TOM SLADE AT TEMPLE CAMP

ByPERCY K. FITZHUGH

Author ofTHE TOM SLADE BOOKSTHE ROY BLAKELEY BOOKSTHE PEE-WEE HARRIS BOOKS

Published with the approval ofTHE BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA

WHITMAN PUBLISHING CO. RACINE, WISCONSIN

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Copyright, MCMXVIIGROSSET & DUNLAP

Printed in the United States of America

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

 I. ROY'S SACRIFICE 1 II. INDIAN SCOUT SIGN 10 III. PEE-WEE AND MARY TEMPLE 19 IV. TOM AND ROY 25 V. FIRST COUP OF THE MASCOT 32 VI. THE SHELTER 52 VII. THE "GOOD TURN" 70 VIII. BON VOYAGE! 79 IX. THE MYSTERY 94 X. PEE-WEE'S ADVENTURE 110 XI. TRACKS AND TRAILING 124 XII. THE LONG ARM OF THE SCOUT 136 XIII. TEMPLE CAMP 150 XIV. HERO CABIN 165 XV. COWARD 177 XVI. OSTRACIZED 188 XVII. THE WINNING OF THE GOLDEN CROSS 197

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CHAPTER I

ROY'S SACRIFICE

"Rejected by a large majority--I mean, elected by a large majority. "

Roy Blakeley gathered up the ballots in his two hands, dropped them intothe shoe box and pushed the box across the table to Mr. Ellsworth as ifthe matter were finally settled. 

"Honorable Roy Blakeley, " he added, "didn't even carry his own patrol. "

This humiliating confession, offered in Roy's gayest manner, was true. The Silver Foxes had turned from their leader and, to a scout, voted forTom Slade. It was hinted that Roy himself was responsible for this, buthe was a good politician and would not talk. There was also a dark rumorthat a certain young lady was mixed up in the matter and it is a factthat only the night before Roy and Mary Temple had been seen in earnestconverse on the wide veranda at Grantley Square by Pee-wee Harris, whobelieved that a scout should be observant. 

Be this as it may, Tom had carried his own patrol, the Elks, unanimously, and the Silver Foxes had voted for him like instructeddelegates, while among the proud and dignified Ravens there had been butone dissenting vote. Someone had cast this for Pee-wee Harris, theSilver Fox mascot and the troop's chief exhibit. But, of course, it wasonly a joke. The idea of Pee-wee going away as assistant camp managerwas preposterous. Why, you could hardly see him without a magnifyingglass. 

"If this particular majority had been much larger, " announced Roy, "itwouldn't have been a majority at all; it would have been a unanimity. "

"A una _what_?" someone asked. 

"A unanimity--that's Latin for home run. Seems a pity that the onlything that prevented a clean sweep was a little three-foot pocketedition of a boy scout----"

At this moment, Pee-wee, by a miracle of dexterity, landed a ball oftwine plunk in the middle of Roy's face. 

"Roy, " laughed Mr. Ellsworth, "you're a good campaign manager. "

"He's a boss, " shouted Pee-wee, "that's what he is. A boss is a fellerthat has people elected and then makes them do what he says. "

"Well, you were glad enough to vote for him with the rest, weren't you?"laughed the scoutmaster. 

And Pee-wee had to confess that he was. 

But there was no doubt that Roy had managed the whole thing, and if everpolitical boss saw his fondest wishes realized Roy did now. 

"I think, " said Mr. Ellsworth, "that it is up to Tom to deliver hisspeech of acceptance. "

"Sure it is, " said Westy Martin (Silver Fox). "We want to know hispolicies. Is he going to favor the Elks or is he going to be neutral?"

"Is he for troop first or camp first?" asked Doc. Carson (Raven andFirst-aid scout). 

"Is Roy Blakeley going to come in for three or four helpings at messbecause he ran the campaign?" asked Connie Bennett, of the new Elks. 

"Speech, speech!" called Eddie Ingram, of the Silver Foxes. 

Tom looked uneasily at Mr. Ellsworth and on the scoutmaster's laughingnod of encouragement arose. 

He was not at his best in a thing of this kind; he had always envied Royhis easy, bantering manner, but he was not the one to shirk a duty, sohe stood up. 

He was about fifteen and of a heavy, ungraceful build. His hair wasthick and rather scraggly, his face was of the square type, and hisexpression what people call stolid. He had freckles but not too many, and his mouth was large and his lips tight-set. His face wore acharacteristic frown which was the last feeble trace of a lowering lookwhich had once disfigured it. Frowns are in the taboo list of thescouts, but somehow this one wasn't half bad; there was a kind of ruggedstrength in it. He wore khaki trousers and a brown flannel shirt whichwas unbuttoned in front, exposing an expanse of very brown chest. 

For Tom Slade's virtues you will have to plow through these pages if youhave not already met him, but for his faults, they were printed all overhim like cities on a map. He was stubborn, rather reticent, sometimesunreasonable, and carried with him that air of stolid self-confidencewhich is apt to be found in one who has surmounted obstacles and risenin spite of handicaps. It was often said in the troop that one neverknew how to take Tom. 

"I think Pee-wee is right, " he said, "and I guess Roy managed this. Icould see he was doing some private wig-wag work, and I think you've allbeen--what d'you call it--co-something or other----"

"Coerced!" suggested Pee-wee. 

(Cries of "No, you're crazy!")

"But as long as I'm elected I'll take the job--and I'm very thankful. Iwon't deny I wanted it. Roy won't get any favors. " (Cheers) "If I haveany deciding to do I'll decide the way I think is right. That's all I'vegot to say--oh, yes, there's one thing more--one thing I made up my mindto in case I was lucky enough to get elected. " (Cries of "Hear, hear!")"I'm not going to go by the railroad. I got an idea, like, that itdoesn't took right for a scout to go to camp by train. So I'm going tohike it up to the camp. I'm going to start early enough so I can do it. When a scout steps off a train he looks like a summer boarder. I ask Royto go with me if he can start when I do. I don't want you fellows tothink I was expecting to be chosen. I didn't let myself think about it. But sometimes you can't help thinking about a thing; and the othernight I said to myself that if anything should happen I should getelected----"

(A voice, "You didn't do a thing but walk away with it, Tommy!")

(Cries of "Shut up till he gets through!")

"I wouldn't go to that camp in a train. I'm not going to set foot in ittill I'm qualified for a first-class scout, and I'm going to do the restof my stunts on the way. I want Roy to go with me if he can. I thank youfor electing me. I'll do my best in that job. If I knew how to say it, I'd thank you better. I guess I'm kind of rattled. "

The blunt little speech was very characteristic of Tom and it wasgreeted with a storm of applause. He had a way of blurting out his plansand ideas without giving any previous hint of them, but this wassomething of a knockout blow. 

"Oh, you hit it right!" shouted Pee-wee. "Gee, I do hate railroadtrains--railroad trains and homework. "

"You don't mean you're going to hike it from here, Tom, do you?" askedMr. Ellsworth. 

"I had an idea I might canoe up as far as Nyack, " said Tom, "and thenfollow the river up to Catskill Landing and hit in for Leeds--but, ofcourse, " he added, "I didn't really expect to be elected. "

"Oh, crinkums!" shouted Pee-wee. "I'll go with you!"

"Well, " said Roy, when the laughter had subsided, "this is a new wrinkleand it sounds rather risky for a half-baked Elk----" (Hisses from theElks) "So far as I'm concerned, I think a hike of a hundred miles orso----"

"You're crazy!" interrupted Pee-wee. "You silver-plated Fox----"

"Is too much, " concluded Roy. "In the first place, there would have tobe a whole lot of discomfort. " (Hisses) "A fellow would be pretty sureto get his feet wet. " (Mr. Ellsworth restrained Pee-wee withdifficulty. ) "He would have to sleep out of doors in the damp nightair----" (A voice, "Slap him on the wrist!") "And he would be likely toget lost. Scouts, it's no fun to be lost in the woods----" (Cries of"Yes, it is!") "We would be footsore and weary, " continued Roy. 

"You got that out of a book!" shouted Pee-wee. "_Footsore andweary_--that's the way folks talk in books!"

"We might be caught in the rain, " said Roy, soberly. "We might have topick our way along obscure trail or up steep mountains. "

"You ought to go and take a ride in a merry-go-round, " cried Pee-wee, sarcastically. 

"In short, it is fraught with peril, " said Roy. 

"You got _that_ out of a book, too, " said Pee-wee, disgustedly, "_fraught with peril_!"

"I think it is too much of an undertaking, " said Roy, ignoring him. "Wecan get round-trip tickets. "

Pee-wee almost fell off his chair. 

"But, of course, " continued Roy, soberly, "a scout is not supposed tothink of himself--especially a Silver Fox. I am a SilverFox--sterling--warranted. A scout is a brother to every other scout. Heought to be ready to make sacrifices. " (Mr. Ellsworth began to chuckle. )

"He ought not to stand by and see a fellow scout in danger. He ought notto stand and see a poor Elk go headlong----" (Hisses) "He ought to beready with a good turn regardless of his own comfort and safety. " (Hootsand laughter) "I am ready with a good turn. I am ready to sac----"(Jeers) "I am ready to sac----" (Jeers) "I am----" (Cries of "Noblelad!") "I am ready to sac----"

"Well, go ahead and _sac_, why don't you?" shouted Pee-wee in disgust. "You're a hyp----"

"Hip--hooray!" concluded several scouts. 

"You're a hyp--hyp--hypocrite!" Pee-wee managed to ejaculate amid thetumult. 

"I am ready to sac----"

"Oh, go on, sac and be done with it!"

"I am ready to sacrifice myself for Tom Slade, " finished Roy, magnanimously. "Tom, " he added, extending his hand across the table witha noble air of martyrdom, "Tom, I will go with you!"

The meeting broke up gaily, Mr. Ellsworth saying that he would certainlycommunicate Roy's generous and self-sacrificing offer to NationalHeadquarters as a conspicuous instance of a memorable and epoch-makinggood turn. 

"He gets my goat!" said Pee-wee to the scoutmaster. 

"I am very glad, " said Mr. Ellsworth, soberly, "that our summer beginswith a good turn. The Silver Foxes should be proud of their unselfishleader. " Then he turned to Doc. Carson and winked the other eye. 

He was a great jollier--Mr. Ellsworth. 

CHAPTER II

[Transcriber's Note: An Indian scout sign drawing was inserted here. ]

The old Indian scout sign, which is the title of this chapter, means_There is nothing new along this trail and it brings you back to thesame place. _ If you are already acquainted with Tom Slade and hisfriends you will be safe in skipping this chapter but, otherwise, youwould better read it for it will tell you a little of Tom's past historyand of the other scouts with whom you are to become acquainted in thisvolume. 

To know just how all this election business came about we must go back ayear or so to a time when Tom Slade was just a hoodlum down in BarrelAlley and believed with all his heart that the best use a barrel stavecould be put to was to throw it into the Chinese laundry. He had heardof the Boy Scouts and he called them "regiment guys" and had asophisticated contempt for them. 

Then all of a sudden, along had come Roy Blakeley, who had shown himthat he was just wasting good barrel staves; that you could make afirst-class Indian bow out of a barrel stave. Roy had also told him thatyou can't smoke cigarettes if you expect to aim straight. That was anend of the barrel as a missile and that was an end of _Turkish BlendMixture_--or whatever you call it. There wasn't any talk orpreaching--just a couple of good knockout blows. 

Tom had held that of all the joys in the mischievous hoodlum programnone was so complete as that of throwing chunks of coal throughstreetcar windows at the passengers inside. Then along had come WestyMartin and shown him how you could mark patrol signs on rocks withchunks of coal--signs which should guide the watchful scout through thetrackless wilderness. Exit coal as a missile. 

In short, Tom Slade awoke to the realization not only that he was ahoodlum, but that he was out of date with his vulgar slang and bungling, unskilful tricks. 

Tom and his father had lived in two rooms in one of John Temple'stenements down in Barrel Alley and John Temple and his wife and daughterlived in a couple of dozen rooms, a few lawns, porches, sun-parlors andthings up in Grantley Square. And John Temple stood a better chance ofbeing struck by lightning than of collecting the rent from Bill Slade. 

John Temple was very rich and very grouchy. He owned the BridgeboroNational Bank; he owned all the vacant lots with their hospitable "KeepOut" signs, and he had a controlling interest in pretty nearlyeverything else in town--except his own temper. 

Poor, lazy Bill Slade and his misguided son might have gone on living inJohn Temple's tenement rent free until it fell in a heap, for though Mr. Temple blustered he was not bad at heart; but on an evil day Tom hadthrown a rock at Bridgeboro's distinguished citizen. It was a random, unscientific shot but, as luck would have it, it knocked John Temple'snew golf cap off into the rich mud of Barrel Alley. 

It did not hurt John Temple, but it killed the goose that laid thegolden eggs for the Slades. Mr. Temple's dignity was more than hurt; itwas black and blue. He would rather have been hit by a financial panicthan by that sordid missile from Barrel Alley's most notorious hoodlum. Inside of three days out went the Slades from John Temple's tenement, bag and baggage. 

There wasn't much baggage. A couple of broken chairs, a greasydining-table which Tom had used strategically in his defensiveoperations against his father's assaults, a dented beer-can and a fewother dilapidated odds and ends constituted the household effects of theunfortunate father and son. 

Bill Slade, unable to cope with this unexpected disaster, disappeared onthe day of the eviction and Tom was sheltered by a kindly neighbor, Mrs. O'Connor. 

His fortunes were at the very lowest ebb and it seemed a fairly safeprophesy that he would presently land in the Home for Wayward Boys, whenone day he met Roy Blakeley and tried to hold him up for a nickel. 

Far be it from me to defend the act, but it was about the best thingthat Tom ever did so far as his own interests were concerned. Roy tookhim up to his own little Camp Solitaire on the beautiful lawn of theBlakeley home, gave him a cup of coffee, some plum duff (Silver Foxbrand, patent applied for), and passed him out some of the funniestslang (all brand new) that poor Tom had ever heard. 

That was the beginning of Tom's transformation into a scout. He fell forscouting with a vengeance. It opened up a new world to him. To be sure, this king of the hoodlums did not capitulate all at once--not he. He wasstill wary of all "rich guys" and "sissies"; but he used to go down andpeek through a hole in the fence of Temple's lot when they werepractising their games. 

Mr. Ellsworth said nothing, only winked his eye at the boys, for he sawwhich way the wind was blowing. Tom Slade, king of the hoodlums, had thescout bug and didn't know it. 

Then, when the time was ripe, Mr. Ellsworth called him down into thefield one day for a try at archery. Tom scrambled down from the fenceand shuffled over to where the scouts waited with smiling, friendlyfaces; but just at that moment, who should come striding through thefield but John Temple--straight for the little group. 

What happened was not pleasant. John Temple denounced them all as a gangof trespassers, ordered them out of his field and did not hesitate toexpress his opinion of Tom in particular. Mr. Ellsworth then and therechampioned the poor fellow and prophesied that notwithstanding his pastthe scouts would make a man of him yet. 

After that Tom Slade came out flat-footed and hit the scout trail. Hewas never able to determine to whom he should be most grateful, RoyBlakeley or Mr. Ellsworth, but it was the beginning of a friendshipbetween the two boys which became closer as time passed. 

There is no use retelling a tale that is told. Tom had such a summer incamp as he had never dreamed of when he used to lie in bed till noontimein Barrel Alley, and all that you shall find in its proper place, butyou must know something of how Temple Camp came into being and how itcame by its name. 

John Temple was a wonderful man--oh, he was smart. He could take care ofyour property for you; if you had a thousand dollars he would turn itinto two thousand for you--like a sleight-of-hand performer. He couldtell you what kind of stocks to buy and when to sell them. He knew whereto buy real estate. He could tell you when wheat was going up ordown--just as if there were a scout sign to go by. He had everythingthat heart could wish--and the rheumatism besides. 

But his dubious prophesy as to the future of Tom Slade, king of thehoodlums, came out all wrong. Tom was instrumental in getting back a pinwhich had been stolen from Mary Temple, and when her father saw the boyafter six months or so of scouting he couldn't have been moresurprised--not even if the Bridgeboro Bank had failed. 

