Reckless Driving Responsible for Accident<br /> +<span class="smcap">Driver Escapes</span> +</p> + +<p>An accident which will probably prove fatal occurred on the road above +Hillsburgh yesterday when a car described as a gray roadster ran down +and probably mortally injured Willy Corbett, the eight-year-old son of +Thomas Corbett of that place.</p> + +<p>Two laborers in a nearby field, who saw the accident, say that the +machine was running on the left side of the road where the child was +playing and that but for this reckless violation of the traffic law, the +little fellow would not have been run down. The driver was apparently +holding to the left of the road, because the running was better there.</p> + +<p>Exactly what happened no one seems to know. The autoist stopped, and +started again, and when the two laborers had reached the spot where the +child<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">78</a></span> lay, the machine was going at the rate of at least forty miles an +hour.</p> + +<p>All efforts of town and county authorities to locate the gray roadster +have failed.</p> +</div> + +<p>"That's only about ten miles from where I live," said Gilbert Tyson.</p> + +<p>Tom seemed to be thinking. "Let's look at that letter again," said he. +"Humph," he added and handed it back to Roy.</p> + +<p>"What?" Roy asked.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said Tom. "I guess this is the car all right."</p> + +<p>"I don't see it," said Winton. "Just because it's a gray roadster——"</p> + +<p>"Well, there may be other little things about it, too," said Tom.</p> + +<p>"About the car or the letter or what?" Winton asked.</p> + +<p>"Answered in the affirmative," said Roy.</p> + +<p>"Well, anyway," Tom said, "it looked as if the owner of the car might +have gone up the mountain. And he hasn't come down. At least he hasn't +come after his car. I'd like to get a look at him. I'm going to follow +that trail up a ways——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">79</a></span></p> + +<p>"To-night?"</p> + +<p>"When did you suppose? Next week? I'd like to find out where the trail +goes. I'm not saying any more. The bright spot we saw from camp went out +to-night. And here's a trail on the other side of the mountain that I +never knew of. Here's a man that had a map of it and he went away and +hasn't come back. I'm not asking anybody to go with me."</p> + +<p>"And I'm not asking you to let me," said Roy. "I'll go just for spite. +You don't think you're afraid of me, am I, quoth he. Now that we're +here, we might as well be all separated together. What do you say, +Gilly? Yes, kind sir, said he. We'll <i>all</i> go, what do you say? Indeed +we will, they answered joyously——"</p> + +<p>"Well, come ahead then," said Tom, "and stop your nonsense."</p> + +<p>"Says you," Roy answered.</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_80" id="Page_80">80</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2><h3>ON THE SUMMIT</h3> +</div> + +<p>The two facts uppermost in Tom's mind were these: Some one had marked +the trail up that mountain, and the patch of brightness on the top of +the mountain which had lately been familiar to the boys in camp had that +very night disappeared.</p> + +<p>The owner of the gray roadster had not come back for it. He might be the +fugitive of the newspaper article, and he might not. If Tom had any +<i>particular</i> reason for thinking that he was, he did not say so. There +are a good many gray roadsters. One thing which puzzled Tom was this: +the car had been in storage at Berry's for a few days at the very most, +but the bright patch on the mountain had been visible for a month or +more. So if the owner of this machine had gone up the mountain, at least +he was not the originator of the bright patch there. But perhaps, after +all, the bright patch was just some reflection.</p> + +<div class='figcenter' style='width: 350px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">81</a></span> +<a name="illus-004" id="illus-004"></a> +<img src='images/illus-080.jpg' alt='SUDDENLY ROY CALLED, "LOOK HERE! HERE'S A BOARD!"' title='' width = '350' height = '548'/><br /> +<table width='100%' summary='' class='caption'> + <tr> + <td colspan='2'>SUDDENLY ROY CALLED, "LOOK HERE! HERE'S A BOARD!"</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align='left'><i>Tom Slade's Double Dare.</i> </td> + <td align='right'><i>Page</i> 83</td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p>"Let's have another look at that letter," said Tom.</p> + +<p>He read it again with an interest and satisfaction which certainly were +not justified by the simple wording of the missive.</p> + +<p>"Come ahead," he said; "we can't get much wetter than we are already. We +might as well finish the night's work. I guess Mr. Berry'll take care of +the searchlight."</p> + +<p>Mr. Berry had no intention of leaving the scene of his ruined +possessions to the mercy of vandals. Moreover, it seemed likely that +with the abatement of the storm the neighboring village would turn out +to view the devastation.</p> + +<p>Once the end of the trail was located, the ascent of the mountain was +not difficult, and the four explorers made their way up the +comparatively easy slope, hindered only by trees which had fallen across +the path. The old mountain which frowned so forbiddingly down upon the +camp across the lake was very docile when taken from behind. It was just +a big bully.</p> + +<p>As Tom and the three scouts approached the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">82</a></span> summit, the devastation +caused by the storm became more and more appalling. Great trees had been +torn up as if they had been no more than house plants. These had fallen, +some to the ground and some against other trees, their spreading roots +dislodging big rocks which had gone crashing down against other trees. +Some of these rocks remained poised where the least agitation would +release them.</p> + +<p>Nature cannot be disturbed like this without suffering convulsions +afterwards, and the continual low noises of dripping roots and of trees +and branches sinking and settling and falling from temporary supports, +gave a kind of voice of suffering and anguish to the wilderness.</p> + +<p>These strange sounds were on every hand and they made the wrecked and +drenched woods to seem haunted. Now and again a sound almost human would +startle the cautious wayfarers as they picked their way amid the sodden +chaos. In places it seemed as if the merest footfall would dislodge some +threatening bowlder which would blot their lives out in a second. And +the ragged, gaping chasms left by roots made the soggy ground uncertain +support for yards about.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">83</a></span></p> + +<p>Toward the summit the path was quite obliterated under the jumble of the +wreckage, and the party clambered over and threaded their way amid this +débris until the tiny but cheering lights of Temple Camp were visible +far down across the lake. There the two arriving troops were about +finishing their hot stew! Far down and nearer than the camp was a moving +speck of light; some one was on the lake. The boys did not venture too +near that precipitous descent.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Roy, who had been walking along a fallen tree trunk, called, +"Look here! Here's a board!"</p> + +<p>He had hauled it out from under the trunk, and the others, approaching, +looked at it with interest. In all that wild desolation there was +something very human about a fragment of board. Somehow it connected +that unknown wilderness with the world of men.</p> + +<p>"That didn't come up here by itself," said Tom.</p> + +<p>"You're right, it didn't," said Tyson.</p> + +<p>"Here's a rusty nail in it," Roy added.</p> + +<p>The board, unpainted and weather beaten as it was, seemed singularly out +of place in that remote forest.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">84</a></span></p> + +<p>Suddenly Roy grasped Tom's arm; his hand trembled; his whole form was +agitated.</p> + +<p>"<i>Look!</i>" he whispered hoarsely. "Look—down there—right <i>there</i>. See? +Do you see it? Right under.... Oh, boy, it's <i>awful</i>...."</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_85" id="Page_85">85</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2><h3>A SCOUT IS THOROUGH</h3> +</div> + +<p>Scout though he was, Roy's hand trembled as he passed his flashlight to +Tom. He could not, for his life, point that flashlight himself at the +grewsome object which he had seen in the darkness.</p> + +<p>Lying crossways underneath the trunk was the body of a man, his face +looking straight up into the sky with a fixed stare, and a soulless grin +upon his ashen face. Somewhere nearby, mud was dripping from an exposed +root, and the earth laden drops as they fell one by one into the ragged +cavity gave a sound which simulated a kind of unfeeling laughter. It +seemed as if that stark, staring thing might be chuckling through its +rigid, grinning mouth. Roy's weight and movement on the trunk +communicated a slight stir to the ghastly figure and its head moved ever +so little....<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">86</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," said Tom, anticipating Winton's question; "he's dead. Get off the +log, Roy."</p> + +<p>"Well, I wish that dripping would stop, anyway," said Winton.</p> + +<p>Tom approached the figure, the others following and standing about in +silence as he examined it. They all avoided the log, the slightest +movement of which had an effect which made them shudder.</p> + +<p>Raising one cold, muddy hand, Tom felt the wrist, laying it gently down +again. There was not even a faint, departing vestige of life in the +trapped, crushed body.</p> + +<p>"Is it him?" Gilbert Tyson asked in a subdued tone.</p> + +<p>"Guess so," said Tom, kneeling.</p> + +<p>The others stood back in a kind of fearful respect, watching, +waiting.... Now and then a leaf or twig fell. And once, some broken tree +limb crackled as it adjusted itself in its fallen estate. And all the +while the mud kept dripping, dripping, dripping....</p> + +<p>Lying on the dead man's open coat, as if they had fallen from his +pocket, were two cards and a letter. These Tom picked up and glanced +at,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">87</a></span> using Roy's flashlight. One of the cards was an automobile +registration card. The other was a driver's license card. They were both +of the State of New Jersey and issued to Aaron Harlowe. The letter had +been stamped but not mailed. It was addressed to Thomas Corbett, North +Hillsburgh, New York. This name tallied with the name of the child's +father in the newspaper.</p> + +<p>Here was pretty good proof that the man who had met death here upon this +wild, lonely mountain was none other than the owner of the gray +roadster, the coward who had fled from the consequences of his +negligence, and turned it into a black crime!</p> + +<p>"Are you going to open it?" Bert Winton asked.</p> + +<p>"I guess no one has a right to do that but the coroner," Tom said. "We +have no right to move the body even."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Bert Winton, his awe at the sight of death somewhat +subsiding at thought of the victim's cowardice, "there's an end of Aaron +Harlowe who ran over Willie Corbett with a gray roadster and——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">88</a></span></p> + +<p>"And was going to send a letter to the kid's father," concluded Tom. +"And here's his footprint, too. I'd like to take his shoe off and fit it +into this footprint," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"What for?" Roy asked.</p> + +<p>"Just to make sure."</p> + +<p>But Tom soon dismissed that thought and the others did not relish it. +Moreover, Tom knew that the law prohibited him from doing such a thing.</p> + +<p>With the mystery, as it seemed, cleared up, there remained nothing to do +but explore the immediate vicinity for the sake of scout thoroughness. +Their search revealed other loose boards, a few cooking utensils and +finally the utter wreck of what must have been a very primitive and tiny +shack. This was perhaps a couple of hundred feet from the body and below +the highest point of the mountain. It was conceivable that a fire here +might have shown in a faint glare down at camp. The blaze could not have +been seen. Amid the ruin of the shack were a few rough cooking utensils. +The soaking land and the darkness effectually concealed the charred +remnants of any fire.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">89</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, he'll never shoot any buffaloes and wild Indians," said Roy.</p> + +<p>Tom replaced the cards and letter, or rather put them in the dead man's +pocket for fear the wind might blow them away, though being under the +lee of the trunk they had been somewhat protected. Then the party +retraced their path down the mountain and, circling its lower reaches, +found themselves at last upon the lake shore.</p> + +<p>Thus ended the work of that fretful night, a night ever memorable at +Temple Camp, a night of death and devastation. The mighty wind which +smote the forest and drove the ruinous waters before it, died in the +moment of its triumph. The sodden, sullen heaven which had cast its +gloom and poured its unceasing rain, rain, rain, upon the camp for two +full weeks, cleared and the edges of the departing clouds were bathed in +the silver moonlight. And the next morning the bright, merry sun arose +and smiled down upon Temple Camp and particularly on Goliath who sat +swinging his legs from the springboard.</p> + +<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_90" id="Page_90">90</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2><h3>THE WANDERING MINSTREL</h3> +</div> + +<p>He was defying, single handed, half a dozen or more scouts who were +flopping about in rowboats under and about the springboard. They had +just rowed across after an inspection of the washed-out cove, and were +resting on their oars, jollying the little fellow whose legs dangled +above them.</p> + +<p>"Where did that big feller go?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"To the village."</p> + +<p>"He found a dead man last night, didn't he?"</p> + +<p>"That's what he did."</p> + +<p>"I know his name, it's Slade."</p> + +<p>"Right the first time. You're a smart fellow."</p> + +<p>"I like that big feller. He says Gilbert Tyson is all right; I asked +him. I bet Gilbert Tyson can beat any of you fellers. He's in my troop, +he is. I bet you were never in a hospital."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">91</a></span></p> + +<p>"I bet you were never in prison," a scout ventured.</p> + +<p>"I bet you never got hanged," Goliath piped up.</p> + +<p>"I bet I did," another scout said.</p> + +<p>"When?"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow afternoon."</p> + +<p>"To-morrow afternoon isn't here yet," Goliath said, triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"Sure it is, <i>this</i> is to-morrow afternoon. Somebody told me yesterday. +If it was to-morrow afternoon yesterday it must be to-day."</p> + +<p>"Posolutely," said Roy Blakeley. "What was true yesterday is true +to-day, because the truth is always the same—only different."</p> + +<p>"Sure," concurred another scout, "to-morrow, to-day will be yesterday. +It's as clear as mud."</p> + +<p>Goliath thought for a few moments and then made a flank attack.</p> + +<p>"Gilbert Tyson is a hero," he said; "he saved the lives of everybody in +that bus—he did."</p> + +<p>"That's where he was wrong," said Roy Blakeley; "a scout is supposed to +be generous. He mustn't be all the time saving."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it good to save lives?" Goliath demanded.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">92</a></span></p> + +<p>"Sure, but not too many. A scout that's all the time saving gets to be +stingy."</p> + +<p>Goliath pondered a moment.</p> + +<p>"Gilly is all right but he's not a first-class scout," said Roy.</p> + +<p>"A first-class scout," said Westy Martin, "is not supposed to turn back. +Gilbert turned back. Then he shouted '<i>stop.</i>' Law three says that a +scout is courteous. He should have said '<i>please</i> stop.' Law ten says +that a scout must face danger, but he turned his back to it. He wasn't +thinking about the danger, all he was thinking about was the bus. All he +was thinking about was being thrifty—saving lives. I've known fellows +like that before. It's just like striking an average; a scout that +strikes an average is a coward."</p> + +<p>"You mean if the average is small?" said Roy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, sure."</p> + +<p>"Because it all depends," Roy continued; "a scout isn't supposed to +fight, is he? But he can strike an attitude. The same as he can hit a +trail. Suppose he hits a poor, little thin trail——"</p> + +<p>"Then he's a coward," said Connie Bennett.</p> + +<p>"Not necessarily," said Westy, "because——"</p> + +<p>"<i>A scout has to be obedient! You can't deny<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">93</a></span> that!</i>" Goliath nearly +fell off the springboard in his excitement. "That other feller is going +to get sent away because I heard a man say so!"</p> + +<p>This was not exactly an answer to the well-reasoned arguments of Roy and +his friends, but it had the effect of making them serious. Moreover, +just at that juncture, Mr. Carroll, scoutmaster of the Hillsburgh troop, +appeared and very gently ordered Goliath from his throne upon the +springboard. The little fellow's mind had been somewhat unsettled by the +skillful reasoning of his new friends. He trotted off in obedience to +Mr. Carroll's injunction that he go in and take off his wet shoes.</p> + +<p>"Boys," said the new scoutmaster, in a pleasant, confidential tone which +won all, "I want to say a word to you about the little brownie we have +with us. You'll find him an odd little duck. I'm hoping to make a scout +of him some time or other. Meanwhile, we have to be careful not to get +him excited. It's a rule of our troop to take with us camping each +summer, some little needy inmate of an orphan home or hospital or some +place of the sort, and give him the benefit of the country air. This +little fellow is our charge<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">94</a></span> this year. You won't talk to him about his +past, because we want him to forget that. We want to take him home well +and strong and I look to you for help. Make friends with him and get him +interested in things about camp. His heart isn't strong; be careful."</p> + +<p>Good scouts that they were, they needed no more than these few words. +Temple Camp usually took new boys as it found them, anyway, concerning +itself with their actions and not with the history of their lives. Half +the scouts in the big summer community didn't know where the other half +came from, and cared less. From every corner of the land they came and +all they knew or cared about each other was limited to their intercourse +at camp.</p> + +<p>"You don't suppose that's true, do you?" one of them asked when Mr. +Carroll had gone.</p> + +<p>"What? About Willetts?"</p> + +<p>"Sure."</p> + +<p>"Dare say. He's about due for the G. B., I guess. But if you want to +cook a fish you've got to catch him first."</p> + +<p>"Where is he, anyway?" one asked. "I thought his foot was so bad."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">95</a></span></p> + +<p>"I saw him limping off this morning, that's all <i>I</i> know," another said.</p> + +<p>"It would take more than a lame ankle to keep <i>him</i> at camp," said Dorry +Benton of Roy's patrol. "Did you see that crazy stick he was using for a +cane?"</p> + +<p>"The wandering minstrel," another scout commented.</p> + +<p>"He stands pat with Slady, all right."</p> + +<p>"Gee, you can't help liking the fellow."</p> + +<p>"I have to laugh at him," Westy said.</p> + +<p>"You can't pal with him, that's one thing," another observed.</p> + +<p>"That's because you can't keep up with him; even Mr. Denny has a sneaky +liking for him."</p> + +<p>"Do you know what one of his troop told me? He told me he always wears +that crazy hat to school when he's home. Some nut!"</p> + +<p>"Reckless, happy-go-lucky, that's what he is."</p> + +<p>"Come on over and let's look on the bulletin board."</p> + +<p>They all strolled, half idly, to the bulletin board which stood outside +the main pavilion. It was a rule of camp that every scout should read +the announcements there each afternoon. Then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">96</a></span> there would be no excuse +for ignorance of important matters pertaining to camp plans. Upon the +board were tacked several announcements, a hike for the morrow, letters +uncalled for, etc. Conspicuous among these was the following:</p> + +<div class='blockquot'> +<p>Hervey Willetts will report <i>immediately</i> to his scoutmaster +at troop's cabin, upon his arrival at camp.</p> +<p style='text-align: right'><span class="smcap">Wm. C. Denny</span>.</p></div> + +<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_97" id="Page_97">97</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2><h3>TOM'S INTEREST AROUSED</h3> +</div> + +<p>On that same day a solemn little procession picked its way carefully +down the trail from the storm-wrecked summit of the mountain. Four of +the county officials bore a stretcher over which was tied a white sheet. +With the party was Tom Slade who had guided the authorities to the +grewsome discovery of the previous night. In this work, and in the +subsequent assistance which he rendered, he was absent from camp +throughout the day. This unpleasant business had not been advertised in +camp.</p> + +<p>Of the tragic end of Aaron Harlowe nothing more was known. Several days +previously he had come to the neighborhood in his gray roadster, a +fugitive, with the stigma of cowardice upon his conscience. He had tried +to compromise with his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">98</a></span> conscience, as it appeared, by enclosing a sum +of money in an envelope and addressing it to the father of the child he +had run down. But his death had prevented the mailing of this. The +telltale finger of accusation was pointed at him from the newspaper +which was in his car.</p> + +<p>His identity was established to the satisfaction of the authorities by +the name upon the license and registration cards found with his body. +Why he had ascended the mountain and remained there several days only to +be crushed to death in the storm, no one could guess. The conclusion of +the authorities was that he was crazed by fear and remorse. This seemed +not improbable, for his weak attempt to make amends with money showed +him to be not altogether bad.</p> + +<p>With the taking of the body by the authorities, Tom's participation in +the tragic business ended. Yet there were one or two things which stuck +in his mind and puzzled him. There had been a light on the mountain +before ever this Harlowe had gone up there. There had been a crude shack +near the summit. The light had disappeared amid the storm. The boys, +watching the storm from the pavilion, had seen the light disappear.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">99</a></span> Did +Harlowe, therefore, climb the mountain to <i>escape</i> man or to <i>seek</i> man? +Harlowe's life went out in that same tempestuous hour when the light +went out. But how came the light there? And where was the originator of +it?</p> + +<p>One rather odd question Tom asked the authorities and got very little +satisfaction from them. "Do you notice any connection between that +article in the newspaper and the letter the dead man got from England?" +he asked.</p> + +<p>"No manner uv connection; leastways none as I kin see," said the +sheriff. "The paper showed what he done; the map showed whar he went; +the license cards showed who he was. And thar ye are, sonny, whole thing +sure's gospel."</p> + +<p>"It's funny about the light," said Tom, respectfully.</p> + +<p>"I ain't botherin' my head 'baout no lights, son. I found Aaron Harlowe +'n that's enough, hain't it?"</p> + +<p>It was in Tom's thoughts to say, "You didn't find him, I found him." But +out of respect for the formidable badge which the sheriff wore on one +strand of his suspenders, he refrained.</p> + +<p>The next morning the newspapers told with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">100</a></span> conspicuous headlines, the +tragic sequel of Aaron Harlowe's escape. "<i>Found on lonely mountain</i>," +they said. "<i>Fugitive motorist killed in storm</i>," one of the write-ups +was headed: "<i>Storm wreaks vengeance on autoist</i>," which was one of the +best headings of the lot. "<i>Sheriff's posse makes grewsome find</i>" was +another. And all told how Aaron Harlowe, fleeing guiltily from his +crime, had met his fate in the storm-tossed wilds of that frowning +mountain. They dwelt on the justice of Providence; they made the storm a +kind of avenging hero. It was pretty good stuff.</p> + +<p>And that, as I said in the beginning, was where the public interest in +Aaron Harlowe ended. The rest of the strange business was connected with +Temple Camp and the scouts, and never got into the papers....</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>It was exactly like Tom Slade that something should interest him in this +tragic episode which did not interest the authorities. He left them, +quite unsatisfied in his own mind, and with some kind of a bee in his +bonnet....</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>TRIUMPH AND——</h3> +</div> + +<p><i>At</i> about the time that Tom was starting back to camp, rather +thoughtful and preoccupied, Hervey Willetts was arriving at camp, not at +all thoughtful or preoccupied.</p> + +<p>His ankle was strained and bruised, and he limped. But his rimless hat +of many holes and button-badges was perched sideways toward the back of +his head and had a new and piquant charm by reason of being faded and +water soaked. Putting not his trust in garters, which had so often, +betrayed him, he had fastened a string to his left stocking by means of +an old liberty loan pin. The upper end of this string was tied to a +stick which he carried over his shoulder, so he had only to exert a +little pressure on the stick in front to adjust his stocking.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">102</a></span></p> + +<p>He had evidently been to see one of his farmer friends, for he was +eating a luscious red tomato, and fate decreed that the last of this +should be ready for consumption just as he was passing within a few +yards of the bulletin board. For a moment a terrible conflict raged +within him. Should he despatch the remainder of the tomato into his +mouth, or at the bulletin board? The small remnant was red and mushy and +dripping—and the bulletin board won.</p> + +<p>Brandishing the squashy missile, he uttered his favorite passwords to +good luck,</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2em;"> +One for courage<br /> +One for spunk<br /> +One to take aim<br /> +And then——<br /> +</p> + +<p>Suddenly he bethought him of an improvement. Sticking the remnant of +tomato on the end of his stick, he swung it carefully.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2em;"> +One for courage<br /> +One for spunk<br /> +One to take aim<br /> +And then—<i>KERPLUNK!</i><br /> +</p> + +<p>Those magic words were intended, especially,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">103</a></span> for use in despatching +tomatoes and they never failed to make good. There, upon the bulletin +board was a vivid area which looked like the midday sun. From it +trickled an oozy mass, down over the list of uncalled for letters, +straight through the prize awards of yesterday, obliterating the +<i>Council Call</i>, and bathing the list of new arrivals in soft and pulpy +red. The "hike for to-morrow," as shown, was through a crimson sea.</p> + +<p>Hervey approached for a closer glimpse of his triumph. No other +incentive would have taken him so close to that prosy bulletin board. He +had vaulted over it but never read it. But now in the moment of supreme +victory he limped forward, like an elated artist, to inspect his work.</p> + +<p>There, in front of him, with a little red river flowing down across the +middle of it, was the ominous sentence.</p> + +<div class='blockquot'> +<p>Hervey Willetts will report <i>immediately</i> to his scoutmaster +at troop's cabin, upon his arrival at camp.</p> +<p style='text-align: right'><span class="smcap">Wm. C. Denny</span>.</p> +</div> + +<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_104" id="Page_104">104</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2><h3>HERVEY SHOWS HIS COLORS</h3> +</div> + +<p>"<i>If</i> I hadn't fired the tomato I wouldn't have known about that," said +Hervey. Which fact, to him, fully justified the juicy bombardment. "That +shows how you never can tell what's going to happen next." And this was +certainly true of Hervey.</p> + +<p>But to do him justice, what was going to happen next never worried him. +He took things as they came. He was not the one to sidestep an issue. +The ominous notice signed by his scoutmaster had the effect of directing +his ambling course to that officer's presence, on which detour, he might +encounter new adventures. To reach his troop's cabin he would have to +pass the cooking shack where a doughnut might be speared with a stick. +All was for the best. He would as lief go to troop cabin as anywhere +else....<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">105</a></span></p> + +<p>In this blithe and carefree spirit, he approached the rustic domicile +which he seldom honored by his presence, singing one of those snatches +of a song which were the delight of camp, and which rounded out his rôle +of wandering minstrel:</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2em;"> +Oh, there is no place like the old camp-fire,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As all the boy scouts know;</span><br /> +And the best little place is home, sweet home—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When there isn't any other place to go, go, go.</span><br /> +When there isn't any other place to go.<br /> +</p> + +<p>Mr. Denny, standing in the doorway of the cabin, contemplated him with a +repressed smile. "Hervey," he could not help saying, "since you think so +well of the camp-fire, I wonder you don't choose to see more of it."</p> + +<p>"I can see it from all the way across the lake," said Hervey. "I can see +it no matter where I go."</p> + +<p>"I see. It must arouse fond thoughts. I'm afraid, Hervey, to quote your +own song, there isn't any other place for you to go but home, sweet +home. You seem to have exhausted all the places. Sit down, Hervey, you +and I have got to have a little talk."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">106</a></span></p> + +<p>Hervey leaned against the cabin, Mr. Denny sat upon the door sill. None +of the troop was about; it was very quiet. For half a minute or so Mr. +Denny did not speak, only whittled a stick.</p> + +<p>"I sometimes wonder why you joined the scouts, Hervey," he said. "Your +disposition——"</p> + +<p>"A fellow that sat next to me in school dared me to," said Hervey.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it was a sort of a wager?"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't take a dare from anybody."</p> + +<p>"And so you joined as a stunt?"</p> + +<p>"I heard that scouts jumped off cliffs and all like that."</p> + +<p>"I see. Well, now, Hervey, I've written to your father that I'm sending +you home."</p> + +<p>Hervey began making rings in the soil with his stick but said nothing. +Mr. Denny's last words were perhaps a little more than he expected, but +he gave no other hint of his feelings.</p> + +<p>And so for another minute or so there was silence, except for the +distant voices of some scouts out upon the lake.</p> + +<p>"It is not exactly as a punishment, Hervey; it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">107</a></span> is just that I can't +take the responsibility, that's all. You see?"</p> + +<p>"Y—— yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"I thought you would. Your father thought the influence of camp would be +good, but you see you are seldom at camp. We can't help you because we +can't find you."</p> + +<p>"You can't cook a fish till you catch it," said Hervey.</p> + +<p>"That's just it, Hervey."</p> + +<p>"If you don't want to leave any tracks the best thing is to swing into +trees every now and then," Hervey informed him.</p> + +<p>"Ah, I see. Now, Hervey, my boy, I'm anxious that you and I should +understand each other. You have done nothing disgraceful and I don't +think you ever will——"</p> + +<p>"I landed plunk on my head once."</p> + +<p>"Well, that was more of a misfortune than a disgrace."</p> + +<p>"It hurt like the dickens."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it did."</p> + +<p>Mr. Denny paused; he was up against the hardest job he had ever tackled. +It was harder than he had thought it would be.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">108</a></span></p> + +<p>"You see, Hervey, how it is. Last week you stayed away over night at +some farm. I had told you you must not leave camp without my knowledge. +For that I had you stay here all day, making a birchbark basket. I +thought that was a good punishment."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell the world it was," said Hervey.</p> + +<p>Mr. Denny paused before proceeding.</p> + +<p>"Did it do any good? Not a bit."</p> + +<p>"The basket was a punk one," said Hervey.</p> + +<p>"Again you rode down as far as Barretstown, hitching onto a freight +train."</p> + +<p>"I'd have got all the way down to Jonesville, if it hadn't been for the +conductor. He was some old grouch, believe <i>me</i>."</p> + +<p>"Then we had a little talk—you remember. You promised to be here at +meal times. Look at Mr. Ellsworth's troop, Harris, Blakeley and those +boys. Always on hand for meals——"</p> + +<p>"I'll say so; they're some hungry bunch," Hervey commented.</p> + +<p>"And you gave me your word that you wouldn't leave camp without my +permission. <i>You think as little about breaking your word as you do +about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">109</a></span> breaking your leg, Hervey,</i>" Mr. Denny added with sober emphasis.</p> + +<p>Hervey began poking the ground again with his stick.</p> + +<p>"That's just the truth, Hervey. And it can't go on any longer."</p> + +<p>"Am I out of the troop?" Hervey asked, wistfully.</p> + +<p>"N—no, you're not. But I want you to learn to be as good a scout in one +way as you are in another. You have won merit badges with an ease which +is surprising to me——"</p> + +<p>"They're a cinch," Hervey interrupted.</p> + +<p>"I want you to go home and stop doing stunts and read the handbook. I +want you to read the oath and the scout laws, so that when the rest of +us come home you can give me your hand and say, 'I'm an all round scout, +not just a doer of stunts.'"</p> + +<p>"H—how soon are—the rest of you coming back?" Hervey asked with just +the faintest suggestion of a break in his voice.</p> + +<p>"Why, you know we're here for six weeks, Hervey. Don't you know anything +about your troop's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">110</a></span> affairs? You know how much money we have in our +treasury, don't you?"</p> + +<p>Hervey did not miss the reproach. He said nothing, only kept tracing the +circle with his stick. Finally it occurred to him to mark two eyes, a +nose and a mouth in the circle. Mr. Denny sat studying him. I think Mr. +Denny was on the point of weakening. Hervey seemed sober and +preoccupied. But the face on the ground seemed to wink at Mr. Denny as +if to intercede in its young creator's behalf.</p> + +<p>Mr. Denny gathered his strength as one does on the point of taking an +unpalatable medicine.</p> + +<p>"Yesterday, Hervey, I expressly reminded you of your promise not to +leave camp. I did that because I thought the storm might tempt you +forth."</p> + +<p>"They call me——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know; they call you the stormy petrel. You went across the lake +with others. They returned but you did not return with them. Where you +went I don't know. And I'm not going to ask you, Hervey, for it makes no +difference. I understand young Mr. Slade was there, but <i>that</i> makes no +difference. Blakeley and one of his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">111</a></span> troop, Westy Martin, reached camp +and reported conditions in the cove——"</p> + +<p>"He's all right, Blakeley is——"</p> + +<p>"Hours passed, no one knew where you were. I was too proud, or too +ashamed, to go and ask Slade if he knew. I am jealous of our troop's +reputation, Hervey—even if you are not——"</p> + +<p>Hervey leaned against the cabin, looking abstractedly at his handiwork +on the ground.</p> + +<p>"There was great confusion and excitement here," Mr. Denny continued. +"The whole camp turned out to save the lake, to stem the flood. But you +were not here. Your companions in our troop worked till they were dog +tired. But where were you? Helping? <i>No</i>, you were off on some vagabond +journey—disobedient, insubordinate."</p> + +<p>Mr. Denny spoke with resolute firmness now and his voice rang as he +uttered his scathing accusations.</p> + +<p>"You were a traitor not only to your troop, but to the camp—the camp +which held out the hand of good fellowship to you when you came here. A +<i>slacker</i>——"</p> + +<p>Hervey broke his stick in half and threw it on the ground. His breast +heaved. He looked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">112</a></span> down. He said nothing. Mr. Denny studied him +curiously for a few seconds.</p> + +<p>"That is the truth, Hervey. One wrong always produces another. You were +disobedient and insubordinate, and that led to—what?"</p> + +<p>Hervey gulped, but whether in shame or remorse or what, Mr. Denny could +not make out, He was to know presently.</p> + +<p>"It led to shirking, whether intentional or not. And to-night, because +there is no train, you are going to sleep in the camp which you +deserted. You will, perhaps, row on the lake which others have saved for +you. You see it now in its true light, don't you? You had better go and +thank Blakeley and his comrade for what they did, if you have any real +feeling for the camp."</p> + +<p>"I——"</p> + +<p>"Don't speak. Nothing you could say would make a difference, Hervey. I +know from Mr. Carroll and his boys where you showed up. I know they +found you clinging to one of the stage horses. I was there later and saw +you. You might have been plunged into that chasm with all the rest of +them and been crushed to pieces, if one of those scouts hadn't gone +ahead, as he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">113</a></span> was <i>told</i> to do, and if he hadn't kept his mind on what +he had been <i>told</i> to do, instead of disregarding his scoutmaster +and——"</p> + +<p>He paused, for Hervey was shaking perceptibly. He watched the boy +curiously. Should he go on with this thing and see it through? He +summoned his resolution.</p> + +<p>"No, Hervey, as I said, I have written to your father. I have said +nothing against you, only that you are too much for me here, where my +responsibility is great. I want you to get your things together and take +the train in the morning. We'll expect to see you when we come home. +There is no hard feeling, Hervey. When we come home you're going to +start all over again, my boy, and learn the thing right. You——"</p> + +<p>With a kind of spasmodic effort Hervey raised his head and, with a pride +there was no mistaking, looked his scoutmaster straight in the face. He +was trembling visibly. If there was any contrition in his countenance, +Mr. Denny did not see it. He was quite taken aback with the fine show of +spirit which his young delinquent showed. There was even a dignity in +the old cap with its holes and badges, as it sat perched on the side of +his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">114</a></span> head. There was a touch of pathos, even of dignity too, in his +fallen stocking.</p> + +<p>"I—I—wouldn't stay here—now—I wouldn't—I—not even if you <i>asked</i> +me—I wouldn't. I wouldn't even if you—if you got down on your knees +and begged me——"</p> + +<p>"Hervey, my boy——"</p> + +<p>"No, I won't listen. I—I wouldn't stay even <i>to-night</i>—I wouldn't. Do +you think I need a train? I—I can hike to Jonesville, can't I? You say +I'm—I'm no scout—Tom Slade he said——"</p> + +<p>"Hervey——"</p> + +<p>"I don't—anyhow—I don't care anything about the rest of them. I +wouldn't stay even for supper. Even if you—if you apologized—I +wouldn't——"</p> + +<p>"Apologize? Why, Hervey——"</p> + +<p>"For what you said—called me—I wouldn't. I don't give a—a—damn—I +don't—for all the people here—only except one—and I wouldn't stay if +you got down on your knees and begged me—I wouldn't——"</p> + +<p>Mr. Denny contemplated him with consternation in every feature. There +was no stopping him. The accused had become the accuser.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">115</a></span> There was +something stirring, something righteous, in this fine abandon. In the +setting of the outburst of hurt pride even the profane word seemed to +justify itself. The tables were completely turned and Hervey Willetts +was master of the situation.</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_116" id="Page_116">116</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2><h3>TOM ADVISES GOLIATH</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was late afternoon when Tom Slade, tramping home after his day spent +with the minions of the law, crossed the main road and hit into the +woods trail which afforded a short cut to camp.</p> + +<p>It was the laziest hour of the day, the gap between mid afternoon +and supper time. It was a tranquil time, a time of lolling under trees +and playing the wild game of mumbly-peg, and of jollying tenderfoots, +and waiting for supper. Roy Blakeley always said that the next best thing +to supper was waiting for it. The lake always looked black in that +pre-twilight time when the sun was beyond though not below the summit of +the mountain. It was the time of new arrivals. In that mountain-surrounded +retreat they have two twilights—a tenderfoot twilight and a first<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">117</a></span> class +twilight. It was the time when scouts, singly and in groups, came in from +tracking, stalking and what not, and sprawled about and got acquainted.</p> + +<p>But there was one who did not come in on that peaceful afternoon, and +that was the wandering minstrel. If Tom Slade had crossed the main road +ten minutes sooner, he might have seen that blithe singer going along +the road, but not with a song on his lips. The sun of that carefree +nature was under a cloud. But his loyal stocking kept descending, and +his suit-case dangled from a stick over his shoulder. His trick hat +perched jauntily upon his head, Hervey Willetts was himself again. Not +quite, but <i>almost</i>. At all events he did not ponder on the injustice of +the world and the cruelty of fate. He was wondering whether he could +make Jonesville in time for the night train or whether he had better try +for the boat at Catskill Landing. The boat had this advantage, that he +could shinny up the flagpole if the pilot did not see him. The train +offered nothing but the railing on the platforms ...</p> + +<p>If Tom had been ten minutes earlier!</p> + +<p>The young camp assistant left the trail and hit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">118</a></span> down through the grove +and around the main pavilion. The descending sun shone right in his face +as he neared the lake. It made his brown skin seem almost like that of a +mulatto. His sleeves were rolled up as they always were, showing brown +muscular arms, with a leather wristlet (but no watch) on one. His pongee +shirt was open almost down to his waist. His faded khaki trousers were +held up by a heavy whip lash drawn tight around his waist.</p> + +<p>Not a single appurtenance of the scout was upon him. He was rather tall, +and you who have known him as a hulking youngster with bull shoulders +will be interested to know that he had grown somewhat slender and +exceedingly lithe. He had that long stride and silent footfall which the +woods life develops. He was still tow-headed, though he fixed his hair +on occasions, which is saying something. You would have been amused at +his air of quiet assurance. Perhaps he had not humor in the same sense +that Roy Blakeley had, but he had an easy, bantering way which was +captivating to the scouts.