Then poor old John Temple (or rich old John Temple) showed that he hadone good scout trait. He could be a good loser. He saw that he was allwrong and that Mr. Ellsworth was right and he straightway built apavilion for the scouts in the beautiful woods where all the surprisingepisodes of the summer which had opened his eyes had taken place. 

But you know as well as I do that a man like John Temple would never besatisfied with building a little one-troop camping pavilion; not he. Sowhat should he do but buy a tract of land up in the Catskills close to abeautiful sheet of water which was called Black Lake; and here he put upa big open shack with a dozen or so log cabins about it and endowed thewhole thing as a summer camp where troops from all over the countrymight come and find accommodations and recreation in the summer months. 

That was not all. Temple Camp was to be a school where scouting might betaught (Oh, he was going to do the right thing, was old John Temple!), and to that end he communicated with somebody who communicated withsomebody else, who got in touch with somebody else who went to someranch or other a hundred miles from nowhere in the woolly west and askedold Jeb Rushmore if he wouldn't come east and look after this big scoutcamp. How in the world John Temple, in his big leather chair in theBridgeboro Bank, had ever got wind of Jeb Rushmore no one was able tofind out. John Temple was a genius for picking out men and in this casehe touched high-water mark. 

Jeb Rushmore was furnished with passes over all John Temple's railroadsstraight through from somewhere or other in Dakota to Catskill Landing, and a funny sight he must have been in his flannel shirt and slouch hat, sprawling his lanky limbs from the platforms of observation cars, drawling out his pithy observations about the civilization which he hadnever before seen. 

There are only two more things necessary to mention in this "side trail"chapter. Tom's father bobbed up after the boy had become a scout. He wasa mere shadow of his former self; drink and a wandering life had all butcompleted his ruin, and although Tom and his companions gave him a homein their pleasant camp it was too late to help him much and he diedamong them, having seen (if it were any satisfaction for him to see)that scouting had made a splendid boy of his once neglected son. 

This brings us to the main trail again and explains why it was that RoyBlakeley had held mysterious conferences with Mary Temple, and suggestedto all the three patrols that it would be a good idea to elect Tom to goto Temple Camp to assist in its preparation and management. They had allknown that one of their number was to be chosen for this post and Royhad hit on Tom as the one to go because he still lived with Mrs. O'Connor down in Barrel Alley and had not the same pleasant homesurroundings as the other boys. 

A scout is thoughtful. 

CHAPTER III

PEE-WEE AND MARY TEMPLE

Throughout the previous summer Tom had been in Roy's patrol, the SilverFoxes, but when the new Elk Patrol was formed with Connie Bennett, theBronson boys and others, he had been chosen its leader. 

"I think it's just glorious, " said Mary Temple, when Tom told her of hisplan and of Roy's noble sacrifice, "and I wish I was a boy. "

"Oh, it's great to be a boy, " enthused Pee-wee. "Gee, that's one thingI'm glad of anyway--that I'm a boy!"

"Half a boy is better than all girl, " taunted Roy. 

"_You're_ a model boy, " added Westy. 

"And mother and father and I are coming up in the touring car in Augustto visit the camp, " said Mary. "Oh, I think it's perfectly lovely youand Tom are going on ahead and that you're going to walk, and you'llhave everything ready when the others get there. Good-bye. "

Tom and Roy were on their way up to the Blakeley place to set aboutpreparing for the hike, for they meant to start as soon as they couldget ready. Pee-wee lingered upon the veranda at Temple Court swinginghis legs from the rubble-stone coping--those same legs that had made thescout pace famous. 

"Oh, crinkums, " he said, "they'll have _some_ time! Cracky, but I'd liketo go. You don't believe all this about Roy's making a _noblesacrifice_, do you?" he added, scornfully. 

Mary laughed and said she didn't. 

"Because that isn't a good turn, " Pee-wee argued, anxious that Maryshould not get a mistaken notion of this important phase of scouting. "Agood turn is when you do something that helps somebody else. If you doit because you get a lot of fun out of it yourself, then it isn't a goodturn at all. Of course, Roy knows that; he's only jollying when he callsit a good turn. You have to be careful with Roy, he's a terriblejollier--and Mr. Ellsworth's pretty near as bad. Oh, cracky, but I'dlike to go with them--that's one sure thing. You think it's no fun beinga girl and I'll admit _I_ wouldn't want to be one--I got to admit that;but it's pretty near as bad to be small. If you're small they jollyyou. And if I asked them to let me go they'd only laugh. Gee, I don'tmind being jollied, but I _would_ like to go. That's one thing you oughtto be thankful for--you're not small. Of course, maybe girls can't do somany things as boys--I mean scouting-like--but--oh, crinkums, " he brokeoff in an ecstasy of joyous reflection. "Oh, crinkums, that'll be sometrip, _believe me_. "

Mary Temple looked at the diminutive figure in khaki trousers which satbefore her on the coping. It was one of the good things about Pee-weeHarris that he never dreamed how much people liked him. 

"I don't know about that, " said Mary. "I mean about a girl not beingable to do things--scouting things. Mightn't a girl do a good turn?"

"Oh, sure, " Pee-wee conceded. 

"But I suppose if it gave her very much pleasure it wouldn't be a goodturn. "

"Oh, yes, it might, " admitted Pee-wee, anxious to explain the science ofgood turns. "This is the way it is. If you do a good turn it's sure tomake you feel good--that you did it--see? But if you do it just for yourown pleasure, then it's not a good turn. But Roy puts over a lot ofnonsense about good turns. He does it just to make me mad--because I'vemade a sort of study of them--like. "

Mary laughed in spite of herself. 

"He says it was a good thing when Tom threw a barrel stave in theChinese laundry because it led to his being a scout. But that isn'tlogic. Do you know what logic is?"

Mary thought she had a notion of what it was. 

"A thing that's bad can't be good, can it?" Pee-wee persisted. "Supposeyou should hit me with a brick----"

"I wouldn't think of doing such a thing!"

"But suppose you did. And suppose the scouts came along and gave mefirst aid and after that I became a scout. Could you say you did me agood turn by hitting me with a brick because that way I got to be ascout? Roy--you got to be careful with him--you can't always tell whenhe's jollying. "

Mary looked at him intently for a few seconds. "Well, then, " said she, "since you've made a study of good turns tell me this. If Roy and Tomwere to ask you to go with them on their long hike, would that be a goodturn?"

"Sure it would, because it would have a sacrifice in it, don't you see?"

"How?"

"Because they'd do it just to please me--they wouldn't really want me. "

"Well, " she laughed, "Roy's good at making sacrifices. "

"Je-ru-salem!" said Pee-wee, shaking his head almost incredulously atthe idea of such good fortune; "that'll be some trip. But you know whatthey say, and it's true--I got to admit it's true--that two's a company, three's a crowd. "

"It wouldn't be three, " laughed Mary; "it would only be two and a half. "

She watched the sturdy figure as Pee-wee trudged along the gravel walkand down the street. He seemed even smaller than he had seemed on theveranda. And it was borne in upon her how much jollying he stood for andhow many good things he missed just because he _was_ little, and howcheerful and generous-hearted he was withal. 

The next morning Roy received a letter which read:

"Dear Roy--I want you and Tom to ask Walter Harris to go with you. Please don't tell him that I asked you. You said you were going to nameone of the cabins or one of the boats for me because I took so muchinterest. I'd rather have you do this. You can call it a good turn ifyou want to--a real one. 

"MARY TEMPLE. "

Pee-wee Harris also received an envelope with an enclosure similar tomany which he had received of late. He suspected their source. This oneread as follows:

 If you want to be a scout, You must watch what you're about, And never let a chance for mischief pass. You may win the golden cross If your ball you gayly toss Through the middle of a neighbor's pane of glass. 

CHAPTER IV

TOM AND ROY

The letter from Mary Temple fell on Camp Solitaire like a thunderbolt. Camp Solitaire was the name which Roy had given his own cosy little tenton the Blakeley lawn, and here he and Tom were packing duffel bags andsharpening belt axes ready for their long tramp when the note fromGrantley Square was scaled to them by the postman as he made a short cutacross the lawn. 

"What do you know about that?" said Roy, clearly annoyed. "We can't take_him_; he's too small. Who's going to take the responsibility? This is ateam hike. "

"You don't suppose he put the idea in her head, do you?" Tom asked. 

"Oh, I don't know. You saw yourself how crazy he was about it. "

"Pee-wee's all right, " said Tom. 

"Sure he's all right. He's the best little camp mascot that everhappened. But how are we going to take him along on this hike? Andwhat's he going to do when he gets there?"

"He could help us on the troop cabin--getting it ready, " Tom suggested. 

Roy threw the letter aside in disgust. "That's a girl all over, " hesaid, as he sulkily packed his duffel bag. "She doesn't think of what itmeans--she just wants it done, that's all, so she sends herwhat-d'you-call-it--edict. Pee-wee can't stand for a hundred and fortymile hike. We'd have to get a baby carriage!"

He went on with his packing, thrusting things into the depths of hisduffel bag half-heartedly and with but a fraction of his usual skill. "You know as well as I do about team hikes. How can we fix this up forthree _now_? We've got everything ready and made all our plans; now itseems we've got to cart this kid along or be in Dutch up at Temple's. _He_ can't hike twenty miles a day. He's just got a bee in his dome thathe'd like----"

"It _would_ be a good turn, " interrupted Tom. "I was counting on a teamhike myself. I wanted to be off on a trip alone with you a while. I'mdisappointed too, but it _would_ be a good turn--it would be a peach ofa one, so far as that's concerned. "

"No, it wouldn't, " contradicted Roy. "It would be a piece of blamedfoolishness. "

"He'd furnish some fun--he always does. "

"He'd furnish a lot of trouble and responsibility! Why can't he wait andcome up with the rest? Makes me sick!" Roy added, as he hurled thealuminum coffee-pot out of a chair and sat down disgustedly. 

"_Now_, you see, you dented that, " said Tom. 

"A lot _I_ care. Gee, I'd like to call the whole thing off--that's whatI'd like to do. I'd do it for two cents. "

"Well, I've got two cents, " said Tom, "but I'm not going to offer it. _I_ say, let's make the best of it. I've seen you holding your sideslaughing at Pee-wee. You said yourself he was a five-reel photoplay allby himself. "

Roy drew a long breath and said nothing. He was plainly in his veryworst humor. He did not want Pee-wee to go. He, too, wanted to be alonewith Tom. There were plenty of good turns to be done without botheringwith this particular one. Besides, it was not a good turn, he toldhimself. It would expose Walter Harris to perils---- Oh, Roy was verygenerous and considerate of Walter Harris----

"If it's a question of good turns, " he said, "it would be a better turnto leave him home, where he'll be safe and happy. It's no good turn tohim, dragging him up and down mountains till he's so dog-tired he fallsall over himself--is it?"

Tom smiled a little, but said nothing. 

"Oh, well, if that's the way you feel, " said Roy, pulling the cord ofhis duffel bag so tight that it snapped, "you and Pee-wee had better goand I'll back out. "

"It ain't the way I feel, " said Tom, in his slow way. "I'd rather goalone with you. Didn't I say so? I guess Pee-wee thinks he's strongerthan he is. _I_ think he'd better be at home too and I'd rather he'dstay home, though it's mostly just because I want to be alone with you. Maybe it's selfish, but if it is I can't help it. I think sometimes afeller might do something selfish and make up for it some otherway--maybe. But I don't think any feller's got a right to do somethingselfish and then call it a good turn. I don't believe a long hike wouldhurt Pee-wee. He's the best scout-pacer in your patrol. But I want to goalone with you and I'd just as soon tell Mary so. I suppose it would beselfish, but we'd just try to make up----"

"Oh, shut up, will you!" snapped Roy. "You get on my nerves, draggingalong with your theories and things. _I_ don't care who goes or ifanybody goes. And you can go home and sleep for all I care. "

"All right, " said Tom, rising. "I'd rather do that than stay here andfight. I don't see any use talking about whether it's a good turn toPee-wee. " (Roy ostentatiously busied himself with his packing andpretended not to hear. ) "I wasn't thinking about Pee-wee so much anyway. It's Mary Temple that I was thinking of. It would be a good turn to her, you can't deny that. Pee-wee Harris has got nothing to do with it--it'sbetween you and me and Mary Temple. "

"You going home?" Roy asked, coldly. 

"Yes. "

"Well, you and Pee-wee and Mary Temple can fix it up. I'm out of it. "

He took a pad and began to write, while Tom lingered in the doorway ofthe tent, stolid, as he always was. 

"Wait and mail this for me, will you, " said Roy. He wrote:

"Dear Mary--Since you butted in Tom and I have decided that it would bebest for Pee-wee to go with _him_ and I'll stay here. Anyway, that'swhat _I've_ decided. So you'll get your wish, all right, and I shouldworry. 

"ROY. "

Tom took the sealed envelope, but paused irresolutely in the doorway. Itwas the first time that he and Roy had ever quarrelled. 

"What did you say to her?" he asked. 

"Never mind what I said, " Roy snapped. "You'll get your wish. "

"I'd rather go alone with you, " said Tom, simply. "I told you thatalready. I'd rather see Pee-wee stay home. I care more for you, " hesaid, hesitating a little, "than for anyone else. But I vote to takePee-wee because Mary wants--asks--us to. I wouldn't call it a good turnleaving him home, and you wouldn't either--only you're disappointed, same as I am. I wouldn't even call it much of a good turn taking him. Wecan never pay back Mary Temple. It would be like giving her a cent whenwe owed her a thousand. I got to do what I think is right--you--you mademe a scout. I--I got to be thankful to you if I can see straight. It's--it's kind of--like a--like a trail--like, " he blundered on. "Therecan be trails in your mind, kind of. Once I chucked stones at Pee-weeand swiped Mary's ball. Now I want to take him along--a little bit forhis sake, but mostly for hers. And I want to go alone with you for myown sake, because--because, " he hesitated, "because I want to be alonewith you. But I got to hit the right trail--you taught me that----"

"Well, go ahead and hit it, " said Roy, "it's right outside the door. "

Tom looked at him steadily for a few seconds as if he did notunderstand. You might have seen something out of the ordinary then inthat stolid face. After a moment he turned and went down the hill andaround the corner of the big bank building, passed Ching Woo's laundry, into which he had once thrown dirty barrel staves, picked his waythrough the mud of Barrel Alley and entered the door of the tenementwhere Mrs. O'Connor lived. He had not slept there for three nights. Thesound of cats wailing and trucks rattling and babies crying was not muchlike the soughing of the wind in the elms up on the Blakeley lawn. Butif you have hit the right trail and have a good conscience you cansleep, and Tom slept fairly well amid the din and uproar. 

CHAPTER V

FIRST COUP OF THE MASCOT

Anyway, he slept better than Roy slept. All night long the leader of theSilver Foxes was haunted by that letter. The darkness, the breeze, thesoothing music of crickets and locusts outside his little tentdissipated his anger, as the voices of nature are pretty sure to do, andmade him see straight, to use Tom's phrase. 

He thought of Tom making his lonely way back to Barrel Alley and goingto bed there amid the very scenes which he had been so anxious to havehim forget. He fancied him sitting on the edge of his cot in Mrs. O'Connor's stuffy dining room, reading his Scout Manual. He was alwaysreading his Manual; he had it all marked up like a blazed trail. Roy gotsmall consolation now from the fact that he had procured Tom's election. If Tom had been angry at him, his conscience would be easier now; butTom seldom got mad. 

In imagination he followed that letter to the Temple home. He saw itlaid at Mary's place at the dining table. He saw her come dancing in tobreakfast and pick it up and wave it gaily. He saw John Temple readinghis paper at the head of the table and advising with Mary, who was hispartner in the Temple Camp enterprise. He knew it was for her sake quiteas much as for the scouts that Mr. Temple had made this splendid gift, and he knew (for he had dined at Grantley Square) just how father anddaughter conferred together. Why, who was it but Mary that told JohnTemple there must be ten thousand wooden plates and goodness knows howmany sanitary drinking cups? Mary had it all marked in the catalogues. 

Roy pictured her as she opened the letter and read it, --that rude, selfish note. He wondered what she would say. And he wondered what JohnTemple would think. It would be such a surprise to her that poor littlePee-wee was not wanted. 

In the morning Roy arose feeling very wretched after an all butsleepless night. He did not know what he should do that day. He might goup to Grantley Square and apologize, but you cannot, by apology, undowhat is done. 

While he was cooking his breakfast he thought of Pee-wee--Pee-wee whowas always so gay and enthusiastic, who worshipped Roy, and who "did notmind being jollied. " He would be ashamed to face Pee-wee even if thatredoubtable scout pacer were sublimely innocent of what had taken place. 

At about noon he saw Tom coming up the lawn. He looked a littleshamefaced as Tom came in and sat down without a word. 

"I--I was going to go down to see you, " said Roy. "I--I feel differentnow. I can see straight. I wish I hadn't----"

"I've got a letter for you, " said Tom, disinterestedly. "I was told todeliver it. "

"You--were you at Temple's?"

"There isn't any answer, " said Tom, with his usual exasperatingstolidness. 

Roy hesitated a moment. Then, as one will take a dose of medicinequickly to have it over, he grasped the envelope, tore it open, andread:

"Dear Mary--Since you butted in Tom and I have decided it would be bestfor Pee-wee to go with _him_ and I'll stay home. Anyway, that's what_I've_ decided. So you'll get your wish, all right, and I should worry. 

"ROY. "

He looked up into Tom's almost expressionless countenance. "Who--told--you to deliver it--Tom?"

"I told myself. You said you'd call the whole thing off for two cents. But you ought not to expect me to pay the two cents----"

"Didn't I put a stamp on it?" said Roy, looking at the envelope. 

"If you want to put a stamp on it now, " said Tom, "I'll go and mail itfor you--but I--I didn't feel I cared to trust you for two cents--overnight. "

Through glistening eyes Roy looked straight at Tom, but found noresponse in that dogged countenance. But he knew Tom, and knew what toexpect from him. "You old grouch, " he shouted, running his hand throughTom's already tousled and rebellious hair. "Why don't you laugh? So youwouldn't trust me for two cents, you old Elk skinflint, wouldn't you. Well, then, the letter doesn't get mailed, that's all, for I happen tohave only one stamp left and that's going to Pee-wee Harris. Come on, get your wits to work now, and we'll send him the invitation in the formof a verse, what d'you say?"

He gave Tom such a push that even he couldn't help laughing as hestaggered against the tent-pole. 

"I'm no good at writing verse, " said he. 

"Oh, but we'll jolly the life out of that kid when we get him away, "said Roy. 

It is a wise precept that where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to bewise. Pee-wee Harris never dreamed of the discussion that had takenplace as to his going, and he accepted the invitation with a glad heart. 

On the momentous morning when the trio set forth upon their journey, Mary Temple, as glad as they, stood upon the steps at Grantley Squareand waved them a last good-bye. 

"Don't forget, " she called, "we're coming up in the car in August tovisit you and see the camp and that dreadful Jeb or Job or Jib orwhatever you call him, who smokes a corn-cob pipe--ugh!"

The last they saw of her was a girlish shrug of disgust at that strangepersonage out of the West about whom (largely for her benefit) Roy andothers had circulated the most outlandish tales. Jeb Rushmore wasalready ensconced in the unfinished camp, and from the few letters whichhad come from him it was judged that his excursion east had not spoiledhim. One of these missives had been addressed to _Mister John Temple_and must have been a refreshing variation from the routine mail whichawaited Mr. Temple each morning at the big granite bank. It read:

 "Thar's a crittur come here to paint names o' animiles on the cabin doors. I told him friendly sich wuzn't wanted, likewise no numbers. He see it were best ter go. Bein' you put up th' money I would say polite and likewise explain ez how the skins uv animiles is propper fur signs an' not numbers bein' ez cabins is not railroad cars. "

This is a fair sample of the letters which were received by Mr. Temple, by Mr. Ellsworth, and even at National Scout Headquarters, which JebRushmore called "the main ranch. "

The idea of putting the skin of a silver fox, for instance, on thepatrol's cabin instead of a painted caricature of that animal, took theboys by storm, and to them at least Jeb Rushmore became a very realcharacter long before they ever met him. They felt that Jeb Rushmore hadthe right idea and they were thrilled at the tragic possibilities ofthat ominous sentence, "He see it were best to go. "

The whole troop was down at the boathouse to see the boys off. Tom andRoy wore old khaki trousers and faded shirts which had seen service inmany a rough hike; their scarred duffel bags bore unmistakable signs ofhard usage, but Pee-wee was resplendent in his full regalia, with hismonogram burned in a complicated design into the polished leather of hisbrand new duffel bag. His "trousseau, " as the boys called it, was indeedas complete and accurate as was possible. Even the scout smile, which isnot the least part of the scout make-up, was carried to a conspicuousextreme; he smiled all over; he was one vast smile. 

"Don't fall off any mountains, Pee-wee. "

"Be sure to take your smile off when you go to bed. "

"If you get tired, you can jump on a train. "

"Pee-wee, you look as if you were posing for animal crackers. "

These were some of the flippant comments which were hurled at Pee-wee asthe three, in Roy's canoe, glided from the float and up the river on thefirst stage of what was destined to be an adventurous journey. 

The river, along whose lower reaches Bridgeboro was situated, had itssource within a mile or two of the Hudson in the vicinity of Nyack. From the great city it was navigable by power craft as far as Bridgeboroand even above at full tide, but a mile or two above the boys' home townit narrowed to a mere creek, winding its erratic way through a beautifulcountry where intertwined and overarching boughs formed dim tunnelsthrough which the canoeist passed with no sound but the swishing of hisown paddle. The boys had never before canoed to the river's source, though it was one of the things they had always been meaning to do. Itwas a happy thought of Tom's to make it a part of their journey now andstrike into the roads along the Hudson in that way. 

"Oh, crinkums, I'm crazy to see Jeb Rushmore, aren't you?" said Pee-wee. "I never thought I'd have a chance to go like this, I sure didn't! Inever thought you'd want me. "

"We couldn't do without you, kiddo, " said Roy, as he paddled. "Wewouldn't have any luck--you're our lucky penny. "

"Cracky, you could have knocked me down with a feather when I got thatnote. At first, I thought you must be jollying me--and even now itdoesn't seem real. "

The boys laughed. "Well, here you are, kiddo, " said Roy, "so you seeit's real enough. "

"Do you suppose we'll have any adventures?"

"Why, as the little boy said when he spilled the ink on the parlorcarpet, 'that remains to be seen. ' We won't side-step any, you can besure of that. "

"There may be danger awaiting us, " said Pee-wee. 

"Well, I only hope it'll wait till we get to it, " Roy laughed. "What doyou say, kiddo, shall we hit it up for Nyack to-night or camp along theriver?"

They decided to paddle leisurely, ending their canoe trip next day. About dusk they made their camp on a steep, wooded shore, and with theflame of their campfire reflected in the rippling water, Roy cookedsupper. 

Pee-wee was supremely happy. It is doubtful if he had ever before beenso happy. 

"There's one thing, " said Tom, as he held the bacon over the flame. "I'mgoing to do my first-class stunts before we get there. "

"And I'm going to do some tracking, " said Roy; "here you go, Pee-wee, here's a bacon sandwich--look out for the juice. This is what DanielBoone used to eat. " He handed Pee-wee a sizzling slice of bacon betweentwo cakes of sweet chocolate!

"Mmmmmmm, " said Pee-wee, "that's scrumptious! Gee, I never knewchocolate and bacon went so good together. "

"To-morrow for breakfast I'll give you a boiled egg stuffed with carawayseeds, " said Roy. 

"Give him a Dan Beard omelet, " said Tom. 

"What's that?" asked Pee-wee, his two hands and his mouth running withgreasy chocolate. 

"Salt codfish with whipped cream, " answered Roy. "Think you'd like it?"

Pee-wee felt sure he would. 

"And there's one thing _I'm_ going to do, " he said. "Tom's going tofinish his first-class stunts and you're going to do tracking. I'm goingto----"

"Have another sandwich?" interrupted Roy. 

"Sure. And there's one thing I'm going to do. I'm going to test somegood turns. Gee, there isn't room enough to test 'em indoors. "

"Good for you, " said Roy; "but you'd better trot down to the river nowand wash your face. You look like the end man in a minstrel show. Thencome on back and we'll reel off some campfire yarns. "

They sat late into the night, until their fire burned low and Royrealized, as he had never before realized, what good company Pee-weewas. They slept as only those know how to sleep who go camping, andearly in the morning continued their journey along the upper andtortuous reaches of the narrowing river. 

Early in the spring there had been a serious flood which had done muchdamage even down in Bridgeboro, and the three boys as they paddledcarefully along were surprised at the havoc which had been wrought hereon the upper river. Small buildings along the shore lay toppled over, boats were here and there marooned high and dry many yards from theshore, and the river was almost impassable in places from theobstructions of uprooted trees and other debris. 

At about noon they reached a point where the stream petered out so thatfurther navigation even by canoe was impossible; but they were alreadyin the outskirts of West Nyack. 

"The next number on the program, " said Roy, "is to administer first aidto the canoe in the form of a burlap bandage. Pee-wee, you're appointedchairman of the grass committee--pick some grass and let's pad her up. "

If you have never administered "first aid" to a canoe and "padded it up"for shipment, let me tell you that the scout way of doing it is to bindburlap loosely around it and to stuff this with grass or hay so that theiron hook which is so gently wielded by the expressman may not damagethe hull. 

Having thus prepared it for its more prosaic return journey by train, they left the boat on the shore and following a beaten path camepresently into the very heart of the thriving metropolis of West Nyack. 

"I feel as if we were Lewis and Clarke, or somebody, arriving at anIndian village, " said Pee-wee. 

At the express office Roy arranged for the shipment of the canoe back toBridgeboro, and then they started along the road toward Nyack. It was onthis part of their journey that something happened which was destinedmaterially to alter their program. 

They had come into the main street of the village and were heading forthe road which led to the Hudson when they came upon a little group ofpeople looking amusedly up into an elm tree on the lawn of a statelyresidence. A little girl was standing beneath the tree in evidentdistress, occasionally wringing her hands as she looked fearfully upinto the branches. Whatever was happening there was no joke to her, however funny it might be to the other onlookers. 

"What's the matter?" Tom asked. 

"Bird up there, " briefly answered the nearest bystander. 

"She'll never get it, " said another. 

"Oh, now he's going away, " cried the little girl in despair. 

The contrast between her anxiety and the amusement of the others wasmarked. Every time she called to the bird it flitted to another limb, and every time the bird flitted she wrung her hands and cried. An emptycage upon a lawn bench told the story. 

"What's the matter?" said Pee-wee, going to the child and seeking hisinformation first-hand. 

"Oh, I'll never get him, " she sobbed. "He'll fly away in a minute andI'll never see him again. "

Pee-wee looked up into the branches and after some difficulty succeededin locating a little bird somewhat smaller than a robin and as green asthe foliage amid which it was so heedlessly disporting. 

"I see him, " said Pee-wee. "Gee, don't you cry; we'll get him some way. We're scouts, we are, and we'll get him for you. "

His reassuring words did not seem to comfort the girl. "Oh, there hegoes!" she cried. "Now he's going to fly away!"

He did not fly away but merely flew to another limb and began to preenhimself. For so small a bird he was attracting a great deal of notice inthe world. Following Pee-wee's lead, others including Tom and Royventured upon the lawn, smiling and straining their eyes to follow thetantalizing movements of the little fugitive. 

"Of course, " said Pee-wee to the girl, "it would be easy enough to shinup that tree--that would be a cinch--anybody could do that--I mean any_feller_--of course, a girl couldn't; but I'd only frighten him away. "

"You'll never get him, " said one man. 

"What kind of a bird is it?" Tom asked. 

"It's a dwarf parrot, " the girl sobbed, "and I'll never get him--never!"

"You don't want to get discouraged, " said Pee-wee. "Gee, there's alwayssome way. "

The spectators evidently did not agree with him. Some of them remainedabout, smiling; others went away. The diminutive Pee-wee seemed toamuse them quite as much as the diminutive parrot, but all were agreed(as they continually remarked to each other) that the bird was a"goner. "

"Is he tame?" Roy asked. 

"He was _getting_ tame, " the girl sobbed, "and he was learning to say myname. My father would give a hundred dollars--Oh, " she broke off, "nowhe _is_ going away!" She began to cry pitifully. 

Pee-wee stood a moment thoughtfully. "Have you got a garden hose?" hepresently asked. 

"Yes, but you're not going to squirt water at him, " said the girl, indignantly. 

"If you get the garden hose, " said Pee-wee, "I'll bring him down foryou. "

"What are you going to do, kiddo?" Roy asked. 

"You'll see, " said Pee-wee. 

The other boys looked at each other, puzzled. The girl looked halfincredulously at Pee-wee and something in his manner gave her a feelingof hope. Most of the others laughed good-humoredly. 

They hauled the nozzle end of a garden hose from where it lay coilednear a faucet in the stone foundation. Pee-wee took the nozzle and beganto play the stream against the trunk of the tree, all the while lookingup at the parrot. Presently, the bird began to "sit up and take notice, "as one might say. It was plainly interested. The bystanders began to"sit up and take notice" too, and they watched the bird intently as itcocked its head and listened. Pee-wee sent the stream a little higher upthe trunk and as he did so the bird became greatly excited. It beganuttering, in the modulated form consonant with its size, the discordantsquawk of the parrot. The little girl watched eagerly. 

"Get the cage, " ordered Pee-wee. 

Roy brought it and laid it at his feet. The stream played a littlehigher, and the bird chattered furiously and came lower. 

"Remind you of home?" Pee-wee asked, looking up and playing the water alittle higher. The bystanders watched, in silence. The bird was now uponthe lowest branch, chattering like mad and flapping its wingsfrantically. The little girl, in an ecstasy of fresh hope, called to itand danced up and down. 

But Pee-wee, like a true artist, neither saw nor heard his audience. Hewas playing the bird with this line of water as an angler plays a fish. And never was moth lured by a flame more irresistibly than this littlegreen fugitive was lured by the splashing of that stream. 

"Oh, can you catch him? Can you catch him?" pleaded the girl as sheclutched Pee-wee's arm. 

"Let go a minute, " said Pee-wee. "Now, all stand back, here goes!"

He shot the stream suddenly down at the base of the tree, holding thenozzle close so that the plashing was loud and the spray diffused. Andas an arrow goes to its mark the bird came swooping down plunk into themiddle of the spray and puddle. Still playing the stream with one hand, Pee-wee reached carefully and with his other gently encircled the littledrenched body. 

"Quite an adventure, wasn't it, Greenie?" he said. "Where'd you thinkyou were? In the tropics?---- If you ever want to take hold of a bird, "he added, turning to the girl, "hold it this way; make a ring out ofyour thumb and first finger, and let his stomach rest on the palm ofyour hand. Be sure your hand isn't cold, though. Here you are--that'sright. "

The girl could hardly speak. She stood with her dwarf parrot in herhand, looking at the stream of water which was now shooting silentlythrough the grass and at the puddle which it had made, and she felt thata miracle had been performed before her eyes. Roy, hardly less pleasedthan she, stepped forward and turned off the water. 

"Good work, " said a gentleman. "I've seen many a bird brought down, butnever in that fashion before. "

"_We_ don't use the other fashion, " said Tom, with a touch of pride ashe put his hand on Pee-wee's shoulder. "Do we, kid?"

"If it was a canary, " said Pee-wee, "I might possibly have whistled himdown, but not near enough to catch him, I guess. But as soon as I knewthat bird came from the tropics, I knew he'd fall for water, 'cause atropical bird'll go where the sound of water is every time. I guess it'sbecause they have so many showers down there, or something. Then once Iheard that it's best to turn on the faucet when you're teaching a parrotto talk. It's the sound of water. Did you get any water on you?" heasked, suddenly turning to the child. 

There was no water on her clothing, but there was some in her eyes. 

"I--I--think you're wonderful, " she said. "I think you are justwonderful!"