</p> + +<p>Dirty little hoodlum that he once was, he was now the most picturesque, +romantic figure in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">119</a></span> camp. In Tom Slade, beloved old Uncle Jeb, camp +manager, seemed to have renewed his own youth. Scouts worshipped at the +shrine of this young confidant of the woods, trustees consulted him, +scoutmasters respected him.</p> + +<p>As he emerged around the corner of the storage cabin, several scouts who +had taken their station within inhaling distance of the cooking shack +fell in with him and trotted along beside him.</p> + +<p>"H'lo, Slady, can we go with you?"</p> + +<p>"I'm going to wash my hands," said Tom, giving one of them a shove.</p> + +<p>"Good night! I don't want to go."</p> + +<p>"I thought you wouldn't."</p> + +<p>In Tent Avenue the news of his passing got about and presently a +menagerie of tenderfoots were dogging his heels.</p> + +<p>"Where you been, Slady? Can I go? Take me? Take us on the lake, Slady?"</p> + +<p>As he passed the two-patrol cabins Goliath slid down from the woodpile +and challenged him. "Hey, big feller, I got a souvenir. Want to see it? I +know who you are; you're boss, ain't you?"</p> + +<p>"H'lo, old top," said Tom, tousling his hair<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">120</a></span> for him. "Well, how do you +think you like Temple Camp?"</p> + +<p>Goliath had hard work to keep up with him, but he managed it.</p> + +<p>"I had two pieces of pie," he said.</p> + +<p>"Good for you."</p> + +<p>"Maybe I'll get to be a regular scout, hey?"</p> + +<p>"Not till you can eat six pieces."</p> + +<p>"Were you ever in a hospital?"</p> + +<p>"Yop, over in France."</p> + +<p>"I bet you licked the Germans, didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I had a couple of fellows helping me."</p> + +<p>"A fellow in my troop is a hero; he's going to get a badge, maybe. A lot +of fellers said so."</p> + +<p>"That's the way to do," said Tom.</p> + +<p>"His name is Tyson, that's what his name is. Do you know him?"</p> + +<p>"You bet."</p> + +<p>"He saved all the fellers in that wagon from getting killed because he +shouted for the wagon to stop. So he's a hero, ain't he?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know about that," said Tom cheerily; "medals aren't so +easy to get."</p> + +<p>"There was a crazy feller near that wagon. I bet you were never crazy, +were you?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">121</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not so very."</p> + +<p>"Will you help him to get the medal—Tyson?"</p> + +<p>"Well, now, you let me tell you something," said Tom; "don't you pay so +much attention to these fellows around camp. The main thing for you to +do is to eat pie and stew and things. A lot of these fellows think it's +easy to get medals. And they think it's fun to jolly little fellows like +you. Don't you think about medals; you think about dinner."</p> + +<p>"But after I get through thinking about dinner——"</p> + +<p>"Then think about supper. You can't eat medals."</p> + +<p>Goliath seemed to ponder on this undesirable truth. He soon fell behind +and presently deserted Tom to edify a group of scouts near the boat +landing.</p> + +<p>Of course, Tom did not take seriously what Goliath had said about +awards. He knew Tyson and he knew that Tyson would be the last one in +the world to pose as a hero. But he also knew something of the +disappointments which innocent banter and jollying had caused in camp. +He knew that the wholesome spirit of fun in Roy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">122</a></span> Blakeley and others had +sometimes overreached itself, causing chagrin. There was probably +nothing to this business at all but, for precaution's sake, he would nip +it in the bud.</p> + +<p>One incidental result of his little chat with Goliath was that he was +reminded of Hervey's exploit, a matter which he had entirely forgotten +in his more pressing preoccupations. Tom was no hero maker and he knew +that Hervey would only trip on the hero's mantle if he wore it. As time +had gone on in camp, Tom had found himself less and less interested in +the pomp and ceremony and theatrical clap-trap of awards. Bravery was in +the natural course of things. Why make a fuss about it?</p> + +<p>For that very reason, he was not going to have any heads turned with +rapturous dreams of gold and silver awards. He was not going to have any +new scouts' visit blighted by vain hopes. He did not care greatly about +awards, but he cared a good deal about the scouts ...</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_123" id="Page_123">123</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2><h3>WORDS</h3> +</div> + +<p>After he had prepared for supper he went up the hill to the cabin +occupied by Mr. Carroll's troop. It was pleasantly located on a knoll +and somewhat removed from the main body of camp. Mr. Carroll was himself +about to start down for supper.</p> + +<p>"H'lo, Mr. Carroll," said Tom; "alone in your glory?"</p> + +<p>"The boys have gone down," said Mr. Carroll. "They'll be sorry to have +missed a visit from Tom Slade."</p> + +<p>"Comfortable?" Tom asked.</p> + +<p>"Couldn't be more so, thank you. We can almost see home from up here, +though the boys prefer not to look in that direction."</p> + +<p>Tom glanced about. "Sometimes new troops are kind of backward to ask for +things," he said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">124</a></span> "We're not mind readers, you know. So sing out if +there's anything you want."</p> + +<p>"Thank you."</p> + +<p>"Kid comfortable?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he's giving his attention to pie and awards."</p> + +<p>"Hm," said Tom, seating himself on a stump. "Pie's all right, but you +want to have these fellows go easy on awards. The boys here in camp are +a bunch of jolliers. Of course, you know the handbook——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes."</p> + +<p>"And you know Tyson doesn't stand to win any medal for anything he did +last night. Strictly speaking, he saved your lives, I suppose, but it +isn't exactly a case for an award."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mercy, no."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you see it that way, Mr. Carroll. Because sometimes scouts get +to enjoying themselves so much here, that they forget what's in the +handbook. These things go by rules, you know. I like Gilbert and I +wouldn't want him to get any crazy notions from what these old timers +say. There's some talk among the boys——"</p> + +<p>"I think the little fellow's responsible for that,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">125</a></span> Mr. Carroll +laughed. "Gilbert is level-headed and sensible."</p> + +<p>"You bet," said Tom. "Well, then, it's all right, and there won't be any +broken hearts. I've seen more broken hearts here at camp than broken +heads ... You're a new troop, aren't you?" he queried.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, we haven't got our eyes open yet."</p> + +<p>"Goliath seems to have his mouth open for business."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Mr. Carroll laughed. "Shall we stroll down to supper?"</p> + +<p>"I've got one more call to make if you'll excuse me," said Tom.</p> + +<p>"Come up again, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I make inspection every day. You'll be sick of the sight of +me."</p> + +<p>He was off again, striding down the little hill. He passed among the +tents, around Visitors' Bungalow, and toward the cabins in Good Turn +Grove. Somewhat removed from these (a couple of good turns from them, as +Roy Blakeley said) was the cabin of Mr. Denny's troop.</p> + +<p>The boys were getting ready to go down and they greeted Tom cheerily.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">126</a></span></p> + +<p>"Where's Hervey?" he asked.</p> + +<p>He had not seen Hervey since late the previous night, just after +returning from the mountain. Hervey was then so exhausted as hardly to +know him. The young assistant fancied a sort of constraint among the +boys and he thought that maybe Hervey's condition had taken an alarming +turn.</p> + +<p>"Ask Mr. D.," said one of the scouts.</p> + +<p>"H'lo, Mr. Denny," said Tom, stepping into one of the cabins. No one was +there but the scoutmaster. "Where's our wandering boy to-night?"</p> + +<p>"He has been dismissed from camp, I'm sorry to say," said Mr. Denny. +"Sit down, won't you?"</p> + +<p>Tom could hardly speak for astonishment.</p> + +<p>"You mean the camp—down at the office——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, I sent him home. It was just between him and myself."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see," said Tom, a trifle relieved, apparently. "It wasn't on +account of his hurt?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, he's all right. He just disobeyed me, that's all. That sort of +thing couldn't go on, you know. It was getting worse."</p> + +<p>Mr. Denny had now had a chance to review<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">127</a></span> his conduct and he found it in +all ways justified. He was glad that he had not weakened. Moreover, +there was fresh evidence.</p> + +<p>"Only just now," he said, "one of the scoutmasters came to me with a +notice from the bulletin board utterly ruined by a tomato which Hervey +threw. He was greatly annoyed."</p> + +<p>"Sure," said Tom.</p> + +<p>"I don't exactly blame you, Slade——"</p> + +<p>"Me?"</p> + +<p>"But you took Hervey with you across the lake. He had promised me not to +leave camp. Where he went, I don't know——"</p> + +<p>"You <i>don't</i>?"</p> + +<p>"No, and I don't care. He was picked up by the people in the bus, and if +it hadn't been for that I suppose I'd be answerable to his parents for +his death. He was very insolent to me."</p> + +<p>"He didn't say——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, he didn't say anything. He assumed an air of boyish +independence; I don't know that I hold that against him."</p> + +<p>"But he didn't tell you where he had been—or anything?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no. I had no desire to hear that. His<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">128</a></span> fault was in <i>starting</i>. It +made no difference where he went."</p> + +<p>"Oh."</p> + +<p>For a few seconds Tom said nothing, only drummed with his fingers on the +edge of the cot on which he sat.</p> + +<p>"This is a big surprise to me," he finally said.</p> + +<p>"It is a very regrettable circumstance to me," said Mr. Denny.</p> + +<p>There ensued a few seconds more of silence. The boys outside could be +heard starting for supper.</p> + +<p>Tom was the first to speak. "Of course you won't think I'm trying to +butt in, Mr. Denny, but there's a rule that the camp can call on all its +people in an emergency. The first year the camp opened we had a bad fire +here and every kid in the place was set to work. After that they made a +rule. Sometimes things have to be done in a hurry. I took Hervey and a +couple of others across the lake, because I knew something serious had +happened over there. I think I had a right to do that. But there's +something else. Hervey didn't tell you everything. You said you didn't +want him to."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">129</a></span></p> + +<p>"He has never told me everything. I had always been in the dark +concerning him. This tomato throwing makes me rather ashamed, too."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Tom, "that's bad. But will you listen to me if I tell you +the whole of that story—the whole business? I've been away from camp +all day. I only got here fifteen minutes ago. I know Hervey's a queer +kid—hard to understand. I don't know why he didn't speak out——"</p> + +<p>"Why, it was because I told him it wouldn't make any difference," said +Mr. Denny, a bit nettled. "The important point was known to me and that +was that he disobeyed me. I don't think we can gain anything by talking +this over, Slade."</p> + +<p>"Then you won't listen to me, Mr. Denny?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think it would be any use."</p> + +<p>Tom paused a moment. He was just a bit nettled, too. Then he stood. And +then, just in that brief interval, his lips tightened and his mouth +looked just as it used to look in the old hoodlum days—rugged, strong. +The one saving, hopeful feature which Mr. Ellsworth, his old +scoutmaster, had banked upon then in that sooty, unkempt countenance. +They were the lips of a bulldog:</p> + +<p>"All right, Mr. Denny," he said respectfully.</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_130" id="Page_130">130</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2><h3>ACTION</h3> +</div> + +<p>Tom strode down to the messboards which, in pleasant weather, were out +under the trees. He seemed not at all angry; there was a kind of breezy +assurance in his stride and manner. As he reached the messboards where +some of the scouts were already seated on the long benches, several +noticed this buoyancy in his demeanor.</p> + +<p>"H'lo, kiddo," he said to Pee-wee Harris as he passed and ruffled that +young gourmand's hair.</p> + +<p>Reaching Mr. Carroll, he asked in a cheery undertone, "May I use one of +your scouts for a little while?"</p> + +<p>"I'll have the whole troop wrapped up and delivered to you," said Mr. +Carroll.</p> + +<p>"Thanks."</p> + +<p>Reaching Gilbert Tyson, he laid his hand on Gilbert's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">131</a></span> shoulder and +whispered to him in a pleasant, offhand way, "Get through and come in +the office, I want to speak to you."</p> + +<p>In the office, Tom seated himself at one of the resident trustees' +desks, spilled the contents of a pigeon hole in hauling out a sheet of +the camp stationery, shook his fountain pen with a blithe air of crisp +decision and wrote:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>To Hervey Willetts, Scout:—</p> + +<p>You are hereby <i>required</i> to present yourself before the resident +Court of Honor at Temple Camp, which sits in the main pavilion on +Saturday, August the second, at ten A. M., and which will at that +time hear testimony and decide on your fitness for the Scout Gold +Cross award for supreme heroism.</p> + +<p>By order of the<br /><span class="smcap">Resident Council</span>.</p></div> + +<p>Pushing back his chair, he strode over to Council Shack, adjoining.</p> + +<p>"Put your sig on that, Mr. Collins," said he.</p> + +<p>He reëntered the office just as Gilbert Tyson, wearing a look of +astonishment and inquiry, and finishing a slice of bread and butter, +entered by the other door.</p> + +<p>"Tyson," said Tom, as he put the missive in an envelope, "I understand +you're a hero, woke up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">132</a></span> and found yourself famous and all that kind of +stuff. Can you sprint? Good. I'm going to give you the chance of your +life, and no war tax. Hervey Willetts started for home about three +quarters of an hour ago. Never mind why. Deliver this letter to him."</p> + +<p>"Where is he?" Gilbert asked.</p> + +<p>"I haven't the slightest idea."</p> + +<p>"Started for the train, you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Now, Tyson, I don't know any more about it than just that—he started +for home. To-day's Thursday. He must be here Saturday. Now don't waste +time. Here's the letter. Now <i>get out</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Just one second," said Gilbert. "How do you <i>know</i> he started for +home?"</p> + +<p>"How do I know it?" Tom shot back, impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Do you think a fellow like Willetts would go home? I'll deliver the +letter wherever he is. But he isn't on his way home. I know him."</p> + +<p>"Tyson," said Tom, "you're a crackerjack scout. Now get out of here +before I throw you out."</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_133" id="Page_133">133</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2><h3>THE MONSTER</h3> +</div> + +<p>It is better to know your man than to know his tracks. Gilbert Tyson had +somehow come to understand Hervey in that one day since his arrival at +camp, and he had no intention of exhausting his breath in a futile chase +along the road. There, indeed, was a scout for you. He was on the job +before he had started.</p> + +<p>The road ran behind the camp, the camp lying between the road and the +lake. To go to Catskill Landing one must go by this road. Also to make a +short cut to Jonesville (where the night express stopped) one must go +for the first mile or so along this road. The road was a state road and +of macadam, and did not show footprints.</p> + +<p>Tyson did not know a great deal about tracking, but he knew something of +human nature, he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">134</a></span> heard something of Hervey, and he eliminated the +road. He believed that he would not overtake Hervey there.</p> + +<p>Across the road, at intervals, several trails led up into the thicker +woods. One led to the Morton farm, another to Witches' Pond.</p> + +<p>Tyson, being new at camp, did not know the direction of these trails, +but he knew that all trails go somewhere. He had heard, during the day, +that Hervey was on cordial terms with every farmer, squatter, tollgate +keeper, bridge tender, hobo, and traveling show for miles around.</p> + +<p>So he examined these trails carefully at their beginnings beside the +road. Only one of them interested him. Upon this, about ten feet in from +the road, was a rectangular area impressed in the earth which, in the +woods, was still damp after the storm. With his flashlight Gilbert +examined this. He thought a box might have stood there. Then he noticed +two ruffled places in the earth, each on one of the long sides of the +rectangle. He knew then what it meant; a suit-case had stood there.</p> + +<p>If he had known more about the circumstance of Hervey's leaving, he +might have been touched<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">135</a></span> by the picture of the wandering minstrel +pausing to rest upon his burden, there at the edge of the woods.</p> + +<p>So this was the trail. Elated, Gilbert hurried on, pausing occasionally +to verify his conviction by a footprint in the caked earth. The +consistency of the earth was ideal for footprints. Yes, some one had +passed here not more than an hour before. Here and there was an +occasional hole in the earth where a stick might have been pressed in, +showing that the stormy petrel had sometimes used his stick as a cane.</p> + +<p>For half an hour Gilbert followed this trail with a feeling of elation, +of triumph. Soon he must overtake the wanderer. After a little, the +trail became indistinct where it passed through a low, marshy area. The +drenching of the woods by the late storm was apparent still in the low +places.</p> + +<p>Gilbert trudged through this spongy support, all but losing his balance +occasionally. Soon he saw something black ahead of him. This was +Witches' Pond, though he did not know it by that name.</p> + +<p>As he approached, the ground became more and more spongy and uncertain. +It was apparent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">136</a></span> that the pond had usurped much of the surrounding marsh +in the recent rainy spell.</p> + +<p>Gilbert had to proceed with caution. Once his leg sank to the knee in +the oozy undergrowth. He was just considering whether he had not better +abandon a trail which was indeed no longer a trail at all, and pick his +way around the pond, when he noticed something a little distance ahead +of him which caused him to pause and strain his eyes to see it better in +the gathering dusk. As he looked a cold shudder went through him. What +he saw was, perhaps, fifty feet off. A log was there, one end of which +was in the ground, the other end projecting at an angle. Its position +suggested the pictures of torpedoed liners going down, and there passed +through Gilbert's agitated mind, all in a flash, a vision of the great +<i>Lusitania</i> sinking—slowly sinking.</p> + +<p>For this great log was going down. Slowly, very slowly; but it was going +down. Or else Gilbert's eyes and the deepening shadows were playing a +strange trick....</p> + +<p>He dragged his own foot out of the treacherous ground and looked about +for safer support.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">137</a></span> There was a suction as he dragged his foot up which +sent his heart to his mouth. "<i>Quicksand</i>," he muttered, shudderingly.</p> + +<p>Was it too late? He backed cautiously out of the jaws of this horrible +monster of treachery and awful death, feeling his way with each +tentative, cautious step. He stood ankle deep, breathing more easily. He +was back at the edge of that oozy, clinging, all devouring trap. He +breathed easier.</p> + +<p>He looked at the log. It was going down. It stood almost upright now, +and offering no resistance with its bulk, was sinking rapidly. In a +minute it looked like a stump. It shortened. Gilbert stood motionless +and watched it, fascinated. Instinctively he retreated a few feet, to +still more solid support. He was standing in ordinary mud now.</p> + +<p>Down, down....</p> + +<p>A long legged bird came swooping through the dusk across the pond, lit +upon the sinking trunk, and then was off again.</p> + +<p>"Lucky it has wings," Gilbert said. There was no other way to safety.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">138</a></span></p> + +<p>Down, down, down—it was just a hubble. The oozy mass sucked it in, +closed over it. It was gone.</p> + +<p>There was nothing but the dusk and the pond, and the discordant croaking +of frogs.</p> + +<p>Then, close to where the log had been, Gilbert saw something else. It +was a little dab of yellow. It grew smaller; disappeared. There was +nothing to be seen now but a little spot of gray; probably some swamp +growth ...</p> + +<p>No....</p> + +<p>Just then Gilbert saw upon it a tiny speck which sparkled. There were +other specks. He strained his eyes to pierce the growing darkness. He +was doubtful, then certain, then doubtful. He advanced, ever so +cautiously, a step or two, to see it better.</p> + +<p>Yes. It was.</p> + +<p>Utterly sick at heart he turned his head away. There before him, still +defying by its lightness of weight, the hungry jaws of the heartless, +terrible, devouring monster that eats its prey alive, stood the little +rimless, perforated and decorated cap of Hervey Willetts. Joyous and +buoyant it seemed, defying its inevitable fate with the blithe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">139</a></span> spirit +of its late owner. It floated still, after the log and the suit-case had +gone down.</p> + +<p>And that was all that was left of the wandering minstrel.</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_140" id="Page_140">140</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2><h3>GILBERT'S DISCOVERY</h3> +</div> + +<p>Gilbert Tyson was a scout and he could face the worst. He soon got +control of himself and began considering what he had better do.</p> + +<p>He could not advance one more step without danger. Yet he could not +think of going back to camp, with nothing but the report of something he +had seen from a distance. He had done nothing. Yet what could he do?</p> + +<p>He was at a loss to know how Hervey could have advanced so far into that +treacherous mire.</p> + +<p>He must have picked his way here and there, knee deep, waist deep, like +the reckless youngster he was, until he plunged all unaware into the +fatal spot. The very thought of it made Gilbert shudder. Had he called +for help? Gilbert wondered. How dreadful it must have been to call for +help in those minutes of sinking, and to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">141</a></span> hear nothing but some mocking +echo. What had the victim thought of, while going down—down?</p> + +<p>Good scout that he was, Gilbert would not go back to camp without +rescuing that one remaining proof of Hervey's tragic end. At least he +would take back all that there was to take back.</p> + +<p>He pulled out of his pocket a fishline wound on a stick. At the end of +the line where a hook was, he fastened several more hooks an inch or two +apart. The sinker was not heavy enough for his purpose so he fastened a +stone to the end of the line.</p> + +<p>As he made these preparations, the rather grewsome thought occurred to +him of what he should do and how he would feel if Hervey's head were +visible when he pulled the cap away. It caused him to hesitate, just for +a few seconds, to make an effort to recover it. Suppose that hat were +still on the smothered victim's head....</p> + +<p>With his first throw, the stone landed short of the mark and he dragged +back a mass of dripping marsh growth, caught by the fish-hooks. His +second attempt landed the stone a yard or so beyond the hat and the +treacherous character of the ground there was shown by the almost +instant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">142</a></span> submergence of the missile. It was with difficulty that Gilbert +dragged it out, and with every pull he feared the cord would snap. But +as he pulled, the hat came also. The line was directly across it and the +hooks caught it nicely. There was no vestige of any solid object where +the cap had been. Gilbert wondered how deep the log had sunk, and the +suit-case and—the other....</p> + +<p>He shook the clinging mud and marsh growth from the hat and looked at +it. He had seen Hervey only twice; once lying unconscious in the bus, +and once that very day, when the young wanderer had started off to visit +his friend, the farmer. But this cap very vividly and very pathetically +suggested its owner. The holes in it were of every shape and size. The +buttons besought the beholder to vote for suffrage, to buy liberty +bonds, to join the Red Cross, to eat at Jim's Lunch Room, to use only +Tylers' fresh cocoanut bars, to give a thought to Ireland. There was a +Camp-fire Girls' badge, a Harding pin, a Cox pin, a Debs pin ... Hervey +had been non-partisan with a vengeance.</p> + +<p>With this cap, the one touching memento of the winner of the Gold Cross, +Gilbert started<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">143</a></span> sorrowfully back to camp. The dreadful manner of +Hervey's death agitated him and weakened his nerve as the discovery of a +body would not have done. There was no provision in the handbook for +this kind of a discovery; no face to cover gently with his scout scarf, +no arms to lay in seemly posture. One who <i>had been</i>, was <i>not</i>. His +death and burial were one. Gilbert could not fit this horrible thought +to his mind. It was out of all human experience. He could not rid +himself of the ghastly thought of how far down those—those +<i>things</i>—had gone.</p> + +<p>Slowly he retraced his steps along the trail—thinking. He had read of +hats being found floating in lakes, indubitable evidence of drowning, +and he had known the owners of these hats to show up at the ends of the +stories. But <i>this</i>....</p> + +<p>He thought of the alighting of that bird upon the sinking end of the +log. How free and independent that bird! How easy its escape. How +impossible the escape of any mortal. To carelessly pause upon a log that +was going down in quicksand and then to fly away. There was blitheness +in the face of danger for you!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">144</a></span></p> + +<p>Gilbert took his way along the trail, sick at heart. How could he tell +Tom Slade of this frightful thing? It was his first day at camp and it +would cast a shadow on his whole vacation. Soon he espied a light +shining in the distance. That was a camp, no doubt. By leaving the trail +and following the light, he could shorten his journey. He was not so +sure that he wanted to shorten his journey, but he was ashamed of this +hesitancy to face things, so he abandoned the trail and took the light +for his guide.</p> + +<p>Soon there appeared another light near the first one, and then he knew +that he was saving distance and heading straight for camp. He had +supposed that the trail went pretty straight from the vicinity of camp +to that dismal pond in the woods. But you can never see the whole of a +trail at once and it must have formed a somewhat rambling course.</p> + +<p>Anyway there were the lights of camp off to the west of the path, and +Gilbert Tyson hurried thither.</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_145" id="Page_145">145</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2><h3>A VOICE IN THE DARK</h3> +</div> + +<p>Gilbert soon discovered his mistake. When a trail has brought you to a +spot it is best to trust that trail to take you back again. Beacons, +artificial beacons, are fickle things. Gilbert had much to learn.</p> + +<p>He had lost the trail and he soon found that he was following a phantom. +One of the lights was no light at all, but a reflection in a puddle in +the woods. The woods were still full of puddles; though the ground was +firm it still bore these traces of its recent soaking. And the damage +caused by the high wind was apparent on every hand, in fallen trees and +broken limbs. There was a pungent odor to the drenched woods.</p> + +<p>Gilbert picked his way around these impediments of wetness and débris. +The night was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">146</a></span> clear. There were a few stars but no moon. Doubtless, he +thought, the reflection in the puddle was the reflection of a star. +Presently he saw something black before him. In his maneuvers to keep to +dry ground he had in fact already gone beyond it, and looked back at it, +so to say.</p> + +<p>Now he could see that the reflection in the puddle was derived from a +light on the further side of the black mass. Other little intervening +puddles were touched with a faint, shimmering brightness.</p> + +<p>Gilbert approached the dark object and saw that it was a fallen tree. +The wound in the earth caused by its torn-up roots formed a sort of +cavern where the slenderer tentacles hung limp like tropical foliage. If +there was a means of entrance to this dank little shelter it must be +from the farther side. Even where Gilbert stood the atmosphere was +redolent of the damp earth of this crazy little retreat. For retreat it +certainly was, because there was a light in it. Gilbert could only see +the reflection of the light but he knew whence that reflection was +derived.</p> + +<p>He approached a little closer and was sure he heard voices. He paused, +then advanced a little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">147</a></span> closer still. Doubtless this freakish little +shelter left by the storm was occupied by a couple of hoboes, perhaps +thieves.</p> + +<p>But Gilbert had played his card and lost. He had forsaken the trail for +a light, and the light had not guided him to camp. He doubted if he +could find his way to camp from here. You are to remember that Gilbert +was a good scout, but a new one.</p> + +<p>He approached a little closer, and now he could distinctly hear a voice. +Not the voice of a hobo, surely, for it was carolling a blithe song to +the listening heavens. Gilbert bent his ear to listen:</p> + +<p style="margin-left:2em;"> +Oh, the life of a scout is free,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">is free;</span><br /> +He's happy as happy can be,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">can be.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">He dresses so neat,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With no shoes on his feet;</span><br /> +The life of a scout is free!<br /> +<br /> +The life of a scout is bold,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">so bold;</span><br /> +His adventures have never been told,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">been told.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">His legs they are bare,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And he won't take a dare,</span><br /> +The life of a scout is bold!<br /><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">148</a></span> +The savage gorilla is mild,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">is mild;</span><br /> +Compared to the boy scout so wild,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">so wild.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">He don't go to bed,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And he stands on his head,</span><br /> +The life of a scout is wild!<br /> +</p> + +<p>Gilbert stood petrified with astonishment. In all his excursions through +the scout handbook he had never encountered any such formula for +scouting as this. No scout hero in <i>Boys' Life</i> had ever consecrated +himself to such a program.</p> + +<p>There was a pause within, during which Gilbert crept a little closer. He +hardly knew any of the boys in camp yet, and the strange voice meant +nothing to him. He knew that no member of <i>his</i> troop was there.</p> + +<p>"Want to hear another?" the singer asked.</p> + +<p>"Shoot," was the laconic reply.</p> + +<p>"This one was writ, wrot, wrote for the Camp-fire Girls around the +blazing oil stove.</p> + +<p style="margin-left:2em;"> +"If I had nine lives like an old tom cat,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'd chuck eight of them away.</span><br /> +For the more the weight, the less the speed,<br /> +And scouts don't carry any more than they need;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I'd keep just one for a rainy day.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">149</a></span></p> + +<p>"Good? Want to hear more? Second verse by special request. They're off:</p> + +<p style="margin-left:2em;"> +"If I could turn like an old windmill,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'd do good turns all day;</span><br /> +With noble deeds the day I'd fill.<br /> +But you see I'm <i>not</i> an old windmill.<br /> +And I ain't just built that way,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">I ain't."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Gilbert decided that however unusual were these ballads of scouting, +they did not emanate from thief or hobo; and he climbed resolutely over +the log. Even the comparative mildness of the savage gorilla to this new +kind of scout did not deter him.</p> + +<p>The scout anthem continued.</p> + +<p style="margin-left:2em;"> +"If I was a roaring old camp-fire,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You bet that I'd go out;</span><br /> +Oh, I'd go out and far and near,<br /> +For a camp-fire has the right idea;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And knows what it's about!"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Gilbert crept along the farther side of the log till he came to an +opening among the tangled roots. It was a very small but cozy little +cave that he found himself looking into. In a general way, it suggested +a wicker basket or a cage, except<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">150</a></span> that it was black and damp. Within +was a little fire of twigs. Tending it was a young fellow of perhaps +twenty years of age, wearing a plaid cap. He was stooping over the +little fire. Nearby, in a sort of swing made by binding two hanging +tentacles of root, sat the wandering minstrel, swinging his legs to keep +his makeshift hammock in motion.</p> + +<p>Gilbert Tyson contemplated him in speechless consternation. There he +was, the ideal ragged vagabond, and he did not cease swinging even when +he discovered the visitor.</p> + +<p>"H'lo," he said; "gimme my hat, that's just what I wanted; glad to see +you."</p> + +<p>Dumbfounded, Gilbert tossed the hat over to him.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't sell that hat," said Hervey, putting it on, "not for a +couple of cups of cup custard. Sit down. Here's the chorus.</p> + +<p style="margin-left:2em;"> +"Then hurrah for the cat with its nine little lives,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the good turn windmill, too.</span><br /> +And hurrah for the fire that likes to go out,<br /> +When the hour is late like a regular scout;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For that's what I like to do,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;"><i>I do.</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You bet your life I do!"</span><br /> +</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_151" id="Page_151">151</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2><h3>LOVE ME, LOVE MY DOG</h3> +</div> + +<p>"Where did you find the hat?" Hervey inquired. "I bet you can't sit on +this without holding on. Were you in the swamp? This is my friend, Mr. +Hood—Robin Hood—sometimes I call him <i>Lid</i> instead of <i>Hood</i>. Call him +<i>cap</i> if you want to, he doesn't care," he added, still swinging.</p> + +<p>Mr. Robin Hood did not seem as much at ease as his young companion. He +seemed rather troubled and glanced sideways at Gilbert.</p> + +<p>"We should worry about his name if he doesn't want to give it, hey?" +Hervey said, winking at Gilbert. "What's in a name?"</p> + +<p>Gilbert was shrewd enough not to mention Tom but to give his visit the +dignity of highest authority.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">152</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, this is a big surprise to me," he said, "and I'm mighty glad it's +this way," he added with a deep note of sincerity and relief in his +voice. "I was sent from the office to find you and give you this note. I +tracked you to the pond and I thought—golly, I'm glad it isn't so—but +I thought you went down in the quicksand. I near got into it myself."</p> + +<p>"Me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, how did you——"</p> + +<p>"Easiest thing in the world. I knew if I could get to the log—did you +see the log?"</p> + +<p>"It isn't there now."</p> + +<p>"I knew if I could get to that I could jump from it to the pond."</p> + +<p>"And did you?"</p> + +<p>"Surest thing. I kept chucking the suit-case ahead and stepping on it. I +had an old board, too. I guess they're both gone down by now."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"When I got to the log I was all hunk—for half a minute. 'One to get +ready,' that's what I said. Oh, boy, going down. Toys and stationery in +the basement."</p> + +<p>Just in that moment Gilbert thought of the bird.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">153</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes?" he urged, "and then?"</p> + +<p style="margin-left:2em;"> +"One to get ready,<br /> +One to jump high,<br /> +One to light in the pond or die."<br /> +</p> + +<p>"And you did it? I heard you were reckless. Here, read the note," +Gilbert said with unconcealed admiration. The wandering minstrel had +made another capture.</p> + +<p>He was, however, a little sobered as he opened the envelope. He had +never been the subject of an official missive before. He had never been +honored by a courier. He had won badges and had an unique reputation for +stunts. But when the momentary sting had passed it cannot be said that +he left camp with any fond regrets. On the other hand, he bore the camp +and his scoutmaster no malice now. He who forgets orders may also forget +grievances. In Hervey's blithe nature there was no room for abiding +malice.</p> + +<p>"What are they trying to hand me now?" he asked, reading the notice.</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything about it," said Gilbert; "I think you have to +come back, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Sure, I've got the Gold Cross wished on me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">154</a></span></p> + +<p>"The cross?" said Gilbert in admiring surprise. "What for?"</p> + +<p>"Search me. They're going to test some money or something—testimony, +that's it. Something big is going to happen in my young life."</p> + +<p>"You'll go back?" Gilbert asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Sure, if Robin Hood can go with me. Love me, love my dog."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to go there," said the young fellow; "you kids better go."</p> + +<p>"Then that's the end of the red cross," said Hervey, still swinging. "I +mean the Gold Cross or the double cross or whatever you call it. +What'd'you say, Hoody? They have good eats there. Will you come and see +me cop the cross?"</p> + +<p>"He just happened to blow in here," said the stranger, by way of +explaining Hervey's presence to Gilbert. "I was knocking around in the +woods and bunking in here."</p> + +<p>Gilbert was a little puzzled, but he did not ask any questions. He was +thoughtful and tactful. He had a pretty good line on Hervey's nature, +too.</p> + +<p>"Of course, Hervey has to go back," he said, as much for Hervey's +benefit as for the stranger's.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">155</a></span> "I say all three of us go. You'll like +to see the camp——"</p> + +<p>"They've got a washed-out cove and an oven for making marshmallows, and +a scoutmasters' meeting-place with a drain-pipe you can climb up to the +roof on, 'n everything," said Hervey in a spirit of fairness toward the +camp and its attractions. "They've got messboards you can do +hand-springs on when the cook isn't around. I bet you can't do the +double flop, Hoody."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, we'll all go?" Gilbert asked rather anxiously.</p> + +<p>Hervey spread out his arms by way of saying that anything that suited +Gilbert and the stranger would suit him.</p> + +<p>So the three started off to camp, the stranger rather hesitating, +Gilbert highly elated with his success, and Hervey perfectly agreeable +to anything which meant action.</p> + +<p>It was characteristic of Hervey that he really had not the faintest idea +of why he was to be honored with the highest scout award. He had +apparently forgotten all about his almost superhuman exploit. He would +never have mentioned it nor thought of it. He did recall it in that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">156</a></span> +moment of humiliation when Mr. Denny had talked with him. But he would +not speak of it even then. He would suffer disgrace first. And how much +less was he likely to think of it now! Surely the Gold Cross had nothing +to do with that fiasco which had ended in unconsciousness. That was not +supreme heroism. There was something wrong, somewhere. <i>That</i> was just a +stunt....</p> + +<p>Well, he would take things as they came—quicksand, a frantic run in +storm and darkness, new friends, the Gold Cross, anything....</p> + +<p>Was there one soul in all that great camp that really understood him?</p> + +<p>As they picked their way through the woods, following his lead (for he +alone knew the way) he edified them with another song, for these ballads +which had made him the wandering minstrel he remembered even if he +remembered nothing else.</p> + +<p style="margin-left:2em;"> +"You wouldn't think to look at me<br /> +That I'm as good as good can be—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">a little saint.</span><br /> +You wouldn't care to make a bet,<br /> +That I'm the teacher's little pet—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">I ain't."</span><br /> +</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_157" id="Page_157">157</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2><h3>TOM LEARNS SOMETHING</h3> +</div> + +<p>Tom's absence through the day had resulted in an accumulation of work +upon his table. His duties were chiefly active but partly clerical. +After supper he started to clear away these matters.</p> + +<p>The camp had already been in communication with Mr. Temple, its founder, +and plans had been made for an inspection of the washed-out cove by +engineers from the city. It was purposed to build a substantial dam at +that lowest and weakest place on the lake shore. There was a memorandum +asking Tom to be prepared to show these men the fatal spot on the +following morning.</p> + +<p>Matters connected with the meeting of the resident Court of Honor next +day had also to be attended to. Several dreamers of high awards would +have a sleepless night in anticipation of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">158</a></span> that meeting. Hervey Willetts +would probably sleep peacefully—if he went to bed at all.