"'Twasn't me, " said Pee-wee, "it was the water. Gee, " he addedconfidentially, "I often said I hated water, and I do hate a rainy day. And if you get any water in a carburetor--_goo-od-night_! But I got toadmit water's good for some things. "

"Oh, I want you please to wait--just a few minutes--I want to go andspeak to my father, " the girl said, as the boys started to move away. They were the only ones left now. "Please wait just a minute. "

"We're on our way to Nyack, " said Roy, suspecting her intention, "andI'm afraid we've lost as much time as we dare. We've got to do a littleshopping there and our weather prophet here thinks we're going to have a_real_ tropical shower before long. "

"But won't you let my father give you each--something? You've been sogood and it's--oh--it's just _wonderful_!"

"Pee-wee, you're the doctor, " said Roy. 

"I got to do a good turn every day, " said the "doctor, " "because we'rescouts and that's the rule. If we took anything for it, why, then itwouldn't be a good turn. It would spoil all the fun. We're going on along hike, up the Hudson to our camp. We don't want to go near railroadtrains--and things like that. These fellows are taking me with them;that's a good turn, but if somebody paid 'em to do it, it wouldn't be agood turn, would it? I'm thankful to you and your parrot that you gaveme the chance. Now I don't have to think of a good turn again tilltomorrow. Besides I just happened to know about parrots and water soit's no credit to me. "

That was it--he just happened to know! It was one of the dozens ofthings that he "just happened to know. " How he came by the knowledge wasa mystery. But perhaps the best thing he knew was that a service is aservice and that you knock it in the head as soon as you take paymentfor it. 

The girl watched them, as they jumped the hedge, laughing gaily atPee-wee's clumsiness and, waving their hats to her, took their belatedway along the road. 

It was not the most popular way of bringing down a bird, but there wasno blood on Pee-wee's hands, and it was a pretty good stunt at that!

CHAPTER VI

THE SHELTER

"Pee-wee, you're a wonder, " said Roy. "You're the only original BoyScout; how did you get next to that stunt? What do you think of him, Tom?"

"Some wrinkle, " said Tom. 

"Crinkums!" said Pee-wee. "I'm mighty glad I got him. If it hadn'tsucceeded I'd have felt cheap, sure; but when you're dealing with agirl, you always want to act as if you're sure of yourself. Do you knowwhy?"

"Can't imagine, " said Roy. "Break it to us gently. "

"Because girls are never sure of themselves and they'll never take muchstock in what you say unless you seem to be sure of yourself. That's onething I've noticed. I've made a study of girls, kind of---- And you'remore apt to succeed if there's a girl watching you--did you ever noticethat?"

Roy laughed. 

"It's so, " urged Pee-wee. "And there's another thing about girls, too;they're repulsive. "

"What?" said Tom. 

"_What?_" said Roy. 

"They say the first thing that comes into their heads. "

"_Im_pulsive, you mean, " laughed Roy. 

"Well, they're all right on good turns, " said Tom. 

"They don't have any good turns in the Camp Fire Girls, " said Pee-wee. 

"A girl might do a good turn and you'd never know anything about it, "said Tom, significantly. 

"Cracky, " said Pee-wee, "she was tickled to get that bird back. "

In a little while they were tramping along the main street of Nyack, heading for the lordly Hudson. It was almost twilight, the shops wereshutting their doors, and as they came around the hill which broughtthem face to face with the river, the first crimson glow of sunset fellupon the rippling current. Across the wide expanse, which seemed thewider for the little winding stream they had so lately followed, thehills were already turning from green to gray and tiny lights werevisible upon the rugged heights. A great white steamer with its lightalready burning was plowing majestically upstream and the little opencraft at the shore rocked in the diminishing ripples which it sentacross the water, as though bowing in humble obeisance to it. 

"Gee, it's lonely, isn't it!" said Pee-wee. 

"Not getting homesick, are you, kiddo?"

"No, but it seems kind of lonesome. I'm glad there's three of us. Oh, jiminy, look at those hills. "

The scene was indeed such as to make the mightiest man feelinsignificant. 

The map showed a road which led to Haverstraw, and this the boys decidedto follow until they should find a convenient spot in which to bivouacfor the night. It followed the Hudson, sometimes running along the verybrink with the mighty highlands rising above it and sometimes runningbetween hills which shut the river from their view. 

"Hark, " said Tom. "What did I tell you! Thunder!"

A low, distant rumble sounded, and as they paused in the gatheringdarkness, listening, a little fitful gust blew Pee-wee's hat off. 

"We're going to get a good dose of it, " said Tom. "I've been smelling itfor the last hour; look at those trees. "

The leaves were blowing this way and that. 

"We should worry, " said Roy. "Didn't I tell you we might have to get ourfeet wet? This is a risky bus----"

"Shut up!" said Pee-wee. 

They had walked not more than a quarter of a mile more when they cameupon a stretch of road which was very muddy, with a piece of lowlandbordering it. It was too dark to see clearly, but in the last remnant ofdaylight the boys could just distinguish a small, peculiar lookingstructure in the middle of this vast area. 

"That's a funny place to build a house, " said Roy. 

"Maybe it's a fisherman's shack, " Tom suggested. 

Whatever it was, it was a most isolated and lonesome habitation, standing in the centre of that desert flat, shut in by the precipitoushills. 

"It would be a good place for a hermit, " said Roy. "You don't supposeanyone lives there, do you?"

"Cracky, wouldn't you like to be a hermit! Do you know what I'd like tohave now----"

"An umbrella, " interrupted Tom. 

The remark, notwithstanding that it shocked Pee-wee's sense of fitness, inasmuch as they were scouting and "roughing it, " was not inappropriate, for even as Tom spoke the patter of great drops was heard. 

"Maybe it's been raining here this afternoon, " observed Tom, "and that'swhat makes all this mud. "

"Well, it's certainly raining here now, " said Roy. "Me for that shack!"

The rain suddenly came down in torrents and the boys turned up theircollars and made a dash across the marshy land toward the shadowystructure. Roy reached it first and, turning, called: "Hey, fellows, it's a boat!"

The others, drenched, but laughing, followed him, scrambling upon thedeck and over the combing into the cockpit of a dilapidated cabinlaunch. 

"What do you know about that!" said Roy. "Strike a light and let's seewhere we're at. I feel like a wet dish rag. "

Presently Pee-wee's flashlight was poking its bright shaft this way andthat as they looked curiously about them. They were in a neglected anddisheveled, but very cosy, little cabin with sleeping lockers on eitherside and chintz curtains at the tiny portholes. A two-cylinder engine, so rusted that the wheel wouldn't turn over and otherwise in a dubiouscondition, was ineffectually covered by a piece of stiff and rotten oilcloth, the floor was cluttered with junk, industrious spiders had woventheir webs all about and a frantic scurrying sound told of the hurrieddeparture of some little animal which had evidently made its home in theforsaken hull. 

"Oh, but this is great!" enthused Pee-wee. "This is the kind of anadventure you read about; _now_ our adventures have really started. "

"It'll be more to the purpose if we can get our supper really started, "said Roy. 

"How do you suppose it got here?" Pee-wee asked. 

"That's easy, " said Tom. "I didn't realize it before, but the tide mustcome up over the road sometimes and flood all this land here. That'swhat makes the road muddy. There must have been a good high tide sometime or other, and it brought the boat right up over the road and hereit is, marooned. "

"Maybe it was the same flood that did all the damage down our way, " Roysaid. "Well, here goes; get the things out, Pee-wee, and we'll have someeats. Gee, it's nice in here. "

It _was_ nice. The rain pattered down on the low roof and beat againstthe little ports; the boat swayed a little in the heavier gusts of windand all the delightful accompaniments of a life on the ocean wave werepresent--except the peril. 

"You get out the cooking things, " said Roy, "while I take a squintaround and see if I can find something to kindle a fire in. "

He did not have to go far. Sliding open the little hatch, he emergedinto the cockpit, where the wind and rain smote him mercilessly. Thestorm had grown into a tempest and Roy wondered how it would be out onthe wide river on such a night. In the cockpit was nothing but theshredded remnant of a sun awning and a couple of camp chairs, but a fewfeet from the boat something on the mushy ground cast a faint glimmer, and on going to it he found it to be a battered five-gallon gasolinecan, which he brought back in triumph. By this time Tom and Pee-wee hadthe camp lamp burning and the supper things laid out. It was a very cosyscene. 

"See if there's a Stillson wrench in that locker, " said Roy. 

Among the rusted tools was a "Stillson, " and with this Roy disconnectedthe exhaust pipe from the engine. He next partly "jabbed" and partly cuta hole in the gasoline can of about the circumference of the pipe. Alarger hole in the side of the can sufficed for a door and he squeezedthe end of the exhaust pipe into the hole he had made for it, andpresto! there was a very serviceable makeshift stove with the exhaustsystem of the engine converted into a draught and chimney. 

"The new patent Silver Fox cooking stove, " said Roy. "A scout isresourceful. This beats trying to kindle a fire outside, a night likethis. Chuck that piece of wood over here. "

There was an old battery box knocking about and this Roy whittled intoshavings, while the others with their belt axes completed the ruin ofthe awning stanchions by chopping them into pieces a few inches long. 

"Guess they weren't good for much, " observed Tom. 

"Oh, " said Pee-wee, "I'd just like to live in this boat. "

It was no wonder he felt so. With the fire burning brightly in the oldcan and sending its smoke out through the boat's exhaust, the smell ofthe bacon cooking, the sight of their outer garments drying in thecheery warmth, while the wind howled outside and the rain beat down uponthe low roof the situation was not half bad and an occasional lurch ofthe old hull gave a peculiar charm to their odd refuge. 

"Could you dally with a rice cake, kiddo?" asked Roy, as he deftlystirred up some rice and batter. "Sling me that egg powder, Tom, andgive me something to stir with--not that, you gump, that's the feverthermometer!"

"Here's a fountain pen, " said Pee-wee; "will that do?"

"This screw-driver will be better, " said Roy. "Here, kiddo, makeyourself useful and keep turning that in the pan. You're a specialist ongood turns. "

Pee-wee stirred, while Tom attended to the fire, and Roy to the cooking. And I might mention on the side that if you should happen to be maroonedin a disused boat on a blustering night, and are ingenious enough (asRoy was) to contrive the cooking facilities, you cannot do better thanflop a few rice cakes, watching carefully that they don't burn. You canflop them with a shoe horn if you've nothing better at hand. 

They spread their balloon silk tent in the cockpit, holding fast to thecorners until enough water had fallen into it to fill the coffee-pot, and they had three such cups of coffee as you never fancied in yourfondest dreams. 

For dessert they had "Silver Fox Slump, " an invention of Roy's made withchocolate, honey and, I think, horse-radish. It has to be stirredthoroughly. Pee-wee declared that it was such a _table d'hote_ dinner ashe had never before tasted. He was always partial to the scout style ofcooking and he added, "You know how they have music at _table d'hote_dinners. Well, this music's got it beat, that's one sure thing. Gee, I'll hate to leave the boat, I sure will. "

The boisterous music gave very little prospect of ceasing, and after thethree had talked for an hour or so, they settled down for the night, twoon the lockers and one on the floor, with the wind still moaning and therain coming down in torrents. 

When they awoke in the morning the wind had died down somewhat, but itstill blew fitfully out of the east and the rain had settled down intoa steady drizzle. Tom ventured out into the cockpit and looked abouthim. The hills across the river were gray in the mist and the wideexpanse of water was steel color. He could see now that there wasanother road close under the precipitous cliffs and that the one whichdivided this lowland from the river was almost awash. Through the mistand drizzle along this higher road came a man. He left the road andstarted to pick his way across the flat, hailing as he came. The threeboys awaited him in the cockpit. 

"Don't nobody leave that boat!" he called, "or I'll shoot. "

"Dearie me, " said Roy. "He seems to be peeved. What are we up against, anyway?"

"Don't shoot, mister, " called Tom. "You couldn't drag us out of herewith a team of horses. "

"Tell him we are Boy Scouts and fear naught, " whispered Pee-wee. "Tellhim we scorn his--er--what d'you call it?"

"Hey, mister, " called Roy. "We are Boy Scouts and fear naught, and wescorn your what-d'you-call it. "

"Haouw?" called the man. 

"What's that he's got on?" said Tom, "a merit badge?"

"It's a cop's badge, " whispered Pee-wee. "Oh, crinkums, we're pinched. "

The man approached, dripping and breathing heavily, and placed his handson the combing. 

"Anybody here 'sides you youngsters?" he demanded, at the same timepeering inside the cabin. 

"A few spiders, " said Tom. 

"Whatcher doin' here, anyway?"

"We're waiting for the storm to hold up, " said Roy; "we beat it fromthat road when----"

"We sought refuge, " Pee-wee prompted him. 

"Any port in a storm, you know, " Roy smiled. "Are we pinched?"

The man did not vouchsafe an immediate answer to this vital query. Instead he poked his head in, peered about and then said, "Don' know'sye are, not fur's I'm concerned. I'd like to hev ye answer me onequestion honest, though. "

"You'll have to answer one for us first, " called Roy, who haddisappeared within the little cabin. "Do you take two lumps of sugar inyour coffee?"

The man now condescended to smile, as Roy brought out a steaming cup andhanded it to him. 

"Wall, ye've got all the comforts uv home, ain't ye?"

"Give him a rice cake, " whispered Pee-wee in Roy's ear. "He's allright. "

"Won't you come in?" said Roy. "I don't know whose boat this is, butyou're welcome. I guess we didn't do any damage. We chopped up a coupleof broken stanchions, that's all. "

"I guess we'll let ye off without more'n ten year uv hard labor, " saidthe man, sipping his coffee. "But I'll give ye a tip. Get away from hereas soon's ye can, --hear? Old man Stanton owns this boat an' he's a bear. He'd run ye in fer trespass and choppin' up them stanchions quick as agun. Ye come oft'n that outer road, ye say? Strangers here?"

"I can see now that road is flooded, " said Tom. "Guess it isn't used, isit?"

"This is all river land, " said the man. "In extra high tides this hereland is flooded an' the only ones usin' that thar road is the fishes. This rain keeps up another couple of days an' we get a full moon on topo' that the old hulk'll float, by gol! Ye didn't see no men around herelast night now, did ye?"

"Not a soul, " said Roy. 

"'Cause there was a prisoner escaped up yonder last night an' when I seethe smoke comin' out o' yer flue contraption here I thought like enoughhe hit this shelter. "

"Up yonder?" Tom queried. 

"You're strangers, hey?" the man repeated. 

"We're on a hike, " said Tom. "We're on our way to Haverstraw and----"

"Thence, " prompted Pee-wee. 

"_Thence_ to Catskill Landing, and _thence_ to Leeds and _thence_ toBlack Lake, " mocked Roy. 

"Well, thar's a big prison up yonder, " said the man. 

"Oh, Sing Sing?" Roy asked. "I never thought of that. "

"Feller scaled the wall last night an' made off in a boat. "

The boys were silent. They had not realized how close they were toOssining, and the thought of the great prison whose name they had oftenheard mentioned sobered them a little; the mere suggestion of one of itsinmates scaling its frowning wall on such a night and setting forth inan open boat, perhaps lurking near their very shelter, cast a shadowover them. 

"Are you--are you _sure_ you didn't see a--a crouching shadow when youwent out and got that gasoline can last night?" Pee-wee stammered. 

"I'm sorry, " said Roy, "but I didn't see one crouching shadow. "

"His boat might have upset in the storm, " Tom suggested. "The wind evenshook this boat; it must have been pretty rough out on the river. "

"Like enough, " said the man. "Des'pret characters'll take des'pretchances. "

"What did he do?" Pee-wee asked, his imagination thoroughly aroused. 

"Dunno, " said the man. "Burglary, like enough. Well now, you youngstershave had yer shelter'n the wust o' the storm's over. It's goin' ter keepright on steady like this till after full moon, an' the ole shebang'llbe floppin' roun' the marsh like enough on full moon tide. My advice toyou is to git along. Not that you done no damage or what _I'd_ calldamage--but it won't do no good fer yer to run amuck o' Ole Man Stanton. 'Cause he's a reg'lar grizzly, as the feller says. "

The boys were silent a moment. Perhaps the thought of that desperateconvict stealing forth amid the wind and rain still gripped them; but itbegan to dawn upon them also that they had been trespassing and thatthey had taken great liberties with this ramshackle boat. 

That the owner could object to their use of it seemed preposterous. Thathe could take advantage of the technical "damage" done was quiteunsupposable. But no one knows better than a boy how many "grouchy" menthere are in the world, and these very boys had once been ordered out ofJohn Temple's lot with threat and menace. 

"Does _everybody_ call him 'Old Man' Stanton?" Pee-wee asked. "Becauseif they do that's pretty bad. Whenever somebody is known as 'Old Man' itsounds pretty bad for him. They used to say 'Old Man Temple'--he's a manwe know that owns a lot of railroads and things; of course, he'sreformed now--he's a magnet----"

"Magnate, " corrected Roy. 

"But they _used_ to call him 'Old Man Temple'--everybody did. And it's asure sign--you can always tell, " Pee-wee concluded. 

"Wall, they call _me_ 'Ole Man Flint, '" said the visitor, "so Iguess----"

"Oh, of course, " said Pee-wee, hastily, "I don't say it's always so, andbesides you're a--a----"

"Sheriff, " Mr. Flint volunteered. 

"So you got to be kind of strict--and--and grouchy--like. "

The sheriff handed his empty cup to Roy and smiled good-naturedly. 

"Where does Old Man Stanton live?" asked Tom, who had been silent whilethe others were talking. 

"'Long the Nyack road, but he has his office in Nyack--he's a lawyer, "said the visitor, as he drew his rubber hat down over his ears. 

"Can we get back to Nyack by that other road?"

"Whatcher goin' to do?"

"We'll have to go and see Old Man Stanton, " Tom said, "then if we don'tget pinched we'll start north. "

Mr. Flint looked at him in astonishment. 

"I wouldn't say we've done any damage, " said Tom in his stolid way, "andI believe in that about any port in a storm. But if he's the kind of aman who would think different, then we've got to go and tell him, that'sall. We can pay him for the stanchions we chopped up. "

"Wall, you're a crazy youngster, that's all, but if yer sot on huntin'fer trouble, yer got only yerself to blame. Ye'll go before a justice uvthe peace, the whole three uv year, and be fined ten dollars apiece, likely as not, an' I don't believe ye've got twenty-five dollars betweenthe lot uv yer. "

"Right you are, " said Roy. "We are poor but honest, and we spurn--don'twe, Pee-wee?"

"Sure we do, " agreed Pee-wee. 

"Poverty is no disgrace, " said Roy dramatically. 

The man, though not overburdened with a sense of humor, could not helpsmiling at Roy and he went away laughing, but scarcely crediting theirpurpose to venture into the den of "Old Man Stanton. " "They're a queerlot, " he said to himself. 

Within a few minutes the boys had gathered up their belongings, repackedtheir duffel bags and were picking their way across the marsh toward thedrier road. 

"We're likely to land in jail, " said Pee-wee, mildly protesting. 

"It isn't a question of whether we land in jail or not, " said Tom, stolidly; "it's just a question of what we ought to do. "

"_We_ should worry, " said Roy. 

CHAPTER VII

THE "GOOD TURN"

It was a draggled and exceedingly dubious-looking trio that made theirway up the main street of Nyack. They had no difficulty in finding theoffice of "Old Man Stanton, " which bore a conspicuous sign:

 WILMOUTH STANTON COUNSELLOR AT LAW

"He'd--he'd have to get out a warrant for us first, wouldn't he?"Pee-wee asked, apprehensively. 

"That'll be easy, " said Roy. "If all goes well, I don't see why weshouldn't be in Sing Sing by three o'clock. "

"We're big fools to do this, " said Pee-wee. "A scout is supposed tobe--cautious. " But he followed the others up the stairs and steppedbravely in when Tom opened the door. 

They found themselves in the lion's den with the lion in closeproximity glaring upon them. He sat at a desk opening mail and lookedfrowningly at them over his spectacles. He was thin and wiry, his grayhair was rumpled in a way which suggested perpetual perplexity orannoyance, and his general aspect could not be said to be eitherconciliatory or inviting. 

"Well, sir, " he said, crisply. 

"Are you Mr. Stanton?" Tom asked. "We are Scouts, " he added, as thegentleman nodded perfunctorily, "and we came from Bridgeboro. We're onour way to camp. Last night we got caught in the rain and we ran----"

"Took refuge, " whispered Pee-wee. 

"For that old boat on the marsh. This morning we heard it was yours, sowe came to tell you that we camped in it last night. We made a fire in acan, but I don't think we did any harm, except we chopped up a couple ofold stanchions. We thought they were no good, but, of course, weshouldn't have taken them without leave. "

Mr. Stanton stared at him with an ominous frown. "Built a fire in acan?" said he. "Do you mean in the boat?"

"We used the exhaust for a draught, " said Roy. 

"Oh--and what brings you here?"

"To tell you, " said Tom, doggedly. "A man came and told us you owned theboat. He said you might have us arrested, so we came to let you knowabout what we did. "

"We didn't come because we wanted to be arrested, " put in Pee-wee. 

"I see, " said Mr. Stanton, with the faintest suggestion of a smile. "Isn't it something new, " he added, "running into the jaws of death?Boys generally run the other way and don't go hunting for trouble. "

"Well, I'll tell you how it is, " said Pee-wee, making the conversationhis own, somewhat to Roy's amusement. "Of course, a scout has got to becautious--but he's got to be fearless too. I was kind of scared when Iheard you were a lawyer----"

Mr. Stanton's grim visage relaxed into an unwilling, but unmistakable, smile. 

"And another thing I heard scared me, but----"

Tom, seeing where Pee-wee was drifting, tried to stop him, but Roy, knowing that Pee-wee always managed to land on top, and seeing the smileon Mr. Stanton's forbidding countenance, encouraged him to go on, andpresently the mascot of the Silver Foxes was holding the floor. 

"A scout has to deduce--that's one of the things we learn, and if youheard somebody called 'Old Man Something-or-other, ' why, you'd deducesomething from it, wouldn't you? And you'd be kind of scared-like. Buteven if you deduce that a man is going to be mad and gruff, kind of, even still you got to remember that you're a scout and if you damagedhis property you got to go and tell him, anyway. You got to go and tellhim even if you go to jail. Don't you see? Maybe you don't know muchabout the scouts----"

"No, " said Mr. Stanton, "I'm afraid I don't. But I'm glad to know that Iam honored by a nickname--even so dubious a one. Do you think you werecorrect in your deductions?" he added. 

"Well, I don't know, " began Pee-wee. "I can see--well, anyway there'sanother good thing about a scout--he's got to admit it if he's wrong. "

Mr. Stanton laughed outright. It was a rusty sort of laugh, for he didnot laugh often--but he laughed. 

"The only things I know about Boy Scouts, " said he, "I have learned inthe last twenty-four hours. You tell me that they can convert anexhaust pipe into a stove flue, and I have learned they can bring abird down out of a tree without so much as a bullet or a stone (I haveto believe what my little daughter tells me), and that they take theroad where they think trouble awaits them on account of aprinciple--that they walk up to the cannon's mouth, as it were--I am avery busy man and no doubt a very hard and disagreeable one, but I canafford to know a little more about these scouts, I believe. "

"I'll tell you all about them, " said Pee-wee, sociably. "Jiminys, Inever dreamed you were that girl's father. "

Mr. Stanton swung around in his chair and looked at him sharply. "Whoare you boys?"

"We came from Bridgeboro in New Jersey, " spoke up Roy, "and we're goingup the river roads as far as Catskill Landing. Then we're going to hitinland for our summer camp. "

Mr. Stanton was silent for a few moments, looking keenly at them whilethey stood in some suspense. 

"Well, " he said, soberly, "I see but one way out of the difficulty. Thestanchions you destroyed were a part of the boat. The boat is of no useto me without them. I suggest, therefore, that you take the boat alongwith you. It belonged to my son and it has been where it now lies eversince the storm in which his life was lost. I have not seen the insideof it since--I do not want to see the inside of it, " he added brusquely, moving a paperweight about on his desk. "It is only three years old, " hewent on after a moment's uncomfortable pause, "and like some people itis not as bad as it looks. "

The boys winced a little at this thrust. Mr. Stanton was silent for afew moments and Pee-wee was tempted to ask him something about his son, but did not quite dare to venture. 

"I think the boat can very easily be removed to the river with a littleof the ingenuity which you scouts seem to have, and you may continueyour journey in her, if you care to. You may consider it a--a presentfrom my daughter, whom you made so happy yesterday. "

For a moment the boys hardly realized the meaning of his words. Then Tomspoke. 

"We have a rule, Mr. Stanton, that a scout cannot accept anything for aservice. If he does, it spoils it all. It's great, your offering us theboat and it seems silly not to take it, but----"

"Very well, " said Mr. Stanton, proceeding to open his letters, "if youprefer to go to jail for destroying my stanchions, very well. Rememberyou are dealing with a lawyer. " Roy fancied he was chuckling a littleinwardly. 

"That's right, " said Pee-wee in Tom's ear. "There's no use trying to getthe best of a lawyer--a scout ought to be--to be modest; we better takeit, Tom. "

"There's a difference between payment for a service and a token ofgratitude, " said Mr. Stanton, looking at Tom. "But we will waive allthat. I cannot allow the Boy Scouts to be laying down the law for me. Byyour own confession you have destroyed my stanchions and as a citizen itis my duty to take action. But if I were to give you a paper datedyesterday, assigning the boat to you, then it would appear that you hadsimply trespassed and burglariously entered your own property anddestroyed your own stanchions and I would not have a leg to stand upon. My advice to you as a lawyer is to accept such a transfer of title andavoid trouble. "

He began ostentatiously to read one of his letters. 

"He's right, Tom, " whispered Pee-wee, "It's what you call a teckinality. Gee, we better take the boat. There's no use trying to beat a lawyer. He's got the right on his side. "

"I don't know, " said Tom, doubtfully. He, too, fancied that Mr. Stantonwas laughing inwardly, but he was not good at repartee and the lawyerwas too much for him. It was Roy who took the situation in hand. 

"It seems ungrateful, Mr. Stanton, even to talk about whether we'll takesuch a peach of a gift. Tom here is always thinking about the law--ourlaw--and Pee-wee--we call this kid Pee-wee--he's our specialist on doinggood turns. They're both cranks in different ways. I know there's adifference, as you say, between just a present and a reward. And itseems silly to say thank you for such a present, just as if it was apenknife or something like that. But we do thank you and we'll take theboat. I just happened to think of a good name for it while you weretalking. It was the good turn Pee-wee did yesterday--about the bird, Imean--that made you offer it to us and your giving it to us is a goodturn besides, so I guess we'll call it the 'Good Turn. '"

"You might call it the 'Teckinality, '" suggested Mr. Stanton with aglance at Pee-wee. 

"All right, " he added, "I'll send one of my men down later in the dayto see about getting her in the water. I've an idea a block and fallswill do the trick. But you'd better caulk her up with lampwick and giveher a coat of paint in the meantime. "

He went to the door with them and as they turned at the foot of thestairs and called back another "Thank you, " Roy noticed something in hisface which had not been there before. 

"I bet he's thinking of his son, " said he. 

"Wonder how he died, " said Tom. 

CHAPTER VIII

BON VOYAGE!

"Now, you see, " said Pee-wee, "how a good turn can evolute. "

"Can what?" said Tom. 

"Evolute. "

"It could neverlute with me, " observed Roy. "Gee, but we've fallen insoft! You could have knocked me down with a toothpick. I wonder what oursleuth friend, the sheriff, will say. "

The sheriff said very little; he was too astonished to say much. So weremost of the people of the town. When they heard that "Old Man Stanton"had given Harry Stanton's boat to some strange boys from out of town, they said that the loss of his son must have affected his mind. The boysof the neighborhood, incredulous, went out on the marsh the next daywhen the rain held up, and stood about watching the three strangers atwork and marvelling at "Old Man Stanton's" extraordinary generosity. 

"Aw, he handed 'em a lemon!" commented the wiseacre. "That boat'll neverrun--it won't even float!"

But Harry Stanton's cruising launch was no lemon. It proved to bestaunch and solid. There wasn't a rotten plank in her. Her sorryappearance was merely the superficial shabbiness which comes from disuseand this the boys had neither the time nor the money to remedy; but thehull and the engine were good. 

To the latter Roy devoted himself, for he knew something of gas enginesby reason of the two automobiles at his own house. They made a list ofthe things they needed, took another hike into Nyack and came back ladenwith material and provisions. Roy poured a half-gallon or so of keroseneinto each of the two cylinders and left it over night. The next morningwhen he drained it off the wheel turned over easily enough. A set ofeight dry cells, some new wiring, a couple of new plugs, a littlesession with a pitted coil, a little more gas, a little less air, alittle more gas, and finally the welcome first explosion, so dear to theheart of the motor-boatist, rewarded Roy's efforts of half a day. 

"Stop it! Stop it!" shrieked Pee-wee from outside. "I hung the paintcan on the propeller! I'm getting a green shower bath!"

He poked his head over the combing, his face, arms and clothingbespattered with copper paint. 

"Never mind, kiddo, " laughed Roy, "It's all in the game. She runs like adream. Step a little closer, ladies and gentlemen, and view the leopardboy. Pee-wee, you're a sight! For goodness' sakes, get some sandpaper!"

The two days of working on the _Good Turn_ were two days of fun. It wasnot necessary to caulk her lower seams for the dampness of the marsh hadkept them tight, and the seams above were easy. They did not botherabout following the water-line and painting her free-board white; a coatof copper paint over the whole hull sufficed. They painted the sheathingof the cockpit a common-sense brown, "neat but not gaudy, " as Roy said. The deck received a coat of an unknown color which their friend, thesheriff, brought them saying he had used it on his chicken-coop. Theengine they did in aluminum paint, the fly-wheel in a gaudy red, andthen they mixed what was left of all the paints. 

"I bet we get a kind of blackish white, " said Pee-wee. 

"I bet it's green, " said Tom. 

But it turned out to be a weak silvery gray and with this they paintedthe cabin, or rather half the cabin, for their paint gave out. 

They sat until long after midnight in the little cabin after their firstday's work, but were up and at it again bright and early in the morning, for Mr. Stanton's men were coming with the block and falls at high tidein the evening to haul the _Good Turn_ back into her watery home. 

Pee-wee spent a good part of the day throwing out superfluous junk andtidying up the little cabin, while Tom and Roy repaired the rubbing-railwhere it had broken loose and attended to other slight repairs on theoutside. 

The dying sunlight was beginning to flicker on the river and the threewere finishing their supper in the cabin when Tom, looking through theporthole, called, "Oh, here comes the truck and an automobile just infront of it!"

Sure enough, there on the road was the truck with its great coil ofhempen rope and its big pulleys, accompanied by two men in overalls. Pee-wee could not repress his exuberance as the trio clambered up on thecabin roof and waved to the little cavalcade. 

"In an hour more she'll be in the water, " he shouted, "and we'll----"

"We'll anchor till daylight, " concluded Roy. 

In another moment a young girl, laden with bundles, had left theautomobile and was picking her way across the marsh. It proved to be theowner of the fugitive bird. 

"I've brought you all the things that belong to the boat, " she said, "and I'm going to stay and see it launched. My father was coming too buthe had a meeting or something or other. Isn't it perfectly glorious howyou chopped up the stanchions----"

"Great, " said Roy. "It shows the good that comes out of breaking thelaw. If we hadn't chopped up the stanchions----"

"Oh, crinkums, look at this!" interrupted Pee-wee. He was handling thecolored bow lamp. 

"And here's the compass, and here's the whistle, and here's thefog-bell, " said the girl, unloading her burden with a sigh of relief. "And here's the flag for the stern and here--look--I made this all bymyself and sat up till eleven o'clock to do it--see!"

She unfolded a cheese-cloth pennant with the name _Good Turn_ sewed uponit. "You have to fly this at the bow in memory of your getting my birdfor me, " she said. 

"We'll fly it at the bow in memory of what you and your father have donefor _us_, " said Tom. 

"And here's some fruit, and here's some salmon, and here's some pickledsomething or other--I got them all out of the pantry and they weigh aton!"