</p> + +<p>It was half an hour or so before Tom got around to looking over the +names of new arrivals. These were card indexed by the camp clerk, and +Tom always looked the cards over in a kind of casual quest of familiar +names, and also with the purpose of getting a line on first season +troops. It was his habit to make prompt acquaintance with these and help +them over the first hard day or so of strangeness.</p> + +<p>In glancing over these names, he was greatly astonished to find on the +list of Mr. Carroll's troop, the name of William Corbett. The identity +of this name with that of the victim of the automobile accident greatly +interested him, and he recalled then for the first time, that this troop +had come from Hillsburgh, in the vicinity of which the accident had +occurred. Yet, according to the newspaper, the victim of the accident +had been killed, or mortally injured.</p> + +<p>As Tom pondered on this coincidence of names there ran through his mind +one of those snatches of song which Hervey Willetts was fond of +singing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">159</a></span>:</p> + +<p style="margin-left:2em;"> +Some boys were killed and some were not,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of those that went to war;</span><br /> +And a lot of boys are dying now,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That never died before.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Before camp-fire was started Tom hunted up Mr. Carroll.</p> + +<p>"I see you have a William Corbett in your troop, Mr. Carroll," said he.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, that's Goliath."</p> + +<p>"He—he wasn't the kid who was knocked down by an auto?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, he was. You know about that?"</p> + +<p>Tom hesitated. The newspapers had not yet had time to publish the +sensational accounts of Harlowe's tragic death on the mountain and the +facts about this harrowing business had not been made public in camp.</p> + +<p>"I thought the kid was killed," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, that was just newspaper talk. It's a long way from being +mortally injured in a newspaper to being killed, Mr. Slade."</p> + +<p>"Y-es, I dare say you're right," said Tom, still astonished.</p> + +<p>"Yes, the little codger has a weak heart," said Mr. Carroll. "When the +machine struck him it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">160</a></span> knocked him down and he was picked up +unconscious. Probably he looked dead as he lay there. I dare say that's +what frightened the man in the machine. No, it was just his heart," he +added. "A couple of the boys in my troop knew the family, mother did +washing for them or something of that sort, and so we got in touch with +the little codger and there was our good turn all cut out for us.</p> + +<p>"You know, Slade, we have a kind of an institution—troop good turn. +Ever hear of anything like that? So we brought him along. He's a kind of +a scout in the chrysalis stage. He doesn't even know what happened to +him. A good part of his life has been spent in hospitals; he'll pick up +though. I think the newspaper reporters did more harm than the autoist. +Do you know, Slade, I think the man may have just got panicky, like some +of the soldiers in the war."</p> + +<p>"I've seen a fellow shrink like a whipped cur at the sound of a cannon +and then I've seen him flying after the enemy like a fiend," said Tom.</p> + +<p>"Yes, human nature's a funny thing," said Mr. Carroll.</p> + +<p>Tom's mind was divided between admiration<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">161</a></span> of this kind, tolerant, +generous scoutmaster and astonishment at what he had learned.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's news to me," he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, the main thing is to build the little codger up now," Mr. Carroll +mused aloud.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Carroll," said Tom, "Gilbert didn't say anything about going up the +mountain with me last night?"</p> + +<p>"N-no, I don't know that he did."</p> + +<p>"The trustees didn't want anything said about the matter here in camp, +or the whole outfit would be going up the mountain. But I suppose the +papers will have the whole business by to-morrow, and you might as well +have it now. The fellow who ran down the kid was found crushed to death +on the mountain last night. His name was Aaron Harlowe."</p> + +<p>Tom told the whole harrowing episode to Mr. Carroll, who listened with +interest, commenting now and again upon the tragic sequel of the auto +accident. It was plain, throughout, however, that his chief interest was +in his little charge, Goliath.</p> + +<p>"That's a very strange thing," he said; "it has a smack of Divine +justice about it, if one cares to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">162</a></span> look at it that way. Have you any +theory of just how it happened?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't got any time for theories, Mr. Carroll; not with four new +troops coming to-morrow. It's a closed book now, I suppose. There are +some funny things about the whole business. But one thing sure, the +man's dead. I have a hunch he got crazed and rattled and hid here and +there and was afraid they'd catch him and finally went up the mountain. +He thought he had killed the kid, you see. I'd like to know what went on +inside his head, wouldn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I would."</p> + +<p>Several of Mr. Carroll's troop, seeing him talking with Tom, approached +and hung about as this chat ended. Wherever Tom Slade was, scouts were +attracted to that spot as flies are attracted to sugar. They stood +about, listening, and staring at the young camp assistant.</p> + +<p>"Well, how do you think you like us up here?" Tom asked, turning +abruptly from his talk with their scoutmaster. "Think you're going to +have a good time?"</p> + +<p>"You said something," one piped up.</p> + +<p>"Where's Gilbert?" another asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">163</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, he'll be back in a little while," Tom said. "I sent him on an +errand and I suppose he got lost."</p> + +<p>"He did <i>not</i>!" several vociferated.</p> + +<p>"No?" Tom smiled.</p> + +<p>"You bet he didn't!"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Tom, laughing, "if you fellows want to get into the mix-up, +keep your eyes on the bulletin board. Everything is posted there, hikes +and things. You'll like most of the things you see there."</p> + +<p>"I'm crazy about tomatoes," one of the scouts ventured.</p> + +<p>Tom smiled at Mr. Carroll and Mr. Carroll smiled at Tom.</p> + +<p>There seemed to be a sort of unspoken agreement among them all that +Hervey Willetts should be thought of ruefully, and in a way of +disapproval. But, oddly enough, none of them seemed quite able to +conceal a sneaking liking for him, shown rather than expressed.</p> + +<p>And there you have an illustration of Hervey's status in camp....</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_164" id="Page_164">164</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2><h3>THE BLACK SHEEP</h3> +</div> + +<p>The scouts were all around the camp-fire when Gilbert Tyson returned +with his captives. As they crossed the road and came upon the camp +grounds, the stranger seemed apprehensive and ill at ease, but Hervey +with an air of sweeping authority informed him that everything was all +right, that he would fix it for him.</p> + +<p>"Don't you worry," he said; "I know all the high mucks here. You leave +it to me." He was singularly confident for one in disgrace. "I'll get +you a job, all right. When you see Slady or Uncle Jeb you just tell them +you're a friend of mine." Robin Hood seemed somewhat reassured by the +words of one so influential. By way of giving him a cheery reminder of +certain undesirable facts and reconciling him to a life of toil,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">165</a></span> Hervey +sang as they made their way to the office.</p> + +<p style='margin-left:2em;'> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">"You gotta go to work,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">You gotta go to work,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">You gotta go to work—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">That's true.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">And the reason why you gotta go to work</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;"><i>IS</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The work won't come to you</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;"><i>SEE</i>?</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">"I gotta go to bed,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">I gotta go to bed,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Like a good little scout—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">You see.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">And the reason why I gotta go to bed</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;"><i>IS</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The bed won't come to me.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">D'you see?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The bed won't come to me."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>This ballad of toil and duty (which were Hervey's favorite themes) was +accompanied by raps on Gilbert's head with a stick, which became more +and more vigorous as they approached the office. Here the atmosphere of +officialdom did somewhat subdue the returning prodigal son and he +removed his precious hat as they entered.</p> + +<p>This matter was in Tom Slade's hands and he was going to see it through +alone. From camp-fire<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">166</a></span> his watchful eye had seen the trio passing +through the grove and he was in the office before they reached it.</p> + +<p>The office was a dreadful place, where the mighty John Temple himself +held sway on his occasional visits, where councilmen and scoutmasters +conferred, and where there was a bronze statue of Daniel Boone. Hervey +had many times longed to decorate the sturdy face of the old pioneer +with a mustache and whiskers, using a piece of trail-sign chalk.</p> + +<p>At present he was seized by a feeling of respectful diffidence, and +stood hat in hand, a trifle uncomfortable. Robin Hood was uncomfortable +too, but he was in for it now. He was relieved to see that the official +who confronted him was an easy-going offhand young fellow of about his +own age, dressed in extreme negligée, sleeves rolled up, shirt open, +face and throat brown like the brown of autumn. It seemed to make things +easier for the trio that Tom vaulted up onto the bookkeeper's high desk, +as if he were vaulting a fence, and sat there swinging his legs, the +very embodiment of genial companionship.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">167</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, Gilbert, you got away with it, huh?"</p> + +<p>"Here he is," said Gilbert proudly. "I found him in a kind of cave in +the woods——"</p> + +<p>"Gilbert deserves all the credit for finding me," Hervey interrupted. +"You've got to hand it to him, I'll say that much."</p> + +<p>"It isn't everybody who can find you, is it?" said Tom.</p> + +<p>"Believe me, you said something," Hervey ejaculated.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm going to say some more," Tom laughed.</p> + +<p>"This is my friend," said Hervey; "Robin Hood, but I don't know his real +name. He's a good friend of mine, and he can play the banjo only he +hasn't got one with him, and I want to get him a job."</p> + +<p>"Any friend of yours——" Tom began and winked at Gilbert.</p> + +<p>"What did I tell you?" said Hervey. "Didn't I tell you I'd fix it?"</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Hood," said Tom. "We're expecting to be +pretty busy here, I can say that much," he added cautiously.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">168</a></span></p> + +<p>"I was just roaming the woods," said the stranger. "I haven't got any +home; out of luck. The boys insisted on my coming."</p> + +<p>"Strangers always welcome," said Tom cheerily.</p> + +<p>It was, indeed, true that strangers were always welcome. Temple Camp was +down on the hobo's blue book as a hospitable refuge. Stranded show +people had known its sheltering kindness. Moreover, Tom was not likely +to make particular inquiry about Hervey's chance acquaintances. The +wandering minstrel had brought in laid-off farm hands, a strolling organ +grinder with a monkey, not to mention two gypsies, a peddler of rugs and +other strays.</p> + +<p>"Well, Tyson," said Tom, clasping his hands behind his head and swinging +his legs in a way of utmost good humor, "suppose you take Mr. Hood over +to camp-fire and see if he can stand for some of those yarns. Tell Uncle +Jeb he's going to hang around till morning. You stay here, Hervey. I'd +like to hear about your adventures. Let's see, how many lives have you +got left now?"</p> + +<p>"Believe me, I did <i>some stunt</i>," said Hervey.</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_169" id="Page_169">169</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIX</h2><h3>STUNTS AND STUNTS</h3> +</div> + +<p>For a minute or two, Tom sat swinging his legs, contemplating Hervey.</p> + +<p>"When it comes to stunts," said he, "you're down and out. You belong to +the '<i>also rans</i>.'"</p> + +<p>"Me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you."</p> + +<p>"I can——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, you can do a lot. You ought to join the Camp-fire Girls. You +were asked to stay at camp—I'm not talking about yesterday. I'm talking +about all summer. There's an easy stunt. But you fell down on it. Don't +talk to me about stunts."</p> + +<p>"Do you think it's easy to hang around camp all the time? It's hard, you +can bet."</p> + +<p>"Sure, it's a <i>stunt</i>. And you can't do it. Little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">170</a></span> Pee-wee Harris can +do it, but you can't. Don't talk stunts to me. I know what a stunt is."</p> + +<p>"What's a stunt?" Hervey asked, trying to conceal the weakness of his +attitude with a fine air of defiance.</p> + +<p>"Why, a stunt is something that is hard to do, that's all."</p> + +<p>"You tell me——"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you something I want you to do and you're afraid to do +it—you're <i>afraid</i>."</p> + +<p>"I won't take a dare from anybody," Hervey shouted.</p> + +<p>"Well, you'll take one from me."</p> + +<p>"You dare me to do something and see."</p> + +<p>"All righto. I <i>dare</i> you to go up to your troop's cabin after camp-fire +and tell Mr. Denny that you've been a blamed nuisance and that you're +out to do the biggest stunt you ever did. And that is to do what you're +told. Tell him I dared you to do it, and tell him what you said about +not taking a dare from anybody. Tell him you never knew about its being +a stunt.</p> + +<p>"Of course I know you won't do it, because it's hard, and I know you're +not game. I just want to show you that you're a punk stunt-puller.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">171</a></span> I +<i>dare</i> you to do it! I <i>DARE</i> you to do it!"</p> + +<p>"I won't take a dare from anybody!" said Hervey, excitedly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, you will. You'll take one from <i>me</i>. You're a four-flusher, +that's what you are. Go ahead. I <i>dare</i> you to do it. You won't take a +dare, hey? I <i>double</i> dare you to! There. Now let's see. Go up there and +tell Mr. Denny you're going to get away with the biggest thing you ever +tried—the biggest stunt. And to-morrow morning before the Court meets +you come in here and see Mr. Fuller and Uncle Jeb and me. Now don't ask +any questions. You came in here all swelled up, regular fellow and all +that sort of thing, and I'm calling your bluff."</p> + +<p>"You call me a bluffer?" Hervey shouted.</p> + +<p>"The biggest bluffer outside of Pine Bluff."</p> + +<p>"Me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't take a dare from you or anybody like you!"</p> + +<p>"Actions speak louder than words."</p> + +<p>"I never saw the stunt yet——"</p> + +<p>"Well, here it is right now. I dare you. I <i>dare</i> you," said Tom, +jumping down and looking right<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">172</a></span> in Hervey's face, "I DOUBLE DARE YOU!"</p> + +<p>Hervey grabbed his hat from the bench.</p> + +<p style='margin-left:2em;'> +"A kid that gives a double dare<br /> +For shame and grins he must prepare."<br /> +</p> + +<p>he shouted.</p> + +<p>"That's me," said Tom.</p> + +<p>Before he realized what had happened, he heard the door slam and he +found himself alone, laughing. Hervey had departed, in wrath and +desperation, bent upon his next stunt.</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_173" id="Page_173">173</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXX</h2><h3>THE DOUBLE DARE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Mr. Denny's troop had turned in with the warmth of the roaring camp-fire +still lingering in their cheeks when the black sheep went up the hill. +The scoutmaster, sitting in his tepee, was writing up the troop's diary +in the light of a railroad lantern. He showed no great surprise at his +wandering scout's arrival.</p> + +<p>"Well, Hervey," said he. "Back again? I told you it would be better to +wait till morning. Missed the train, eh? You see my advice is sometimes +best after all." He did not look up but continued writing. If Hervey had +expected to create a sensation he was disappointed. "Better go to bed +and catch the nine fifty-two in the morning," said Mr. Denny kindly.</p> + +<p>"I came back because Tom Slade sent for me.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">174</a></span> I've got to get a medal, +but I don't care anything about that."</p> + +<p>"So? What's that for?"</p> + +<p>"I always said that fellow Slade was a friend of mine, but I wouldn't +let him put one over on me, I wouldn't."</p> + +<p>"You mean he was just fooling you about the medal?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe you can tell," said Hervey. "Because anyway I didn't do anything +to win a—the Gold Cross."</p> + +<p>Mr. Denny raised his eyebrows in frank surprise. "The Gold Cross?"</p> + +<p>"I don't care anything about that, anyway," said Hervey; "but I wouldn't +take a dare from anybody; I never did yet."</p> + +<p>"No?"</p> + +<p>"He said—that fellow said—he said I wouldn't dare to come up here and +tell you that I can—do anything I want to do."</p> + +<p>"That's just what you've been doing, Hervey."</p> + +<p>"But you know I'm good on stunts? And he said—this is just what he +said—he said I couldn't do that kind of a stunt—staying here when I'm +told to. He dared me to. Would you take a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">175</a></span> double dare if you were me? +They're worse than single ones."</p> + +<p>"N-no, I don't know that I would," said Mr. Denny, thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"He said I wouldn't dare—do you know what a four flusher is?"</p> + +<p>"Why—y-es."</p> + +<p>"He said I wouldn't <i>dare</i> to come up here and tell you that I know I'm +wrong to make so much trouble and he said I couldn't do a stunt like +staying in camp. Would you let any fellow call you a Camp-fire +Girl—would you? Gee Williger, <i>that</i> stunt's a cinch!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Denny closed his book, leaving his pen in it as a book-mark, and +clasping his hands, listened attentively. It was the first slight sign +of surrender. He looked inquiringly and not unkindly at the figure that +stood before him in the dim lantern light. He noted the torn clothing, +the wrinkled stocking, the outlandish hat with its holes and trinkets. +He could see, just see, those clear gray eyes, honest, reckless, +brave....</p> + +<p>"Yes, Hervey?"</p> + +<p>"Of course you don't have to keep me here, I don't mean that. Because +that's another thing,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">176</a></span> anyway. Only I want you to tell Slade that I +<i>did</i> dare, because I wouldn't take a double dare not even from—from +Mr. Temple, I wouldn't. So then he'll know I'm not afraid of you. +Because even you wouldn't say I'm a coward."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"I can do any stunt going, I'll let him know, and I won't take a double +dare from anybody. Because I made a resolution when I was in the third +primary grade."</p> + +<p>"And you've always kept it?"</p> + +<p>"You think I'd bust a resolution? You have bad luck for eight years if +you do that."</p> + +<p>"I see."</p> + +<p>"No, siree!"</p> + +<p>"And so you think you could do this stunt?"</p> + +<p>"I can do any stunt going. Do you know what I did——"</p> + +<p>"Just a second, Hervey. I'd like to see you get away with that stunt."</p> + +<p>"But I'm not asking you to keep me here," Hervey said, giving his +stocking a hitch, "because I'm a good loser, I am. But I want you to +tell that fellow Slade—I used to think he was a friend of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">177</a></span> mine—I want +you to tell him that I bobbed that dare."</p> + +<p>"Bobbed it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, that means put it back on him."</p> + +<p>Mr. Denny paused.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you tell him yourself, Hervey?"</p> + +<p>"Because he doesn't have to believe me."</p> + +<p>"Has any one ever accused you of lying, Hervey?"</p> + +<p>"Do you think I'd let anybody?"</p> + +<p>"Hmm, well, I think you'd better bob that dare yourself. But of course +you ought to follow it up with the stunt."</p> + +<p>"Oh, sure—only——"</p> + +<p>"I'll give you the chance to do that. My sporting blood is up now——"</p> + +<p>"That's just the way with me," said Hervey; "that's where you and I are +alike."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I think we'll have to put this fellow Slade where he belongs."</p> + +<p>"You leave that to me," said Hervey.</p> + +<p>There was a pause of a few moments. The whole camp had turned in by now +and distant voices had ceased. A cricket chirped somewhere<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">178</a></span> close by. An +acorn fell from a tree overhead and rolled down the roof of the troop +cabin a few yards distant, the sound of its falling emphasized by the +stillness. Hervey hitched up his stocking again. Mr. Denny watched him. +Perhaps he was studying this wandering minstrel of his more closely than +ever before. It may have been that the silence and isolation were on +Hervey's side....</p> + +<p>"Anyway, you don't have to keep me here, because—and I didn't come back +for that."</p> + +<p>"Hervey, you spoke about a medal—the Gold Cross. You don't mean the +supreme heroism award, of course. Slade didn't try to lure you back with +hints about such a thing?"</p> + +<p>"Hanged if I know what he meant."</p> + +<p>"He sent a note after you? Have you it with you?"</p> + +<p>"I made paper bullets out of it to shoot at lightning bugs on the way +home."</p> + +<p>"Did he actually mention the Gold Cross?"</p> + +<p>"I think he did—sure I never did anything to win that, you can bet."</p> + +<p>"No. And I think Slade adopted very questionable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">179</a></span> tactics to get you +back. Doubtless his intentions were good——"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't let that fellow ruin <i>my</i> young life—don't worry."</p> + +<p>"Well, you'd better turn in now, Hervey, and don't stay awake thinking +about dares and stunts and awards."</p> + +<p>And indeed Hervey did not stay awake thinking of any such things, +especially awards. In more than one tent and cabin on that Friday night +were sleepless heads, tossing and visioning the morrow which would bring +them merit badges, and perhaps awards of higher honor—silver, +bronze....</p> + +<p>But the head of Hervey Willetts rested quietly and his sleep was sound. +He took things as they came, as he had taken the letter out of Gilbert's +hands. There was a mistake somewhere, or else Tom Slade had caught him +and brought him back by a mean trick and a false promise. But he did not +hold that against Tom. What he held against Tom was that Tom had made +him take a double dare. He knew he had done nothing to win so high an +honor as that golden treasure,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">180</a></span> so rare, so coveted.... What he had done +was already ancient history and forgotten. And it had no relation to the +Gold Cross. And so he slept peacefully.</p> + +<p>The thing that he most treasured was his decorated hat, and so that this +might not get away from him again, he kept it under his pillow....</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_181" id="Page_181">181</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXI</h2><h3>THE COURT IN SESSION</h3> +</div> + +<p>From his conversation with Tom, Mr. Denny knew (if indeed he had not +known it before) that the young assistant had a strong liking for this +bah, bah black sheep. He knew that Tom had been responsible for Hervey's +latest truancy and he believed that Tom, knowing that a little trick was +the only way to bring Hervey back, might have played such a little +trick, then sent him up the hill to square himself.</p> + +<p>Mr. Denny was quite in sympathy with the stunt and double dare business, +but he did not approve of trying to circumvent Hervey by dangling the +Gold Cross before his eyes. He was afraid that Hervey would not forget +this and that the disappointment would be keen. As we know, Tom<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">182</a></span> was +dead set against this kind of thing. Mr. Denny did not know that. But he +did know that Hervey was unfamiliar with the rigorous requirements for +winning the highest award, for most of the pages in Hervey's handbook +had been used to make torches and paper bullets. Mr. Denny was resolved +that Tom Slade should not get away with such tactics unrebuked. He was +resolved to speak to the Honor Court about it in the morning. He would +not have one of his boys made the victim of vain hopes....</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>Early in the morning, Tom took a little stroll with Robin Hood and +improved his acquaintance. Tom liked odd people as much as Hervey did +and he found this unfortunate stranger rather interesting. One thing, in +particular, he learned from him which was of immediate interest to him +and which Hervey, with characteristic heedlessness, had forgotten to +mention.</p> + +<p>"I dare say we can dig you up something to do," said Tom, "when the work +on the dam gets started. That'll be in two or three days, I guess. +Suppose you hang around."</p> + +<p>"I'd like to stay right here for the rest of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">183</a></span> summer," said the +young fellow. "I'm out of luck and I'm all in."</p> + +<p>"France?" Tom queried. For soldiers out of luck were not uncommon in +camp.</p> + +<p>"No, just hard luck; lost my grip, that's all."</p> + +<p>"Well, hang around and maybe you'll pull together. I've seen lots of +shell-shock; had it myself, in fact."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's nothing like that."</p> + +<p>"Come in and see the Supreme Court in session, won't you? It's great. We +have this twice during the summer. Reminds you of the League of Nations +in session.... H'lo, Shorty, what are you here for? More merit badges?"</p> + +<p>Outside the main pavilion the choicest spirits of camp were loitering; +Pee-wee Harris still working valiantly on the end of his breakfast, Roy +Blakeley of the Silver Foxes, Bert Winton on from Ohio with the Bengal +Tigers, and Brent Gaylong, leader of the Church Mice from Newburgh. He +was a sort of scoutmaster and patrol leader rolled into one, was Brent, +a lanky, slow moving fellow with a funny squint to his face, and a quiet +way of seeing the funny side of things. You had only to look at him to +laugh.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">184</a></span></p> + +<p>"Tickets purchased from speculators not good," he was saying.</p> + +<p>Inside, the place was half filled with scouts, with a sprinkling of +scoutmasters. The members of the resident Court of Honor were already +seated behind a table and business was going forward. Much had already +been despatched.</p> + +<p>After a little while Mr. Denny came in and sat down. Other scoutmasters +sauntered in, and scouts singly and in groups. One proud scout went out +with three new merit badges and was vociferously cheered outside.</p> + +<p>Another didn't quite make the pathfinder's badge; another the camp honor +flag for good turns. Still another got the Life Scout badge, and so it +went. Honor jobs for the ensuing week were given out. There were many +strictly camp awards, not found in the handbook. The Temple Paddle was +awarded to a proud canoeist. Scouts came and went. Sometimes the +interest was keen and sometimes it lagged.</p> + +<p>Hervey Willetts came sauntering up from the boat landing, his hat at a +rakish angle, and trying to balance an oar-lock on his nose. He had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">185</a></span> an +air of wandering aimlessly so that his arrival at the pavilion seemed +quite a matter of chance. A morning song was on his lips:</p> + +<p style='margin-left:2em;'> +The life of a scout is sweet,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">is sweet,</span><br /> +The rubbish he throws in the street,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">the street.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">He uses soft words,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And he shoots all the birds;</span><br /> +The life of a scout is sweet.<br /> +</p> + +<p>Being a lone, blithe spirit, a kind of scout skylark as one might say, +he had not many friends in camp. The rank and file laughed at him, were +amused at his naïve independence, and regarded him, not as a poor scout, +but rather as not exactly a scout at all. They did not see enough of +him; he flew too high. He was his own best companion.</p> + +<p>Consequently when he sauntered with a kind of whimsical assurance into +that exalted official conclave most of them thought that he had dropped +in as he might have dropped into the lake. There was a little touch of +pathos, too, in the fact that the loiterers outside did not speak to him +as he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">186</a></span> passed in. It was just that they did not know him well enough; he +was not one of them. He was the oddest of odd numbers, a stormy petrel +indeed, and they did not know how to take him.</p> + +<p>So he was alone amid three hundred scouts....</p> + +<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_187" id="Page_187">187</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXII</h2><h3>OVER THE TOP</h3> +</div> + +<p>Tom had waited patiently for Hervey to arrive. His propensity for <i>not</i> +arriving had troubled Tom. But whether by chance or otherwise there he +was, and Tom lost no time in getting to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Before the court closes," he said, "I want to ask to have a blank +filled out to be sent to the National Honor Court, on a claim for the +Gold Cross award. I would like to get it endorsed by the Local Council +to-day so it will get to National Headquarters Monday."</p> + +<p>You could have heard a pin drop in that room. The magic words Gold Cross +brought every whispering, dallying scout to attention. There was a +general rustle of straightening up in seats. The continuous departing +ceased. Faces appeared at the open windows.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">188</a></span></p> + +<p><i>The Gold Cross.</i></p> + +<p>Mr. Denny looked at Tom. The young assistant, in his usual negligée, was +very offhand and thoroughly at ease. He seemed to know what he was +talking about. All eyes were upon him.</p> + +<p>"If you want the detailed statements of the three witnesses written out, +that can be done. But the National Court will take the recommendation +without that if it's endorsed by the Local Council. That was done in the +case of Albert Nesbit, who won the Gold Cross here three years ago. I'd +rather do it that way."</p> + +<p>"What is the name, Mr. Slade?"</p> + +<p>"Willetts—Hervey Willetts. You spell it with two T's."</p> + +<p>"This can be done without witnesses, on examination, Mr. Slade."</p> + +<p>"The winner isn't a good subject for examination," said Tom; "I think +the witnesses would be better."</p> + +<p>"Just so."</p> + +<p>"I might say," said Tom, "that this is the first chance I've had to tell +about this thing. On the night of the storm I sent Willetts from the +cove and told him to catch the bus and stop it before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">189</a></span> it reached the +bridge. I didn't think he could do it but I didn't say so. He had two +miles to go through the storm, running all the way. The wind was in his +face. Of course we all know what the storm was. His scoutmaster had told +him not to leave camp. If this was an emergency then it comes under +By-law Twenty-seven. You'll have to decide that. It was on account of +the flood I took him, not on account of the bus. The lake was running +out."</p> + +<p>"Did he reach the bus?" Mr. Fuller asked.</p> + +<p>"He reached the bus, but he doesn't know how. The last he remembered is +that he fell because his foot was caught in a hole. I don't know, nobody +knows how he did that thing. Here's a man who was in the woods that +night and saw him. He met him about half way and says he was so +exhausted and excited he couldn't speak. He told this man that he had to +<i>hurry on to save some people's lives</i>. He meant the people in the bus. +How he got from the place where he fell to the bus is a mystery. When he +did get there he couldn't speak, so he grabbed one of the horses. His +foot was wrenched and he was unconscious.</p> + +<p>"When they got him in the bus he muttered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">190</a></span> something and they thought he +was talking about his foot. It was the bridge he was talking about. But +what he said prompted Mr. Carroll to send another scout forward, and +<i>he</i> stopped the bus. That's all there is to it. He got there and it +nearly killed him. Darby Curren, who is here to tell you, thought he was +a spook.</p> + +<p>"Now these three people, Mr. Hood, Darby Curren and Mr. Carroll, can +tell you what they know about it. It's one of those cases where the real +facts didn't come out. Hervey Willetts saved the lives of twenty-two +people at <i>grave danger</i> to his own. That satisfies the handbook. He +doesn't care four cents about the Gold Cross, but right is right, and +I'm here to see that he gets it. Stand up, Hervey. Stand out in the +aisle." Suddenly Tom was seated.</p> + +<p>So there stood the wandering minstrel, alone. Even his champion was not +in evidence. Nor was his troop there to share the glory with him. His +scoutmaster was there, but he seemed too dazed to speak. And so the +stormy petrel stood alone, as he would always stand alone. Because there +was no one like him.</p> + +<p>"Willetts is the name? Hervey Willetts?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">191</a></span></p> + +<p>"I got a middle name, but I don't bother with it."</p> + +<p>"What troop?"</p> + +<p>And so the cut and dried business, so strange and unattractive to +Hervey, of filling in the blank, went on. He did not greatly care for +indoor sports. There was a lull in the general interest. Scouts began +lounging and whispering again.</p> + +<p>In that interval of restlessness, an observant person might have +noticed, sitting in the back part of the room, the rather ungainly +figure of the tall fellow, Brent Gaylong, organizer of the Church Mice +of Newburgh. He seemed to be the center of a clamoring, interested, +little group.</p> + +<p>Roy Blakeley's brown, crinkly hair could be seen through the gaps made +by other heads. Gaylong's knees were up against the back of the seat in +front of him, thus forming a sort of slanting desk, on which he held a +writing tablet. His head was cocked sideways as if in humorous but stern +criticism of his own work. On somebody's suggestion he wrote something +then crossed it out. There were evidently too many cooks at the broth, +but he was ludicrously patient and considerate, being no doubt chief +cook himself. There was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">192</a></span> something very funny about his calm, +preoccupied demeanor amid that clamoring throng. The proceedings in the +room interested him not.</p> + +<p>Nor did the business interest many others now. There was a continuous +drift toward the door and the crowd of loiterers outside increased and +became noisy. The wandering minstrel stood alone.</p> + +<p>The voice of the chairman droned on, "Hill cabin twenty-two. Right. We +will talk with these gentlemen afterwards. It may be a week or two +before you get this, Willetts. It has to come from the National Court of +Honor. Meanwhile, the Camp thanks you, and is proud of you, for your +extraordinary feat of heroism. It's most unusual——"</p> + +<p>"Trust him for that," some one interrupted.</p> + +<p>"I could run faster than that if I had sneaks," said Hervey.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid no one would have seen you at all, then," said Mr. Carlson.</p> + +<p>"All you've got to do is double your fists and look through them and you +can see a mile. It's like opera glasses."</p> + +<div class='figcenter' style='width: 350px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">193</a></span> +<a name="illus-005" id="illus-005"></a> +<img src='images/illus-192.jpg' alt='"STAND UP, HERVEY. STAND OUT IN THE AISLE."' title='' width = '350' height = '558'/><br /> +<table width='100%' summary='' class='caption'> + <tr> + <td colspan='2'>"STAND UP, HERVEY. STAND OUT IN THE AISLE."</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align='left'><i> Tom Slade's Double Dare.</i> </td> + <td align='right'><i>Page</i> 180</td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p>"So? Well, let us shake hands with you, my boy."</p> + +<p>The next thing Hervey knew, Mr. Denny's arm was over his shoulder, while +with his other hand he was shaking the hand of the young camp assistant.</p> + +<p>"That's all right, Mr. Denny," said Tom.</p> + +<p>"Slade, I want you to know how much I respect you——"</p> + +<p>"It's all in the day's work, Mr. Denny."</p> + +<p>"I want you to know that Hervey appreciates your friendship. You believe +he——"</p> + +<p>"I believe he's a wild Indian," Tom laughed. "Or maybe a squirrel, huh? +Hey, Hervey? On account of climbing.... You know, Mr. Denny, those are +the two things that can't be tamed, an Indian and a squirrel. You can +tame a lion, but you can't tame a squirrel."</p> + +<p>Mr. Denny listened, smiling, all the while patting Hervey's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Well, after all, who wants to tame a squirrel?" said he.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>So these two lingered a few minutes to chat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">194</a></span> about lions and Indians and +squirrels and things. And that was Hervey's chance to get away.</p> + +<p>No admiring throng followed him out. His own troop was not there and +knew nothing of his triumph. Probably he never thought of these things. +A scoutmaster grabbed his hand and said, "Wonderful, my boy!" Hervey +smiled and seemed surprised.</p> + +<p>Outside they were sitting around on railings and steps and squatting on +the grass. There was a little ripple of murmuring as he passed through +the sprawling throng, but no one spoke to him. That was not because they +did not appreciate, but because he was <i>different</i> and a stranger. +Perhaps it was because they did not know just how to take him. He didn't +exactly fit in....</p> + +<p>His ambling course had taken him perhaps a hundred feet, when he heard +some one shout, "Let'er go!"</p> + +<p>Before he realized it, his own favorite tune filled the air, they were +hurling it straight at him and the voices were loud and clear, though +the words were strange.</p> + +<p>"<i>Everybody!</i>"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">195</a></span></p> + +<p style='margin-left:2em;'> +"He's one little bully athlete,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">so fleet;</span><br /> +At sprinting he's got us all beat,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">yes, beat.</span><br /> +He can climb, he can stalk,<br /> +He can win in a walk;<br /> +He's a scout from his head to his feet—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">THAT'S YOU.</span><br /> +He's a scout from his head to his feet."<br /> +</p> + +<p>He turned and stood stark still. Some of them, in the vehemence of their +song, had risen and formed a little compact group. And again they sang +the verse, the words <i>THAT'S YOU</i> pouring out of the throat of Pee-wee +Harris like a thunderbolt. Hervey blinked. His eyes glistened. Through +their haze he could see the lanky figure of the tall fellow, Brent +Gaylong, sitting upon the fence, his feet propped up on the lower rail, +a pair of shell spectacles half way down his nose, and waving a little +stick like the leader of an orchestra. He was very sober and looked +absurdly funny.</p> + +<p>"Let him have the other one!" some one shouted.</p> + +<p>Gaylong rapped upon the fence with his little stick, and then gave it a +graceful twirl which was an improvement on Sousa.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">196</a></span></p> + +<p>The voices rose clear and strong:</p> + +<p style='margin-left:2em;'> +"We don't care a rap for the flings he springs;<br /> +He doesn't mean half of the things he sings.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We're all down and out</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When it comes to a scout</span><br /> +That can run just as if he had wings and things.<br /> +That can run just as if he had wings!"<br /> +</p> + +<p>If Hervey had waited as long on the log in the quicksand as he waited +now, there would have been no Gold Cross. But he could not move, he +stood as one petrified, his eyes glistening. The wandering minstrel had +been caught by his own tune.</p> + +<p>"Over the top," some one shouted.</p> + +<p>He was surrounded.</p> + +<p style='margin-left:2em;'>"That's you! That's you!"</p> + +<p>they kept singing. He had never been caught in such a mix-up before. He +saw them all crowding about him, saw Roy Blakeley's merry face and the +sober face of Brent Gaylong, the spectacles still half way down his nose +and the baton over his ear like a lead pencil. They took his hat, tossed +it around, and handed it back to him.</p> + +<p>"No room on that for the Cross," said Gaylong;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">197</a></span> "he'll have to pin it on +his stocking; combination Gold Cross and garter. Supreme +heroism—keeping a stocking up——"</p> + +<p>There was no getting out of this predicament. He could escape the +quicksand but he couldn't escape this. He looked about as if to consider +whether he could make a leap over the throng.</p> + +<p>"Watch out or he'll pull a stunt," one shouted.</p> + +<p>But there was really no hope for him. The wandering minstrel was caught +at last. And the funny part of the whole business was that he was caught +by one of his own favorite tunes. The tunes which had caught so many +others....</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">198</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2><h3>QUESTIONS</h3> +</div> + +<p>Hervey had now no incentive to leave the vicinity of camp. Doubtless he +could have performed the great stunt without outside help (now that he +knew it to be a stunt) but luck favored him as it usually did, and the +new work going forward in the cove was enough to occupy his undivided +attention.