There was no time for talking if the boat was to be got to the riverbefore dark, and the boys fell to with the men while the girl lookedabout the cabin with exclamations of surprise. 

"Isn't it perfectly lovely, " she called to Tom, who was outsideencircling the hull with a double line of heavy rope, under the men'sdirection. "I never saw anything so cute and wasn't it a fine ideagiving it to you!"

"Bully, " said Tom. 

"It was just going to ruin here, " she said, "and it was a shame. "

It was a busy scene that followed and the boys had a glimpse of thewonderful power of the block and falls. To an enormous tree on theroadside a gigantic three-wheel pulley was fastened by means of a metalband around the lower part of the trunk. Several other pulleys betweenthis and the boat multiplied the hauling power to such a degree that oneperson pulling on the loose end which was left after the rope had beenpassed back and forth many times through the several pulleys, couldactually move the boat. The hull was completely encircled, the roperunning along the sides and around the stern with another rope belownear the keel so that the least amount of strain would be put upon her. 

They hitched the horses to the rope's end and as the beasts plungedthrough the yielding marsh the boat came reeling and lurching toward theroad. Here they laid planks and rollers and jacked her across. This wasnot so much a matter of brute strength as of skill. The two men with theaid of the Stanton chauffeur were able, with props of the right length, to keep the _Good Turn_ on an even keel, while the boys removed andreplaced the rollers. It was interesting to see how the bulky hull couldbe moved several hundred feet, guided and urged across a road andretarded upon the down grade to the river by two or three men who knewjust how to do it. 

Cautiously the rollers were retarded with obstructing sticks, as themen, balancing the hull upright, let her slowly down the slope into thewater. Pee-wee stood upon the road holding the rope's end and a thrillwent through him when he felt the rocking and bobbing of the boat as itregained its wonted home, and at last floated freely in the water. 

"Hang on to that, youngster, " called one of the men. "She's where shecan do as she likes now. "

As the _Good Turn_, free at last from prosaic rollers and plank tracks, rolled easily in the swell, pulling gently upon the rope which theexcited Pee-wee held, it seemed that she must be as pleased as her newowners were, at finding herself once more in her natural home. Howgraceful and beautiful she looked now, in the dying light! There isnothing so clumsy looking as a boat on shore. To one who has seen acraft "laid up, " it is hardly recognizable when launched. 

"Well, there ye are, " said one of the men, "an' 'tain't dark yetneither. You can move 'er by pullin' one finger now, hey? She looksmighty nat'ral, don't she, Bill? Remember when we trucked her up fromthe freight station and dumped her in three year ago? She was the_Nymph_ then. Gol, how happy that kid was--you remember, Bill? I'll tell_you_ kids now what I told him then--told him right in front of hisfather; I says, 'Harry, you remember she's human and treat her as such, 'that's what I says ter him. _You_ remember, Bill. "

Roy noticed that the girl had strolled away and was standing in thegathering darkness a few yards distant, gazing at the boat. The clumsylooking hull, in which the boys had taken refuge, seemed trim andgraceful now, and Roy was reminded of the fairy story of the uglyduckling, who was really a swan, but whose wondrous beauty wasunappreciated until it found itself among its own kindred. 

"Yes, sir, that's wot I told him, 'cause I've lived on the river hereall my life, ain't I, Bill, an' I know. Yer don't give an automobile noname, an' yer don't give an airyplane no name, an' yer don't give amotorcycle nor a bicycle no name, but yer give a boat a name 'causeshe's human. She'll be cranky and stubborn an' then she'll be soft andamiable as pie--that's 'cause she's human. An' that's why a man'll let aold boat stan' an' rot ruther'n sell it. 'Cause it's human and it kindergets him. You treat her as such, you boys. "

"How did Harry Stanton die?" Tom asked. 

The man, with a significant motion of his finger toward the lone figureof the girl, drew nearer and the boys gathered about him. 

"The old gent didn' tell ye, hey?"

"Not a word. "

"Hmmm--well, Harry was summat older'n you boys, he was gettin' to be areg'lar young man. Trouble with him was he didn' know what he wanted. First off, he must have a horse, 'n' then he must have a boat, so th'old man, he got him this boat. He's crusty, but he's all to the good, th' old man is. "

"You bet your life he is, " said Pee-wee. 

"Well, Harry an' Benty Willis--you remember Benty, Bill--him an' BentyWillis was out in the _Nymph_--that's this here very boat. They had 'eranchored up a ways here, right off Cerry's Hill, an' they was out in theskiff floppin' 'round--some said fishin'. "

"They was bobbin' fer eels, that's wot they was doin', " said the otherman. 

"Well, wotever they was doin' it was night 'n' thar was a storm. An'that's every bloomin' thing me or you or anybody else'll ever know aboutit. The next day Croby Risbeck up here was out fer his nets an' he comeon the skiff swamped, over there off'n that point. An' near it wasBenty Willis. "

"Drowned?" asked Roy. 

"Drownded. He must o' tried to keep afloat by clingin' t' the skiff, butshe was down to her gunnel an' wouldn' keep a cat afloat. He might o'kep' his head out o' water a spell clingin' to it. All I know is he wasdrownded when he was found. Wotever become o' that skiff, Bill?"

"And what about Mr. Stanton's son?" Roy asked. 

"Well, they got his hat an' his coat that he must a' thrown off an'that's all. Th' old man 'ud never look at the launch again. He had herbrought over'n' tied up right about here, an' there she stood till thefloods carried her up over this here road and sot her down in themarsh. "

"Did the skiff belong with her?" Roy asked. 

"Sure enough; always taggin' on behind. "

"How did they think it happened?" asked Tom. 

"Wall, fer one thing, it was a rough night an' they may uv jest gotswamped. But agin, it's a fact that Harry knew how to swim; he was areg'lar water-rat. Now, what I think is this. Th' only thing 't 'dprevent that lad gettin' ashore'd be his gettin' killed--not drowned, but _killed_. "

"You don't mean murdered?" Tom asked. 

"Well, if they was swamped by the big night boat, an' he got mixed upwith the paddle wheel, I don't know if ye'd call it murder, but it'd bekillin', sure enough. Leastways, they never got him, an' it's my beliefhe was chopped up. Take a tip from me, you boys, an' look out fer thenight boat, 'cause the night boat ain't a-goin' t' look out fer you. "

The girl, strolling back, put an end to their talk, but it was clearthat she, too, must have been thinking of that fatal night, for her eyeswere red and she seemed less vivacious. 

"You must be careful, " said she, "there are a good many accidents on theriver. My father told me to tell you you'd better not do much travelingat night. I want to see you on board, and then I must go home, " sheadded. 

She held out her hand and Roy, who was in this instance best suited tospeak for the three, grasped it. 

"There's no use trying to thank you and your father, " he said. "If you'dgiven us some little thing we could thank you, but it seems silly to sayjust the same thing when we have a thing like this given to us, and yetit seems worse for us to go away without saying anything. I guess youknow what I mean. "

"You must promise to be careful--can you all swim?"

"We are scouts, " laughed Roy. 

"And that means you can do anything, I suppose. "

"No, not that, " Roy answered, "but we do want to tell you how much wethank you--you and your father. "

"Especially you, " put in Pee-wee. 

She smiled, a pretty wistful smile, and her eyes glistened. "You didmore for me, " she said, "you got my bird back. I care more for that birdthan I could ever care for any boat. My brother brought it to me fromCosta Rica. "

She stepped back to the auto. The chauffeur was already in his place, and the two men were coiling up their ropes and piling the heavy planksand rollers on board the truck. The freshly painted boat was growing dimin the gathering darkness and the lordly hills across the river werepaling into gray again. As the little group paused, a deep, melodiouswhistle re-echoed from the towering heights and the great night boatcame into view, her lights aloft, plowing up midstream. The _Good Turn_bobbed humbly like a good subject as the mighty white giant passed. Thegirl watched the big steamer wistfully and for a moment no one spoke. 

"Was your brother--fond of traveling?" Roy ventured. 

"Yes, he was crazy for it, " she answered, "and you can't bring _him_back as you brought my bird back--you _can't_ do everything after all. "

It was Tom Slade who spoke now. "We couldn't do any more than try, " saidhe. He spoke in that dull, heavy manner, and it annoyed Roy, for itseemed as if he were making fun of the girl's bereavement. 

Perhaps it seemed the same to her, for she turned the subject at once. "I'm going to sit here until you are in the boat, " she said. 

They pulled the _Good Turn_ as near the shore as they could bring herwithout grounding for the tide was running out, and Pee-wee held herwith the rope while the others went aboard over a plank laid from theshore to the deck. Then Pee-wee followed, hurrying, for there wasnothing to hold her now. 

They clambered up on the cabin, Roy waving the naval flag, and Pee-weethe name pennant, while Tom cast the anchor, for already the _Good Turn_was drifting. 

"Good-bye!" they cried. 

"Good-bye!" she called back, waving her handkerchief as the autostarted, "and good luck to you!"

"We'll try to do a good turn some day to make up, " shouted Pee-wee. 

CHAPTER IX

THE MYSTERY

"What I don't understand, " said Tom, in his dull way, "is how if thatfellow was drowned or killed that night, he managed to get back to thisboat again--that's what gets me. "

"What?" said Roy. 

"What are you talking about?" chimed in Pee-wee. 

They were sitting in the little cabin of the _Good Turn_ eating ricecakes, about an hour after the launching. The boat rocked gently at itsmoorings, the stars glittered in the wide expanse of water, the tinylights in the neighboring village kept them cheery company as theychatted there in the lonesome night with the hills frowning down uponthem. It was very quiet and this, no less than the joyous sense ofpossession of this cosy home, kept them up, notwithstanding theirstrenuous two days of labor. 

"Just what I said, " said Tom. "See that board you fixed the oil stoveon? I believe that was part of that skiff. You can see the lettersN-Y-M-P-H even under the paint. That strip was in the boat all the time. How did it get here? That's what _I'd_ like to know. "

Roy laid down his "flopper" and examined the board carefully, theexcited Pee-wee joining him. It was evidently the upper strip of theside planking from a rowboat and at one end, under the diluted paintwhich they had here used, could be dimly traced the former name of thelaunch. 

"What-do-you-know-about-that?" ejaculated Roy. 

"It's a regular mystery, " said Pee-wee; "that's one thing I like, amystery. "

"If that's a part of this boat's skiff, " said Tom, "then it proves twothings. It proves that the boat was damaged--no fellow could pull aplank from it like that; and it proves that that fellow came back to thelaunch. It proves that he was injured, too. That man said he could swim. Then why should he bring this board back with him unless it was to helphim keep afloat?"

"He wouldn't need to drag it aboard, " said Roy. 

"Now you spoil it all, " put in Pee-wee. 

"I don't know anything about that, " said Tom, "but that board didn'tdrift back and climb in by itself. It must have been here all the time. I suppose the other fellow--the one they found drowned--_might_ have gotit here, some way, " he added. 

"Not likely, " said Roy. "If he'd managed to get back to the launch withthe board, he wouldn't have jumped overboard again just to get drowned. He'd have managed to stay aboard. "

There was silence for a few minutes while Roy drummed on the plank withhis fingers and Pee-wee could hardly repress his excitement at thethought that they were on the track of a real adventure. Tom Slade had"gone and done it again. " He was always surprising them by his stolidannouncement of some discovery which opened up delectable possibilities. And smile as he would (especially in view of Pee-wee's exuberance), Roycould not but see that here was something of very grave significance. 

"That's what I meant, " drawled Tom, "when I told her that we could_try_--to find her brother. "

This was a knockout blow. 

"This trip of ours is going to be just like a book, " prophesied Pee-wee, excitedly; "there's a--there's a--long lost brother, and--and--a deepmystery!"

"Sure, " said Roy. "We'll have to change our names; I'll be Roy Rescue, you be Pee-wee Pinkerton, the boy sleuth, and Tom'll be Tom Trustful. What d'you say, Tom?"

Tom made no answer and for all Roy's joking, he was deeply interested. Like most important clues, the discovery was but a little thing, yet itcould not be accounted for except on the theory that Harry Stanton hadsomehow gotten back to the launch after the accident, whatever theaccident was. It meant just that--nothing less and nothing more; though, indeed, it did mean more to Pee-wee and as he slept that night, in thegently rocking boat, he dreamed that he had vowed a solemn vow to Mr. Stanton's daughter to "find her brother or perish in the attempt. " Hecarried a brace of pistols, and sailing forth with his trusty chums, helanded in the island of Madagascar, to which Harry Stanton had beencarried, bound hand and foot, in an aeroplane. The three, undaunted, then built a Zeppelin and sailed up to the summit of a dizzy crag wherethey rescued the kidnapped youth and on reaching home, Mr. Stanton gavethem a sea-going yacht and a million dollars each for pocket money. When he awoke from this thrilling experience he found that the _GoodTurn_ was chugging leisurely up the river in the broad daylight. 

The boat behaved very well, indeed. She leaked a little from the strainof launching, but the engine pumped the water out faster than it camein. All day long they lolled in the cockpit or on the cabin roof, takingturns at the steering. Roy, who best understood gas engines, attended tothe motor, but it needed very little attention except that it missed onhigh speed, so he humored it and they ambled along at "sumpty-sump milesan hour, " as Roy said, "but what care we, " he added, "as long as shegoes. " They anchored for several hours in the middle of the day andfished, and had a mess of fresh perch for luncheon. 

Naturally, the topic of chief interest was the possibility that HarryStanton was living, but the clue which appeared to indicate that muchsuggested nothing further, and the question of why he did not returnhome, if he were indeed alive was a puzzling one. 

"His sister said he had been to Costa Rica, and was fond of traveling, "suggested Tom. "Maybe his parents objected to his going away from homeso he went this way--as long as the chance came to him--and let themthink he was drowned. "

Roy, sitting on the cabin roof with his knees drawn up, shook his head. "Or maybe he left the boat again and tried to swim to shore to go home, and didn't make it, " he added. 

"That's possible, " said Tom, "but then they'd probably have found hisbody. "

"We aren't sure he's alive, " Roy said thoughtfully, "but it means awhole lot not to be sure that he's dead. "

"Maybe he was made away with by someone who wanted the boat, " saidPee-wee. "Maybe a convict from the prison killed him--you never cantell. Jiminys, it's a mystery, sure. "

"You bet it is, " said Roy. "The plot grows thicker. If Sir Guy Weatherbywere only here, or Detective Darewell--or some of those story-book ginksthey----"

"They probably wouldn't have noticed the plank from the skiff, "suggested Pee-wee. 

Roy laughed and then fell to thinking. "Gee, it would be great if wecould find him!" he said. 

And there the puzzling matter ended, for the time being; but the _GoodTurn_ took on a new interest because of the mystery with which it wasassociated and Pee-wee was continually edifying his companions withstartling and often grewsome theories as to the fate or presentwhereabouts of Harry Stanton, until--until that thing happened whichturned all their thoughts from this puzzle and proved that bad turns aswell as good ones have the boomerang quality of returning upon theirauthor. 

It was the third afternoon of their cruise, or their "flop" as Roycalled it, for they had flopped along rather than cruised, and the _GoodTurn's_ course would have indicated, as he remarked, a fit of the blindstaggers. They had paused to fish and to bathe; they had thrown togethera makeshift aquaplane from the pieces of an old float which they hadfound, and had ridden gayly upon it; and their course had been soleisurely and rambling that they had not yet reached Poughkeepsie, whenall of a sudden the engine stopped. 

Roy went through the usual course of procedure to start it up, butwithout result. There was not a kick left in it. Silently he unscrewedthe cap on the deck, pushed a stick into the tank and lifted itout--dry. 

"Boys, " said he, solemnly, "there is not a drop of gasoline in the tank. The engine must have used it all up. Probably it has been using it allthe time----"

"You make me sick, " said Pee-wee. 

"I have known engines to do that before. "

"Didn't I tell you to get gasoline in Newburgh?" demanded Pee-wee. 

"You did, Sir Walter, and would that we had taken your advice; but Itrusted the engine and it has evidently been using the gasoline whileour backs were turned. _We_ should worry! You don't suppose it would runon witch hazel, do you?"

"Didn't I tell----" began Pee-wee. 

"If we could only reduce friend Walter to a liquid, " said Roy. "I thinkwe could get started all right--he's so explosive. "

"Bright boy, " said Tom. 

"Oh, I'm a regular feller, I am, " said Roy. "I knew that engine wouldstop when there wasn't any more gasoline--I just felt it in my bones. But what care we!

 'Oh, we are merry mountaineers, And have no carking cares or fears-- Or gasoline. '

Get out the oars, scouts!"

So they got out the oars and with the aid of these and a paddlesucceeded in making the shore where they tied up to the dilapidatedremnants of what had once been a float. 

"There must be a village in the neighborhood, " said Tom, "or therewouldn't be a float here. "

"Sherlock Holmes Slade is at it again, " said Roy. It would have been apretty serious accident that Roy wouldn't have taken gayly. "Pee-wee, you're appointed a committee to look after the boat while Tomasso and Igo in search of adventure--and gasoline. There must be a road up theresomewhere and if there's a road I dare say we can find a garage--maybeeven a village. Get things ready for supper, Pee-wee, and when we getback I'll make a Silver Fox omelet for good luck. "

The spot where they had made a landing was at the foot of precipitoushills between which and the shore ran the railroad tracks. Tom and Roy, carrying a couple of gasoline cans, started along a road which ledaround the lower reaches of one of these hills. As Pee-wee stood uponthe cabin watching them, the swinging cans were brightened by the raysof the declining sun, and there was a chill in the air as the familiargrayness fell upon the heights, bringing to the boy that sense ofloneliness which he had felt before. 

He was of the merriest temperament, was Pee-wee, and, as he had oftensaid, not averse to "being jollied. " But he was withal very sensitiveand during the trip he had more than once fancied that Tom and Roy hadfallen together to his own exclusion, and it awakened in him now andthen a feeling that he was the odd number of the party. He had tried toingratiate himself with them, though to be sure no particular effort wasneeded to do that, yet sometimes he saw, or fancied he saw, littlethings which made him feel that in important matters he was left out ofaccount. Roy would slap him on the shoulder and tousle his hair, but hewould ask Tom's advice--and take it. Perhaps Roy had allowed hispropensity for banter and jollying to run too far in his treatment ofPee-wee. At all events, the younger boy had found himself a bitchagrined at times that their discussions had not been whollythree-handed. And now, as he watched the others hiking off through thetwilight, and heard their laughter, he recalled that it was usually _he_who was appointed a "committee to stay and watch the boat. "

This is not a pleasant train of thought when you are standing alone inthe bleakness and sadness and growing chill of the dying day, withtremendous nature piled all about you, and watching your two companionsas they disappear along a lonely road. But the mood was upon him and itdid not cheer him when Roy, turning and making a megaphone of his hands, called, "Look out and don't fall into the gas tank, Pee-wee!"

He _had_ reminded them that they had better buy gasoline at Newburgh, while they had the chance. Roy had answered jokingly telling Pee-weethat he had better buy a soda in the city while _he_ had the chance, andTom had added, "I guess the kid thinks we want to drink it. "

Well, there they were hiking it up over the hills now in quest ofgasoline and still joking him. 

If Pee-wee had remembered Roy's generous pleasure in the "parrot stunt, "he would have been much happier, but instead he allowed his imaginationto picture Tom and Roy in the neighboring village, having a couple ofsodas--perhaps taking a flyer at a movie show. 

He did as much as he could toward getting supper, and when it grew darkand still they did not return, he clambered up on the cabin roof againand sat there gazing off into the night. But still they did not come. 

"Gee, I'm a Silver Fox, anyway, " he said; "you'd think he'd want one ofhis own patrol with him _sometimes_--gee!"

He rose and went down into the cabin where the dollar watch which hungon a nail told him that it was eight o'clock. Then it occurred to himthat it would serve them right if he got his own supper and was in hisbunk and asleep when they returned. It would be a sort of revenge onthem. He would show them, at least, that he could get along very well byhimself, and by way of doing so he would make some rice cakes. Roy wasnot the only one who could make rice cakes. He, Pee-wee, could make themif nobody stood by guying him. 

He had never wielded the flopper; that had been Roy's province; but hecould, all right, he told himself. So he dug into Roy's duffel bag forthe recipe book which was famous in the troop; which told the secrets ofthe hunter's stew; which revealed the mystery of plum-duff and raisinpop-overs in all their luscious details and which set you on the rightpath for the renowned rice cakes. 

Between the leaves, right where the rice cake recipe revealed itself tothe hungry inquirer, was a folded paper which dropped out as Pee-weeopened the book. For all he knew it contained the recipe so he held itunder the lantern and read:

 "Dear Mary:

 "Since you butted in, Tom and I have decided that it would be better for Pee-wee to go with _him_, and I'll stay home. Anyway, that's what I've decided. So you'll get your wish all right and I should worry. 

 "Roy. "

Pee-wee read it twice over, then he laid it on the locker and sat downand looked at it. Then he picked it up and read it over again. He didnot even realize that its discovery among Roy's things would indicatethat it had never been sent. Sent or not, it had been written. 

So this was the explanation of Roy's invitation that he accompany themon the trip. Mary Temple had asked them to let him go. Yet, despite hispresent mood, he could not believe that his own patrol leader, RoyBlakeley, could have written this. 

"I bet Tom Slade is--I bet he's the cause of it, " he said. 

He recalled now how he had talked about the trip to Mary Temple and howshe had spoken rather mysteriously about the possibility of his goingalong. So it was she who was his good friend; it was to her he owed theinvitation which had come to him with such a fine air of sincerity. 

"I always--crinkums, anyway girls always seem to like me, that's onething, " he said. "And--and Roy did, too, before Tom Slade came into thetroop. "

It was odd how he turned against Tom, making him the scapegoat for Roy'sapparent selfishness and hypocrisy. 

"They just brought me along for charity, like, " he said, "'cause shetold them to. Cracky, anyway, I didn't try to make her do that--Ididn't. "

This revelation in black and white of Roy's real feeling overcame himand as he put the letter back in the book and the book back in theduffel bag, he could scarcely keep his hand from trembling. 

"Anyway, I knew it all the time, " he said. "I could see it. "

He had no appetite for rice cakes now. He took some cakes of chocolateand a couple of hard biscuits and stuffed them in his pocket. Then hewent out into the cockpit and listened. There was no sound of voices orfootfalls, nothing but the myriad voices of nature, or frogs croakingnearby, of a cheery cricket somewhere on shore, of the water lappingagainst the broken old wharf as the wind drove it in shoreward. 

He returned to the cabin, tore a leaf from his scout notebook and wrote, but he had to blink his eyes to keep back the tears. 

 "Dear Roy:

 "I think you'll have more fun if you two go the rest of the way alone. I always said two's a company, three's a crowd. You've heard me say it and I ought to have had sense enough to remember it. But anyway, I'm not mad and I like you just as much. I'll see you at camp. 

 "WALTER HARRIS. "

 "P. S. --If I had to vote again for patrol leader I'd vote for you. "

He was particular not to mention Tom by name and to address his note toRoy. He laid it in the frying pan on the stove (in which he hadintended to make the rice cakes) and then, with his duffel bag over hisshoulder and his scout staff in hand, he stepped from the _Good Turn_, listening cautiously for approaching footsteps, and finding the wayclear he stole away through the darkness. 

CHAPTER X

PEE-WEE'S ADVENTURE

A walk of a few yards or so brought him to the railroad track. He was nolonger the clown and mascot of the _Good Turn_; he was the scout, alert, resourceful, bent on hiding his tracks. 

He did not know where he was going, more than that he was going to eludepursuit and find a suitable spot in which to camp for the night. Matterswould take care of themselves in the daytime. He wanted to follow therailroad tracks, for he knew that would keep him close to the river, buthe knew also that it had the disadvantage of being the very thing theboys would suppose it most likely that he would do. For, feel as hewould toward them, he did not for a moment believe that they would lethim take himself off without searching for him. And he knew something ofTom Slade's ability as a tracker. 

"They won't get any merit badges trailing _me_, though, " he said. 

So he crossed the tracks and walked a couple of hundred feet or so up ahill, grabbed the limb of a tree, swung up into its branches, lethimself down on the other side, and retraced his steps to the tracks andbegan to walk the ties, northward. He was now thoroughly in the spiritof the escapade and a feeling of independence seized him, a feeling thatevery scout knows, that having undertaken a thing he must succeed in it. 

A walk of about ten minutes brought him to a high, roofed platformbeside the tracks, where one or two hogsheads were standing and severalcases. But there was no sign of life or habitation. It was evidently thefreight station for some town not far distant, for a couple ofold-fashioned box-cars stood on a siding, and Pee-wee contemplated themwith the joy of sudden inspiration. 

"Crinkums, that would be a dandy place to sleep, " he thought, for it wasblowing up cold and he had but scant equipment. 

He went up to the nearest car and felt of the sliding door. It was theleast bit open, owing to its damaged condition, and by moving it a veryfew inches more he could have slipped inside. But he paused to examinethe pasters and chalk marks on the body. One read "Buffalo--4--LLM. "There were the names of various cities and numerous strange marks. Itwas evident the car had been quite a globe-trotter in its time, but asit stood there then it seemed to Pee-wee that so it must have stood fora dozen years and was likely to stand for a dozen years more. 

He slid the door a little farther open on its rusty hinges and climbedinside. It was very dark and still and smelled like a stable, butsuddenly he was aware of a movement not far from him. He did not exactlyhear it, but he felt that something was moving. For a moment a coldshudder went over him and he stood stark still, not daring to move. Then, believing that his imagination had played a trick, he fumbled inhis duffel bag, found his flashlight and sent its vivid gleam about thecar. A young fellow in a convict's suit stood menacingly before the doorwith one hand upon it, blinking and watching the boy with a loweringaspect. His head was close-shaven and shone in the light's glare so thathe looked hardly human. He had apparently sprung to the door, perhapsout of a sound sleep, and he was evidently greatly alarmed. Pee-wee wasalso greatly alarmed, but he was no coward and he stood his groundthough his heart was pounding in his breast. 

"You ain't no bo, " said the man. 

"I--I'm a scout, " stammered Pee-wee, "and I was going to camp here forthe night. I didn't know there was anyone here. "

The man continued to glare at him and Pee-wee thought he had never inhis life seen such a villainous face. 

"I'll--I'll go away, " he said, "I was only going to sleep here. "

The convict, still guarding the door, leered brutally at him, his headhanging low, his lips apart, more like a beast than a man. 

"No, yer won't go 'way, nuther, " he finally said; "yer ain't goin' terdouble-cross _me_, pal. Wot d'yer say yer wuz?"

"A scout, " said Pee-wee. "I don't need to stay here, you were herefirst. I can camp outdoors. "

"No, yer don't, " said the man. "You stay whar yer are. Yer ain't goin'ter double-cross _me_. "

"I don't know what you mean by that, " said Pee-wee. 

The convict did not offer him any explanation, only stood guarding thedoor with a threatening aspect, which very much disconcerted Pee-wee. Hewas a scout and he was brave, and not panicky in peril or emergency, butthe striped clothing and cropped head and stupid leer of the man beforehim made him seem something less than human. His terror was more that ofan animal than of a man and his apparent inability to express himselfsave by the repetition of that one sentence frightened the boy. Apparently the creature was all instinct and no brains. 

"Yer gotta stay here, " he repeated. "Yer ain't goin' ter double-cross_me_, pal. "

Then it began to dawn on Pee-wee what he meant. 

"I guess I know about you, " he said, "because I heard aboutyour--getting away. But, anyway, if you let me go away I won't tellanyone I saw you. I don't want to camp here now. I'll promise not to goand tell people, if that's what you're afraid of. "

"Wot's in that bag?" asked the man. 

"My camping things. "

"Got any grub?"

"I've got two biscuits and some chocolate. "

"Gimme it, " said the man, coming closer. 

He snatched the food as fast as it was taken out of the bag, and Pee-weesurmised that he had not eaten since his escape from prison for hedevoured it ravenously like a famished beast. 

"Got any more?" he asked, glaring into the boy's face menacingly. 

"No, I'm sorry I haven't. I escaped, too, as you might say, from myfriends--from the fellers I was with. And I only brought a little withme. "

After a few minutes (doubtless from the stimulating effects of thefood), the convict's fear seemed to subside somewhat and he spoke alittle more freely. But Pee-wee found it very unpleasant being shut inwith him there in the darkness, for, of course, the flashlight could notbe kept burning all the time. 

"I wouldn't do yer no hurt, " he assured Pee-wee. "I t'ought mebbe yerwuz a _de_-coy. Yer ain't, are ye?" he asked suspiciously. 

"No, I'm not, " said Pee-wee, "I'm just what I told you----"

"I ain't goin' ter leave ye go free, so ye might's well shut up. I seenpals double-cross _me_--them ez I trusted, too. Yer square, Iguess--only innercent. "

"I'd keep my word even with--I'd keep my word with you, " said Pee-wee, "just the same as with anyone. Besides, I don't see what's the use ofkeeping me here. You'll have to let me go some time, you can't keep mehere forever, and you can't stay here forever, yourself. "

"If ye stan' right 'n' show ye're game, " said the convict, "thar won'tno hurt come to ye. This here car's way-billed fer Buff'lo, 'n' I'mwaitin' ter be took up now. It's a grain car. Yer ain't goin' ter peachwot I tell ye, now? I wuz put wise to it afore I come out by a railroadbloke. I had it straight these here cars would be picked up fer Buff'lothe nex' day after I done my trick. But they ain't took 'em up yet, an'I'm close ter starvin' here. "

Pee-wee could not help but feel a certain sympathy with this man, wretchthough he was, who on the information of some accomplice outside theprison, had made his escape expecting to be carried safely away the nextday and had been crouching, half-starved, in this freight car eversince, waiting. 

"What will you do if they don't take up the car for a week?" he asked. "They might look inside of it, too; or they might change their mindsabout taking it. "

He was anxious for himself for he contemplated with terror histhreatened imprisonment, but he could not help being concerned also forthis miserable creature and he wondered what would happen if they bothremained in the car for several days more, with nothing to eat. Then, surely, the man would be compelled to put a little faith in him and lethim go out in search of food. He wondered what he should do in thatcase--what he ought to do; but that, he realized, was borrowing trouble. Mr. Ellsworth, his scoutmaster, had once said that it is _always bad toplay false_. Well, then, would it be bad to play false with an escapedfelon--to double-cross him? Pee-wee did not know. 

His companion interrupted his train of thought "They don' look inside o'way-billed empties--not much, " he said, "an' they don't let 'em stan' solong, nuther. I got bad luck, I did, from doin' my trick on a Friday. They'll be 'long pretty quick, though. They reckisitioned all th' emptygrain cars fer Buff'lo. I'm lookin' ter hear th' whistle any minute, Iam, an' I got a pal waitin' fer me in the yards up ter Buff'lo, wid theduds. When I get there 'n' get me clo's changed, mebbe I'll leave yecome back if me pal 'n' me thinks ye kin be trusted. "

"I can be trusted now just as much as I could be trusted then, " saidPee-wee, greatly disturbed at the thought of this enforced journey;"and how could I get back? I guess maybe you don't know anything aboutscouts--maybe they weren't started when you were---- Anyway, a scout canbe trusted. Anybody'll tell you that. If he gives his word he'll keepit. I don't know anything about what you did and if you ask me if I wantto see you get captured I couldn't tell you, because I don't know how Ifeel. But if you'll let me go now I'll promise not to say anything toanyone. I don't want to go to Buffalo. I want to go to my camp. As longas I know about you, you got to trust me some time and you might as welltrust me now. "

If the fugitive could have seen Pee-wee's earnest face and honest eyesas he made this pitiful appeal, he might have softened a little, even ifhe had not appreciated the good sense of the boy's remarks. 

"I'd ruther get me other duds on fust, 'n' I'd like fer ter hev ye meetme pal, " he said, with the first touch of humor he had shown. "Now, ifyer go ter cuttin' up a rumpus I'll jest hev ter brain ye, see?"