</p> + +<p>He made his headquarters there and hobnobbed with civil engineers and +laborers in the true democratic spirit which was his. The consulting +engineer they called him, which was odd, because Hervey never consulted +anybody about anything. The men all liked him immensely.</p> + +<p>Another to benefit by the work on the new dam was Robin Hood, or Mr. +Hood as he was respectfully called. He ran the flivver truck between<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">199</a></span> +the camp and the cove, carrying stone, and also cement and supplies +which came by the railroad. They had to cut a road from the main road +through to the cove.</p> + +<p>But one thing was not brought by the flivver, and that was the suction +dredge, a horrible monster, a kind of jumble of house and machinery +which came on a big six-ton truck and was launched into the lake. Its +whole ramshackle bulk shook and shivered when it was in operation +sucking the bottom of the lake up through a big pipe and shooting it +through another long pipe which terminated on the land. Thus sand and +gravel were secured and at the same time the lake was dredged by this +mammoth vacuum cleaner. The pipeline which terminated on the shore was +supported on several floats a few yards apart, and the first scout to +perform the stunt of walking on this pulsating thing was——</p> + +<p>Guess.</p> + +<p>About a week after work on the dam had begun, Tom rode over to the cove +on the truck with Robin Hood. He had struck up a friendship with the +stranger and liked him, as every one did. The young man was quiet, +industrious, intelligent.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">200</a></span> He did not encourage questions about himself, +but Tom was the last one to criticise reticence.</p> + +<p>Moreover, labor was scarce and willing workers in demand. One thing +which gave the young man favor in camp was his liking for the younger +boys, who frequently rode back and forth with him.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's beginning to look like a dam, isn't it?" Tom said, as they +rode along. "You won't be able to get much more stone up behind the +pavilion.... The dam ought to raise the lake level about five or six +feet, the engineers say. That'll mean moving a couple of the cabins +back. Storm was a good thing after all, huh?"</p> + +<p>"I guess it will be remembered around these parts for a good many +years," Tom's companion said.</p> + +<p>"And you were out in the thick of it," said Tom, in his usual cheery +way. "Up on the mountain it was terrible."</p> + +<p>"On the mountain? I was—I was just in the woods. It was bad enough +there."</p> + +<p>He looked sideways at Tom, rather curiously. He liked Tom but he could +never make up his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">201</a></span> mind about him. It always seemed to him, as indeed it +seemed to others, that Tom's cheery, simple, offhand talk bespoke a +knowledge of many things which he did not express. It was often hard to +determine what he was really thinking about.</p> + +<p>"I think I'll see that face whenever it storms," Tom said.</p> + +<p>"What face?"</p> + +<p>"Harlowe's; he was just staring up in the air. Ever see a person who has +suffered violent death, Hood?"</p> + +<p>"Once."</p> + +<p>"Funny thing, did you ever hear how the eyes of a dead man reflect the +last thing he saw? I know over in France they often saw images in the +eyes of dead soldiers. Near Toul, where I was stationed, they carried in +a dead Frenchy and you could see an airplane in his eyes just as sure as +day."</p> + +<p>"Did <i>you</i>—did you ever see anything like that?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, sure. Ask any army surgeon or nurse."</p> + +<p>Hood did not seem altogether satisfied with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">202</a></span> answer. He was clearly +perturbed. But he did not venture another question, and for a few +minutes neither spoke.</p> + +<p>"Another thing, too, speaking of France," said Tom. "We could always +pick out a fellow that came over from England as soon as they set him to +driving an ambulance. He'd always go plunk over to the left side of the +road. You know they have to keep to the left over there instead of to +the right——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know——" Hood began, and stopped short.</p> + +<p>"Been over there, eh?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not English, but I lived there several years, and drove a car."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" Tom laughed. "Well, now, I just noticed how <i>you</i> kept edging +over to the left. I didn't think anything about your coming from +England, but I just happened to notice it. Takes a long time to get a +habit out of your nut, doesn't it? People might say you were reckless +and all that when really it would just be that habit that you couldn't +get away from. I've got so as I can tell a Pittsburgh scout, or a +Canadian scout just from little things—little habits."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">203</a></span></p> + +<p>"You're a pretty keen observer," said Hood; "that about the eyes of a +dead person interests me. When you made that discovery up on the +mountain, do you mean——"</p> + +<p>"Your engine isn't hitting on all four, Hood," Tom interrupted.</p> + +<p>They both listened for a minute.</p> + +<p>"Guess not," said the driver.</p> + +<p>"Wire off, maybe," Tom suggested.</p> + +<p>Hood stopped the machine and got out. It would have been more like Tom +to jump out and investigate for himself, especially since he had run the +old truck long before Hood had ever seen it. But he did not do it. +Instead, he remained seated. Hood was right, there was nothing whatever +the matter with the engine. He wondered how Tom could have thought there +was.</p> + +<p>Tom seemed not greatly interested until his companion climbed in, then +he craned his neck out and looked down where Hood had been standing.</p> + +<p>"All right," he finally said; "I was wrong, as usual."</p> + +<p>"I think you're usually right," laughed Hood.</p> + +<p>Whatever the cause, Tom seemed thoughtful and preoccupied for the rest +of the journey. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">204</a></span> whistled some, and that was a sign that he was +thinking. Once he seemed on the point of saying something.</p> + +<p>"Hood, do you——" he began. Then fell to whistling again.</p> + +<p>And so in a little while they came to the cove.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">205</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2><h3>THE MESSAGE</h3> +</div> + +<p>The altogether thrilling and extraordinary occurrence which is all that +remains to be told in this narrative, was witnessed by a dozen or more +scouts. It happened, as deeds of heroic impulse always happen, suddenly, +so that afterwards accounts differed as to just how the thing had +occurred. There are always several versions of dramatic happenings. But +on one point all were agreed. It was the most conspicuous instance of +outright and supreme heroism that Temple Camp had ever witnessed or +known. And because there was no scout award permissible in the occasion, +the boys of camp, with fine inspiration, named the new dam after the +hero, who with soul possessed challenged the most horrible monster of +which the human mind can conceive, threw his life into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">206</a></span> the balance with +an abandon nothing less than sublime, and found his reward in the very +jaws of horrible and ghastly death.</p> + +<p>And the dam was well named, too, for it represented strength superseding +weakness. If you should ever visit Temple Camp you should end your +inspection in time to row across the lake in the cool of the twilight, +when the sun has gone down behind the mountain, and take a look at +<i>Robin Hood's Dam</i>.</p> + +<p>The scene was the usual morning scene. The slanting sifter was dropping +its rain of dirt through the grating and sending the stones rolling +down. The mixer was revolving. A hundred feet or so from the shore the +clumsy old dredge was drawing up sand from the bottom of the lake, and +the big pipeline running to shore was pulsating so that the floats +supporting it rocked in the water. At the end of this pipeline was a big +pile of wet sand from the lake. Men were carrying this sand off in +wheelbarrows.</p> + +<p>A few of the scouts were busy at their favorite pastime of walking along +this shaking pipeline to the dredge from which they would dive, then +swim to the nearest point on shore and proceed again<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">207</a></span> as before. Hervey +Willetts had been the Christopher Columbus to discover this endless +chain of pleasure and he had punctuated it with many incidental stunts.</p> + +<p>It was not altogether easy to walk on the trembling wet piping, but +those who did it were of course in bathing attire, and with bare feet it +was not so hard, once one got the hang of it.</p> + +<p>The sight of this merry procession proceeding on its endless round +proved too much for one pair of eyes that watched wistfully from the +shore. One after another the dripping scouts came scrambling up out of +the water, proceeded to the shore end of the pipeline, walked cautiously +along it, feet sideways, crossed the dredge, dived and presently +appeared again. "<i>Follow your leader</i>" they were singing and it was +funny to hear how they picked up the tune and got into time upon +emerging.</p> + +<p>This kind of thing was hard to resist. It is hard not to dance when the +music is playing. There was an alluring fascination about it.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, to the consternation of every one, there was Goliath in the +procession, moving along the pipeline, keeping his foothold by frantic +gesticulations<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">208</a></span> with his arms. He was laughing all over his little face. +He swayed, he bent, he almost fell, he got his balance, almost lost it, +got along a few steps, and then down he went with a splash into the +water.</p> + +<p>This climax of his wild enterprise occurred in a gap of the procession. +Some scouts had fallen out, others were clambering out the other side of +the dredge. So it happened that the splash was the first thing to +attract attention.</p> + +<p>Goliath did not reappear and before any one had a chance to dive or knew +just where to dive, something was apparent, which sent a shudder through +Tom Slade, who was standing near the end of the pipeline. The pouring +forth of the wet sand out of the pipe ceased, or rather lessened and the +substance shot out in little jerks. Tom, ever quick to see the +significance of a thing, knew this for what it was. It was an awful +message from the bottom of the lake.</p> + +<p>Something was clogging up the suction pipe there.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">209</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXV</h2><h3>THE HERO</h3> +</div> + +<p>This thing, as I said, all happened in a flash. There was shouting, +there was running about....</p> + +<p>"Stop the machinery!" some one yelled.</p> + +<p>"Reverse your engine!"</p> + +<p>Tom felt himself thrust aside, lost his balance and fell into the +deposit of wet sand. The pouring out of this had ceased.</p> + +<p>"<i>Don't let him do that! He's crazy!</i>" some one shrieked.</p> + +<p>"Reverse the engine; he'll come up. Don't dive—you! You'll be chewed to +pieces."</p> + +<p>"Who dived?" said Tom, scrambling to his feet.</p> + +<p>"The body will come up when the suction stops."</p> + +<p>"Both bodies, you mean; that crazy fool dived."</p> + +<p>"They won't come up if they're wedged in. Keep her going—reversed."</p> + +<p>Everybody crowded to the shore and to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">210</a></span> deck of the dredge. The +pulsating of the big line had ceased. Men shouted to do this, to do +that. Others contradicted. All eyes were upon the water. They crowded +each other, watching, waiting....</p> + +<p>Then a red spot appeared on the surface. It spread and grew lighter in +color as it mingled with the water. The watchers held their +breath—gasped. The tension was terrible.</p> + +<p>Then (as I said, it all happened in a flash) a hand covered with blood +reached up and tried to grasp the nearest float. It disappeared, but Tom +Slade had seen it and, jumping to the float, he reached down.</p> + +<p>"I've got him—keep back—you'll sink the float——"</p> + +<p>"Don't let go."</p> + +<p>It was not in the nature of Tom Slade to let go.</p> + +<p>Presently a ghastly face with red stained hair streaming over it, +appeared.</p> + +<p>"Let me take him," said Tom.</p> + +<p>But the man with bleeding, mangled shoulder would not give up what he +held, as in a grip of iron, with his other arm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">211</a></span></p> + +<p>And so Tom Slade dragged the wounded creature up onto the float and +there he lay in a pool of blood, still clinging to his burden.</p> + +<p>The little boy was safe. He opened his eyes and looked about. His face +was smeared with mud, one of his shoes was gone, his foot seemed to be +twisted. It was all too plain that he had been <i>within</i> the suction +pipe, within the devouring jaws of that monster serpent, when his +frantic rescuer had dragged him back. But he was safe.</p> + +<p>His rescuer was utterly crazed. Yet he seemed to know Tom.</p> + +<p>"Safe—alive——" he muttered.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he's safe; lie still. Get the doctor, some of you fellows—quick."</p> + +<p>"Send, send—them away—all. You know—do you—I'm square—yes?"</p> + +<p>"Surely," said Tom soothingly. "Lie still."</p> + +<p>"He's alive?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Listen, come close. I'll tell <i>you</i>—now. I <i>murdered</i> a kid +once—now—now I've—I've saved one——"</p> + +<p>"Shh. It's the same one, Harlowe."</p> + +<p>"You—you know?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">212</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, I know. We'll talk about it after. Hold your head +still—quiet—that's right. Don't think about it now. Shh—I think your +arm is broken; don't move it."</p> + +<p>"I—I—killed——"</p> + +<p>"No, you never killed any one. Lie still—please. I know all about it. +We can't talk about it now. <i>But you never killed any one</i>, remember +that."</p> + +<p>"You know I'm Harlowe?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Don't talk. That was little Willie Corbett you saved. Now don't +ask me any more now; <i>please</i>. You don't think I'm a liar, do you? Well, +I'm telling you you never killed <i>anybody</i>. See? You're not a murderer, +you're a hero. I know all about it.... Lie still, that's right.... Don't +move your arm...."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">213</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVI</h2><h3>Harlowe's Story</h3> +</div> + +<p>Aaron Harlowe was lying on his cot in the little rustic hospital at +Temple Camp. It was worth being sick to lie in that hospital. It was +just a log cabin. The birds sang outside of it, you could hear the +breeze blowing in the trees, you could hear the ripple of paddles on the +lake.</p> + +<p>Tom Slade sat upon the side of the cot.</p> + +<p>"You see when I found the map, I knew you had gone up the mountain. And +I didn't think you'd go up there unless there was some one up there that +you knew. The light was up there before you went up. Now that you tell +me you went up there to hide with that friend of yours, everything fits +together. I knew there must have been two of you up there, because I saw +your footprint. You have a patch on the sole of your shoe and the dead +man didn't. See? When I asked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">214</a></span> you to get out of the auto it was just +because I wanted to see your footprint. Your always getting over to the +left hand side of the road made me a little suspicious. Footprints don't +lie and that clinched it."</p> + +<p>"But did you see my image in the eyes of the dead man?" Harlowe asked +weakly.</p> + +<p>"I saw an image of a man; I couldn't tell it was you. But I knew some +one else had been there. Do you feel like telling me the rest now? Or +would you rather wait."</p> + +<p>"You seem to know it all," Harlowe smiled. It was pleasant to see that +smile upon his pale, thin face.</p> + +<p>"It isn't what you <i>know</i>, it's what you <i>do</i> that counts," said Tom +softly. "And see what <i>you</i> did. Talk about heroism!"</p> + +<p>It was from the desultory talk which followed that Tom was able to piece +out the story, the mystery of which he had already penetrated. Harlowe, +in fear of capture after his supposed killing of the child, had sought +refuge in the hunting shack of his friend upon the mountain. There the +two had lived till the night of the storm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">215</a></span> When Harlowe's friend had +been crushed under the tree, Harlowe had bent over him to make sure that +he was dead. It was then, in the blinding storm, that his license cards +had fallen out of his pocket and, by the merest chance, on the open coat +of the dead man.</p> + +<p>Harlowe said that after that he had intended to give himself up, but +that when he read that <i>Harlowe</i> had been discovered, and no doubt +buried, he had resolved to let his crime and all its consequences be +buried with the dead man, who like himself was without relations.</p> + +<p>But Harlowe's conscience had not been buried, and it was in a kind of +mad attempt to square himself before Heaven, and still the voice of that +silent, haunting accuser, that he had performed the most signal act of +heroism and willing sacrifice ever known at Temple Camp.</p> + +<p>As Tom Slade emerged after his daily call on the convalescent, a song +greeted his ear and he became aware of Hervey Willetts, hat, stocking +and all, coming around the edge of the cooking shack. He was caroling a +verse of his favorite ballad:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">216</a></span></p> + +<p style='padding-left: 2em'> +"The life of a scout is kind,<br /> +<span style='margin-left: 6em;'>is kind,</span><br /> +His handbook he never can find,<br /> +<span style='margin-left: 6em;'>can find.</span><br /> +<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>He don't bother to look,</span><br /> +<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>In the little handbook.</span><br /> +The life of a scout is kind."<br /> +</p> + +<p>"Hunting for your handbook, Hervey?"</p> + +<p>"I should fret out my young life about the handbook."</p> + +<p>"Walking my way?"</p> + +<p>"Any way, I'm not particular."</p> + +<p>"Cross come yet?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't seen it. Do you think it would look good on my hat?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes," Tom laughed. "Only be sure to pin it on upside down."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Why, because then when you're standing on your head, it'll be right +side up. See?"</p> + +<p>"Good idea. I guess I will, hey?"</p> + +<p>"Sure, I—I <i>double dare</i> you to," said Tom.</p> + +<p style='text-align: center;'>END</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Tom Slade's Double Dare, by Percy Keese Fitzhugh + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM SLADE'S DOUBLE DARE *** + +***** This file should be named 19590-h.htm or 19590-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/5/9/19590/ + +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's Double Dare + +Author: Percy Keese Fitzhugh + +Illustrator: R. Emmett Owen + +Release Date: October 20, 2006 [EBook #19590] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM SLADE'S DOUBLE DARE *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +[Illustration: HERVEY FIXED HIS EYES UPON THE ONE REMAINING LIGHT AND RAN +WITH UTTER DESPERATION. Tom Slade's Double Dare. Frontispiece--Page 40] + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +TOM SLADE'S DOUBLE DARE + +BY PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH + +Author of TOM SLADE, BOY SCOUT, TOM SLADE AT BLACK LAKE, ROY BLAKELEY, +ETC. + +ILLUSTRATED BY R. EMMETT OWEN + +Published with the approval of THE BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA + +GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS :: NEW YORK + +Made in the United States of America + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY GROSSET & DUNLAP + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + The life of a scout is bold, + so bold, + His adventures have never been told, + been told. + His legs they are bare, + And he won't take a dare, + The life of a scout is bold. + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + CONTENTS + + CHAPTER PAGE + I THE LIGHT GOES OUT 1 + II THE BRIDGE 10 + III AN IMPORTANT MISSION 14 + IV THE TREE 21 + V WIN OR LOSE 26 + VI SHADOWS OF THE NIGHT 33 + VII THE LIGHT THAT FAILED 37 + VIII ALMOST 44 + IX THE HERO 51 + X PROVEN A SCOUT 57 + XI THE NEW SCOUT 63 + XII THE GRAY ROADSTER 68 + XIII THE UNKNOWN TRAIL 74 + XIV ON THE SUMMIT 80 + XV A SCOUT IS THOROUGH 85 + XVI THE WANDERING MINSTREL 90 + XVII TOM'S INTEREST AROUSED 97 + XVIII TRIUMPH AND---- 101 + XIX HERVEY SHOWS HIS COLORS 104 + XX TOM ADVISES GOLIATH 116 + XXI WORDS 123 + XXII ACTION 130 + XXIII THE MONSTER 133 + XXIV GILBERT'S DISCOVERY 140 + XXV A VOICE IN THE DARK 145 + XXVI LOVE ME, LOVE MY DOG 151 + XXVII TOM LEARNS SOMETHING 157 + XXVIII THE BLACK SHEEP 164 + XXIX STUNTS AND STUNTS 169 + XXX THE DOUBLE DARE 173 + XXXI THE COURT IN SESSION 181 + XXXII OVER THE TOP 187 + XXXIII QUESTIONS 198 + XXXIV THE MESSAGE 205 + XXXV THE HERO 209 + XXXVI HARLOWE'S STORY 213 + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +TOM SLADE'S DOUBLE DARE + +CHAPTER I + +THE LIGHT GOES OUT + + +If it were not for the very remarkable part played by the scouts in this +strange business, perhaps it would have been just as well if the whole +matter had been allowed to die when the newspaper excitement subsided. +Singularly enough, that part of the curious drama which unfolded itself +at Temple Camp is the very part which was never material for glaring +headlines. + +The main occurrence is familiar enough to the inhabitants of the +neighborhood about the scout camp, but the sequel has never been told, +for scouts do not seek notoriety, and the quiet woodland community in +its sequestered hills is as remote from the turmoil and gossip of the +world as if it were located at the North Pole. + +But I know the story of Aaron Harlowe from beginning to end, and the +part that Tom Slade played in it, and all the latter history of Goliath, +as they called him. And I purpose to set all these matters down for your +entertainment, for I think that first and last they make a pretty good +camp-fire yarn. + + * * * * * + +For a week it had been raining at Temple Camp, and the ground was soggy +from the continuous downpour. The thatched roofs of the more primitive +type of cabins looked bedrabbled, like the hair of a bather emerging +from the lake, and the more substantial shelters were crowded with the +overflow from these and from tents deserted by troops and patrols that +had been almost drowned out. + +The grub boards out under the elm trees had been removed to the main +pavilion. The diving springboard was submerged by the swollen lake, the +rowboats rocked logily, half full of water, and the woods across the +lake looked weird and dim through the incessant stream of rain, rain, +rain. + +The spring which supplied the camp and for years had been content to +bubble in its modest abode among the rocks, burst forth from its shady +and sequestered prison and came tumbling, roaring down out of the woods, +like some boisterous marauder, and rushed headlong into the lake. + +Being no respecter of persons, the invader swept straight through the +cabin of the Silver Fox Patrol, and the Silver Fox Patrol took up their +belongings and went over to the pavilion where they sat along the deep +veranda with others, their chairs tilted back, watching the gloomy scene +across the lake. + +"This is good weather for the race," said Roy Blakeley. + +"What race?" demanded Pee-wee Harris. + +"The human race. No sooner said than stung. It's good weather to study +monotony." + +"All we can do is eat," said Pee-wee. + +"Right the first time," Roy responded. "There's only one thing you don't +like about meals and that's the time between them." + +"What are we going to do for two hours, waiting for supper?" a scout +asked. + +"Search _me_," said Roy; "tell riddles, I guess. If we had some ham we'd +have some ham and eggs, if we only had some eggs. We should worry. It's +going to rain for forty-eight hours and three months more. That's what +that scout from Walla-Walla told me." + +"That's a dickens of a name for a city," said Westy Martin of Roy's +patrol. + +"It's a nice place, they liked it so much they named it twice," Roy +said. + +"There's a troop here all the way from Salt Lake," said Dorry Benton. + +"They ought to have plenty of pep," said Roy. + +"There's a troop came from Hoboken, too," Will Dawson observed. + +"I don't blame them," Roy said. "There's a troop coming from Kingston +next week. They've got an Eagle Scout, I understand." + +"Don't you suppose I know that?" Pee-wee shouted. "Uncle Jeb had a +letter from them yesterday; I saw it." + +"Was it in their own handwriting?" + +"What do you mean?" Pee-wee demanded disgustedly. "How can a troop have +a handwriting?" + +"They must be very ignorant," Roy said. "Can you send an animal by +mail?" + +"Sure you can't!" Pee-wee shouted. + +"That's where you're wrong," said Roy. "I got a letter with a seal on +it." + +"Can you unscramble eggs?" Pee-wee demanded. + +"There you go, talking about eats again. Can't you wait two hours?" + +There was nothing to do but wait, and watch the drops as they pattered +down on the lake. + +"This is the longest rain in history except the reign of Queen +Elizabeth," Roy said. "If I ever meet Saint Swithin----" + +This sort of talk was a sample of life at Temple Camp for seven days +past. Those who were not given to jollying and banter had fallen back on +checkers and dominos and other wild sports. A few of the more +adventurous and reckless made birchbark ornaments, while those who were +in utter despair for something to do wrote letters home. + +Several dauntless spirits had braved the rain to catch some fish, but +the fish, themselves disgusted, stayed down at the bottom of the lake, +out of the wet, as Roy said. It was so wet that even the turtles +wouldn't come out without umbrellas. + +Rain, rain, rain. It flowed off the pavilion roof like a waterfall. It +shrunk tent canvas which pulled on the ropes and lifted the pegs out of +the soggy ground. It buried the roads in mud. Hour in and hour out the +scouts sat along the back of the deep veranda, beguiling their enforced +leisure with banter and riddles and camp gossip. + +On Friday afternoon a brisk wind arose and blew the rain sideways so +that most of the scouts withdrew from their last entrenchment and went +inside. You have to take off your hat to a rain which can drive a scout +in out of the open. + +It began blowing in across the veranda in fitful little gusts and within +an hour the wind had lashed itself into a gale. A few of the hardier +spirits, including Roy, held their ground on the veranda, squeezing back +against the shingled side whenever an unusually severe gust assailed +them. + +There is no such thing as twilight in such weather, but the sodden sky +grew darker, and the mountainside across the lake became gloomier and +more forbidding as the night drew on apace. + +The few remaining stragglers on the veranda watched this darkening scene +with a kind of idle half interest, ducking the occasional gusts. + +"How would you like to be out on the lake now?" one asked. + +The question directed their gaze out upon the churning, black sheet of +water before them. The lake, lying amid those frowning, wooded hills, +was somber enough at all times, and a quiet gloom pervaded it which +imparted a rare charm. But now, in the grip of the rain and wind, the +enshrouding night made the lake seem like a place haunted, and the +enclosing mountains desolate and forlorn. + +"I'll swim across with anybody," said Hervey Willetts. + +He belonged in a troop from western New York and reveled in stunts which +bespoke a kind of blithe daring. No one took him up and silence reigned +for a few minutes more. + +"There's the little light on the top of the mountain," said Will Dawson +of Roy's patrol. "If there's anybody up there, I hope he has an +umbrella." + +But of course there was no one up there. For weeks the tiny light away +up on the summit of that mountain wilderness had puzzled the scouts of +camp. They had not, indeed, been able to determine that it was a light; +it seemed rather a tiny patch of brightness which was always brighter +when the moon shone. This had led to the belief that it was caused by +some kind of natural phenomena. + +The scouts fixed their gaze upon it, watching it curiously for a few +moments. + +"It isn't a reflection, that's sure," said Roy, "or we wouldn't see it +on a night like this." + +"It's a phosphate," said Pee-wee. + +"It's a chocolate soda," said Roy. + +"You're crazy!" Pee-wee vociferated. "Phosphate is something that shines +in the dark." + +"You mean phosphorus," said Westy Martin. + +That seemed a not unlikely explanation. But the consensus of opinion in +camp was that the bright patch was the reflection of some powerful light +in the low country on the opposite side of the mountain. + +"It's a mystery," said Pee-wee, "that's what it is." + +Suddenly, while they gazed, it went out. They watched but it did not +come again. And the frowning, jungle-covered, storm beaten summit was +enshrouded again in ghostly darkness. And the increasing gale beat the +lake, and the driven rain assailed the few stragglers on the veranda +with lashing fury. And across the black water, in that ghoul-haunted, +trackless wilderness, could be heard the sound of timber being rent in +splinters and of great trees crashing down the mountainside. + +Suddenly a word from Westy Martin aroused them all like a cannon shot. + +"Look!" he shouted, "_Look! Look at the springboard!_" + +Every one of them looked, speechless, astonished, aghast, at the sight +which they beheld before their very eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE BRIDGE + + +There, just below them was the springboard an inch or two above the +surface of the lake. Ordinarily it projected from the shore nearly a +yard above the water, but lately the swollen lake had risen above it. +Now, however, it was visible again just above the surface. + +This meant that the water had receded more in an hour than it had risen +in a whole week. The strong wind was blowing toward the pavilion and +would naturally force the water up along that shore. But in spite of the +wind the water in the lake was receding at an alarming rate. Something +was wrong. The little trickle from the spring up behind the camp had +grown into a torrent and was pouring into the lake. Yet the water in the +lake was receding. + +Down out of the mountain wilderness across the water came weird noises, +caused no doubt by the tumult of the wind in the intricate fastnesses +and by the falling of great trees, but the sounds struck upon the ears +of the besieged listeners like voices wild and unearthly. The banging of +the big shutters of the pavilion was heard in echo as the furious gale +bore the sounds back from the mountain and the familiar, homely noise +was conjured into a kind of ghostly clamor. + +"There goes Pee-wee's signal tower," a scout remarked, and just as he +spoke, the little rustic edifice which had been the handiwork and pride +of the tenderfoots went crashing to the ground while out of the woods +across the water came sounds as of merry laughter at its downfall. + +"Something's wrong over on the other side," said Westy Martin of Roy's +patrol; "the lake's breaking through over there." + +Scarcely had he uttered the words when all the scouts of the little +group were at the railing craning their necks and straining their eyes +trying to see across the water. But the wind and rain beat in their +faces and the driving downpour formed an impenetrable mist. + +As they withdrew again into the comparative shelter of the porch they +saw a young fellow standing with his bare arm upraised against the +door-jam, watching and listening. This was the young camp assistant, Tom +Slade. He had evidently come out to fasten the noisy shutters and had +paused to contemplate the tempest. + +"Some storm, hey, Tomasso?" said Roy. + +"I think the water's going out through the cove," said Tom. "It must +have washed away the land over there." + +"Let it go, we can't stop it," said Roy. + +"If it's running out into the valley, it's good-night to Berry's garage, +and the bridge too," said Tom. + +The young assistant was popular with the boys at camp, and struck by +this suggestion of imminent catastrophe, they clustered about him, +listening eagerly. So loud was the noise of the storm, so deafening the +sound of rending timber on that gale-swept height before them, that Tom +had to raise his voice to make himself heard. The danger to human life +which he had been the first to think of, gave the storm new terror to +these young watchers. It needed only this touch of mortal peril in that +panorama of dreadfulness to arouse them, good scouts that they were, to +the chances of adventure and the possibility of service. + +"We can't do anything, can we?" one asked. "It's too late now, isn't +it?" + +"It's either too late or it isn't," said Tom Slade; "and it's for us to +see. I was thinking of Berry's place, and I was thinking of the crowd +that's coming up tonight on the bus. If the water has broken through +across the lake and is pouring into the valley, it'll wash away the +bridge. The bus ought to be here now. There are two troops from the +four-twenty train at Catskill. Maybe the train is late on account of the +weather. If the bridge is down...." + +"Call up Berry's place and find out," said Westy Martin. + +"That's just what has me worrying," said Tom; "Berry's doesn't answer." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +AN IMPORTANT MISSION + + +Temple Camp was situated on a gentle slope close to the east shore of +the lake. Save for this small area of habitable land the lake was +entirely surrounded by mountains. And it was the inverted forms of these +mountains reflected in the water which gave it the somber hue whence the +lake derived its name. On sunless days and in the twilight, the water +seemed as black as night. + +Directly across the water from the camp, the most forbidding of those +surrounding heights reared its deeply wooded summit three thousand feet +above the sea level. A wilderness of tangled underbrush, like barbed +wire entanglements, baffled the hardiest adventurer. No scout had +penetrated those dismal fastnesses which the legend of camp reputed to +be haunted. + +Beside the rocky base of this mountain was a tiny cove, a dim, romantic +little place, where the water was as still as in a pool. Its two sides +were the lower reaches of the great mountain and its neighbor, and all +that prevented the cove from being an outlet was a little hubble of land +which separated this secluded nook from a narrow valley, or gully, +beyond. + +Sometimes, indeed, after a rainy spell the water in the cove overflowed +this little hubble of land enough to trickle through into the gully, and +then you could pick fish up with your hands where they flopped about +marooned in the channel below. Probably this gully was an old dried-up +stream bed. + +About a mile from the lake it became wider and was intersected by a +road. Here it was that the bridge spanned the hollow. And here it was, +right in the hollow near the bridge, that Ebon Berry had his rural +garage. Along this road the old bus lumbered daily, bringing new +arrivals to camp and touching at villages beyond. + +If, indeed, the swollen lake had washed away the inner shore of the +cove, the sequel would be serious if not tragic at that quiet road +crossing. The question was, had this happened, and if so, had the bus +reached the fatal spot? All that the boys knew was that the bus was long +overdue and that Berry's "did not answer." And that the fury of the +storm was rising with every minute. + +Tom Slade spoke calmly as was his wont. No storm could arouse him out of +his stolid, thoughtful habit. + +"A couple of scoutmasters have started along the road," he said, "to see +what they can find out. How about you, Hervey? Are you game to skirt the +lake? How about you, Roy? There may be danger over there." + +"Believe me, I hope it'll wait till we get there," said Hervey Willetts. + +"I'll go!" shouted Pee-wee. + +"You'll go--in and get supper," said Tom. "I want just three fellows; +I'm not going to overload a boat in this kind of weather. I'll take Roy +and Hervey and Westy, if you fellows are game to go. You go in and get a +lantern, Pee-wee." + +"And don't forget to leave some pie for those two troops that are coming +on the bus," added Roy. + +Pee-wee did better than bring a lantern; he brought also three oilskin +jackets and hats which the younger boys donned. He must also have +advertised the adventurous expedition during his errand indoors, for a +couple of dozen envious scouts followed him out and watched the little +party depart. + +The four made their way against a blown rain which all but blinded them +and streamed from their hats and rendered their storm jackets quite +useless. Tom wore khaki trousers and a pongee shirt which clung to him +like wet tissue paper. If one cannot be thoroughly dry the next best +thing is to be thoroughly wet. + +They chose the widest and heaviest of the boats, a stout old tub with +two pairs of oarlocks. Each of the four manned an oar and pulled with +both hands. It was almost impossible to get started against the wind, +and when at last their steady, even pulling overcame the deterring power +of the gale they were able to move at but a snail's pace. They followed +the shoreline, keeping as close in as they could, preferring the +circuitous route to the more perilous row across the lake. + +As their roundabout voyage brought them to the opposite shore, their +progress became easier, for the mountain rising sheer above them +protected them from the wind. + +"Let her drift a minute," said Tom, panting; "lift your oars." + +It was the first word that any of them had spoken, so intense had been +their exertions. + +"She's going straight ahead," said Westy. + +"What's that?" said Roy suddenly. "Look out!" + +He spoke just in time to enable them to get out of the path of a +floating tree which was drifting rapidly in the same direction as the +boat. Its great mass of muddy roots brushed against them. + +"It's just as I thought," Tom said; "the water must be pouring out +through the cove. We're caught in it. Let's try to get a little off +shore; we'll have one of those trees come tumbling down on our heads the +first thing we know." + +"Not so easy," said Hervey, as they tried to backwater and at the same +time get out from under the mountain. + +"Put her in reverse," said Roy, who never failed to get the funny squint +on a situation. + +But there was no use, the rushing water had them in its grip and they +were borne along pell-mell, with trees and broken limbs which had fallen +down the mountainside. + +They were directly opposite the camp now, and cheerful lights could be +seen in the pavilion where the whole camp community was congregated, +safe from the storm. The noises which had seemed weird enough at camp +were appalling now, as out of that havoc far above them, great bowlders +came tumbling down into the lake with loud splashes. + +Tom realized, all too late, the cause of the dreadful peril they were +in. Out on the body of the lake and toward the camp shore the wind was +blowing a gale from the mountains and, as it were, forcing the water +back. But directly under the mountain there was no wind, and their +position was as that of a person who is _under_ the curve of a +waterfall. And here, because there was no wind to counteract it, the +water was rushing toward what was left of the cove. It was like a rapid +river flowing close to the shore and bearing upon its hurrying water the +debris which had crashed down from that lonesome, storm-torn height. + +The boat was caught in this rushing water and the danger was increased +by its closeness to the shore where every missile of rock or tree, cast +by that frowning monster, might at any minute dash the craft to +splinters. + +The little flickering lights which shone through the spray and fine +blown rain across that black water seemed very cheerful and inviting +now. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE TREE + + +"We're in a bad fix," said Tom; "let's try to make a landing and see if +we can scramble along shore to the cove." + +It is doubtful whether they could have scrambled along that precipitous +bank, but in any case, so great was the impetus of the rushing water +that even making a landing was impossible. The boat was borne along with +a force that all their exertions could not counteract, headlong for the +cove. + +"What can we do?" Roy asked. + +"The only thing that I know of," said Tom, "is to get within reach of +the shore in the cove. If we can do that we might get to safety even if +we have to jump." + +Presently the boat went careening into the cove; an appalling sound of +scraping, then of tearing, was heard beneath it, it reared up forward, +spilling its occupants into the whirling water and, settling sideways, +remained stationary. + +The boys found themselves clinging to the branches of a broken tree +which was wedged crossways in the cove, its trunk entirely submerged. It +formed a sort of makeshift dam and the boat, caught in its branches, +added to the obstruction. + +If it had not been for this tree the boat would have been borne upon the +flood, with what tragic sequel who shall say? + +"All right," said Tom, "we're lucky; keep hold of the branches, it's +only a few feet to shore; careful how you step. If you let go it's all +over. We could never swim in this torrent." + +"Where do you suppose this tree came from?" Roy asked. + +"From the top of the mountain for all I know," Tom answered. "Watch your +step and follow me. We're in luck." + +"You don't call this luck, do you?" Westy asked. + +"Watch me, I can go scout-pace on the trunk," said Hervey, handing +himself along. + +"Never mind any of those stunts," said Tom; "you watch what you're doing +and follow me." + +"The pleasure is mine," said Hervey; "a scout is always--whoa! There's +where I nearly dipped the dip. Watch me swing over this branch. I bet +you can't hang by your knees--like this." + +There are some people who think that trees were made to bear fruit and +to afford shade, and to supply timber. But that is a mistake; they were +made for Hervey Willetts. They were the scenes of his gayest stunts. He +had even been known to dive under the water and shimmy up a tree that +was reflected there. He even claimed that he got a splinter in his hand, +so doing! Upside down or wedged across a channel under water, trees were +all the same to Hervey Willetts. He lived in trees. He knew nothing +whatever about the different kinds of trees and he could not tell spruce +from walnut. But he could hang by one leg from a rotten branch, the +while playing a harmonica. He was for the boy scout movement, because he +was for movement generally. As long as the scouts kept moving, he was +with them. He had a lot of merit badges but he did not know how many. +"He should worry," as Roy said of him. + +"Here's a good one--known as the jazzy-jump," he exclaimed. "Put your +left foot...." + +"You put your left foot on the trunk and don't let go the branches and +follow me," said Tom, soberly. "Do you think this is a picnic we're on?" + +"After you, my dear Tomasso," said Hervey, blithely. "I guess we're not +going to be killed after all, hey?" + +"I'm afraid not," said Tom. + +"I wish I had an ice cream soda, I know that," said Roy. + +"Careful how you step ashore now," Tom said. + +"Terra cotta at last," said Roy; "I mean terra firma." + +"Jump it," called Hervey, who was behind Roy. + +Thus, emerging from a peril, which none but Tom had fully realized, they +found themselves on the comparatively low shore of the cove. The tree, +itself a victim of the storm, poked its branches up out of the black +water like specters, which seemed the more grewsome as they swayed in +the wind. These had guided the little party to shore. + +So it was that that once stately denizen of the lofty forest had paused +here to make a last stand against the storm which had uprooted it. So it +was that this fallen monarch, friend of the scouts, had contrived to +check somewhat the mad rush of water out of their beloved lake, and had +guided four of them to safety. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +WIN OR LOSE + + +The dying mission of that noble tree suggested a thought to Tom. The +water from the lake was pouring over it, though checked somewhat by the +tree and the boat. If this tree, firmly wedged in place, could be made +the nucleus of a mass of wreckage, the flood might be effectually +checked, temporarily, at least. One thing, a moment's glance at the +condition of the cove showed all too certainly what must have happened +at the road-crossing. That the little rustic bridge there could have +withstood the first overwhelming rush of the flood was quite +unthinkable. Berry's garage too, perched on the edge of the hollow, must +have been swept away. + +[Illustration: THE TREE POKED ITS BRANCHES UP OUT OF THE BLACK WATER +AND GUIDED THEM TO SAFETY. Tom Slade's Double Dare. Page 25] + +[Illustration: (Transcriber's note: Map including Black Lake, the rustic +bridge, and Berry's Garage.)] + +And where was the lumbering old bus? That was the question now. If it +had been a motor bus its lights might have foretold the danger. But it +was one of those old-fashioned horse-drawn stages which are still seen +in mountain districts. + +In all that tumult of storm, Tom Slade paused to think. All about them +was Bedlam. Down the precipitous mountainside hard by, were crashing the +torn and uprooted trophies of the storm high in those dizzy recesses +above, where eagles, undisturbed by any human presence, made their homes +upon the crags. The rending and crashing up there was conjured by the +distance into a hundred weird and uncanny voices which now and again +seemed like the wailing of human souls. + +The rush of water, gathering force in the narrow confines of the cove, +became a torrent and threw a white spray in the faces of the boys as it +beat against the fallen tree. It seemed strange that they could be so +close to this paroxysm of the elements, in the very center of it as one +might say, and yet be safe. Nature was in a mad turmoil all about them, +yet by a lucky chance they stood upon a little oasis of temporary +refuge. + +"There are two things that have to be done--quick," said Tom. "Somebody +has got to pick his way down the west shore back to camp. It's through +the mountains and maybe two of you had better go. Here, take my +compass," he added, handing it to Westy. "Have you got some matches?" + +"I've got my flashlight," said Roy. + +So it fell out that Westy and Roy were the ones to make the journey back +to camp. + +"Keep as close to the shore as you can, it's easier going and shorter," +Tom said. "Anyway, use the compass and keep going straight south till +you see the lights at camp, then turn east. You ought to be able to do +it in an hour. Tell everybody to get busy and throw everything in the +water that'll help plug up the passage. Chuck in the logs from the +woodshed." + +"How about the remains of Pee-wee's signal tower?" + +"Good, chuck that in. Throw in everything that can be spared. Most of it +will drift over here and get caught in the rush. If the wind dies it +will all come over. Hurry up! I'll stay here and try to get in place +anything more that comes in in the meantime. There are a lot of broken +limbs and things around here. Hurry up now, _beat it!_ And don't stop +till you get there.... Don't let anybody try to start over in a boat," +he called after them. + +Scarcely had they set off when he turned to Hervey Willetts, placing +both his hands on the boy's shoulders. The rain was streaming down from +Hervey's streaked hair. The funny little rimless hat cut full of holes +which he wore on the side of his head and which was the pride of his +life had collapsed by reason of being utterly soaked, for he had very +early discarded the oilskin "roof" in preference for this old love. One +of his stockings was falling down and he hoisted this up as Tom spoke to +him. + +"Hervey, I'm glad you're going alone, because you won't have to do any +stunts for anybody's benefit. You're going to keep your mind on just one +thing. Understand?" + +"I can think of nine things at once," said Hervey, blithely, "and sing +_Over There_ and eat a banana at the same time. How's that?" + +"That's fine. Now listen--just two seconds. You're to hit right straight +up through this country--north. You notice I gave the compass to Roy? +That's because I know you can't get rattled when you're alone and when +you put your mind on a thing. You're to go straight north till you +reach the road. I'll have to keep the lantern here, but you won't need +it. You've got about a quarter of a mile of rough country and then easy +going. Straight north beyond the road is Crows Nest Mountain. Turn +around, that's right. Shut your eyes. One--two--three--four--five. Now +open them suddenly. You see that black bulk. That's Crows Nest. Now you +know how to see a dark thing in the dark...." + +"Do you know how to tell time with a clothespin?" + +"Never mind that. About every ten minutes stop and shut your eyes and +old Crows Nest will guide you. Don't get rattled. When you get to the +road wait for the bus and _stop it_. If it has passed by now, we can't +help it. I'm afraid it has. But if it _hasn't_, there are two troops in +it and their _lives depend on you_. Now get out of here--quick!" + +"What was that?" Hervey said, pausing and clutching Tom's arm. + +"What was what?" + +"That sound--away off. Hear it?" + +Amid the wild clamor of the tempest, the dashing of the impeded water +close by, and the ghostly voices up in that mountain wilderness, there +sounded, far off, subdued and steady, a low melodious call, spent and +thin from the distance, and blended with the myriad sounds of the raging +storm. + +"_It's the train_," said Tom. + +Still Hervey did not move, only clutched his companion's arm. One +second--two seconds--three, four, five, six. The sound died away in the +uproar of wind and rain.... Still the two paused for just a moment more, +as if held by a spell. + +"A mile and a half--four miles," said Tom. "Four miles of road. A mile +and a half of hills and swamps. They're at the station now. You _can't_ +do it, kid. But you'd better fail trying than not try at all. What do +you say?" + +There was no answer, for Hervey Willetts had already plunged into the +torrent, by which hazardous act ten minutes might be saved. Or +everything lost. Tom caught a glimpse of that funny perforated hat +bobbing in the rushing water of the cove, pulled tight down over its +young owner's ears. Sober as his thoughts were in the face of harrowing +peril, he could not repress a smile that Hervey should toss his life so +blithely into the enterprise and yet be careful to save that precious +hat. He was more proud of it than of all his deeds of reckless valor. + +Tom knew there was no restraining him, or advising him. He knew no more +of discipline than a skylark does. He was either the best scout in the +world or no scout at all, as you choose to look at it. He was going upon +this business in reckless haste, without forethought or caution. He +would stake his life to save twenty yards of distance. There was no +discretion in his valor. Blithe young gambler that he was, he would do +the thing in his own way. No one could tell him. Tom knew the utter +futility of shouting any last warnings or instructions to him. + +For Hervey Willetts was like a shot out of a rifle. With him it was a +case of hit or miss. He had no rules.... + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +SHADOWS OF THE NIGHT + + +One thing Hervey did bear in mind, and that was what Tom had told him +about how to distinguish a dark object in the dark. He would not +remember this twenty-four hours hence, but he remembered it then, and +that is saying much for him. He tried to improve upon the formula by +experimenting with his eyes cross-eyed, but it didn't work. Skirting the +lower western reach of the mountain and beyond, in the comparatively +flat country, he kept squinting away at old Crows Nest and its shadowy, +black mass guided him. "Slady's got the right dope on mountains," he +said to himself. + +The race was about as Tom had said; four miles for the horses, against a +mile and a half for Hervey. Both routes were bad, Hervey's the worse of +the two. All things considered, hills, muddy roads, trackless woodland, +swampy areas, it should take the heavily loaded team a little over an +hour to reach the bridge. By Tom's calculation it must take Hervey at +least an hour and a half. + +So there you are. + +Going straight north, Hervey would have that dim black mass, hovering on +the verge of invisibility, to guide him. Traveling a little west of +north he might have reached the road at a nearer point. But here the +traveling was bad and the danger of getting lost greater. Tom had +weighed one thing against another and told Hervey to go straight north. + +Hervey found the first half hour of his journey very difficult, picking +his way around the base of the mountain. Beyond the country was flat and +comparatively open, being mostly sparse woodland. The wind was very keen +here, since there was no mountain to break its force and the rain blew +in his face, almost blinding him. + +Again and again he wiped his dripping face with his sleeve and plodded +on, picking out his beacon now and again in the darkness. It was +surprising how easy it was for him to do this by the little trick of +which Tom had told him. His eyes would just catch the mountain for a +second, then it would evaporate in the surrounding blackness, like +breath on a pane of glass. + +Suddenly, something happened which quite unnerved him. He was hurrying +through a patch of woodland when, not more than ten feet ahead of him, +he was certain that he saw something dark glide from one tree to +another. + +He stopped short, his heart in his mouth. The minutes, he knew, were +precious, but he could not move. The wind in the trees moaned like some +lost soul, and in his stark fear the beating of the drops on the leafy +carpet startled him. He heard these because he was standing still, and +the ceasing of his own footfalls emphasized the steady patter. +Somewhere, in all that stormy solitude and desolation, an uncanny owl +hooted its dismal song. + +Hervey did not move. + +It was not till he bethought him of those horses lumbering along the +road ever nearer and nearer to that trap of death that he got control of +himself and started off. + +It was just the gloom of those dark woods, the play of some freakish and +deceptive shadow conjuring itself into a human presence, that he had +seen.... Who would be out in that lonely wood on such a night? + +With a sudden, desperate impulse to challenge his fear and have done +with it, he stepped briskly toward the tree to glance about it and +dispel his illusion. If it was just some branch broken by the wind and +hanging loose.... + +He approached the trunk and edged around it. As he did so a form moved +around the trunk also. Hervey paused. The pounding of his heart seemed +louder than the noises of the storm. In his throat was a queer burning +sensation. He could not speak. He could not stir. The dark form moved +again, ever so little.... + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE LIGHT THAT FAILED + + +The suspense was worse than any outcome could be, and Hervey, in another +impulse of desperation, took a step to the right, then quickly another +to the left. This ruse brought the two face to face. And in a flash +Hervey realized that he had little to fear from one who had tried so +desperately to escape his notice. + +The figure was that of a young man, his raiment torn and disordered and +utterly drenched. He wore a plaid cap, which being pulled down over his +ears by reason of the wind, gave him an appearance of toughness which +his first words belied. + +"You needn't be afraid," he said. + +"I'm not afraid," said Hervey. "Who are you?" + +"Did you hear some one scream?" the stranger asked. + +"Scream? No. It was the wind, I guess. Are you lost, or what?" + +"I want to get out of here, that's all," the young man said. "This place +is full of children screaming. Did you ever kill anybody?" + +"No," said Hervey, somewhat agitated. + +The stranger placed a trembling hand on Hervey's shoulder. "Do you know +a person can scream after he's dead?" he said. + +"I don't know," said Hervey, somewhat alarmed and not knowing what to +say. "Anyway, I have to hurry; it's up to me to save some people's +lives. There's a bridge washed away along the road." + +He did not wait longer to talk with this singular stranger, but thoughts +of the encounter lingered in his mind, particularly the young fellow's +speech about dead people and children screaming. As he hurried on, +Hervey concluded that the stranger was demented and had probably +wandered away from some village in the neighborhood. He had reason later +to recall this encounter, but he soon forgot it in the more urgent +matter of reaching the road. + +He had now about half a mile of level country to traverse, consisting +of fields separated by stone walls. The land was soggy, and here and +there in the lower places were areas of water. These he would not take +the time to go around, but plunged through them, often going knee deep +into the marshy bottom. It was sometimes with difficulty that he was +able to extricate his leg from these soggy entanglements. + +But he no longer needed the uncertain outline of that black mass amid +the surrounding blackness to guide him, for now the cheerful lights of +an isolated house upon the road shone in the distance. There was the +road, sure enough, though he could not see it. + +"That's what Slady calls deduction," he panted, as he trudged on, +running when he could, and dragging his heavy, mud-bedraggled feet out +of the mire every dozen steps or so. Over a stone wall he went and +scrambled to his feet and hastened on. + +The lights in the house cheered and guided him and he made straight for +this indubitable beacon. "Mountains are all--all right," he panted, "but +kerosene lamps--for--for--mine. I hope that--bunch--doesn't go to--bed." +His heart was pounding and he had a cruel stitch in his side from running, +which pained him excruciatingly when he ran fast. He tried scout pace +but it didn't work; he was not much of a hand for that kind of thing. +"It's--it's--all--right when--you're running through--the--handbook," +he said, "but--but...." + +Over another stone wall he went, tearing a great gash in his trousers, +exposing the limb to rain and wind. The ground was better for a space +and he ran desperately. Every breath he drew pained him, now and again +he staggered slightly, but he kept his feet and plunged frantically on. + +Then one of the lights in the house went out. Then another. There was +only one now. "That's--that's--what--it means for--for--people to--to go +to--to bed early," he panted with difficulty. "I--I always--said----" He +had not the breath to finish, but it is undoubtedly true that he had +always been a staunch advocate of remaining up all night. + +He fixed his eyes upon the one remaining light and ran with utter +desperation. His breathing was spasmodic, he reeled, pulled himself +together by sheer will, and stumbled on. On the next stone wall he made +a momentary concession to his exhaustion and paused just a moment, +holding his aching side. + +Then he was off again, running like mad. The single little light seemed +twinkling and hazy and he brushed his streaming face with his sleeve so +that he might see it the more clearly. But it looked dull, more like a +little patch of brightness than a shining light. Either it was failing, +or he was. + +He had to hold his stinging side and gulp for every breath he drew, but +he ran with all his might and main. He was too spent and dizzy to keep +his direction without that distant light, and he knew it. He was not Tom +Slade to be sure of himself in complete darkness. He was giddy--on the +verge of collapse. The bee-line of his course loosened and became +erratic. But if his legs were weakening his will was strong, and he +staggered, reeled, ran. + +On, on, on, he sped, falling forward now, rather than running, but +keeping his feet by the sheer power of his will. His heart seemed up in +his mouth and choking him. With one hand he grasped the flying shred of +his torn trousers and tried to wipe the blood from the cut in his leg. +Thus for just a second his progress was impeded. + +That was the last straw. The trifling movement lost him his balance, his +exhausted and convulsed body went round like a top and he lay breathing +in little jerks on the swampy ground. + +One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. In another five seconds he would +rise. He raised himself on one trembling arm and looked about. He +brushed his soaking hair back from his eyes and looked again. + +"Where--what--where--is--it--anyway?" he panted. He did not know which +direction was north or south or east or west. He only knew that a dagger +was sticking in his side and that he could not rise.... + +Yes, he could. He pulled himself together, rested a moment on his knees, +staggered to his feet and looked around. + +"Where--where--th--the dickens--is north?" + +He turned and looked around. He looked around the other way. Nothing but +desolation and darkness. He thought of what Tom had told him and, +closing his eyes, opened them suddenly. The mountain must have been too +near to show in outline now; it had probably melted into the general +landscape. There was just an even, solid blackness all about him. The +wind moaned, and somewhere, high and far off, he heard the screech of an +eagle. But at least the rain did not assail him as it had done. This, +however, was small comfort. He had lost, _failed_, and he knew it. + +In pitiable despair, in the anguish of defeat, he looked about him again +in every direction, as if to beseech the angry night to give him back +his one little beacon, and let him only save those people if he died for +it. + +But there was no light anywhere. It had gone out. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +ALMOST + + +Well, he would not go back. They should find him right there, his body +marking the very last foot he had been able to go. He would die as those +brother scouts of his would have to die. He would not go back. + +That good rule of the scouts to stop and think was not in Hervey's line. +But he would do the next best thing--a thing very characteristic of +Hervey Willetts. He would take a chance and start running. Yes, that +would be better. There would be just one chance in four of his going in +the right direction. But he had taken bigger chances than that before. +Anyway, the rain was ceasing. And he soon overcame the sentimental +notion of just lying there. + +The momentary rest had restored some measure of his strength. The +aching in his side was not so acute. The land was not so muddy where he +was and he took off his jacket and washed some of the heavy mud from his +shoes. + +Then he started off pell-mell. Who shall say what good angel prompted +him to look behind? Perhaps it was the little god Billikins of whom you +are to know more in these pages. But look behind Hervey Willetts did. +And there in the distance, very tiny but very clear, was a spark bobbing +in the darkness. + +He paused and watched it over his shoulder. It moved along slowly, very +slowly. It disappeared. Then appeared again. And now it moved a little +faster. A little faster still. Now it moved along at an even, steady +rate. The long, hard pull up Cheery Hill was over, and the horses were +jogging along the road. Oh, how well Hervey knew that lantern which hung +under the rear step of the clumsy, lumbering old bus. + +_Then it had not passed._ + +Hervey Willetts was himself now. Tearing a loose shred from his tattered +trousers, he soaked it in a little puddle, then stuffed it in his mouth. +He clasped his jack-knife in one fist and a twig in the other. He drew +up his belt. He took that precious hat off and stuffed it in his pocket, +campaign buttons and all. Ah, no, he did not throw it away. He ripped +off another rag and tied it fast around his neck and he bound his scarf +around his forehead. He knew all these little tricks of the runner. It +was not thought, but _action_ now. + +But, oh, Hervey, Hervey! What sort of a scout are you? Did you not know +that the shriek of the eagle must have been from the mountain in the +north? Did you not know that eagles live on mountain crags? Why did you +not face into the wind and you would have headed north? When the rain +did not blow in your face or against either cheek, that was because you +were facing _south_. It had not stopped raining. It was raining and +blowing for _your_ sake and you did not know it. You were hunting for a +kerosene lamp! + +But there are scouts and scouts. + +Bareheaded, half naked, he sped through the darkness like a ghostly +specter of the night. He headed for a point some fifty yards ahead of +the bus. He knew that coming from behind he could not catch it in time. +He was running to _intercept_ it, not to _overtake_ it. He was running +at right angles to it and for a point ahead of it. Therein lay his only +chance, and not a very good chance. By all the rules there was _no_ +chance. By the divine law which gives power to desperation, there was--a +little. + +He ran in utter abandonment, in frenzy. Some power outside of himself +bore him on. What else? Like a fiend, with arms swinging and head +swathed in a crazy rag, he moved through wind and storm, invincible, +indomitable! His head throbbed, his mouth was thick, his side ached, but +he seemed beyond the power of these things now. Over the fences he went, +leaving shreds of clothing blowing in the gale, and tearing his flesh on +stone walls. In the madness of despair, and in the insane resolve that +despair begets, he sped on, on, on.... + +The bus was now almost even with his course. He changed his course to +keep ahead of it. The lumbering old rattle-trap gave out a human note +now, which cheered the runner. He could hear the voices within it. Very +faint, but still he could hear them. He knew he could not make himself +heard because the wind was the other way. Besides which, he had not the +voice to call. His whole frame was trembling; he could not have spoken +even. + +On, on, on. The trees passed him like trees seen from a train window. He +turned the wet rag in his mouth to draw a little more moisture from it. +He clutched his sweating hands tighter around the knife and twig. He +shook the blowing, dripping hair from his eyes. Forward, _forward!_ If +he slackened his speed now he would fall--collapse. Like a top, his +speed kept him up. + +Running straight ahead he would about run into the bus, which meant that +it was gaining on him. Again he bent his course to a point ahead of it. +Each maneuver of this kind narrowed the angle between himself and the +bus until soon he would be _pursuing_ it. The angle would be no more. He +would be running _after_ the bus and losing ground. + +By a supreme, final spurt, he had now a fair chance to make the road and +intercept the bus before it reached the broad, level stretch to the +bridge. Should it reach that point his last chance would have vanished. + +In this desperate pass he tried to shout, but found, as the spent runner +usually does, that he was almost voiceless. A feeble call was all he +could manage, and on the contrary wind and noise of the storm, this was +quite inadequate. He could only stumble on, borne up by his indomitable +will. He was weakening and he knew it. + +Yet the light of the bus so near him gave him fresh hope, and with it +fresh strength. It seemed a kind of perversity of fate that he should +have reached a point ordinarily within earshot, and yet could not make +his approach known. + +Just as the bus was passing his course, and when it was perhaps three or +four hundred feet distant, Hervey, putting all his strength into a final +spurt, sped forward in a blind frenzy like one possessed. He saw the bus +go by; heard the voices within it. Throwing his jack-knife from him in a +kind of frantic, maniacal desperation, he tried to scream, and finding +that he could not, that his voice was dead while yet his limbs lived, +and that his panting throat was clogged up and his nerves jangled and +uncontrollable, he bounded forward in a kind of delirium of concentrated +effort. + +Then, suddenly, his foot sank into a hole. Perhaps with a little +calmness and patience he could have released it. But in his wild hurry +he tried to wrench it out. A sudden, sharp pain rewarded this insane +effort. He lost his balance and went sprawling to the ground, another +quick, excruciating twinge accompanying his fall, and lay there on the +soggy ground like a woodchuck in a trap. + +The old bus went lumbering by. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE HERO + + +The best account of this business was given by Darby Curren, the bus +driver, or Curry, as the boys called him. + +"We was jes' comin' onter the good road, we was, and I was jes' about +goin' ter give Lefty a taste o' the whip ter let 'er know ter wake up. +Them kids inside was a hollerin', '_Hit 'er up!" 'Step on 'er!' 'Give +'er the gas!_' and all sech nonsense. Well, by gorry, I never seed sech +a night since Noah sailed away in the ark, I didn't. So ye'll understand +I was'n' fer bein' surprised at nuthin' I see. Ghosts nor nuthin'. + +"Well, all of a sudden Lefty begins to jump and rear step sideways and +was like to drag us all in the ditch when what do I see but that there +thing, like a ghost or somethin' it was, hangin' onter her bridle. It +was makin' some kind of a noise, I dunno what. First off I thought plum +certain it was a ghost. Then I thought it was Hasbrooks' boy, that's +what I thought, on account o' him havin' them fits and maybe bein' +buried alive. It was me that druv the hearse fer 'im only a week back. +And I says then to Corby that was sittin' with me, I says, no son o' +mine that ever had them fits would be buried in three days, not if I +knowed it. Safety first, I said, dead or livin'. + +"Well, I hollered to him what he wanted there and I didn't get no answer +so I got down. And all the rest o' that howlin' pack got out, and the +two men. I guess they thought we was held up, Jesse James like. Only the +little codger stayed inside. + +"Well, there he was, all tore and bloody and not enough duds left to +stop up a rat-hole. And we hed ter force his hand open, he was hangin' +onter the bridle that hard." + +Well, that was about all there was to it; the rest was told by many +mouths. They forced open his grip on the horse's bridle and he collapsed +and lay unconscious on the ground. They lifted him and carried him +gently into the bus, and laid him on one of the long seats. His left +foot was shoeless and lacerated. + +There were a couple of first aid scouts in the party, and they did what +they could for him, bathing his face and trying to restore some measure +of repose to his jangled nerves. They washed his torn foot with +antiseptic while one kept a cautious hold upon his fluttering pulse. +They administered a heart stimulant out of their kit, and waited. He did +not speak nor open his eyes, save momentarily at intervals, when he +stared vacantly. But the stout heart which had served him in his +superhuman effort, would not desert him now, and in a little while the +brother scout who held his wrist laid it gently down and, in a kind of +freakish impulse, made the full scout salute to the unconscious figure. +That seemed odd, too, because at camp he was not thought to be a really +A-1 scout.... + +The two scoutmasters of the arriving troops remained in the bus with the +first aid scouts and a queer little codger who seemed to be lame; the +others walked. Hervey Willetts had ridden on top of that bus (contrary +to orders), but he had never before lain quietly on the seat of it and +been watched by two scoutmasters. He was always being watched by +scoutmasters, but never in just this way.... + +So the old bus lumbered on. Soon he opened his eyes and mumbled +something. + +"Yes, my boy," said one of the scoutmasters; "what is it?" + +"S--sma--smashed--br--," he said incoherently. + +"Yes, we'll have a doctor as soon as we reach camp," the scoutmaster +said soothingly. "Try to bear it. Don't move it and perhaps it won't +pain so." + +Hervey shook his head petulantly as if it were not his foot he spoke of. +"Br--oken--the--br--look out----" And again he seemed to faint away. + +The scoutmaster was puzzled. + +In a few moments he spoke again, his eyes closed. But the word he spoke +was clear. + +"Ahead," he whispered. + +The scoutmaster was still puzzled but he opened the bus door and called, +"Gilbert, suppose you and a couple of the boys go on ahead and watch +your step." Then to the other scoutmaster he said, "I think he's a bit +delirious." + +So it happened that it was Gilbert Tyson of the troop from Hillsburgh, +forty or fifty miles down the line, who shouted to Darby Curren to stop, +that the bridge had been washed away. + +A funny part of the whole business was that the little duffer in the +bus, who was attached to that troop, thought that Tyson was the hero of +the occasion. He was strong on troop loyalty if on nothing else. So far +as he was concerned (and he was very much concerned) Tyson had saved the +lives of every scout in those two troops. Subsequent circumstances +favored this delusion of his. For one thing, Hervey Willetts cared +nothing at all about glory. You could not fit the mantle of heroism on +him to save your life. He never talked about the affair, he was seldom +at camp, except to sleep, and he did not know how he had managed the +last few yards of his triumphal errand. For another thing, the +Hillsburgh troop kept to themselves more or less, occupying one of the +isolated "hill cabins." As for Tom Slade, he seldom talked much. He had +seen too many stunts to lose his head over a new one, and he was a poor +sort of publicity agent for Hervey. + +Thus Goliath, as the little codger came to be known, had the field all +to himself, and he turned out to be a mighty "hero maker." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +PROVEN A SCOUT + + +The bus came to a stop a hundred feet or so from the ruined bridge and +its passengers, going forward cautiously, looked down shudderingly into +the yawning chasm. For a few seconds the very thought of what might have +happened filled them with silent awe. + +Goliath was the first to speak. "It's good Tyson saved our lives, isn't +it?" he piped up. "We'd all be dead, 'wouldn't we?" + +"Very dead," said one of the scouts; "so dead we probably wouldn't know +it." + +"Wouldn't _know_ it?" asked Goliath, puzzled. + +For answer the scout gave him a bantering push and tousled his hair for +him. The little fellow took refuge with one of the scoutmasters. + +"Will we get to that camp soon?" he asked. + +"Pretty soon, I hope. Perhaps some one will come down and show us the +way." + +"Are we lost?" + +"No, we're saved." + +"I'm glad we're in Tyson's troop, aren't you?" + +The scoutmaster laughed. "You bet," he said. + +"Are there wild animals in that camp?" + +"Scouts are all wild animals," the scoutmaster laughed again. + +"Am I a wild animal?" + +"Surest thing you know." + +"Are you?" + +"That's what." + +"Is that fellow that's inside lying on the seat--is he dead?" + +"No--not dead. But you mustn't go in and bother him." + +The scene about the bridge was one of utter ruin. No vestige of the +rustic structure was left; it had probably been carried away in the +first overwhelming rush of water. The flood had subsided by now, and +only a trickle of water passed through the gully. In this, and upon the +sloping banks and the wreckage which had been Ebon Berry's garage, the +scouts climbed about and explored the scene of devastation. + +After a while a scoutmaster and several boys arrived from camp by way +of the road. They had fought their way through mud and storm, bringing +stretchers and a first aid kit, in expectation of finding disaster. + +"This is not a very cheerful welcome to camp," one of the scoutmasters +said. "The lake broke through up yonder. The boys have checked the flood +with a kind of makeshift dam. We were afraid you had met with disaster. +All safe and sound, are you?" + +"Oh, yes, several of our boys went ahead and one of them shouted for us +to stop----" + +"That's the one right there," piped up the little fellow. "Maybe he'll +get a reward, hey? Maybe he'll get a prize." + +"I guess we're all safe and sound," said the other arriving scoutmaster; +"but wet and hungry----" + +"Especially hungry," one of the scouts said. + +"That's a common failing here," said the man from camp. + +"There's a funny fellow inside; want to see him?" piped up Goliath. "He +hasn't got any clothes hardly, and he don't know what he's talking +about; he hasn't got any conscience----" + +"He means he's unconscious," said the scoutmaster. "We ran into him on +the road. He really hasn't spoken yet, so we don't know anything about +him. He seems a kind of victim of the storm--crazed. I think it just +possible he intended--Come inside, won't you? I think we'll have to take +him with us on a stretcher. I suppose he belongs in the countryside +hereabouts." + +Thus it was that Hervey's own scoutmaster looked down upon the +unconscious form of his most troublesome and unruly scout. It was no +wonder that the others had not thought him a scout. He looked more like +a juvenile hobo. But sticking out of his soaking pocket was that one +indubitable sign of identification, his rimless hat cut full of holes +and decorated with its variety of badge buttons. Ruefully, Mr. Denny +lifted this dripping masterpiece of original handiwork, and held it +between his thumb and forefinger. + +"This is one of our choicest youngsters," he said. "He is in my own +troop. The last time I saw him, I explicitly told him not to leave camp +without my permission. I suppose he has been on some escapade or other. +I think he's about due for dismissal----" + +"I don't think he's seriously injured, sir." + +"Oh, no, he has a charmed life. Nine lives like a cat, in fact. Well, +we'll cart him back." + +"He doesn't look like a scout fellow," Goliath said. + +"Well, he isn't what you would call a very good scout fellow, my boy," +Mr. Denny said. "Good scout fellows usually know the law and obey it, if +anybody should ask you." + +"If they ask me, that's what I'll tell 'em," said Goliath, "hey?" + +"You can't go far wrong if you tell them that," Mr. Denny said. + +"And they have to save lives too, don't they?" the little codger piped +up. + +"Why, yes, you seem to have it all down pat," Mr. Denny said. + +"We've got one of them in our troop," the little fellow said; "he's a +hero." + +"Well, I hope he reads the handbook and obeys the scout laws," said Mr. +Denny significantly. + +"I'm always going to have good luck," the little fellow said, rather +irrelevantly. "I got a charm, too. Want to see it?" + +"I think we'd better see if we can get to camp and find some hot stew," +said Mr. Denny. + +"That's the kind of a charm for me," said one of the scouts. + +So it fell out that on this occasion, as on most others, Goliath was not +permitted to dig down into the remote recess of his pocket to show that +wonderful charm. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE NEW SCOUT + + +"Well," laughed Mr. Baxton, scoutmaster of the troop to which that +little brownie of a boy belonged; "since we have a hero, we may as well +use him. Suppose you stay here, Gilbert, and stop any vehicles that +happen along." + +"I think one of our boys from camp ought to do that," said one of the +other scoutmasters. "How about you, Roy?" + +The boy addressed was of a compact, natty build, with brown curly hair, +and with the kind of smile which was positively guaranteed not to wash +out in a storm. On his nose, which was of the aggressive and impudent +type, were five freckles, set like the stars which form the big dipper, +and his even teeth, which were constantly in evidence, were as white as +snow. Across the bridge of his nose was a mark such as is seen upon the +noses of persons who wear spectacles. But he wore no spectacles, though +the imprint between his laughing, dancing eyes was said to have been +caused by glasses--soda water glasses which were continually tipped up +against his nose in obedience to the dictum that a scout shall be +thorough. + +"We'll both stay," he said; "if a Ford comes along we'll carry it +across." + +"Well, don't leave the spot, that's all," said Mr. Denny. + +"Far be it from such," said Roy. "If we go away we'll take it with us. +We should worry our young lives about a spot. Only save some stew for +us. This night has been full of snap so far, it reminds me of a +ginger-snap. We'll sit in one of those old cars, hey?" + +Gilbert Tyson stared at Roy. He thought it wouldn't be half bad to stay +here with this sprightly scout. The rest of the party, guided by Mr. +Denny, started picking their way along the road to camp, carrying Hervey +on a stretcher. Darby Curren, the stage-driver, doubtless tempted by the +mention of hot stew, unharnessed his team and leaving the horses to +graze in the adjacent field, accompanied the party. Roy and Gilbert +Tyson watched the departing cavalcade till it was swallowed in darkness. + +The rain had ceased now, and the wind was dying. In the sky was a little +silvery break, and by its light flaky clouds were seen hurrying away, +all in one direction like a flock of birds. It seemed as if they might +be fleeing quietly from the wreck which they had caused. + +"If one of the lights on those cars is working, we might use it for a +signal," Roy said. + +The cars of which he spoke were in the wreckage of Berry's garage. It +had not been much of a garage, hardly more than a shack, in fact, and +the two cars which now stood more or less damaged and exposed to the +weather, had been its only contents, save for a work-bench and a few +tools. Mr. Berry's flivver was quite beyond repair, having been +overturned and carried some yards and apparently dashed against the +bridge. There is no wreck in the world like the wreck of a Ford. + +The heavier car had evidently withstood the first onrush of water and +had made a stand against the flood, its wheels deep in the mud. This +car was a roadster. Its side curtains were up, completely enclosing the +single seat. It had evidently been used since the rainy weather started. +It was not altogether free from damage, one of the fenders was bent, the +bumper in front almost touched the ground on one side, an ornamental +figurehead had been broken off the radiator cap, and the face of the +radiator was dented. This car was equipped with a searchlight fastened +on one end of the windshield, and as Gilbert Tyson handled this it +lighted, sending a penetrating shaft of brightness into the night. + +"It's funny the battery works after the soaking it got," said Roy. +"Let's keep playing that light on the road. Anybody could see it half a +mile off." + +"Spell danger with it," Gilbert said. + +"Sure, but I don't think anybody from camp will be along." + +"You never can tell who knows the Morse Code and who doesn't," Gilbert +said. "Keep playing it on the road, anyway." + +The position of the car was such that this searchlight could be shown +upon the road for perhaps the space of a quarter of a mile. It would +have been quite sufficient to give pause to any approaching wagon or +machine. Roy and Gilbert climbed into the car and sat upon the seat in +the cosy enclosure formed by the curtains. It was quite pleasant in +there. Since it was more agreeable to be fooling with the light than to +let it shine steadily, Roy amused himself by spelling the word DANGER +again and again. + +Pretty soon one of the curtains opened and a voice said, "What's all the +danger about?" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE GRAY ROADSTER + + +It was Tom Slade. With him was one of the best all-around scouts in +camp, patrol leader of the Royal Bengal Tigers, Eagle Scout and winner +of the Gold Cross, Bert Winton. + +"What's this? The annual electrical show?" he asked. "What's the matter +with you kids? Lost, strayed or stolen? Who's this fellow?" + +"Look at the bridge, it's gone!" said Roy. "Don't bother to look at it. +It isn't there anyway. We're a couple of pickets--I mean sentinels." + +"Well, you guided us through the woods, anyway," said Tom. + +"The pleasure is ours," said Roy. "We can sit in a car and guide people +through the woods; we're real heroes. What's the news?" + +"Do you know anything about the stage?" Tom asked. + +"We know _all_ about it. It's right over there. This fellow comes from +Hillsburgh. He got out and walked ahead and stopped it. Didn't you? +Hervey Willetts blew in from somewhere or other and they're carrying him +to camp. Nothing serious. Got any candy?" + +"The crowd from the bus is all right then?" + +"Positively guaranteed." + +"And Hervey?" + +"He's used up another one of his lives, he's only got three left now. He +must have hit the trail after Westy and I left the cove. He's going to +get called down to-morrow. He should worry, he's used to that." + +"Where did they run into him?" Tom asked. + +"They found him hanging onto one of the horses. Curry thought he was a +ghost, that's all _I_ know. This fellow went ahead and shouted back that +the bridge had sneaked off. Didn't you, Gilly?" It was characteristic of +Roy that he had already found a nickname for Gilbert Tyson. + +"Hervey say anything?" + +"Mumbled something, I don't know what." + +Tom pondered a few moments. "Humph," said he, "that's all right." + +He was satisfied about Hervey. The other phases of the episode did not +interest him. What scoutmasters said and thought did not greatly concern +him. He did not give two thoughts to the fact that Hervey was to be +"called down." He had known scouts to be called down before. He had +known credit and glory to miscarry. Hervey had done this thing and that +was all that the young camp assistant cared about. It would not hurt +Hervey to be called down. + +The picturesque young assistant, the very spirit and embodiment of +adventure and romance, made a good deal of allowance for visiting +scoutmasters and handbook scouts. He was broad and kind as the trees are +broad and kind; exacting about big things, careless about little things. +They knew all about scouting. He was the true scout. They had their +manuals and handbooks. The great spirit of the woods was his. Hervey had +made good. Why bother more about that? + +So he just said, "Not hurt much, huh? Well, if you kids want to go up to +camp, we'll take care of this job." + +"Whose car is this, anyway?" asked Bert Winton. "I never saw it before. +It's got bunged up a little, hey?" + +Tom looked at the roadster rather interestedly, whistling to himself. + +"It's gray," said Bert; "I never saw it before." + +"It wasn't damaged in the flood," said Tom. + +"Why wasn't it?" Roy demanded. + +"Because it's facing down stream. Anything that hit it would have hit it +in the back. I don't know whose it is, but it came here damaged, if you +want to know." + +"Sherlock Nobody Holmes, the boy detective," vociferated Roy. "We're not +going to let it worry our innocent young lives, anyway, are we, Gilly? +Oh, here comes somebody along the road! The plot grows thicker!" + +Tom and Winton had cut through the woods, direct from the cove where +they had been assisting in throwing together the makeshift dam. +Fortunately the searchlight had made their journey easy. The figure +which now approached along the road turned out to be Ebon Berry, owner +of the wrecked garage, who had ventured forth from his home as soon as +the storm had abated. + +"Well, 'tain't no use cryin' over spilled milk, as the feller says," he +observed as he contemplated the ruin all about him. + +"You're about cleaned out, Mr. Berry," said Winton. "Whose car is this? +I never saw it before." + +"That? Well, now, that belongs to a feller that left it here, oh, I +dunno, mebbe close onto a week ago. I ain't seed him since. Said he'd be +back for it nex' day. I ain't seed nothin' of 'im. I guess that's what +you'd call a racer, now, hain't it?" + +"What are you going to do about it?" Tom asked. "It was damaged when it +came here, wasn't it?" + +"Yes, it were. Well, now, I don't jes' know _what_ I'd auter do. Jes' +nothin', I guess." + +"'Tisn't going to do it any good buried here in the mud," Tom said. + +"Well, 'tain't my loss, ony six dollars storage." + +"Let's give it the once over," Tom said, in a way of half interest. The +efforts of the night had been so strenuous that his casual interest in +the car was something in the form of relaxation. It interested him as +whittling a stick might have interested him. "Take a squint into that +pocket there, Roy." + +There was nothing but a piece of cotton waste in the flap pocket of the +door nearest Roy, but Gilbert Tyson's ransacking of the other one +revealed some miscellaneous paraphernalia; there was a pair of +motorist's gloves, a road map, a newspaper, and two letters. + +"Here, I'll give you the light," said Roy, as Tyson handed these things +to Tom. + +"You keep the light on the road," said Tom. "Let's have your +flashlight." + +"Now we're going to find out where the buried treasure lays hid--I mean +hidden," said Roy. "We're going to unravel the mystery, as Pee-wee would +say. 'Twas on a dark and stormy night----" + +"Let's have your flashlight," said Tom, dryly. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE UNKNOWN TRAIL + + +Gilbert Tyson and Roy sat in the car. Tyson had removed one curtain and +Tom, standing close by, examined the papers in the glare of the +flashlight which Tyson held. Bert Winton and Mr. Berry peered curiously +over Tom's shoulder. + +The map was of the usual folding sort, and on a rather large scale, +showing the country for about forty or fifty miles roundabout. + +"There's my little old home town," said Tyson, putting his finger on +Hillsburgh, "home, sweet home." + +"And here's little old Black Lake--before the flood," said Roy. "There's +the camp, right there," he added, indicating the spot to Tyson; "there's +where we eat, right there." + +"And here's a trail up the mountain," said Tom. "See that lead pencil +mark? You go up the back way. See?" + +So there then was indeed a way up that frowning mountain opposite the +camp. It was up the less precipitous slope, the slope which did not face +the lake. The pencil marking had been made to emphasize the fainter +printed line. + +"Humph," said Tom, interested. "There's always _some_ way up a +mountain.... Maybe the light we saw up there ... let's have a squint at +that letter, will you?" + +"Have we got a right to read it?" Winton asked. + +"We may be able to save a life by it," said Tom. "Sure." + +But the letter did not reveal anything of interest. It was, in fact, +only the last page of a letter which had been preserved on account of +some trifling memorandums on the back of the sheet. What there was of +the letter read as follows: + + hope you will come back to England some time or other. I suppose + America seems strange after all these years. You'll have to be + content with shooting Indians and buffaloes now. But we'll save a + fox or two for you. And don't forget how to ride horseback and we'll + try not to forget about the rattle wagons. + + REGGY. + +"That's very kind of Reggy," said Roy. "Indians and buffaloes! Poor +Indians. If he ever comes here, we'll teach him to shoot the shutes. If +he's a good shot maybe we'll let him shoot the rapids." + +"They all think America is full of Indians," said Winton. + +"Indian pudding," said Roy; "_mmm, mmm!_" + +"Well, let's see the newspaper," said Tom. "I don't suppose there's +anything particular in that. Somebody that lived in England has been +trying to go up the mountain--_maybe_. That's about all we know. We +don't know that, even. But anyway, he hasn't come back." + +"Maybe he's up there shooting Indians and buffaloes," said Roy. "We +should worry." + +"When was it he came here?" Tom asked. + +"'Bout several days ago, I reckon," said Mr. Berry. + +"That light's been up there all summer," Winton said. + +"Until to-night," Tom added. + +For a few moments no one spoke. + +"Well, let's see the paper," said Tom, as he took it and began looking +it over. He had not glanced at many of the headings when one attracted +his attention. Following it was an article which he read carefully. + + AUTOIST KILLS CHILD + + Negligence and Reckless Driving Responsible for Accident + + DRIVER ESCAPES + + An accident which will probably prove fatal occurred on the road + above Hillsburgh yesterday when a car described as a gray + roadster ran down and probably mortally injured Willy Corbett, + the eight-year-old son of Thomas Corbett of that place. + + Two laborers in a nearby field, who saw the accident, say + that the machine was running on the left side of the road where + the child was playing and that but for this reckless violation of + the traffic law, the little fellow would not have been run down. + The driver was apparently holding to the left of the road, + because the running was better there. + + Exactly what happened no one seems to know. The autoist + stopped, and started again, and when the two laborers had reached + the spot where the child lay, the machine was going at the rate + of at least forty miles an hour. + + All efforts of town and county authorities to locate the gray + roadster have failed. + +"That's only about ten miles from where I live," said Gilbert Tyson. + +Tom seemed to be thinking. "Let's look at that letter again," said he. +"Humph," he added and handed it back to Roy. + +"What?" Roy asked. + +"Nothing," said Tom. "I guess this is the car all right." + +"I don't see it," said Winton. "Just because it's a gray roadster----" + +"Well, there may be other little things about it, too," said Tom. + +"About the car or the letter or what?" Winton asked. + +"Answered in the affirmative," said Roy. + +"Well, anyway," Tom said, "it looked as if the owner of the car might +have gone up the mountain. And he hasn't come down. At least he hasn't +come after his car. I'd like to get a look at him. I'm going to follow +that trail up a ways----" + +"To-night?" + +"When did you suppose? Next week? I'd like to find out where the trail +goes. I'm not saying any more. The bright spot we saw from camp went out +to-night. And here's a trail on the other side of the mountain that I +never knew of. Here's a man that had a map of it and he went away and +hasn't come back. I'm not asking anybody to go with me." + +"And I'm not asking you to let me," said Roy. "I'll go just for spite. +You don't think you're afraid of me, am I, quoth he. Now that we're +here, we might as well be all separated together. What do you say, +Gilly? Yes, kind sir, said he. We'll _all_ go, what do you say? Indeed +we will, they answered joyously----" + +"Well, come ahead then," said Tom, "and stop your nonsense." + +"Says you," Roy answered. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +ON THE SUMMIT + + +The two facts uppermost in Tom's mind were these: Some one had marked +the trail up that mountain, and the patch of brightness on the top of +the mountain which had lately been familiar to the boys in camp had that +very night disappeared. + +The owner of the gray roadster had not come back for it. He might be the +fugitive of the newspaper article, and he might not. If Tom had any +_particular_ reason for thinking that he was, he did not say so. There +are a good many gray roadsters. One thing which puzzled Tom was this: +the car had been in storage at Berry's for a few days at the very most, +but the bright patch on the mountain had been visible for a month or +more. So if the owner of this machine had gone up the mountain, at least +he was not the originator of the bright patch there. But perhaps, after +all, the bright patch was just some reflection. + +[Illustration: SUDDENLY ROY CALLED, "LOOK HERE! HERE'S A BOARD!" +Tom Slade's Double Dare. Page 83] + +"Let's have another look at that letter," said Tom. + +He read it again with an interest and satisfaction which certainly were +not justified by the simple wording of the missive. + +"Come ahead," he said; "we can't get much wetter than we are already. We +might as well finish the night's work. I guess Mr. Berry'll take care of +the searchlight." + +Mr. Berry had no intention of leaving the scene of his ruined +possessions to the mercy of vandals. Moreover, it seemed likely that +with the abatement of the storm the neighboring village would turn out +to view the devastation. + +Once the end of the trail was located, the ascent of the mountain was +not difficult, and the four explorers made their way up the +comparatively easy slope, hindered only by trees which had fallen across +the path. The old mountain which frowned so forbiddingly down upon the +camp across the lake was very docile when taken from behind. It was just +a big bully. + +As Tom and the three scouts approached the summit, the devastation +caused by the storm became more and more appalling. Great trees had been +torn up as if they had been no more than house plants. These had fallen, +some to the ground and some against other trees, their spreading roots +dislodging big rocks which had gone crashing down against other trees. +Some of these rocks remained poised where the least agitation would +release them. + +Nature cannot be disturbed like this without suffering convulsions +afterwards, and the continual low noises of dripping roots and of trees +and branches sinking and settling and falling from temporary supports, +gave a kind of voice of suffering and anguish to the wilderness. + +These strange sounds were on every hand and they made the wrecked and +drenched woods to seem haunted. Now and again a sound almost human would +startle the cautious wayfarers as they picked their way amid the sodden +chaos. In places it seemed as if the merest footfall would dislodge some +threatening bowlder which would blot their lives out in a second. And +the ragged, gaping chasms left by roots made the soggy ground uncertain +support for yards about. + +Toward the summit the path was quite obliterated under the jumble of the +wreckage, and the party clambered over and threaded their way amid this +debris until the tiny but cheering lights of Temple Camp were visible +far down across the lake. There the two arriving troops were about +finishing their hot stew! Far down and nearer than the camp was a moving +speck of light; some one was on the lake. The boys did not venture too +near that precipitous descent. + +Suddenly Roy, who had been walking along a fallen tree trunk, called, +"Look here! Here's a board!" + +He had hauled it out from under the trunk, and the others, approaching, +looked at it with interest. In all that wild desolation there was +something very human about a fragment of board. Somehow it connected +that unknown wilderness with the world of men. + +"That didn't come up here by itself," said Tom. + +"You're right, it didn't," said Tyson. + +"Here's a rusty nail in it," Roy added. + +The board, unpainted and weather beaten as it was, seemed singularly out +of place in that remote forest. + +Suddenly Roy grasped Tom's arm; his hand trembled; his whole form was +agitated. + +"_Look!_" he whispered hoarsely. "Look--down there--right _there_. See? +Do you see it? Right under.... Oh, boy, it's _awful_...." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A SCOUT IS THOROUGH + + +Scout though he was, Roy's hand trembled as he passed his flashlight to +Tom. He could not, for his life, point that flashlight himself at the +grewsome object which he had seen in the darkness. + +Lying crossways underneath the trunk was the body of a man, his face +looking straight up into the sky with a fixed stare, and a soulless grin +upon his ashen face. Somewhere nearby, mud was dripping from an exposed +root, and the earth laden drops as they fell one by one into the ragged +cavity gave a sound which simulated a kind of unfeeling laughter. It +seemed as if that stark, staring thing might be chuckling through its +rigid, grinning mouth. Roy's weight and movement on the trunk +communicated a slight stir to the ghastly figure and its head moved ever +so little.... + +"No," said Tom, anticipating Winton's question; "he's dead. Get off the +log, Roy." + +"Well, I wish that dripping would stop, anyway," said Winton. + +Tom approached the figure, the others following and standing about in +silence as he examined it. They all avoided the log, the slightest +movement of which had an effect which made them shudder. + +Raising one cold, muddy hand, Tom felt the wrist, laying it gently down +again. There was not even a faint, departing vestige of life in the +trapped, crushed body. + +"Is it him?" Gilbert Tyson asked in a subdued tone. + +"Guess so," said Tom, kneeling. + +The others stood back in a kind of fearful respect, watching, +waiting.... Now and then a leaf or twig fell. And once, some broken tree +limb crackled as it adjusted itself in its fallen estate. And all the +while the mud kept dripping, dripping, dripping.... + +Lying on the dead man's open coat, as if they had fallen from his +pocket, were two cards and a letter. These Tom picked up and glanced +at, using Roy's flashlight. One of the cards was an automobile +registration card. The other was a driver's license card. They were both +of the State of New Jersey and issued to Aaron Harlowe. The letter had +been stamped but not mailed. It was addressed to Thomas Corbett, North +Hillsburgh, New York. This name tallied with the name of the child's +father in the newspaper. + +Here was pretty good proof that the man who had met death here upon this +wild, lonely mountain was none other than the owner of the gray +roadster, the coward who had fled from the consequences of his +negligence, and turned it into a black crime! + +"Are you going to open it?" Bert Winton asked. + +"I guess no one has a right to do that but the coroner," Tom said. "We +have no right to move the body even." + +"Well," said Bert Winton, his awe at the sight of death somewhat +subsiding at thought of the victim's cowardice, "there's an end of Aaron +Harlowe who ran over Willie Corbett with a gray roadster and----" + +"And was going to send a letter to the kid's father," concluded Tom. +"And here's his footprint, too. I'd like to take his shoe off and fit it +into this footprint," Tom said. + +"What for?" Roy asked. + +"Just to make sure." + +But Tom soon dismissed that thought and the others did not relish it. +Moreover, Tom knew that the law prohibited him from doing such a thing. + +With the mystery, as it seemed, cleared up, there remained nothing to do +but explore the immediate vicinity for the sake of scout thoroughness. +Their search revealed other loose boards, a few cooking utensils and +finally the utter wreck of what must have been a very primitive and tiny +shack. This was perhaps a couple of hundred feet from the body and below +the highest point of the mountain. It was conceivable that a fire here +might have shown in a faint glare down at camp. The blaze could not have +been seen. Amid the ruin of the shack were a few rough cooking utensils. +The soaking land and the darkness effectually concealed the charred +remnants of any fire. + +"Well, he'll never shoot any buffaloes and wild Indians," said Roy. + +Tom replaced the cards and letter, or rather put them in the dead man's +pocket for fear the wind might blow them away, though being under the +lee of the trunk they had been somewhat protected. Then the party +retraced their path down the mountain and, circling its lower reaches, +found themselves at last upon the lake shore. + +Thus ended the work of that fretful night, a night ever memorable at +Temple Camp, a night of death and devastation. The mighty wind which +smote the forest and drove the ruinous waters before it, died in the +moment of its triumph. The sodden, sullen heaven which had cast its +gloom and poured its unceasing rain, rain, rain, upon the camp for two +full weeks, cleared and the edges of the departing clouds were bathed in +the silver moonlight. And the next morning the bright, merry sun arose +and smiled down upon Temple Camp and particularly on Goliath who sat +swinging his legs from the springboard. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE WANDERING MINSTREL + + +He was defying, single handed, half a dozen or more scouts who were +flopping about in rowboats under and about the springboard. They had +just rowed across after an inspection of the washed-out cove, and were +resting on their oars, jollying the little fellow whose legs dangled +above them. + +"Where did that big feller go?" he asked. + +"To the village." + +"He found a dead man last night, didn't he?" + +"That's what he did." + +"I know his name, it's Slade." + +"Right the first time. You're a smart fellow." + +"I like that big feller. He says Gilbert Tyson is all right; I asked +him. I bet Gilbert Tyson can beat any of you fellers. He's in my troop, +he is. I bet you were never in a hospital." + +"I bet you were never in prison," a scout ventured. + +"I bet you never got hanged," Goliath piped up. + +"I bet I did," another scout said. + +"When?" + +"To-morrow afternoon." + +"To-morrow afternoon isn't here yet," Goliath said, triumphantly. + +"Sure it is, _this_ is to-morrow afternoon. Somebody told me yesterday. +If it was to-morrow afternoon yesterday it must be to-day." + +"Posolutely," said Roy Blakeley. "What was true yesterday is true +to-day, because the truth is always the same--only different." + +"Sure," concurred another scout, "to-morrow, to-day will be yesterday. +It's as clear as mud." + +Goliath thought for a few moments and then made a flank attack. + +"Gilbert Tyson is a hero," he said; "he saved the lives of everybody in +that bus--he did." + +"That's where he was wrong," said Roy Blakeley; "a scout is supposed to +be generous. He mustn't be all the time saving." + +"Isn't it good to save lives?" Goliath demanded. + +"Sure, but not too many. A scout that's all the time saving gets to be +stingy." + +Goliath pondered a moment. + +"Gilly is all right but he's not a first-class scout," said Roy. + +"A first-class scout," said Westy Martin, "is not supposed to turn back. +Gilbert turned back. Then he shouted '_stop_.' Law three says that a +scout is courteous. He should have said '_please_ stop.' Law ten says +that a scout must face danger, but he turned his back to it. He wasn't +thinking about the danger, all he was thinking about was the bus. All he +was thinking about was being thrifty--saving lives. I've known fellows +like that before. It's just like striking an average; a scout that +strikes an average is a coward." + +"You mean if the average is small?" said Roy. + +"Oh, sure." + +"Because it all depends," Roy continued; "a scout isn't supposed to +fight, is he? But he can strike an attitude. The same as he can hit a +trail. Suppose he hits a poor, little thin trail----" + +"Then he's a coward," said Connie Bennett. + +"Not necessarily," said Westy, "because----" + +"_A scout has to be obedient! You can't deny that!_" Goliath nearly +fell off the springboard in his excitement. "That other feller is going +to get sent away because I heard a man say so!" + +This was not exactly an answer to the well-reasoned arguments of Roy and +his friends, but it had the effect of making them serious. Moreover, +just at that juncture, Mr. Carroll, scoutmaster of the Hillsburgh troop, +appeared and very gently ordered Goliath from his throne upon the +springboard. The little fellow's mind had been somewhat unsettled by the +skillful reasoning of his new friends. He trotted off in obedience to +Mr. Carroll's injunction that he go in and take off his wet shoes. + +"Boys," said the new scoutmaster, in a pleasant, confidential tone which +won all, "I want to say a word to you about the little brownie we have +with us. You'll find him an odd little duck. I'm hoping to make a scout +of him some time or other. Meanwhile, we have to be careful not to get +him excited. It's a rule of our troop to take with us camping each +summer, some little needy inmate of an orphan home or hospital or some +place of the sort, and give him the benefit of the country air. This +little fellow is our charge this year. You won't talk to him about his +past, because we want him to forget that. We want to take him home well +and strong and I look to you for help. Make friends with him and get him +interested in things about camp. His heart isn't strong; be careful." + +Good scouts that they were, they needed no more than these few words. +Temple Camp usually took new boys as it found them, anyway, concerning +itself with their actions and not with the history of their lives. Half +the scouts in the big summer community didn't know where the other half +came from, and cared less. From every corner of the land they came and +all they knew or cared about each other was limited to their intercourse +at camp. + +"You don't suppose that's true, do you?" one of them asked when Mr. +Carroll had gone. + +"What? About Willetts?" + +"Sure." + +"Dare say. He's about due for the G. B., I guess. But if you want to +cook a fish you've got to catch him first." + +"Where is he, anyway?" one asked. "I thought his foot was so bad." + +"I saw him limping off this morning, that's all _I_ know," another said. + +"It would take more than a lame ankle to keep _him_ at camp," said Dorry +Benton of Roy's patrol. "Did you see that crazy stick he was using for a +cane?" + +"The wandering minstrel," another scout commented. + +"He stands pat with Slady, all right." + +"Gee, you can't help liking the fellow." + +"I have to laugh at him," Westy said. + +"You can't pal with him, that's one thing," another observed. + +"That's because you can't keep up with him; even Mr. Denny has a sneaky +liking for him." + +"Do you know what one of his troop told me? He told me he always wears +that crazy hat to school when he's home. Some nut!" + +"Reckless, happy-go-lucky, that's what he is." + +"Come on over and let's look on the bulletin board." + +They all strolled, half idly, to the bulletin board which stood outside +the main pavilion. It was a rule of camp that every scout should read +the announcements there each afternoon. Then there would be no excuse +for ignorance of important matters pertaining to camp plans. Upon the +board were tacked several announcements, a hike for the morrow, letters +uncalled for, etc. Conspicuous among these was the following: + + Hervey Willetts will report _immediately_ to his scoutmaster at + troop's cabin, upon his arrival at camp. + WM. C. DENNY. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +TOM'S INTEREST AROUSED + + +On that same day a solemn little procession picked its way carefully +down the trail from the storm-wrecked summit of the mountain. Four of +the county officials bore a stretcher over which was tied a white sheet. +With the party was Tom Slade who had guided the authorities to the +grewsome discovery of the previous night. In this work, and in the +subsequent assistance which he rendered, he was absent from camp +throughout the day. This unpleasant business had not been advertised in +camp. + +Of the tragic end of Aaron Harlowe nothing more was known. Several days +previously he had come to the neighborhood in his gray roadster, a +fugitive, with the stigma of cowardice upon his conscience. He had tried +to compromise with his conscience, as it appeared, by enclosing a sum +of money in an envelope and addressing it to the father of the child he +had run down. But his death had prevented the mailing of this. The +telltale finger of accusation was pointed at him from the newspaper +which was in his car. + +His identity was established to the satisfaction of the authorities by +the name upon the license and registration cards found with his body. +Why he had ascended the mountain and remained there several days only to +be crushed to death in the storm, no one could guess. The conclusion of +the authorities was that he was crazed by fear and remorse. This seemed +not improbable, for his weak attempt to make amends with money showed +him to be not altogether bad. + +With the taking of the body by the authorities, Tom's participation in +the tragic business ended. Yet there were one or two things which stuck +in his mind and puzzled him. There had been a light on the mountain +before ever this Harlowe had gone up there. There had been a crude shack +near the summit. The light had disappeared amid the storm. The boys, +watching the storm from the pavilion, had seen the light disappear. Did +Harlowe, therefore, climb the mountain to _escape_ man or to _seek_ man? +Harlowe's life went out in that same tempestuous hour when the light +went out. But how came the light there? And where was the originator of +it? + +One rather odd question Tom asked the authorities and got very little +satisfaction from them. "Do you notice any connection between that +article in the newspaper and the letter the dead man got from England?" +he asked. + +"No manner uv connection; leastways none as I kin see," said the +sheriff. "The paper showed what he done; the map showed whar he went; +the license cards showed who he was. And thar ye are, sonny, whole thing +sure's gospel." + +"It's funny about the light," said Tom, respectfully. + +"I ain't botherin' my head 'baout no lights, son. I found Aaron Harlowe +'n that's enough, hain't it?" + +It was in Tom's thoughts to say, "You didn't find him, I found him." But +out of respect for the formidable badge which the sheriff wore on one +strand of his suspenders, he refrained. + +The next morning the newspapers told with conspicuous headlines, the +tragic sequel of Aaron Harlowe's escape. "_Found on lonely mountain_," +they said. "_Fugitive motorist killed in storm_," one of the write-ups +was headed: "_Storm wreaks vengeance on autoist_," which was one of the +best headings of the lot. "_Sheriff's posse makes grewsome find_" was +another. And all told how Aaron Harlowe, fleeing guiltily from his +crime, had met his fate in the storm-tossed wilds of that frowning +mountain. They dwelt on the justice of Providence; they made the storm a +kind of avenging hero. It was pretty good stuff. + +And that, as I said in the beginning, was where the public interest in +Aaron Harlowe ended. The rest of the strange business was connected with +Temple Camp and the scouts, and never got into the papers.... + + * * * * * + +It was exactly like Tom Slade that something should interest him in this +tragic episode which did not interest the authorities. He left them, +quite unsatisfied in his own mind, and with some kind of a bee in his +bonnet.... + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +TRIUMPH AND---- + + +_At_ about the time that Tom was starting back to camp, rather +thoughtful and preoccupied, Hervey Willetts was arriving at camp, not at +all thoughtful or preoccupied. + +His ankle was strained and bruised, and he limped. But his rimless hat +of many holes and button-badges was perched sideways toward the back of +his head and had a new and piquant charm by reason of being faded and +water soaked. Putting not his trust in garters, which had so often, +betrayed him, he had fastened a string to his left stocking by means of +an old liberty loan pin. The upper end of this string was tied to a +stick which he carried over his shoulder, so he had only to exert a +little pressure on the stick in front to adjust his stocking. + +He had evidently been to see one of his farmer friends, for he was +eating a luscious red tomato, and fate decreed that the last of this +should be ready for consumption just as he was passing within a few +yards of the bulletin board. For a moment a terrible conflict raged +within him. Should he despatch the remainder of the tomato into his +mouth, or at the bulletin board? The small remnant was red and mushy and +dripping--and the bulletin board won. + +Brandishing the squashy missile, he uttered his favorite passwords to +good luck, + + One for courage + One for spunk + One to take aim + And then---- + +Suddenly he bethought him of an improvement. Sticking the remnant of +tomato on the end of his stick, he swung it carefully. + + One for courage + One for spunk + One to take aim + And then--_KERPLUNK!_ + +Those magic words were intended, especially, for use in despatching +tomatoes and they never failed to make good. There, upon the bulletin +board was a vivid area which looked like the midday sun. From it +trickled an oozy mass, down over the list of uncalled for letters, +straight through the prize awards of yesterday, obliterating the +_Council Call_, and bathing the list of new arrivals in soft and pulpy +red. The "hike for to-morrow," as shown, was through a crimson sea. + +Hervey approached for a closer glimpse of his triumph. No other +incentive would have taken him so close to that prosy bulletin board. He +had vaulted over it but never read it. But now in the moment of supreme +victory he limped forward, like an elated artist, to inspect his work. + +There, in front of him, with a little red river flowing down across the +middle of it, was the ominous sentence. + + Hervey Willetts will report _immediately_ to his scoutmaster at + troop's cabin upon his return to camp. + WM. C. DENNY. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +HERVEY SHOWS HIS COLORS + + +"_If_ I hadn't fired the tomato I wouldn't have known about that," said +Hervey. Which fact, to him, fully justified the juicy bombardment. "That +shows how you never can tell what's going to happen next." And this was +certainly true of Hervey. + +But to do him justice, what was going to happen next never worried him. +He took things as they came. He was not the one to sidestep an issue. +The ominous notice signed by his scoutmaster had the effect of directing +his ambling course to that officer's presence, on which detour, he might +encounter new adventures. To reach his troop's cabin he would have to +pass the cooking shack where a doughnut might be speared with a stick. +All was for the best. He would as lief go to troop cabin as anywhere +else.... + +In this blithe and carefree spirit, he approached the rustic domicile +which he seldom honored by his presence, singing one of those snatches +of a song which were the delight of camp, and which rounded out his role +of wandering minstrel: + + Oh, there is no place like the old camp-fire, + As all the boy scouts know; + And the best little place is home, sweet home-- + When there isn't any other place to go, go, go. + When there isn't any other place to go. + +Mr. Denny, standing in the doorway of the cabin, contemplated him with a +repressed smile. "Hervey," he could not help saying, "since you think so +well of the camp-fire, I wonder you don't choose to see more of it." + +"I can see it from all the way across the lake," said Hervey. "I can see +it no matter where I go." + +"I see. It must arouse fond thoughts. I'm afraid, Hervey, to quote your +own song, there isn't any other place for you to go but home, sweet +home. You seem to have exhausted all the places. Sit down, Hervey, you +and I have got to have a little talk." + +Hervey leaned against the cabin, Mr. Denny sat upon the door sill. None +of the troop was about; it was very quiet. For half a minute or so Mr. +Denny did not speak, only whittled a stick. + +"I sometimes wonder why you joined the scouts, Hervey," he said. "Your +disposition----" + +"A fellow that sat next to me in school dared me to," said Hervey. + +"Oh, it was a sort of a wager?" + +"I wouldn't take a dare from anybody." + +"And so you joined as a stunt?" + +"I heard that scouts jumped off cliffs and all like that." + +"I see. Well, now, Hervey, I've written to your father that I'm sending +you home." + +Hervey began making rings in the soil with his stick but said nothing. +Mr. Denny's last words were perhaps a little more than he expected, but +he gave no other hint of his feelings. + +And so for another minute or so there was silence, except for the +distant voices of some scouts out upon the lake. + +"It is not exactly as a punishment, Hervey; it is just that I can't +take the responsibility, that's all. You see?" + +"Y---- yes, sir." + +"I thought you would. Your father thought the influence of camp would be +good, but you see you are seldom at camp. We can't help you because we +can't find you." + +"You can't cook a fish till you catch it," said Hervey. + +"That's just it, Hervey." + +"If you don't want to leave any tracks the best thing is to swing into +trees every now and then," Hervey informed him. + +"Ah, I see. Now, Hervey, my boy, I'm anxious that you and I should +understand each other. You have done nothing disgraceful and I don't +think you ever will----" + +"I landed plunk on my head once." + +"Well, that was more of a misfortune than a disgrace." + +"It hurt like the dickens." + +"I suppose it did." + +Mr. Denny paused; he was up against the hardest job he had ever tackled. +It was harder than he had thought it would be. + +"You see, Hervey, how it is. Last week you stayed away over night at +some farm. I had told you you must not leave camp without my knowledge. +For that I had you stay here all day, making a birchbark basket. I +thought that was a good punishment." + +"I'll tell the world it was," said Hervey. + +Mr. Denny paused before proceeding. + +"Did it do any good? Not a bit." + +"The basket was a punk one," said Hervey. + +"Again you rode down as far as Barretstown, hitching onto a freight +train." + +"I'd have got all the way down to Jonesville, if it hadn't been for the +conductor. He was some old grouch, believe _me_." + +"Then we had a little talk--you remember. You promised to be here at +meal times. Look at Mr. Ellsworth's troop, Harris, Blakeley and those +boys. Always on hand for meals----" + +"I'll say so; they're some hungry bunch," Hervey commented. + +"And you gave me your word that you wouldn't leave camp without my +permission. _You think as little about breaking your word as you do +about breaking your leg, Hervey_," Mr. Denny added with sober emphasis. + +Hervey began poking the ground again with his stick. + +"That's just the truth, Hervey. And it can't go on any longer." + +"Am I out of the troop?" Hervey asked, wistfully. + +"N--no, you're not. But I want you to learn to be as good a scout in one +way as you are in another. You have won merit badges with an ease which +is surprising to me----" + +"They're a cinch," Hervey interrupted. + +"I want you to go home and stop doing stunts and read the handbook. I +want you to read the oath and the scout laws, so that when the rest of +us come home you can give me your hand and say, 'I'm an all round scout, +not just a doer of stunts.'" + +"H--how soon are--the rest of you coming back?" Hervey asked with just +the faintest suggestion of a break in his voice. + +"Why, you know we're here for six weeks, Hervey. Don't you know anything +about your troop's affairs? You know how much money we have in our +treasury, don't you?" + +Hervey did not miss the reproach. He said nothing, only kept tracing the +circle with his stick. Finally it occurred to him to mark two eyes, a +nose and a mouth in the circle. Mr. Denny sat studying him. I think Mr. +Denny was on the point of weakening. Hervey seemed sober and +preoccupied. But the face on the ground seemed to wink at Mr. Denny as +if to intercede in its young creator's behalf. + +Mr. Denny gathered his strength as one does on the point of taking an +unpalatable medicine. + +"Yesterday, Hervey, I expressly reminded you of your promise not to +leave camp. I did that because I thought the storm might tempt you +forth." + +"They call me----" + +"Yes, I know; they call you the stormy petrel. You went across the lake +with others. They returned but you did not return with them. Where you +went I don't know. And I'm not going to ask you, Hervey, for it makes no +difference. I understand young Mr. Slade was there, but _that_ makes no +difference. Blakeley and one of his troop, Westy Martin, reached camp +and reported conditions in the cove----" + +"He's all right, Blakeley is----" + +"Hours passed, no one knew where you were. I was too proud, or too +ashamed, to go and ask Slade if he knew. I am jealous of our troop's +reputation, Hervey--even if you are not----" + +Hervey leaned against the cabin, looking abstractedly at his handiwork +on the ground. + +"There was great confusion and excitement here," Mr. Denny continued. +"The whole camp turned out to save the lake, to stem the flood. But you +were not here. Your companions in our troop worked till they were dog +tired. But where were you? Helping? _No_, you were off on some vagabond +journey--disobedient, insubordinate." + +Mr. Denny spoke with resolute firmness now and his voice rang as he +uttered his scathing accusations. + +"You were a traitor not only to your troop, but to the camp--the camp +which held out the hand of good fellowship to you when you came here. A +_slacker_----" + +Hervey broke his stick in half and threw it on the ground. His breast +heaved. He looked down. He said nothing. Mr. Denny studied him +curiously for a few seconds. + +"That is the truth, Hervey. One wrong always produces another. You were +disobedient and insubordinate, and that led to--what?" + +Hervey gulped, but whether in shame or remorse or what, Mr. Denny could +not make out, He was to know presently. + +"It led to shirking, whether intentional or not. And to-night, because +there is no train, you are going to sleep in the camp which you +deserted. You will, perhaps, row on the lake which others have saved for +you. You see it now in its true light, don't you? You had better go and +thank Blakeley and his comrade for what they did, if you have any real +feeling for the camp." + +"I----" + +"Don't speak. Nothing you could say would make a difference, Hervey. I +know from Mr. Carroll and his boys where you showed up. I know they +found you clinging to one of the stage horses. I was there later and saw +you. You might have been plunged into that chasm with all the rest of +them and been crushed to pieces, if one of those scouts hadn't gone +ahead, as he was _told_ to do, and if he hadn't kept his mind on what +he had been _told_ to do, instead of disregarding his scoutmaster +and----" + +He paused, for Hervey was shaking perceptibly. He watched the boy +curiously. Should he go on with this thing and see it through? He +summoned his resolution. + +"No, Hervey, as I said, I have written to your father. I have said +nothing against you, only that you are too much for me here, where my +responsibility is great. I want you to get your things together and take +the train in the morning. We'll expect to see you when we come home. +There is no hard feeling, Hervey. When we come home you're going to +start all over again, my boy, and learn the thing right. You----" + +With a kind of spasmodic effort Hervey raised his head and, with a pride +there was no mistaking, looked his scoutmaster straight in the face. He +was trembling visibly. If there was any contrition in his countenance, +Mr. Denny did not see it. He was quite taken aback with the fine show of +spirit which his young delinquent showed. There was even a dignity in +the old cap with its holes and badges, as it sat perched on the side of +his head. There was a touch of pathos, even of dignity too, in his +fallen stocking. + +"I--I--wouldn't stay here--now--I wouldn't--I--not even if you _asked_ +me--I wouldn't. I wouldn't even if you--if you got down on your knees +and begged me----" + +"Hervey, my boy----" + +"No, I won't listen. I--I wouldn't stay even _to-night_--I wouldn't. Do +you think I need a train? I--I can hike to Jonesville, can't I? You say +I'm--I'm no scout--Tom Slade he said----" + +"Hervey----" + +"I don't--anyhow--I don't care anything about the rest of them. I +wouldn't stay even for supper. Even if you--if you apologized--I +wouldn't----" + +"Apologize? Why, Hervey----" + +"For what you said--called me--I wouldn't. I don't give a--a--damn--I +don't--for all the people here--only except one--and I wouldn't stay if +you got down on your knees and begged me--I wouldn't----" + +Mr. Denny contemplated him with consternation in every feature. There +was no stopping him. The accused had become the accuser. There was +something stirring, something righteous, in this fine abandon. In the +setting of the outburst of hurt pride even the profane word seemed to +justify itself. The tables were completely turned and Hervey Willetts +was master of the situation. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +TOM ADVISES GOLIATH + + +It was late afternoon when Tom Slade, tramping home after his day spent +with the minions of the law, crossed the main road and hit into the +woods trail which afforded a short cut to camp. + +It was the laziest hour of the day, the gap between mid afternoon +and supper time. It was a tranquil time, a time of lolling under trees +and playing the wild game of mumbly-peg, and of jollying tenderfoots, +and waiting for supper. Roy Blakeley always said that the next best thing +to supper was waiting for it. The lake always looked black in that +pre-twilight time when the sun was beyond though not below the summit of +the mountain. It was the time of new arrivals. In that mountain-surrounded +retreat they have two twilights--a tenderfoot twilight and a first class +twilight. It was the time when scouts, singly and in groups, came in from +tracking, stalking and what not, and sprawled about and got acquainted. + +But there was one who did not come in on that peaceful afternoon, and +that was the wandering minstrel. If Tom Slade had crossed the main road +ten minutes sooner, he might have seen that blithe singer going along +the road, but not with a song on his lips. The sun of that carefree +nature was under a cloud. But his loyal stocking kept descending, and +his suit-case dangled from a stick over his shoulder. His trick hat +perched jauntily upon his head, Hervey Willetts was himself again. Not +quite, but _almost_. At all events he did not ponder on the injustice of +the world and the cruelty of fate. He was wondering whether he could +make Jonesville in time for the night train or whether he had better try +for the boat at Catskill Landing. The boat had this advantage, that he +could shinny up the flagpole if the pilot did not see him. The train +offered nothing but the railing on the platforms.... + +If Tom had been ten minutes earlier! + +The young camp assistant left the trail and hit down through the grove +and around the main pavilion. The descending sun shone right in his face +as he neared the lake. It made his brown skin seem almost like that of a +mulatto. His sleeves were rolled up as they always were, showing brown +muscular arms, with a leather wristlet (but no watch) on one. His pongee +shirt was open almost down to his waist. His faded khaki trousers were +held up by a heavy whip lash drawn tight around his waist. + +Not a single appurtenance of the scout was upon him. He was rather tall, +and you who have known him as a hulking youngster with bull shoulders +will be interested to know that he had grown somewhat slender and +exceedingly lithe. He had that long stride and silent footfall which the +woods life develops. He was still tow-headed, though he fixed his hair +on occasions, which is saying something. You would have been amused at +his air of quiet assurance. Perhaps he had not humor in the same sense +that Roy Blakeley had, but he had an easy, bantering way which was +captivating to the scouts. + +Dirty little hoodlum that he once was, he was now the most picturesque, +romantic figure in the camp. In Tom Slade, beloved old Uncle Jeb, camp +manager, seemed to have renewed his own youth. Scouts worshipped at the +shrine of this young confidant of the woods, trustees consulted him, +scoutmasters respected him. + +As he emerged around the corner of the storage cabin, several scouts who +had taken their station within inhaling distance of the cooking shack +fell in with him and trotted along beside him. + +"H'lo, Slady, can we go with you?" + +"I'm going to wash my hands," said Tom, giving one of them a shove. + +"Good night! I don't want to go." + +"I thought you wouldn't." + +In Tent Avenue the news of his passing got about and presently a +menagerie of tenderfoots were dogging his heels. + +"Where you been, Slady? Can I go? Take me? Take us on the lake, Slady?" + +As he passed the two-patrol cabins Goliath slid down from the woodpile +and challenged him. "Hey, big feller, I got a souvenir. Want to see it? I +know who you are; you're boss, ain't you?" + +"H'lo, old top," said Tom, tousling his hair for him. "Well, how do you +think you like Temple Camp?" + +Goliath had hard work to keep up with him, but he managed it. + +"I had two pieces of pie," he said. + +"Good for you." + +"Maybe I'll get to be a regular scout, hey?" + +"Not till you can eat six pieces." + +"Were you ever in a hospital?" + +"Yop, over in France." + +"I bet you licked the Germans, didn't you?" + +"Oh, I had a couple of fellows helping me." + +"A fellow in my troop is a hero; he's going to get a badge, maybe. A lot +of fellers said so." + +"That's the way to do," said Tom. + +"His name is Tyson, that's what his name is. Do you know him?" + +"You bet." + +"He saved all the fellers in that wagon from getting killed because he +shouted for the wagon to stop. So he's a hero, ain't he?" + +"Well, I don't know about that," said Tom cheerily; "medals aren't so +easy to get." + +"There was a crazy feller near that wagon. I bet you were never crazy, +were you?" + +"Not so very." + +"Will you help him to get the medal--Tyson?" + +"Well, now, you let me tell you something," said Tom; "don't you pay so +much attention to these fellows around camp. The main thing for you to +do is to eat pie and stew and things. A lot of these fellows think it's +easy to get medals. And they think it's fun to jolly little fellows like +you. Don't you think about medals; you think about dinner." + +"But after I get through thinking about dinner----" + +"Then think about supper. You can't eat medals." + +Goliath seemed to ponder on this undesirable truth. He soon fell behind +and presently deserted Tom to edify a group of scouts near the boat +landing. + +Of course, Tom did not take seriously what Goliath had said about +awards. He knew Tyson and he knew that Tyson would be the last one in +the world to pose as a hero. But he also knew something of the +disappointments which innocent banter and jollying had caused in camp. +He knew that the wholesome spirit of fun in Roy Blakeley and others had +sometimes overreached itself, causing chagrin. There was probably +nothing to this business at all but, for precaution's sake, he would nip +it in the bud. + +One incidental result of his little chat with Goliath was that he was +reminded of Hervey's exploit, a matter which he had entirely forgotten +in his more pressing preoccupations. Tom was no hero maker and he knew +that Hervey would only trip on the hero's mantle if he wore it. As time +had gone on in camp, Tom had found himself less and less interested in +the pomp and ceremony and theatrical clap-trap of awards. Bravery was in +the natural course of things. Why make a fuss about it? + +For that very reason, he was not going to have any heads turned with +rapturous dreams of gold and silver awards. He was not going to have any +new scouts' visit blighted by vain hopes. He did not care greatly about +awards, but he cared a good deal about the scouts.... + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +WORDS + + +After he had prepared for supper he went up the hill to the cabin +occupied by Mr. Carroll's troop. It was pleasantly located on a knoll +and somewhat removed from the main body of camp. Mr. Carroll was himself +about to start down for supper. + +"H'lo, Mr. Carroll," said Tom; "alone in your glory?" + +"The boys have gone down," said Mr. Carroll. "They'll be sorry to have +missed a visit from Tom Slade." + +"Comfortable?" Tom asked. + +"Couldn't be more so, thank you. We can almost see home from up here, +though the boys prefer not to look in that direction." + +Tom glanced about. "Sometimes new troops are kind of backward to ask for +things," he said. "We're not mind readers, you know. So sing out if +there's anything you want." + +"Thank you." + +"Kid comfortable?" + +"Yes, he's giving his attention to pie and awards." + +"Hm," said Tom, seating himself on a stump. "Pie's all right, but you +want to have these fellows go easy on awards. The boys here in camp are +a bunch of jolliers. Of course, you know the handbook----" + +"Oh, yes." + +"And you know Tyson doesn't stand to win any medal for anything he did +last night. Strictly speaking, he saved your lives, I suppose, but it +isn't exactly a case for an award." + +"Oh, mercy, no." + +"I'm glad you see it that way, Mr. Carroll. Because sometimes scouts get +to enjoying themselves so much here, that they forget what's in the +handbook. These things go by rules, you know. I like Gilbert and I +wouldn't want him to get any crazy notions from what these old timers +say. There's some talk among the boys----" + +"I think the little fellow's responsible for that," Mr. Carroll +laughed. "Gilbert is level-headed and sensible." + +"You bet," said Tom. "Well, then, it's all right, and there won't be any +broken hearts. I've seen more broken hearts here at camp than broken +heads.... You're a new troop, aren't you?" he queried. + +"Oh, yes, we haven't got our eyes open yet." + +"Goliath seems to have his mouth open for business." + +"Yes," Mr. Carroll laughed. "Shall we stroll down to supper?" + +"I've got one more call to make if you'll excuse me," said Tom. + +"Come up again, won't you?" + +"Oh, yes, I make inspection every day. You'll be sick of the sight of +me." + +He was off again, striding down the little hill. He passed among the +tents, around Visitors' Bungalow, and toward the cabins in Good Turn +Grove. Somewhat removed from these (a couple of good turns from them, as +Roy Blakeley said) was the cabin of Mr. Denny's troop. + +The boys were getting ready to go down and they greeted Tom cheerily. + +"Where's Hervey?" he asked. + +He had not seen Hervey since late the previous night, just after +returning from the mountain. Hervey was then so exhausted as hardly to +know him. The young assistant fancied a sort of constraint among the +boys and he thought that maybe Hervey's condition had taken an alarming +turn. + +"Ask Mr. D.," said one of the scouts. + +"H'lo, Mr. Denny," said Tom, stepping into one of the cabins. No one was +there but the scoutmaster. "Where's our wandering boy to-night?" + +"He has been dismissed from camp, I'm sorry to say," said Mr. Denny. +"Sit down, won't you?" + +Tom could hardly speak for astonishment. + +"You mean the camp--down at the office----" + +"Oh, no, I sent him home. It was just between him and myself." + +"Oh, I see," said Tom, a trifle relieved, apparently. "It wasn't on +account of his hurt?" + +"Oh, no, he's all right. He just disobeyed me, that's all. That sort of +thing couldn't go on, you know. It was getting worse." + +Mr. Denny had now had a chance to review his conduct and he found it in +all ways justified. He was glad that he had not weakened. Moreover, +there was fresh evidence. + +"Only just now," he said, "one of the scoutmasters came to me with a +notice from the bulletin board utterly ruined by a tomato which Hervey +threw. He was greatly annoyed." + +"Sure," said Tom. + +"I don't exactly blame you, Slade----" + +"Me?" + +"But you took Hervey with you across the lake. He had promised me not to +leave camp. Where he went, I don't know----" + +"You _don't_?" + +"No, and I don't care. He was picked up by the people in the bus, and if +it hadn't been for that I suppose I'd be answerable to his parents for +his death. He was very insolent to me." + +"He didn't say----" + +"Oh, no, he didn't say anything. He assumed an air of boyish +independence; I don't know that I hold that against him." + +"But he didn't tell you where he had been--or anything?" + +"Why, no. I had no desire to hear that. His fault was in _starting_. It +made no difference where he went." + +"Oh." + +For a few seconds Tom said nothing, only drummed with his fingers on the +edge of the cot on which he sat. + +"This is a big surprise to me," he finally said. + +"It is a very regrettable circumstance to me," said Mr. Denny. + +There ensued a few seconds more of silence. The boys outside could be +heard starting for supper. + +Tom was the first to speak. "Of course you won't think I'm trying to +butt in, Mr. Denny, but there's a rule that the camp can call on all its +people in an emergency. The first year the camp opened we had a bad fire +here and every kid in the place was set to work. After that they made a +rule. Sometimes things have to be done in a hurry. I took Hervey and a +couple of others across the lake, because I knew something serious had +happened over there. I think I had a right to do that. But there's +something else. Hervey didn't tell you everything. You said you didn't +want him to." + +"He has never told me everything. I had always been in the dark +concerning him. This tomato throwing makes me rather ashamed, too." + +"Yes," said Tom, "that's bad. But will you listen to me if I tell you +the whole of that story--the whole business? I've been away from camp +all day. I only got here fifteen minutes ago. I know Hervey's a queer +kid--hard to understand. I don't know why he didn't speak out----" + +"Why, it was because I told him it wouldn't make any difference," said +Mr. Denny, a bit nettled. "The important point was known to me and that +was that he disobeyed me. I don't think we can gain anything by talking +this over, Slade." + +"Then you won't listen to me, Mr. Denny?" + +"I don't think it would be any use." + +Tom paused a moment. He was just a bit nettled, too. Then he stood. And +then, just in that brief interval, his lips tightened and his mouth +looked just as it used to look in the old hoodlum days--rugged, strong. +The one saving, hopeful feature which Mr. Ellsworth, his old +scoutmaster, had banked upon then in that sooty, unkempt countenance. +They were the lips of a bulldog: + +"All right, Mr. Denny," he said respectfully. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +ACTION + + +Tom strode down to the messboards which, in pleasant weather, were out +under the trees. He seemed not at all angry; there was a kind of breezy +assurance in his stride and manner. As he reached the messboards where +some of the scouts were already seated on the long benches, several +noticed this buoyancy in his demeanor. + +"H'lo, kiddo," he said to Pee-wee Harris as he passed and ruffled that +young gourmand's hair. + +Reaching Mr. Carroll, he asked in a cheery undertone, "May I use one of +your scouts for a little while?" + +"I'll have the whole troop wrapped up and delivered to you," said Mr. +Carroll. + +"Thanks." + +Reaching Gilbert Tyson, he laid his hand on Gilbert's shoulder and +whispered to him in a pleasant, offhand way, "Get through and come in +the office, I want to speak to you." + +In the office, Tom seated himself at one of the resident trustees' +desks, spilled the contents of a pigeon hole in hauling out a sheet of +the camp stationery, shook his fountain pen with a blithe air of crisp +decision and wrote: + + To Hervey Willetts, Scout:-- + + You are hereby _required_ to present yourself before the resident + Court of Honor at Temple Camp, which sits in the main pavilion on + Saturday, August the second, at ten A. M., and which will at that + time hear testimony and decide on your fitness for the Scout Gold + Cross award for supreme heroism. + By order of the + RESIDENT COUNCIL. + +Pushing back his chair, he strode over to Council Shack, adjoining. + +"Put your sig on that, Mr. Collins," said he. + +He reentered the office just as Gilbert Tyson, wearing a look of +astonishment and inquiry, and finishing a slice of bread and butter, +entered by the other door. + +"Tyson," said Tom, as he put the missive in an envelope, "I understand +you're a hero, woke up and found yourself famous and all that kind of +stuff. Can you sprint? Good. I'm going to give you the chance of your +life, and no war tax. Hervey Willetts started for home about three +quarters of an hour ago. Never mind why. Deliver this letter to him." + +"Where is he?" Gilbert asked. + +"I haven't the slightest idea." + +"Started for the train, you mean?" + +"Now, Tyson, I don't know any more about it than just that--he started +for home. To-day's Thursday. He must be here Saturday. Now don't waste +time. Here's the letter. Now _get out_!" + +"Just one second," said Gilbert. "How do you _know_ he started for +home?" + +"How do I know it?" Tom shot back, impatiently. + +"Do you think a fellow like Willetts would go home? I'll deliver the +letter wherever he is. But he isn't on his way home. I know him." + +"Tyson," said Tom, "you're a crackerjack scout. Now get out of here +before I throw you out." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE MONSTER + + +It is better to know your man than to know his tracks. Gilbert Tyson had +somehow come to understand Hervey in that one day since his arrival at +camp, and he had no intention of exhausting his breath in a futile chase +along the road. There, indeed, was a scout for you. He was on the job +before he had started. + +The road ran behind the camp, the camp lying between the road and the +lake. To go to Catskill Landing one must go by this road. Also to make a +short cut to Jonesville (where the night express stopped) one must go +for the first mile or so along this road. The road was a state road and +of macadam, and did not show footprints. + +Tyson did not know a great deal about tracking, but he knew something of +human nature, he had heard something of Hervey, and he eliminated the +road. He believed that he would not overtake Hervey there. + +Across the road, at intervals, several trails led up into the thicker +woods. One led to the Morton farm, another to Witches' Pond. + +Tyson, being new at camp, did not know the direction of these trails, +but he knew that all trails go somewhere. He had heard, during the day, +that Hervey was on cordial terms with every farmer, squatter, tollgate +keeper, bridge tender, hobo, and traveling show for miles around. + +So he examined these trails carefully at their beginnings beside the +road. Only one of them interested him. Upon this, about ten feet in from +the road, was a rectangular area impressed in the earth which, in the +woods, was still damp after the storm. With his flashlight Gilbert +examined this. He thought a box might have stood there. Then he noticed +two ruffled places in the earth, each on one of the long sides of the +rectangle. He knew then what it meant; a suit-case had stood there. + +If he had known more about the circumstance of Hervey's leaving, he +might have been touched by the picture of the wandering minstrel +pausing to rest upon his burden, there at the edge of the woods. + +So this was the trail. Elated, Gilbert hurried on, pausing occasionally +to verify his conviction by a footprint in the caked earth. The +consistency of the earth was ideal for footprints. Yes, some one had +passed here not more than an hour before. Here and there was an +occasional hole in the earth where a stick might have been pressed in, +showing that the stormy petrel had sometimes used his stick as a cane. + +For half an hour Gilbert followed this trail with a feeling of elation, +of triumph. Soon he must overtake the wanderer. After a little, the +trail became indistinct where it passed through a low, marshy area. The +drenching of the woods by the late storm was apparent still in the low +places. + +Gilbert trudged through this spongy support, all but losing his balance +occasionally. Soon he saw something black ahead of him. This was +Witches' Pond, though he did not know it by that name. + +As he approached, the ground became more and more spongy and uncertain. +It was apparent that the pond had usurped much of the surrounding marsh +in the recent rainy spell. + +Gilbert had to proceed with caution. Once his leg sank to the knee in +the oozy undergrowth. He was just considering whether he had not better +abandon a trail which was indeed no longer a trail at all, and pick his +way around the pond, when he noticed something a little distance ahead +of him which caused him to pause and strain his eyes to see it better in +the gathering dusk. As he looked a cold shudder went through him. What +he saw was, perhaps, fifty feet off. A log was there, one end of which +was in the ground, the other end projecting at an angle. Its position +suggested the pictures of torpedoed liners going down, and there passed +through Gilbert's agitated mind, all in a flash, a vision of the great +_Lusitania_ sinking--slowly sinking. + +For this great log was going down. Slowly, very slowly; but it was going +down. Or else Gilbert's eyes and the deepening shadows were playing a +strange trick.... + +He dragged his own foot out of the treacherous ground and looked about +for safer support. There was a suction as he dragged his foot up which +sent his heart to his mouth. "_Quicksand_," he muttered, shudderingly. + +Was it too late? He backed cautiously out of the jaws of this horrible +monster of treachery and awful death, feeling his way with each +tentative, cautious step. He stood ankle deep, breathing more easily. He +was back at the edge of that oozy, clinging, all devouring trap. He +breathed easier. + +He looked at the log. It was going down. It stood almost upright now, +and offering no resistance with its bulk, was sinking rapidly. In a +minute it looked like a stump. It shortened. Gilbert stood motionless +and watched it, fascinated. Instinctively he retreated a few feet, to +still more solid support. He was standing in ordinary mud now. + +Down, down.... + +A long legged bird came swooping through the dusk across the pond, lit +upon the sinking trunk, and then was off again. + +"Lucky it has wings," Gilbert said. There was no other way to safety. + +Down, down, down--it was just a hubble. The oozy mass sucked it in, +closed over it. It was gone. + +There was nothing but the dusk and the pond, and the discordant croaking +of frogs. + +Then, close to where the log had been, Gilbert saw something else. It +was a little dab of yellow. It grew smaller; disappeared. There was +nothing to be seen now but a little spot of gray; probably some swamp +growth.... + +No.... + +Just then Gilbert saw upon it a tiny speck which sparkled. There were +other specks. He strained his eyes to pierce the growing darkness. He +was doubtful, then certain, then doubtful. He advanced, ever so +cautiously, a step or two, to see it better. + +Yes. It was. + +Utterly sick at heart he turned his head away. There before him, still +defying by its lightness of weight, the hungry jaws of the heartless, +terrible, devouring monster that eats its prey alive, stood the little +rimless, perforated and decorated cap of Hervey Willetts. Joyous and +buoyant it seemed, defying its inevitable fate with the blithe spirit +of its late owner. It floated still, after the log and the suit-case had +gone down. + +And that was all that was left of the wandering minstrel. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +GILBERT'S DISCOVERY + + +Gilbert Tyson was a scout and he could face the worst. He soon got +control of himself and began considering what he had better do. + +He could not advance one more step without danger. Yet he could not +think of going back to camp, with nothing but the report of something he +had seen from a distance. He had done nothing. Yet what could he do? + +He was at a loss to know how Hervey could have advanced so far into that +treacherous mire. + +He must have picked his way here and there, knee deep, waist deep, like +the reckless youngster he was, until he plunged all unaware into the +fatal spot. The very thought of it made Gilbert shudder. Had he called +for help? Gilbert wondered. How dreadful it must have been to call for +help in those minutes of sinking, and to hear nothing but some mocking +echo. What had the victim thought of, while going down--down? + +Good scout that he was, Gilbert would not go back to camp without +rescuing that one remaining proof of Hervey's tragic end. At least he +would take back all that there was to take back. + +He pulled out of his pocket a fishline wound on a stick. At the end of +the line where a hook was, he fastened several more hooks an inch or two +apart. The sinker was not heavy enough for his purpose so he fastened a +stone to the end of the line. + +As he made these preparations, the rather grewsome thought occurred to +him of what he should do and how he would feel if Hervey's head were +visible when he pulled the cap away. It caused him to hesitate, just for +a few seconds, to make an effort to recover it. Suppose that hat were +still on the smothered victim's head.... + +With his first throw, the stone landed short of the mark and he dragged +back a mass of dripping marsh growth, caught by the fish-hooks. His +second attempt landed the stone a yard or so beyond the hat and the +treacherous character of the ground there was shown by the almost +instant submergence of the missile. It was with difficulty that Gilbert +dragged it out, and with every pull he feared the cord would snap. But +as he pulled, the hat came also. The line was directly across it and the +hooks caught it nicely. There was no vestige of any solid object where +the cap had been. Gilbert wondered how deep the log had sunk, and the +suit-case and--the other.... + +He shook the clinging mud and marsh growth from the hat and looked at +it. He had seen Hervey only twice; once lying unconscious in the bus, +and once that very day, when the young wanderer had started off to visit +his friend, the farmer. But this cap very vividly and very pathetically +suggested its owner. The holes in it were of every shape and size. The +buttons besought the beholder to vote for suffrage, to buy liberty +bonds, to join the Red Cross, to eat at Jim's Lunch Room, to use only +Tyler's fresh cocoanut bars, to give a thought to Ireland. There was a +Camp-fire Girls' badge, a Harding pin, a Cox pin, a Debs pin ... Hervey +had been non-partisan with a vengeance. + +With this cap, the one touching memento of the winner of the Gold Cross, +Gilbert started sorrowfully back to camp. The dreadful manner of +Hervey's death agitated him and weakened his nerve as the discovery of a +body would not have done. There was no provision in the handbook for +this kind of a discovery; no face to cover gently with his scout scarf, +no arms to lay in seemly posture. One who _had been_, was _not_. His +death and burial were one. Gilbert could not fit this horrible thought +to his mind. It was out of all human experience. He could not rid +himself of the ghastly thought of how far down those--those +_things_--had gone. + +Slowly he retraced his steps along the trail--thinking. He had read of +hats being found floating in lakes, indubitable evidence of drowning, +and he had known the owners of these hats to show up at the ends of the +stories. But _this_.... + +He thought of the alighting of that bird upon the sinking end of the +log. How free and independent that bird! How easy its escape. How +impossible the escape of any mortal. To carelessly pause upon a log that +was going down in quicksand and then to fly away. There was blitheness +in the face of danger for you! + +Gilbert took his way along the trail, sick at heart. How could he tell +Tom Slade of this frightful thing? It was his first day at camp and it +would cast a shadow on his whole vacation. Soon he espied a light +shining in the distance. That was a camp, no doubt. By leaving the trail +and following the light, he could shorten his journey. He was not so +sure that he wanted to shorten his journey, but he was ashamed of this +hesitancy to face things, so he abandoned the trail and took the light +for his guide. + +Soon there appeared another light near the first one, and then he knew +that he was saving distance and heading straight for camp. He had +supposed that the trail went pretty straight from the vicinity of camp +to that dismal pond in the woods. But you can never see the whole of a +trail at once and it must have formed a somewhat rambling course. + +Anyway there were the lights of camp off to the west of the path, and +Gilbert Tyson hurried thither. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +A VOICE IN THE DARK + + +Gilbert soon discovered his mistake. When a trail has brought you to a +spot it is best to trust that trail to take you back again. Beacons, +artificial beacons, are fickle things. Gilbert had much to learn. + +He had lost the trail and he soon found that he was following a phantom. +One of the lights was no light at all, but a reflection in a puddle in +the woods. The woods were still full of puddles; though the ground was +firm it still bore these traces of its recent soaking. And the damage +caused by the high wind was apparent on every hand, in fallen trees and +broken limbs. There was a pungent odor to the drenched woods. + +Gilbert picked his way around these impediments of wetness and debris. +The night was clear. There were a few stars but no moon. Doubtless, he +thought, the reflection in the puddle was the reflection of a star. +Presently he saw something black before him. In his maneuvers to keep to +dry ground he had in fact already gone beyond it, and looked back at it, +so to say. + +Now he could see that the reflection in the puddle was derived from a +light on the further side of the black mass. Other little intervening +puddles were touched with a faint, shimmering brightness. + +Gilbert approached the dark object and saw that it was a fallen tree. +The wound in the earth caused by its torn-up roots formed a sort of +cavern where the slenderer tentacles hung limp like tropical foliage. If +there was a means of entrance to this dank little shelter it must be +from the farther side. Even where Gilbert stood the atmosphere was +redolent of the damp earth of this crazy little retreat. For retreat it +certainly was, because there was a light in it. Gilbert could only see +the reflection of the light but he knew whence that reflection was +derived. + +He approached a little closer and was sure he heard voices. He paused, +then advanced a little closer still. Doubtless this freakish little +shelter left by the storm was occupied by a couple of hoboes, perhaps +thieves. + +But Gilbert had played his card and lost. He had forsaken the trail for +a light, and the light had not guided him to camp. He doubted if he +could find his way to camp from here. You are to remember that Gilbert +was a good scout, but a new one. + +He approached a little closer, and now he could distinctly hear a voice. +Not the voice of a hobo, surely, for it was carolling a blithe song to +the listening heavens. Gilbert bent his ear to listen: + + Oh, the life of a scout is free, + is free; + He's happy as happy can be, + can be. + He dresses so neat, + With no shoes on his feet; + The life of a scout is free! + + The life of a scout is bold, + so bold; + His adventures have never been told, + been told. + His legs they are bare, + And he won't take a dare, + The life of a scout is bold! + + The savage gorilla is mild, + is mild; + Compared to the boy scout so wild, + so wild. + He don't go to bed, + And he stands on his head, + The life of a scout is wild! + +Gilbert stood petrified with astonishment. In all his excursions through +the scout handbook he had never encountered any such formula for +scouting as this. No scout hero in _Boys' Life_ had ever consecrated +himself to such a program. + +There was a pause within, during which Gilbert crept a little closer. He +hardly knew any of the boys in camp yet, and the strange voice meant +nothing to him. He knew that no member of _his_ troop was there. + +"Want to hear another?" the singer asked. + +"Shoot," was the laconic reply. + +"This one was writ, wrot, wrote for the Camp-fire Girls around the +blazing oil stove. + + "If I had nine lives like an old tom cat, + I'd chuck eight of them away. + For the more the weight, the less the speed, + And scouts don't carry any more than they need; + And I'd keep just one for a rainy day. + +"Good? Want to hear more? Second verse by special request. They're off: + + "If I could turn like an old windmill, + I'd do good turns all day; + With noble deeds the day I'd fill. + But you see I'm _not_ an old windmill. + And I ain't just built that way, + I ain't." + +Gilbert decided that however unusual were these ballads of scouting, +they did not emanate from thief or hobo; and he climbed resolutely over +the log. Even the comparative mildness of the savage gorilla to this new +kind of scout did not deter him. + +The scout anthem continued. + + "If I was a roaring old camp-fire, + You bet that I'd go out; + Oh, I'd go out and far and near, + For a camp-fire has the right idea; + And knows what it's about!" + +Gilbert crept along the farther side of the log till he came to an +opening among the tangled roots. It was a very small but cozy little +cave that he found himself looking into. In a general way, it suggested +a wicker basket or a cage, except that it was black and damp. Within +was a little fire of twigs. Tending it was a young fellow of perhaps +twenty years of age, wearing a plaid cap. He was stooping over the +little fire. Nearby, in a sort of swing made by binding two hanging +tentacles of root, sat the wandering minstrel, swinging his legs to keep +his makeshift hammock in motion. + +Gilbert Tyson contemplated him in speechless consternation. There he +was, the ideal ragged vagabond, and he did not cease swinging even when +he discovered the visitor. + +"H'lo," he said; "gimme my hat, that's just what I wanted; glad to see +you." + +Dumbfounded, Gilbert tossed the hat over to him. + +"I wouldn't sell that hat," said Hervey, putting it on, "not for a +couple of cups of cup custard. Sit down. Here's the chorus. + + "Then hurrah for the cat with its nine little lives, + And the good turn windmill, too. + And hurrah for the fire that likes to go out, + When the hour is late like a regular scout; + For that's what I like to do, + _I do._ + You bet your life I do!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +LOVE ME, LOVE MY DOG + + +"Where did you find the hat?" Hervey inquired. "I bet you can't sit on +this without holding on. Were you in the swamp? This is my friend, Mr. +Hood--Robin Hood--sometimes I call him _Lid_ instead of _Hood_. Call him +_cap_ if you want to, he doesn't care," he added, still swinging. + +Mr. Robin Hood did not seem as much at ease as his young companion. He +seemed rather troubled and glanced sideways at Gilbert. + +"We should worry about his name if he doesn't want to give it, hey?" +Hervey said, winking at Gilbert. "What's in a name?" + +Gilbert was shrewd enough not to mention Tom but to give his visit the +dignity of highest authority. + +"Well, this is a big surprise to me," he said, "and I'm mighty glad it's +this way," he added with a deep note of sincerity and relief in his +voice. "I was sent from the office to find you and give you this note. I +tracked you to the pond and I thought--golly, I'm glad it isn't so--but +I thought you went down in the quicksand. I near got into it myself." + +"Me?" + +"Yes, how did you----" + +"Easiest thing in the world. I knew if I could get to the log--did you +see the log?" + +"It isn't there now." + +"I knew if I could get to that I could jump from it to the pond." + +"And did you?" + +"Surest thing. I kept chucking the suit-case ahead and stepping on it. I +had an old board, too. I guess they're both gone down by now." + +"Yes." + +"When I got to the log I was all hunk--for half a minute. 'One to get +ready,' that's what I said. Oh, boy, going down. Toys and stationery in +the basement." + +Just in that moment Gilbert thought of the bird. + +"Yes?" he urged, "and then?" + + "One to get ready, + One to jump high, + One to light in the pond or die." + +"And you did it? I heard you were reckless. Here, read the note," +Gilbert said with unconcealed admiration. The wandering minstrel had +made another capture. + +He was, however, a little sobered as he opened the envelope. He had +never been the subject of an official missive before. He had never been +honored by a courier. He had won badges and had an unique reputation for +stunts. But when the momentary sting had passed it cannot be said that +he left camp with any fond regrets. On the other hand, he bore the camp +and his scoutmaster no malice now. He who forgets orders may also forget +grievances. In Hervey's blithe nature there was no room for abiding +malice. + +"What are they trying to hand me now?" he asked, reading the notice. + +"I don't know anything about it," said Gilbert; "I think you have to +come back, don't you?" + +"Sure, I've got the Gold Cross wished on me." + +"The cross?" said Gilbert in admiring surprise. "What for?" + +"Search me. They're going to test some money or something--testimony, +that's it. Something big is going to happen in my young life." + +"You'll go back?" Gilbert asked anxiously. + +"Sure, if Robin Hood can go with me. Love me, love my dog." + +"I don't want to go there," said the young fellow; "you kids better go." + +"Then that's the end of the red cross," said Hervey, still swinging. "I +mean the Gold Cross or the double cross or whatever you call it. +What'd'you say, Hoody? They have good eats there. Will you come and see +me cop the cross?" + +"He just happened to blow in here," said the stranger, by way of +explaining Hervey's presence to Gilbert. "I was knocking around in the +woods and bunking in here." + +Gilbert was a little puzzled, but he did not ask any questions. He was +thoughtful and tactful. He had a pretty good line on Hervey's nature, +too. + +"Of course, Hervey has to go back," he said, as much for Hervey's +benefit as for the stranger's. "I say all three of us go. You'll like +to see the camp----" + +"They've got a washed-out cove and an oven for making marshmallows, and +a scoutmasters' meeting-place with a drain-pipe you can climb up to the +roof on, 'n everything," said Hervey in a spirit of fairness toward the +camp and its attractions. "They've got messboards you can do +hand-springs on when the cook isn't around. I bet you can't do the +double flop, Hoody." + +"Well, then, we'll all go?" Gilbert asked rather anxiously. + +Hervey spread out his arms by way of saying that anything that suited +Gilbert and the stranger would suit him. + +So the three started off to camp, the stranger rather hesitating, +Gilbert highly elated with his success, and Hervey perfectly agreeable +to anything which meant action. + +It was characteristic of Hervey that he really had not the faintest idea +of why he was to be honored with the highest scout award. He had +apparently forgotten all about his almost superhuman exploit. He would +never have mentioned it nor thought of it. He did recall it in that +moment of humiliation when Mr. Denny had talked with him. But he would +not speak of it even then. He would suffer disgrace first. And how much +less was he likely to think of it now! Surely the Gold Cross had nothing +to do with that fiasco which had ended in unconsciousness. That was not +supreme heroism. There was something wrong, somewhere. _That_ was just a +stunt.... + +Well, he would take things as they came--quicksand, a frantic run in +storm and darkness, new friends, the Gold Cross, anything.... + +Was there one soul in all that great camp that really understood him? + +As they picked their way through the woods, following his lead (for he +alone knew the way) he edified them with another song, for these ballads +which had made him the wandering minstrel he remembered even if he +remembered nothing else. + + "You wouldn't think to look at me + That I'm as good as good can be-- + a little saint. + You wouldn't care to make a bet, + That I'm the teacher's little pet-- + I ain't." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +TOM LEARNS SOMETHING + + +Tom's absence through the day had resulted in an accumulation of work +upon his table. His duties were chiefly active but partly clerical. +After supper he started to clear away these matters. + +The camp had already been in communication with Mr. Temple, its founder, +and plans had been made for an inspection of the washed-out cove by +engineers from the city. It was purposed to build a substantial dam at +that lowest and weakest place on the lake shore. There was a memorandum +asking Tom to be prepared to show these men the fatal spot on the +following morning. + +Matters connected with the meeting of the resident Court of Honor next +day had also to be attended to. Several dreamers of high awards would +have a sleepless night in anticipation of that meeting. Hervey Willetts +would probably sleep peacefully--if he went to bed at all. + +It was half an hour or so before Tom got around to looking over the +names of new arrivals. These were card indexed by the camp clerk, and +Tom always looked the cards over in a kind of casual quest of familiar +names, and also with the purpose of getting a line on first season +troops. It was his habit to make prompt acquaintance with these and help +them over the first hard day or so of strangeness. + +In glancing over these names, he was greatly astonished to find on the +list of Mr. Carroll's troop, the name of William Corbett. The identity +of this name with that of the victim of the automobile accident greatly +interested him, and he recalled then for the first time, that this troop +had come from Hillsburgh, in the vicinity of which the accident had +occurred. Yet, according to the newspaper, the victim of the accident +had been killed, or mortally injured. + +As Tom pondered on this coincidence of names there ran through his mind +one of those snatches of song which Hervey Willetts was fond of +singing: + + Some boys were killed and some were not, + Of those that went to war; + And a lot of boys are dying now, + That never died before. + +Before camp-fire was started Tom hunted up Mr. Carroll. + +"I see you have a William Corbett in your troop, Mr. Carroll," said he. + +"Oh, yes, that's Goliath." + +"He--he wasn't the kid who was knocked down by an auto?" + +"Why, yes, he was. You know about that?" + +Tom hesitated. The newspapers had not yet had time to publish the +sensational accounts of Harlowe's tragic death on the mountain and the +facts about this harrowing business had not been made public in camp. + +"I thought the kid was killed," Tom said. + +"Oh, no, that was just newspaper talk. It's a long way from being +mortally injured in a newspaper to being killed, Mr. Slade." + +"Y-es, I dare say you're right," said Tom, still astonished. + +"Yes, the little codger has a weak heart," said Mr. Carroll. "When the +machine struck him it knocked him down and he was picked up +unconscious. Probably he looked dead as he lay there. I dare say that's +what frightened the man in the machine. No, it was just his heart," he +added. "A couple of the boys in my troop knew the family, mother did +washing for them or something of that sort, and so we got in touch with +the little codger and there was our good turn all cut out for us. + +"You know, Slade, we have a kind of an institution--troop good turn. +Ever hear of anything like that? So we brought him along. He's a kind of +a scout in the chrysalis stage. He doesn't even know what happened to +him. A good part of his life has been spent in hospitals; he'll pick up +though. I think the newspaper reporters did more harm than the autoist. +Do you know, Slade, I think the man may have just got panicky, like some +of the soldiers in the war." + +"I've seen a fellow shrink like a whipped cur at the sound of a cannon +and then I've seen him flying after the enemy like a fiend," said Tom. + +"Yes, human nature's a funny thing," said Mr. Carroll. + +Tom's mind was divided between admiration of this kind, tolerant, +generous scoutmaster and astonishment at what he had learned. + +"Well, that's news to me," he said. + +"Yes, the main thing is to build the little codger up now," Mr. Carroll +mused aloud. + +"Mr. Carroll," said Tom, "Gilbert didn't say anything about going up the +mountain with me last night?" + +"N-no, I don't know that he did." + +"The trustees didn't want anything said about the matter here in camp, +or the whole outfit would be going up the mountain. But I suppose the +papers will have the whole business by to-morrow, and you might as well +have it now. The fellow who ran down the kid was found crushed to death +on the mountain last night. His name was Aaron Harlowe." + +Tom told the whole harrowing episode to Mr. Carroll, who listened with +interest, commenting now and again upon the tragic sequel of the auto +accident. It was plain, throughout, however, that his chief interest was +in his little charge, Goliath. + +"That's a very strange thing," he said; "it has a smack of Divine +justice about it, if one cares to look at it that way. Have you any +theory of just how it happened?" + +"I haven't got any time for theories, Mr. Carroll; not with four new +troops coming to-morrow. It's a closed book now, I suppose. There are +some funny things about the whole business. But one thing sure, the +man's dead. I have a hunch he got crazed and rattled and hid here and +there and was afraid they'd catch him and finally went up the mountain. +He thought he had killed the kid, you see. I'd like to know what went on +inside his head, wouldn't you?" + +"Yes, I would." + +Several of Mr. Carroll's troop, seeing him talking with Tom, approached +and hung about as this chat ended. Wherever Tom Slade was, scouts were +attracted to that spot as flies are attracted to sugar. They stood +about, listening, and staring at the young camp assistant. + +"Well, how do you think you like us up here?" Tom asked, turning +abruptly from his talk with their scoutmaster. "Think you're going to +have a good time?" + +"You said something," one piped up. + +"Where's Gilbert?" another asked. + +"Oh, he'll be back in a little while," Tom said. "I sent him on an +errand and I suppose he got lost." + +"He did _not_!" several vociferated. + +"No?" Tom smiled. + +"You bet he didn't!" + +"Well," said Tom, laughing, "if you fellows want to get into the mix-up, +keep your eyes on the bulletin board. Everything is posted there, hikes +and things. You'll like most of the things you see there." + +"I'm crazy about tomatoes," one of the scouts ventured. + +Tom smiled at Mr. Carroll and Mr. Carroll smiled at Tom. + +There seemed to be a sort of unspoken agreement among them all that +Hervey Willetts should be thought of ruefully, and in a way of +disapproval. But, oddly enough, none of them seemed quite able to +conceal a sneaking liking for him, shown rather than expressed. + +And there you have an illustration of Hervey's status in camp.... + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE BLACK SHEEP + + +The scouts were all around the camp-fire when Gilbert Tyson returned +with his captives. As they crossed the road and came upon the camp +grounds, the stranger seemed apprehensive and ill at ease, but Hervey +with an air of sweeping authority informed him that everything was all +right, that he would fix it for him. + +"Don't you worry," he said; "I know all the high mucks here. You leave +it to me." He was singularly confident for one in disgrace. "I'll get +you a job, all right. When you see Slady or Uncle Jeb you just tell them +you're a friend of mine." Robin Hood seemed somewhat reassured by the +words of one so influential. By way of giving him a cheery reminder of +certain undesirable facts and reconciling him to a life of toil, Hervey +sang as they made their way to the office. + + "You gotta go to work, + You gotta go to work, + You gotta go to work-- + That's true. + And the reason why you gotta go to work + _IS_ + The work won't come to you + _SEE?_ + + "I gotta go to bed, + I gotta go to bed, + Like a good little scout-- + You see. + And the reason why I gotta go to bed + _IS_ + The bed won't come to me. + D'you see? + The bed won't come to me." + +This ballad of toil and duty (which were Hervey's favorite themes) was +accompanied by raps on Gilbert's head with a stick, which became more +and more vigorous as they approached the office. Here the atmosphere of +officialdom did somewhat subdue the returning prodigal son and he +removed his precious hat as they entered. + +This matter was in Tom Slade's hands and he was going to see it through +alone. From camp-fire his watchful eye had seen the trio passing +through the grove and he was in the office before they reached it. + +The office was a dreadful place, where the mighty John Temple himself +held sway on his occasional visits, where councilmen and scoutmasters +conferred, and where there was a bronze statue of Daniel Boone. Hervey +had many times longed to decorate the sturdy face of the old pioneer +with a mustache and whiskers, using a piece of trail-sign chalk. + +At present he was seized by a feeling of respectful diffidence, and +stood hat in hand, a trifle uncomfortable. Robin Hood was uncomfortable +too, but he was in for it now. He was relieved to see that the official +who confronted him was an easy-going offhand young fellow of about his +own age, dressed in extreme negligee, sleeves rolled up, shirt open, +face and throat brown like the brown of autumn. It seemed to make things +easier for the trio that Tom vaulted up onto the bookkeeper's high desk, +as if he were vaulting a fence, and sat there swinging his legs, the +very embodiment of genial companionship. + +"Well, Gilbert, you got away with it, huh?" + +"Here he is," said Gilbert proudly. "I found him in a kind of cave in +the woods----" + +"Gilbert deserves all the credit for finding me," Hervey interrupted. +"You've got to hand it to him, I'll say that much." + +"It isn't everybody who can find you, is it?" said Tom. + +"Believe me, you said something," Hervey ejaculated. + +"Well, I'm going to say some more," Tom laughed. + +"This is my friend," said Hervey; "Robin Hood, but I don't know his real +name. He's a good friend of mine, and he can play the banjo only he +hasn't got one with him, and I want to get him a job." + +"Any friend of yours----" Tom began and winked at Gilbert. + +"What did I tell you?" said Hervey. "Didn't I tell you I'd fix it?" + +"I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Hood," said Tom. "We're expecting to be +pretty busy here, I can say that much," he added cautiously. + +"I was just roaming the woods," said the stranger. "I haven't got any +home; out of luck. The boys insisted on my coming." + +"Strangers always welcome," said Tom cheerily. + +It was, indeed, true that strangers were always welcome. Temple Camp was +down on the hobo's blue book as a hospitable refuge. Stranded show +people had known its sheltering kindness. Moreover, Tom was not likely +to make particular inquiry about Hervey's chance acquaintances. The +wandering minstrel had brought in laid-off farm hands, a strolling organ +grinder with a monkey, not to mention two gypsies, a peddler of rugs and +other strays. + +"Well, Tyson," said Tom, clasping his hands behind his head and swinging +his legs in a way of utmost good humor, "suppose you take Mr. Hood over +to camp-fire and see if he can stand for some of those yarns. Tell Uncle +Jeb he's going to hang around till morning. You stay here, Hervey. I'd +like to hear about your adventures. Let's see, how many lives have you +got left now?" + +"Believe me, I did _some stunt_," said Hervey. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +STUNTS AND STUNTS + + +For a minute or two, Tom sat swinging his legs, contemplating Hervey. + +"When it comes to stunts," said he, "you're down and out. You belong to +the '_also rans_.'" + +"Me?" + +"Yes, you." + +"I can----" + +"Oh, yes, you can do a lot. You ought to join the Camp-fire Girls. You +were asked to stay at camp--I'm not talking about yesterday. I'm talking +about all summer. There's an easy stunt. But you fell down on it. Don't +talk to me about stunts." + +"Do you think it's easy to hang around camp all the time? It's hard, you +can bet." + +"Sure, it's a _stunt_. And you can't do it. Little Pee-wee Harris can +do it, but you can't. Don't talk stunts to me. I know what a stunt is." + +"What's a stunt?" Hervey asked, trying to conceal the weakness of his +attitude with a fine air of defiance. + +"Why, a stunt is something that is hard to do, that's all." + +"You tell me----" + +"I'll tell you something I want you to do and you're afraid to do +it--you're _afraid_." + +"I won't take a dare from anybody," Hervey shouted. + +"Well, you'll take one from me." + +"You dare me to do something and see." + +"All righto. I _dare_ you to go up to your troop's cabin after camp-fire +and tell Mr. Denny that you've been a blamed nuisance and that you're +out to do the biggest stunt you ever did. And that is to do what you're +told. Tell him I dared you to do it, and tell him what you said about +not taking a dare from anybody. Tell him you never knew about its being +a stunt. + +"Of course I know you won't do it, because it's hard, and I know you're +not game. I just want to show you that you're a punk stunt-puller. I +_dare_ you to do it! I _DARE_ you to do it!" + +"I won't take a dare from anybody!" said Hervey, excitedly. + +"Oh, yes, you will. You'll take one from _me_. You're a four-flusher, +that's what you are. Go ahead. I _dare_ you to do it. You won't take a +dare, hey? I _double_ dare you to! There. Now let's see. Go up there and +tell Mr. Denny you're going to get away with the biggest thing you ever +tried--the biggest stunt. And to-morrow morning before the Court meets +you come in here and see Mr. Fuller and Uncle Jeb and me. Now don't ask +any questions. You came in here all swelled up, regular fellow and all +that sort of thing, and I'm calling your bluff." + +"You call me a bluffer?" Hervey shouted. + +"The biggest bluffer outside of Pine Bluff." + +"Me?" + +"Yes, you." + +"I wouldn't take a dare from you or anybody like you!" + +"Actions speak louder than words." + +"I never saw the stunt yet----" + +"Well, here it is right now. I dare you. I _dare_ you," said Tom, +jumping down and looking right in Hervey's face, "I DOUBLE DARE YOU!" + +Hervey grabbed his hat from the bench. + + "A kid that gives a double dare + For shame and grins he must prepare." + +he shouted. + +"That's me," said Tom. + +Before he realized what had happened, he heard the door slam and he +found himself alone, laughing. Hervey had departed, in wrath and +desperation, bent upon his next stunt. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE DOUBLE DARE + + +Mr. Denny's troop had turned in with the warmth of the roaring camp-fire +still lingering in their cheeks when the black sheep went up the hill. +The scoutmaster, sitting in his tepee, was writing up the troop's diary +in the light of a railroad lantern. He showed no great surprise at his +wandering scout's arrival. + +"Well, Hervey," said he. "Back again? I told you it would be better to +wait till morning. Missed the train, eh? You see my advice is sometimes +best after all." He did not look up but continued writing. If Hervey had +expected to create a sensation he was disappointed. "Better go to bed +and catch the nine fifty-two in the morning," said Mr. Denny kindly. + +"I came back because Tom Slade sent for me. I've got to get a medal, +but I don't care anything about that." + +"So? What's that for?" + +"I always said that fellow Slade was a friend of mine, but I wouldn't +let him put one over on me, I wouldn't." + +"You mean he was just fooling you about the medal?" + +"Maybe you can tell," said Hervey. "Because anyway I didn't do anything +to win a--the Gold Cross." + +Mr. Denny raised his eyebrows in frank surprise. "The Gold Cross?" + +"I don't care anything about that, anyway," said Hervey; "but I wouldn't +take a dare from anybody; I never did yet." + +"No?" + +"He said--that fellow said--he said I wouldn't dare to come up here and +tell you that I can--do anything I want to do." + +"That's just what you've been doing, Hervey." + +"But you know I'm good on stunts? And he said--this is just what he +said--he said I couldn't do that kind of a stunt--staying here when I'm +told to. He dared me to. Would you take a double dare if you were me? +They're worse than single ones." + +"N-no, I don't know that I would," said Mr. Denny, thoughtfully. + +"He said I wouldn't dare--do you know what a four flusher is?" + +"Why--y-es." + +"He said I wouldn't _dare_ to come up here and tell you that I know I'm +wrong to make so much trouble and he said I couldn't do a stunt like +staying in camp. Would you let any fellow call you a Camp-fire +Girl--would you? Gee Williger, _that_ stunt's a cinch!" + +Mr. Denny closed his book, leaving his pen in it as a book-mark, and +clasping his hands, listened attentively. It was the first slight sign +of surrender. He looked inquiringly and not unkindly at the figure that +stood before him in the dim lantern light. He noted the torn clothing, +the wrinkled stocking, the outlandish hat with its holes and trinkets. +He could see, just see, those clear gray eyes, honest, reckless, +brave.... + +"Yes, Hervey?" + +"Of course you don't have to keep me here, I don't mean that. Because +that's another thing, anyway. Only I want you to tell Slade that I +_did_ dare, because I wouldn't take a double dare not even from--from +Mr. Temple, I wouldn't. So then he'll know I'm not afraid of you. +Because even you wouldn't say I'm a coward." + +"No." + +"I can do any stunt going, I'll let him know, and I won't take a double +dare from anybody. Because I made a resolution when I was in the third +primary grade." + +"And you've always kept it?" + +"You think I'd bust a resolution? You have bad luck for eight years if +you do that." + +"I see." + +"No, siree!" + +"And so you think you could do this stunt?" + +"I can do any stunt going. Do you know what I did----" + +"Just a second, Hervey. I'd like to see you get away with that stunt." + +"But I'm not asking you to keep me here," Hervey said, giving his +stocking a hitch, "because I'm a good loser, I am. But I want you to +tell that fellow Slade--I used to think he was a friend of mine--I want +you to tell him that I bobbed that dare." + +"Bobbed it?" + +"Yes, that means put it back on him." + +Mr. Denny paused. + +"Why don't you tell him yourself, Hervey?" + +"Because he doesn't have to believe me." + +"Has any one ever accused you of lying, Hervey?" + +"Do you think I'd let anybody?" + +"Hmm, well, I think you'd better bob that dare yourself. But of course +you ought to follow it up with the stunt." + +"Oh, sure--only----" + +"I'll give you the chance to do that. My sporting blood is up now----" + +"That's just the way with me," said Hervey; "that's where you and I are +alike." + +"Yes. I think we'll have to put this fellow Slade where he belongs." + +"You leave that to me," said Hervey. + +There was a pause of a few moments. The whole camp had turned in by now +and distant voices had ceased. A cricket chirped somewhere close by. An +acorn fell from a tree overhead and rolled down the roof of the troop +cabin a few yards distant, the sound of its falling emphasized by the +stillness. Hervey hitched up his stocking again. Mr. Denny watched him. +Perhaps he was studying this wandering minstrel of his more closely than +ever before. It may have been that the silence and isolation were on +Hervey's side.... + +"Anyway, you don't have to keep me here, because--and I didn't come back +for that." + +"Hervey, you spoke about a medal--the Gold Cross. You don't mean the +supreme heroism award, of course. Slade didn't try to lure you back with +hints about such a thing?" + +"Hanged if I know what he meant." + +"He sent a note after you? Have you it with you?" + +"I made paper bullets out of it to shoot at lightning bugs on the way +home." + +"Did he actually mention the Gold Cross?" + +"I think he did--sure I never did anything to win that, you can bet." + +"No. And I think Slade adopted very questionable tactics to get you +back. Doubtless his intentions were good----" + +"I wouldn't let that fellow ruin _my_ young life--don't worry." + +"Well, you'd better turn in now, Hervey, and don't stay awake thinking +about dares and stunts and awards." + +And indeed Hervey did not stay awake thinking of any such things, +especially awards. In more than one tent and cabin on that Friday night +were sleepless heads, tossing and visioning the morrow which would bring +them merit badges, and perhaps awards of higher honor--silver, +bronze.... + +But the head of Hervey Willetts rested quietly and his sleep was sound. +He took things as they came, as he had taken the letter out of Gilbert's +hands. There was a mistake somewhere, or else Tom Slade had caught him +and brought him back by a mean trick and a false promise. But he did not +hold that against Tom. What he held against Tom was that Tom had made +him take a double dare. He knew he had done nothing to win so high an +honor as that golden treasure, so rare, so coveted.... What he had done +was already ancient history and forgotten. And it had no relation to the +Gold Cross. And so he slept peacefully. + +The thing that he most treasured was his decorated hat, and so that this +might not get away from him again, he kept it under his pillow.... + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +THE COURT IN SESSION + + +From his conversation with Tom, Mr. Denny knew (if indeed he had not +known it before) that the young assistant had a strong liking for this +bah, bah black sheep. He knew that Tom had been responsible for Hervey's +latest truancy and he believed that Tom, knowing that a little trick was +the only way to bring Hervey back, might have played such a little +trick, then sent him up the hill to square himself. + +Mr. Denny was quite in sympathy with the stunt and double dare business, +but he did not approve of trying to circumvent Hervey by dangling the +Gold Cross before his eyes. He was afraid that Hervey would not forget +this and that the disappointment would be keen. As we know, Tom was +dead set against this kind of thing. Mr. Denny did not know that. But he +did know that Hervey was unfamiliar with the rigorous requirements for +winning the highest award, for most of the pages in Hervey's handbook +had been used to make torches and paper bullets. Mr. Denny was resolved +that Tom Slade should not get away with such tactics unrebuked. He was +resolved to speak to the Honor Court about it in the morning. He would +not have one of his boys made the victim of vain hopes.... + + * * * * * + +Early in the morning, Tom took a little stroll with Robin Hood and +improved his acquaintance. Tom liked odd people as much as Hervey did +and he found this unfortunate stranger rather interesting. One thing, in +particular, he learned from him which was of immediate interest to him +and which Hervey, with characteristic heedlessness, had forgotten to +mention. + +"I dare say we can dig you up something to do," said Tom, "when the work +on the dam gets started. That'll be in two or three days, I guess. +Suppose you hang around." + +"I'd like to stay right here for the rest of the summer," said the +young fellow. "I'm out of luck and I'm all in." + +"France?" Tom queried. For soldiers out of luck were not uncommon in +camp. + +"No, just hard luck; lost my grip, that's all." + +"Well, hang around and maybe you'll pull together. I've seen lots of +shell-shock; had it myself, in fact." + +"Oh, it's nothing like that." + +"Come in and see the Supreme Court in session, won't you? It's great. We +have this twice during the summer. Reminds you of the League of Nations +in session.... H'lo, Shorty, what are you here for? More merit badges?" + +Outside the main pavilion the choicest spirits of camp were loitering; +Pee-wee Harris still working valiantly on the end of his breakfast, Roy +Blakeley of the Silver Foxes, Bert Winton on from Ohio with the Bengal +Tigers, and Brent Gaylong, leader of the Church Mice from Newburgh. He +was a sort of scoutmaster and patrol leader rolled into one, was Brent, +a lanky, slow moving fellow with a funny squint to his face, and a quiet +way of seeing the funny side of things. You had only to look at him to +laugh. + +"Tickets purchased from speculators not good," he was saying. + +Inside, the place was half filled with scouts, with a sprinkling of +scoutmasters. The members of the resident Court of Honor were already +seated behind a table and business was going forward. Much had already +been despatched. + +After a little while Mr. Denny came in and sat down. Other scoutmasters +sauntered in, and scouts singly and in groups. One proud scout went out +with three new merit badges and was vociferously cheered outside. + +Another didn't quite make the pathfinder's badge; another the camp honor +flag for good turns. Still another got the Life Scout badge, and so it +went. Honor jobs for the ensuing week were given out. There were many +strictly camp awards, not found in the handbook. The Temple Paddle was +awarded to a proud canoeist. Scouts came and went. Sometimes the +interest was keen and sometimes it lagged. + +Hervey Willetts came sauntering up from the boat landing, his hat at a +rakish angle, and trying to balance an oar-lock on his nose. He had an +air of wandering aimlessly so that his arrival at the pavilion seemed +quite a matter of chance. A morning song was on his lips: + + The life of a scout is sweet, + is sweet, + The rubbish he throws in the street, + the street. + He uses soft words, + And he shoots all the birds; + The life of a scout is sweet. + +Being a lone, blithe spirit, a kind of scout skylark as one might say, +he had not many friends in camp. The rank and file laughed at him, were +amused at his naive independence, and regarded him, not as a poor scout, +but rather as not exactly a scout at all. They did not see enough of +him; he flew too high. He was his own best companion. + +Consequently when he sauntered with a kind of whimsical assurance into +that exalted official conclave most of them thought that he had dropped +in as he might have dropped into the lake. There was a little touch of +pathos, too, in the fact that the loiterers outside did not speak to him +as he passed in. It was just that they did not know him well enough; he +was not one of them. He was the oddest of odd numbers, a stormy petrel +indeed, and they did not know how to take him. + +So he was alone amid three hundred scouts.... + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +OVER THE TOP + + +Tom had waited patiently for Hervey to arrive. His propensity for _not_ +arriving had troubled Tom. But whether by chance or otherwise there he +was, and Tom lost no time in getting to his feet. + +"Before the court closes," he said, "I want to ask to have a blank +filled out to be sent to the National Honor Court, on a claim for the +Gold Cross award. I would like to get it endorsed by the Local Council +to-day so it will get to National Headquarters Monday." + +You could have heard a pin drop in that room. The magic words Gold Cross +brought every whispering, dallying scout to attention. There was a +general rustle of straightening up in seats. The continuous departing +ceased. Faces appeared at the open windows. + +_The Gold Cross._ + +Mr. Denny looked at Tom. The young assistant, in his usual negligee, was +very offhand and thoroughly at ease. He seemed to know what he was +talking about. All eyes were upon him. + +"If you want the detailed statements of the three witnesses written out, +that can be done. But the National Court will take the recommendation +without that if it's endorsed by the Local Council. That was done in the +case of Albert Nesbit, who won the Gold Cross here three years ago. I'd +rather do it that way." + +"What is the name, Mr. Slade?" + +"Willetts--Hervey Willetts. You spell it with two T's." + +"This can be done without witnesses, on examination, Mr. Slade." + +"The winner isn't a good subject for examination," said Tom; "I think +the witnesses would be better." + +"Just so." + +"I might say," said Tom, "that this is the first chance I've had to tell +about this thing. On the night of the storm I sent Willetts from the +cove and told him to catch the bus and stop it before it reached the +bridge. I didn't think he could do it but I didn't say so. He had two +miles to go through the storm, running all the way. The wind was in his +face. Of course we all know what the storm was. His scoutmaster had told +him not to leave camp. If this was an emergency then it comes under +By-law Twenty-seven. You'll have to decide that. It was on account of +the flood I took him, not on account of the bus. The lake was running +out." + +"Did he reach the bus?" Mr. Fuller asked. + +"He reached the bus, but he doesn't know how. The last he remembered is +that he fell because his foot was caught in a hole. I don't know, nobody +knows how he did that thing. Here's a man who was in the woods that +night and saw him. He met him about half way and says he was so +exhausted and excited he couldn't speak. He told this man that he had to +_hurry on to save some people's lives_. He meant the people in the bus. +How he got from the place where he fell to the bus is a mystery. When he +did get there he couldn't speak, so he grabbed one of the horses. His +foot was wrenched and he was unconscious. + +"When they got him in the bus he muttered something and they thought he +was talking about his foot. It was the bridge he was talking about. But +what he said prompted Mr. Carroll to send another scout forward, and +_he_ stopped the bus. That's all there is to it. He got there and it +nearly killed him. Darby Curren, who is here to tell you, thought he was +a spook. + +"Now these three people, Mr. Hood, Darby Curren and Mr. Carroll, can +tell you what they know about it. It's one of those cases where the real +facts didn't come out. Hervey Willetts saved the lives of twenty-two +people at _grave danger_ to his own. That satisfies the handbook. He +doesn't care four cents about the Gold Cross, but right is right, and +I'm here to see that he gets it. Stand up, Hervey. Stand out in the +aisle." Suddenly Tom was seated. + +So there stood the wandering minstrel, alone. Even his champion was not +in evidence. Nor was his troop there to share the glory with him. His +scoutmaster was there, but he seemed too dazed to speak. And so the +stormy petrel stood alone, as he would always stand alone. Because there +was no one like him. + +"Willetts is the name? Hervey Willetts?" + +"I got a middle name, but I don't bother with it." + +"What troop?" + +And so the cut and dried business, so strange and unattractive to +Hervey, of filling in the blank, went on. He did not greatly care for +indoor sports. There was a lull in the general interest. Scouts began +lounging and whispering again. + +In that interval of restlessness, an observant person might have +noticed, sitting in the back part of the room, the rather ungainly +figure of the tall fellow, Brent Gaylong, organizer of the Church Mice +of Newburgh. He seemed to be the center of a clamoring, interested, +little group. + +Roy Blakeley's brown, crinkly hair could be seen through the gaps made +by other heads. Gaylong's knees were up against the back of the seat in +front of him, thus forming a sort of slanting desk, on which he held a +writing tablet. His head was cocked sideways as if in humorous but stern +criticism of his own work. On somebody's suggestion he wrote something +then crossed it out. There were evidently too many cooks at the broth, +but he was ludicrously patient and considerate, being no doubt chief +cook himself. There was something very funny about his calm, +preoccupied demeanor amid that clamoring throng. The proceedings in the +room interested him not. + +Nor did the business interest many others now. There was a continuous +drift toward the door and the crowd of loiterers outside increased and +became noisy. The wandering minstrel stood alone. + +The voice of the chairman droned on, "Hill cabin twenty-two. Right. We +will talk with these gentlemen afterwards. It may be a week or two +before you get this, Willetts. It has to come from the National Court of +Honor. Meanwhile, the Camp thanks you, and is proud of you, for your +extraordinary feat of heroism. It's most unusual----" + +"Trust him for that," some one interrupted. + +"I could run faster than that if I had sneaks," said Hervey. + +"I'm afraid no one would have seen you at all, then," said Mr. Carlson. + +"All you've got to do is double your fists and look through them and you +can see a mile. It's like opera glasses." + +[Illustration: "STAND UP, HERVEY. STAND OUT IN THE AISLE." Tom Slade's +Double Dare. Page 190] + +"So? Well, let us shake hands with you, my boy." + +The next thing Hervey knew, Mr. Denny's arm was over his shoulder, while +with his other hand he was shaking the hand of the young camp assistant. + +"That's all right, Mr. Denny," said Tom. + +"Slade, I want you to know how much I respect you----" + +"It's all in the day's work, Mr. Denny." + +"I want you to know that Hervey appreciates your friendship. You believe +he----" + +"I believe he's a wild Indian," Tom laughed. "Or maybe a squirrel, huh? +Hey, Hervey? On account of climbing.... You know, Mr. Denny, those are +the two things that can't be tamed, an Indian and a squirrel. You can +tame a lion, but you can't tame a squirrel." + +Mr. Denny listened, smiling, all the while patting Hervey's shoulder. + +"Well, after all, who wants to tame a squirrel?" said he. + + * * * * * + +So these two lingered a few minutes to chat about lions and Indians and +squirrels and things. And that was Hervey's chance to get away. + +No admiring throng followed him out. His own troop was not there and +knew nothing of his triumph. Probably he never thought of these things. +A scoutmaster grabbed his hand and said, "Wonderful, my boy!" Hervey +smiled and seemed surprised. + +Outside they were sitting around on railings and steps and squatting on +the grass. There was a little ripple of murmuring as he passed through +the sprawling throng, but no one spoke to him. That was not because they +did not appreciate, but because he was _different_ and a stranger. +Perhaps it was because they did not know just how to take him. He didn't +exactly fit in.... + +His ambling course had taken him perhaps a hundred feet, when he heard +some one shout, "Let'er go!" + +Before he realized it, his own favorite tune filled the air, they were +hurling it straight at him and the voices were loud and clear, though +the words were strange. + +"_Everybody!_" + + "He's one little bully athlete, + so fleet; + At sprinting he's got us all beat, + yes, beat. + He can climb, he can stalk, + He can win in a walk; + He's a scout from his head to his feet-- + THAT'S YOU. + He's a scout from his head to his feet." + +He turned and stood stark still. Some of them, in the vehemence of their +song, had risen and formed a little compact group. And again they sang +the verse, the words _THAT'S YOU_ pouring out of the throat of Pee-wee +Harris like a thunderbolt. Hervey blinked. His eyes glistened. Through +their haze he could see the lanky figure of the tall fellow, Brent +Gaylong, sitting upon the fence, his feet propped up on the lower rail, +a pair of shell spectacles half way down his nose, and waving a little +stick like the leader of an orchestra. He was very sober and looked +absurdly funny. + +"Let him have the other one!" some one shouted. + +Gaylong rapped upon the fence with his little stick, and then gave it a +graceful twirl which was an improvement on Sousa. + +The voices rose clear and strong: + + "We don't care a rap for the flings he springs; + He doesn't mean half of the things he sings. + We're all down and out + When it comes to a scout + That can run just as if he had wings and things. + That can run just as if he had wings!" + +If Hervey had waited as long on the log in the quicksand as he waited +now, there would have been no Gold Cross. But he could not move, he +stood as one petrified, his eyes glistening. The wandering minstrel had +been caught by his own tune. + +"Over the top," some one shouted. + +He was surrounded. + + "That's you! That's you!" + +they kept singing. He had never been caught in such a mix-up before. He +saw them all crowding about him, saw Roy Blakeley's merry face and the +sober face of Brent Gaylong, the spectacles still half way down his nose +and the baton over his ear like a lead pencil. They took his hat, tossed +it around, and handed it back to him. + +"No room on that for the Cross," said Gaylong; "he'll have to pin it on +his stocking; combination Gold Cross and garter. Supreme +heroism--keeping a stocking up----" + +There was no getting out of this predicament. He could escape the +quicksand but he couldn't escape this. He looked about as if to consider +whether he could make a leap over the throng. + +"Watch out or he'll pull a stunt," one shouted. + +But there was really no hope for him. The wandering minstrel was caught +at last. And the funny part of the whole business was that he was caught +by one of his own favorite tunes. The tunes which had caught so many +others.... + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +QUESTIONS + + +Hervey had now no incentive to leave the vicinity of camp. Doubtless he +could have performed the great stunt without outside help (now that he +knew it to be a stunt) but luck favored him as it usually did, and the +new work going forward in the cove was enough to occupy his undivided +attention. + +He made his headquarters there and hobnobbed with civil engineers and +laborers in the true democratic spirit which was his. The consulting +engineer they called him, which was odd, because Hervey never consulted +anybody about anything. The men all liked him immensely. + +Another to benefit by the work on the new dam was Robin Hood, or Mr. +Hood as he was respectfully called. He ran the flivver truck between +the camp and the cove, carrying stone, and also cement and supplies +which came by the railroad. They had to cut a road from the main road +through to the cove. + +But one thing was not brought by the flivver, and that was the suction +dredge, a horrible monster, a kind of jumble of house and machinery +which came on a big six-ton truck and was launched into the lake. Its +whole ramshackle bulk shook and shivered when it was in operation +sucking the bottom of the lake up through a big pipe and shooting it +through another long pipe which terminated on the land. Thus sand and +gravel were secured and at the same time the lake was dredged by this +mammoth vacuum cleaner. The pipeline which terminated on the shore was +supported on several floats a few yards apart, and the first scout to +perform the stunt of walking on this pulsating thing was---- + +Guess. + +About a week after work on the dam had begun, Tom rode over to the cove +on the truck with Robin Hood. He had struck up a friendship with the +stranger and liked him, as every one did. The young man was quiet, +industrious, intelligent. He did not encourage questions about himself, +but Tom was the last one to criticise reticence. + +Moreover, labor was scarce and willing workers in demand. One thing +which gave the young man favor in camp was his liking for the younger +boys, who frequently rode back and forth with him. + +"Well, it's beginning to look like a dam, isn't it?" Tom said, as they +rode along. "You won't be able to get much more stone up behind the +pavilion.... The dam ought to raise the lake level about five or six +feet, the engineers say. That'll mean moving a couple of the cabins +back. Storm was a good thing after all, huh?" + +"I guess it will be remembered around these parts for a good many +years," Tom's companion said. + +"And you were out in the thick of it," said Tom, in his usual cheery +way. "Up on the mountain it was terrible." + +"On the mountain? I was--I was just in the woods. It was bad enough +there." + +He looked sideways at Tom, rather curiously. He liked Tom but he could +never make up his mind about him. It always seemed to him, as indeed it +seemed to others, that Tom's cheery, simple, offhand talk bespoke a +knowledge of many things which he did not express. It was often hard to +determine what he was really thinking about. + +"I think I'll see that face whenever it storms," Tom said. + +"What face?" + +"Harlowe's; he was just staring up in the air. Ever see a person who has +suffered violent death, Hood?" + +"Once." + +"Funny thing, did you ever hear how the eyes of a dead man reflect the +last thing he saw? I know over in France they often saw images in the +eyes of dead soldiers. Near Toul, where I was stationed, they carried in +a dead Frenchy and you could see an airplane in his eyes just as sure as +day." + +"Did _you_--did you ever see anything like that?" + +"Oh, sure. Ask any army surgeon or nurse." + +Hood did not seem altogether satisfied with the answer. He was clearly +perturbed. But he did not venture another question, and for a few +minutes neither spoke. + +"Another thing, too, speaking of France," said Tom. "We could always +pick out a fellow that came over from England as soon as they set him to +driving an ambulance. He'd always go plunk over to the left side of the +road. You know they have to keep to the left over there instead of to +the right----" + +"Yes, I know----" Hood began, and stopped short. + +"Been over there, eh?" + +"I'm not English, but I lived there several years, and drove a car." + +"Yes?" Tom laughed. "Well, now, I just noticed how _you_ kept edging +over to the left. I didn't think anything about your coming from +England, but I just happened to notice it. Takes a long time to get a +habit out of your nut, doesn't it? People might say you were reckless +and all that when really it would just be that habit that you couldn't +get away from. I've got so as I can tell a Pittsburgh scout, or a +Canadian scout just from little things--little habits." + +"You're a pretty keen observer," said Hood; "that about the eyes of a +dead person interests me. When you made that discovery up on the +mountain, do you mean----" + +"Your engine isn't hitting on all four, Hood," Tom interrupted. + +They both listened for a minute. + +"Guess not," said the driver. + +"Wire off, maybe," Tom suggested. + +Hood stopped the machine and got out. It would have been more like Tom +to jump out and investigate for himself, especially since he had run the +old truck long before Hood had ever seen it. But he did not do it. +Instead, he remained seated. Hood was right, there was nothing whatever +the matter with the engine. He wondered how Tom could have thought there +was. + +Tom seemed not greatly interested until his companion climbed in, then +he craned his neck out and looked down where Hood had been standing. + +"All right," he finally said; "I was wrong, as usual." + +"I think you're usually right," laughed Hood. + +Whatever the cause, Tom seemed thoughtful and preoccupied for the rest +of the journey. He whistled some, and that was a sign that he was +thinking. Once he seemed on the point of saying something. + +"Hood, do you----" he began. Then fell to whistling again. + +And so in a little while they came to the cove. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +THE MESSAGE + + +The altogether thrilling and extraordinary occurrence which is all that +remains to be told in this narrative, was witnessed by a dozen or more +scouts. It happened, as deeds of heroic impulse always happen, suddenly, +so that afterwards accounts differed as to just how the thing had +occurred. There are always several versions of dramatic happenings. But +on one point all were agreed. It was the most conspicuous instance of +outright and supreme heroism that Temple Camp had ever witnessed or +known. And because there was no scout award permissible in the occasion, +the boys of camp, with fine inspiration, named the new dam after the +hero, who with soul possessed challenged the most horrible monster of +which the human mind can conceive, threw his life into the balance with +an abandon nothing less than sublime, and found his reward in the very +jaws of horrible and ghastly death. + +And the dam was well named, too, for it represented strength superseding +weakness. If you should ever visit Temple Camp you should end your +inspection in time to row across the lake in the cool of the twilight, +when the sun has gone down behind the mountain, and take a look at +_Robin Hood's Dam_. + +The scene was the usual morning scene. The slanting sifter was dropping +its rain of dirt through the grating and sending the stones rolling +down. The mixer was revolving. A hundred feet or so from the shore the +clumsy old dredge was drawing up sand from the bottom of the lake, and +the big pipeline running to shore was pulsating so that the floats +supporting it rocked in the water. At the end of this pipeline was a big +pile of wet sand from the lake. Men were carrying this sand off in +wheelbarrows. + +A few of the scouts were busy at their favorite pastime of walking along +this shaking pipeline to the dredge from which they would dive, then +swim to the nearest point on shore and proceed again as before. Hervey +Willetts had been the Christopher Columbus to discover this endless +chain of pleasure and he had punctuated it with many incidental stunts. + +It was not altogether easy to walk on the trembling wet piping, but +those who did it were of course in bathing attire, and with bare feet it +was not so hard, once one got the hang of it. + +The sight of this merry procession proceeding on its endless round +proved too much for one pair of eyes that watched wistfully from the +shore. One after another the dripping scouts came scrambling up out of +the water, proceeded to the shore end of the pipeline, walked cautiously +along it, feet sideways, crossed the dredge, dived and presently +appeared again. "_Follow your leader_" they were singing and it was +funny to hear how they picked up the tune and got into time upon +emerging. + +This kind of thing was hard to resist. It is hard not to dance when the +music is playing. There was an alluring fascination about it. + +Suddenly, to the consternation of every one, there was Goliath in the +procession, moving along the pipeline, keeping his foothold by frantic +gesticulations with his arms. He was laughing all over his little face. +He swayed, he bent, he almost fell, he got his balance, almost lost it, +got along a few steps, and then down he went with a splash into the +water. + +This climax of his wild enterprise occurred in a gap of the procession. +Some scouts had fallen out, others were clambering out the other side of +the dredge. So it happened that the splash was the first thing to +attract attention. + +Goliath did not reappear and before any one had a chance to dive or knew +just where to dive, something was apparent, which sent a shudder through +Tom Slade, who was standing near the end of the pipeline. The pouring +forth of the wet sand out of the pipe ceased, or rather lessened and the +substance shot out in little jerks. Tom, ever quick to see the +significance of a thing, knew this for what it was. It was an awful +message from the bottom of the lake. + +Something was clogging up the suction pipe there. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +THE HERO + + +This thing, as I said, all happened in a flash. There was shouting, +there was running about.... + +"Stop the machinery!" some one yelled. + +"Reverse your engine!" + +Tom felt himself thrust aside, lost his balance and fell into the +deposit of wet sand. The pouring out of this had ceased. + +"_Don't let him do that! He's crazy!_" some one shrieked. + +"Reverse the engine; he'll come up. Don't dive--you! You'll be chewed to +pieces." + +"Who dived?" said Tom, scrambling to his feet. + +"The body will come up when the suction stops." + +"Both bodies, you mean; that crazy fool dived." + +"They won't come up if they're wedged in. Keep her going--reversed." + +Everybody crowded to the shore and to the deck of the dredge. The +pulsating of the big line had ceased. Men shouted to do this, to do +that. Others contradicted. All eyes were upon the water. They crowded +each other, watching, waiting.... + +Then a red spot appeared on the surface. It spread and grew lighter in +color as it mingled with the water. The watchers held their +breath--gasped. The tension was terrible. + +Then (as I said, it all happened in a flash) a hand covered with blood +reached up and tried to grasp the nearest float. It disappeared, but Tom +Slade had seen it and, jumping to the float, he reached down. + +"I've got him--keep back--you'll sink the float----" + +"Don't let go." + +It was not in the nature of Tom Slade to let go. + +Presently a ghastly face with red stained hair streaming over it, +appeared. + +"Let me take him," said Tom. + +But the man with bleeding, mangled shoulder would not give up what he +held, as in a grip of iron, with his other arm. + +And so Tom Slade dragged the wounded creature up onto the float and +there he lay in a pool of blood, still clinging to his burden. + +The little boy was safe. He opened his eyes and looked about. His face +was smeared with mud, one of his shoes was gone, his foot seemed to be +twisted. It was all too plain that he had been _within_ the suction +pipe, within the devouring jaws of that monster serpent, when his +frantic rescuer had dragged him back. But he was safe. + +His rescuer was utterly crazed. Yet he seemed to know Tom. + +"Safe--alive----" he muttered. + +"Yes, he's safe; lie still. Get the doctor, some of you fellows--quick." + +"Send, send--them away--all. You know--do you--I'm square--yes?" + +"Surely," said Tom soothingly. "Lie still." + +"He's alive?" + +"Yes." + +"Listen, come close. I'll tell _you_--now. I _murdered_ a kid +once--now--now I've--I've saved one----" + +"Shh. It's the same one, Harlowe." + +"You--you know?" + +"Yes, I know. We'll talk about it after. Hold your head +still--quiet--that's right. Don't think about it now. Shh--I think your +arm is broken; don't move it." + +"I--I--killed----" + +"No, you never killed any one. Lie still--please. I know all about it. +We can't talk about it now. _But you never killed any one_, remember +that." + +"You know I'm Harlowe?" + +"Yes. Don't talk. That was little Willie Corbett you saved. Now don't +ask me any more now; _please_. You don't think I'm a liar, do you? Well, +I'm telling you you never killed _anybody_. See? You're not a murderer, +you're a hero. I know all about it.... Lie still, that's right.... Don't +move your arm...." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +Harlowe's Story + + +Aaron Harlowe was lying on his cot in the little rustic hospital at +Temple Camp. It was worth being sick to lie in that hospital. It was +just a log cabin. The birds sang outside of it, you could hear the +breeze blowing in the trees, you could hear the ripple of paddles on the +lake. + +Tom Slade sat upon the side of the cot. + +"You see when I found the map, I knew you had gone up the mountain. And +I didn't think you'd go up there unless there was some one up there that +you knew. The light was up there before you went up. Now that you tell +me you went up there to hide with that friend of yours, everything fits +together. I knew there must have been two of you up there, because I saw +your footprint. You have a patch on the sole of your shoe and the dead +man didn't. See? When I asked you to get out of the auto it was just +because I wanted to see your footprint. Your always getting over to the +left hand side of the road made me a little suspicious. Footprints don't +lie and that clinched it." + +"But did you see my image in the eyes of the dead man?" Harlowe asked +weakly. + +"I saw an image of a man; I couldn't tell it was you. But I knew some +one else had been there. Do you feel like telling me the rest now? Or +would you rather wait." + +"You seem to know it all," Harlowe smiled. It was pleasant to see that +smile upon his pale, thin face. + +"It isn't what you _know_, it's what you _do_ that counts," said Tom +softly. "And see what _you_ did. Talk about heroism!" + +It was from the desultory talk which followed that Tom was able to piece +out the story, the mystery of which he had already penetrated. Harlowe, +in fear of capture after his supposed killing of the child, had sought +refuge in the hunting shack of his friend upon the mountain. There the +two had lived till the night of the storm. When Harlowe's friend had +been crushed under the tree, Harlowe had bent over him to make sure that +he was dead. It was then, in the blinding storm, that his license cards +had fallen out of his pocket and, by the merest chance, on the open coat +of the dead man. + +Harlowe said that after that he had intended to give himself up, but +that when he read that _Harlowe_ had been discovered, and no doubt +buried, he had resolved to let his crime and all its consequences be +buried with the dead man, who like himself was without relations. + +But Harlowe's conscience had not been buried, and it was in a kind of +mad attempt to square himself before Heaven, and still the voice of that +silent, haunting accuser, that he had performed the most signal act of +heroism and willing sacrifice ever known at Temple Camp. + +As Tom Slade emerged after his daily call on the convalescent, a song +greeted his ear and he became aware of Hervey Willetts, hat, stocking +and all, coming around the edge of the cooking shack. He was caroling a +verse of his favorite ballad: + + "The life of a scout is kind, + is kind, + His handbook he never can find, + can find. + He don't bother to look, + In the little handbook. + The life of a scout is kind." + +"Hunting for your handbook, Hervey?" + +"I should fret out my young life about the handbook." + +"Walking my way?" + +"Any way, I'm not particular." + +"Cross come yet?" + +"I haven't seen it. Do you think it would look good on my hat?" + +"Why, yes," Tom laughed. "Only be sure to pin it on upside down." + +"Why?" + +"Why, because then when you're standing on your head, it'll be right +side up. See?" + +"Good idea. I guess I will, hey?" + +"Sure, I--I _double dare_ you to," said Tom. + +END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Tom Slade's Double Dare, by Percy Keese Fitzhugh + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM SLADE'S DOUBLE DARE *** + +***** This file should be named 19590.txt or 19590.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/5/9/19590/ + +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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