Pee-wee leaned back against the side of the car in the darkness asdespair seized him. He had always coveted adventure but this was toomuch and he felt himself to be utterly helpless in this dreadfulpredicament. Even as he stood there in a state of pitiableconsternation, a shrill whistle sounded in the distance, which wasechoed back from the unseen hills. 

"Dat's a freight, " said the convict, quickly. 

Pee-wee listened and his last flickering hope was extinguished as herecognized the discordant rattle and bang of the slow-moving train, emphasized by the stillness of the night. Nearer and nearer it came andlouder grew the clank and clamor of the miscellaneous procession of boxcars. It was a freight, all right. 

"If--if you'll let me get out, " Pee-wee began, on the very verge of apanic, "if you'll let me get out----"

The convict fumblingly took him by the throat. He could feel the big, coarse, warm fingers pressing into the sides of his neck and it gaggedhim. 

"If yer open yer head when we're bein' took up, I'll brain yer, hearthat?" he said. "Gimme that light, gimme yer knife. "

He flashed on the light, tore the scout knife from Pee-wee's belt, andflung the frightened boy against the side of the car. Keeping the lightpointed at him, he opened the knife. The spirit of desperate resolveseemed to have reawakened within him at the sound of that long-hoped-fortrain and Pee-wee was no more to him than an insect to have his lifetrampled out if he could not be used or if his use were unavailing. Here, unmasked, was the man who had braved the tempestuous river on thatdreadful night. Truly, as the sheriff had said, "desperate characterswill take desperate chances. "

"If yer open yer head or call out or make a noise wid yer feet or poun'de side o' de car or start a-bawlin' I'll brain ye, ye hear? Nobody gets_me_ alive. An' if anybody comes in here 'cause o' you makin' a noiseand cryin' fer help, yer'll be the fust to git croaked--see?"

He pointed the light straight at Pee-wee, holding the open jack-knife inhis other hand, and glared at him with a look which struck terror to theboy's heart. Pee-wee was too frightened and exhausted to answer. He onlyshook his head in acknowledgment, breathing heavily. 

In a few minutes the train had come abreast of them and stopped. Theycould hear the weary puffing of the engine, and voices calling andoccasionally they caught the gleam of a lantern through the crack inthe car. Pee-wee remained very still. The convict took his stand in themiddle of the car between the two sliding doors, lowering and alert, holding the flashlight and the clasp knife. 

Soon the train moved again, then stopped. There were calls from one endof it to the other. Then it started again and continued to move untilPee-wee thought it was going away, and his hope revived at the thoughtthat escape might yet be possible. Then the sound came nearer again andpresently the car received a jolt, accompanied by a bang. The convictwas thrown a little, but he resumed his stand, waiting, desperate, menacing. Those few minutes must have been dreadful ones to him as hewatched the two doors, knife in hand. 

Then came more shunting and banging and calling and answering, a short, shrill whistle and more moving and then at last the slow, continuousprogress of the car, which was evidently now at last a part of thatendless miscellaneous procession, rattling along through the night withits innumerable companions. 

"It's lucky for them, " said the convict, through his teeth, as herelaxed. 

Pee-wee hardly knew what he meant, he had scarcely any interest, and itwas difficult to hear on account of the noise. He was too shaken up tothink clearly, but he wondered, as the rattling train moved slowlyalong, how long he could go without food, how he would get back fromBuffalo, and whether this dreadful companion of his would take hisstand, like an animal at bay, whenever the train stopped. 

After a little time, when he was able to get a better grip on himselfand realize fully his terrible plight, he began to think how, after all, the scout, with all his resource and fine courage, his tracking and histrailing and his good turns, is pretty helpless in a real dilemma. Herewas an adventure, and rather too much of a one, and neither he nor anyother scout could extricate him from his predicament. In books theycould have done it with much brave talk, but in real life they could donothing. He was tired and frightened and helpless; the shock of thepressure of those brutal fingers about his neck still distressed him, and his head ached from it all. 

What wonder if in face of this tragical reality, the scouts with alltheir much advertised resource and prowess should lose prestige a littlein his thoughts? Yet it might have been worth while for him to pause andreflect that though the scout arm is neither brutal nor menacing, itstill has an exceedingly long reach and that it can pin you just assurely as the cruel fingers which had fixed themselves on his ownthroat. 

But he was too terrified and exhausted to think very clearly aboutanything. 

CHAPTER XI

TRACKS AND TRAILING

When the engineer blew the whistle which the convict had heard with suchsatisfaction and Pee-wee with such dread, it was by way of warning twodark figures which were about to cross the tracks. Something brightwhich they carried shone in the glare of the headlight. 

"Here comes a freight, " said Tom. 

"Let it come, I can't stop it, " said Roy. "Je-ru-salem, this can isheavy. "

"Same here, " said Tom. 

"I wouldn't carry another can of gas this far for a prince'sransom--whatever in the dickens that is. Look at the blisters on myhand, will you? Gee, I'm so hungry I could eat a package of tacks. I betPee-wee's been throwing duck fits. Never mind, we did a good turn. 'Weseen our duty and we done it noble. ' Some grammar! They ought to put uson the cover of the manual. Boy scouts returning from a gasoline hunt!Good turn, turn down the gas, hey? Did you ever try tracking a freighttrain? It's terribly exciting. "

"Keep still, will you!" said Tom, setting down his can. "Can't you seeI'm spilling the gasoline? Don't make me laugh. "

"The face with the smile wins, " Roy rattled on. "For he ain't no slouch, but the lad with the grouch---- Pick up your can and get off thetrack--safety first!"

"Well, then, for goodness' sake, shut up!" laughed Tom. 

It had been like this all the way back, Tom setting down his can atintervals and laughing in spite of himself at Roy's nonsense. 

When they reached the boat Roy looked inside and called Pee-wee. 

"Where is our young hero, anyway?" he said. 

But "our young hero" was not there. They poured the gas into the tankand then went inside where Roy discovered the note in the saucepan. Heread it, then handed it to Tom and the two stood for a moment staring ateach other, too surprised to speak. 

"What do you suppose has got into him?" exclaimed Tom. 

"Search me; unless he's mad because we left him here. "

Tom looked about as if in search of some explanation, and as usual hisscrutiny was not unfruitful. 

"It looks as if he had started to get supper, " said he: "there's therice----"

A sudden inspiration seized Roy. Pulling out the recipe book from hisduffel bag he opened it where the letter to Mary Temple lay. "I thoughtso, " he said shamefacedly. "I left the end of it sticking out to markthe place and now it's in between the leaves. That's what did themischief; he must have found it. "

"You ought to have torn it up before we started, " said Tom. 

"I know it, but I just stuck it in there when I was brushing up mymemory on rice cakes, and there it's been ever since. I ought never tohave written it at all, if it comes to that. "

Tom made no answer. They had never mentioned that incident which wassuch an unpleasant memory to them both. 

"Well, we've got to find him, that's all, " said Tom. 

"Gee, it seems as if we couldn't possibly get along without Pee-weenow, " Roy said. "I never realized how much fun it would be having himalong. Poor kid! It serves me right for----"

"What's the use of thinking about that _now_?" said Tom, bluntly. "We'vejust got to find him Come on, hurry up, get your flashlight. Everyminute we wait he's a couple of hundred feet farther away. "

For the first time in all their trip, as it seemed to Roy, Tom's spiritand interest were fully aroused. He was as keen as a bloodhound for thetrail and instinctively Roy obeyed him. 

They hurried out without waiting for so much as a bite to eat and withthe aid of their flashlights (and thanks to the recent rains) had nodifficulty in trailing Pee-wee as far as the railroad tracks. 

"He'd either follow the track, " said Tom, "or else the road we took andhide somewhere till we passed. He wouldn't try any cross-countrybusiness at night, I don't believe. "

"Poor kid!" was all Roy could say. The thought of that note which he hadcarelessly left about and of Pee-wee starting out alone haunted him andmade him feel like a scoundrel. All his gayety had vanished and hedepended on Tom and followed his lead. He remembered only too well thewonderful tracking stunt that Tom had done the previous summer, and now, as he looked at that rather awkward figure, kneeling with head low, andcreeping along from tie to tie, oblivious to all but his one purpose, hefelt a certain thrill of confidence. By a sort of unspokenunderstanding, he (who was the most all-round scout of them all andlooked it into the bargain) had acted as their leader and spokesman onthe trip; and Tom Slade, who could no more talk to strangers, andespecially girls, than he could fly, had followed, envying Roy's easymanner and all-around proficiency. But Tom was a wizard in tracking, andas Roy watched him now he could not help realizing with a pang of shamethat again it was Tom who had come to the rescue to save him from theresults of his own selfishness and ill-temper. He remembered thosewords, spoken in Tom's stolid way on the night of their quarrel. "_It'skind of like a trail in your mind and I got to hit the right trail. _" He_had_ hit the right trail then and brought Roy to his senses, and nowagain when that rude, selfish note cropped up to work mischief it wasTom who knelt down there on the railroad tracks, seeking again for theright trail. 

"Here it is, " he said at last, when he had closely examined and smeltof a dark spot on one of the ties. "Lucky you let him clean the engine;he must have been standing in the oil trough. "

"Good he had his sneaks on, too, " said Roy, stooping. "It's like a stampon a pound of butter. "

It was not quite as clear as that, but if Pee-wee had prepared hissneaks especially for making prints on wooden ties he could scarcelyhave done better. In order to get at the main bearings of the engine hehad, with characteristic disregard, stood plunk in the copper drainbasin under the crank-case. The oil had undoubtedly softened the rubbersole of his sneakers so that it held the clinging substance, and in somecases it was possible to distinguish on the ties the half-obliteratedcrisscross design of the rubber sole. 

"Come on, " said Tom, "this thing is a cinch. "

"It's a shame to call it tracking, " said Roy, regaining some measure ofhis wonted spirits as they hurried along. "It's a blazed trail. "

And so, indeed, it was while it lasted, but suddenly it ceased and theboys paused, puzzled. 

"Listen for trains, " warned Tom. 

"There won't be any along yet a while, " said Roy. "There's one stoppedup there a ways now. "

They could hear the shunting up the track, interspersed with faintvoices calling. 

"Here's where he's put one over on us, " said Roy. "Poor kid. "

"Here's where he's been reading Sir Baden-Powell, you mean. Wait till Isee if he worked the boomerang trick. See that tree up there?"

It was amazing how readily Tom assumed that Pee-wee would do just whathe had done to elude pursuit. 

"Tree's always a suspicious thing, " said he; "this is a Boerwrinkle--comes from South Africa. "

He did not bother hunting for the tracks in the hubbly ground, but madestraight for the tree. 

"Poor kid, " was all he could say as he picked up a few freshly fallenleaves and a twig or two. "He's good at climbing anyway. " He examinedone of the leaves carefully with his flashlight. "Squint around, " hesaid to Roy, "and see if you can find where he stuck his staff in theground. "

Roy got down, poking his light here and there, and parting the roughgrowth. 

"Here it is, " said he. 

Oh, it was all easy--too easy, for a scout. It gave them no feeling oftriumph, only pity for the stout-hearted little fellow who had tried toescape them. 

A more careful examination of the lower branches of the tree and of theground beneath was enough. Tom did not even bother about the printsleading back to the railroad, but went back to the tracks and after afew minutes picked up the trail again there. This they followed tillthey came to the siding, now deserted. 

Here, for a few minutes, it did seem as if Pee-wee had succeeded inbaffling them, for the prints leaving the ties ran over to the sidingand there ended in a confused collection of footprints pointing in everydirection. Evidently, Pee-wee had paused here, but what direction he hadtaken from this point they could not see. 

"This has got _me_ guessing, " said Tom. 

"He was tangoing around here, " said Roy, pointing his flashlight to theground, "that's sure. Maybe the little Indian walked the rail. "

But an inspection of the rail showed that he had not done that, unless, indeed, the recent rain had obliterated the marks. 

They examined the platform carefully, the steps, the one or twohogsheads, but no sign did they reveal. 

"It gets me, " said Tom, as they sat down on the edge of the platform, dangling their legs. 

"He swore he wouldn't go near a railroad--remember?" said Roy, smiling alittle wistfully. 

Tom slowly shook his head. 

"It's all my fault, " said Roy. 

"Meanwhile, we're losing time, " said Tom. 

"You don't suppose----" began Roy. "Where do you suppose that freightstopped? Here?"

Tom said nothing for a few moments. Then he jumped down and kneelingwith his light began again examining the confusion of footprints nearthe siding. Roy watched him eagerly. He felt guilty and discouraged. Tomwas apparently absorbed with some fresh thought. Around one footprint hedrew a ring in the soil. Then he got up and crept along by the railthrowing his light upon it. About twelve or fifteen feet along this hepaused, and crossing suddenly, examined the companion rail exactlyopposite. Then he straightened up. 

"What is it?" asked Roy. But he got no answer. 

Tom went back along the rail till he came to a point twelve or fifteenfeet in the other direction from the group of footprints, and here hemade another careful scrutiny of both rails. The group of footprints wasoutside the track and midway between the two points in which he seemedso much interested. 

"This is the end of _our_ tracking, " he said at length. 

"What's the matter?"

"Come here and I'll show you. See that footprint--it's only half aone--the front half--see? That's the last one of the lot. That's wherehe climbed into the car--see?"

Roy stood speechless. 

"See? Now come here and I'll show you something. See those little rustyplaces on the track? It's fresh rust--see? You can wipe it off with yourfinger. There's where the wheels were--see? One, two, three, four--sameon the other side, see? And down there, " pointing along the track, "it'sthe same way. If it hadn't been raining this week, we'd never knownabout a freight car being stalled here, hey? See, those footprints arejust half-way between the rusty spots. There's where the door was. See?This little front half of a footprint tells the story. He had to climbto get in--poor kid. He went on a railroad train, after all. "

Roy could say nothing. He could only stare as Tom pointed here and thereand fitted things together like a picture puzzle. The car was gone, butit had left its marks, just as the boy had. 

"You put it into my head when you mentioned the train, " said Tom. 

"Oh, sure; _I_ put it into your head, " said Roy, in disgust. "_I'm_ awonderful scout--_I_ ought to have a tin medal! It was you brought methat letter back. It was Pee-wee got the bird down and won a boat forus--and I've turned him out of it, " he added, bitterly. 

"No, you----"

"Yes, I have. And it was _you_ that tracked him, and it was _you_spelled this out and it's _you_--it's just like _you_, too--to turnaround and say I put it into your head. The only thing _I've_ done inthis whole blooming business is try to insult Mary Temple--only--onlyyou wouldn't let me get away with it, " he stammered. 

"Roy, " interrupted Tom, "listen--just a minute. " He had never seen Roylike this before. 

"Come on, " said Roy, sharply. "You've done all _you_ could. Come onback!"

Tom was not much at talking, but seeing his friend in this state seemedto give him words and he spoke earnestly and with a depth of feeling. 

"It's always _you_, " said Roy. "It's----"

"Roy, " said Tom, "don't--wait a minute--_please_. When we got back tothe boat I said we'd have to find him--don't go on like that, Roy--please! I thought I could find him. But you see I can't--_I_ can'tfind him. "

"You can make these tracks talk to you. I'm a----"

"No, you're not; listen, _please_. I said--you remember how I said Iwanted to be alone with you--you remember? Well, now we are alone, andit's going to be you to do it, Roy; it's going to be _you_ to bringPee-wee back. Just the same as you made me a scout a year ago, youremember? You're the only one can do it, Roy, " he put his hand on Roy'sshoulder, "and I'll--I'll help you. And it'll seem like old times--sortof--Roy. But you're the one to do it. You haven't forgotten about thesearchlight, have you, Roy? You remember how you told me about thescout's arm having a long reach? You remember, Roy? Come on, hurry up!"

CHAPTER XII

THE LONG ARM OF THE SCOUT

As Tom spoke, there came rushing into Roy's memory as vivid as thesearchlight's shaft, a certain dark night a year before when Tom Slade, hoodlum, had stood by his side and with eyes of wonder watched him flasha message from Blakeley's Hill to the city below to undo a piece ofvicious mischief of which Tom had been guilty. He had turned the heavensinto an open book for Westy Martin, miles away, to read what he shoulddo. 

A thrill of new hope seized Roy. 

"So you see it _will_ be you, Roy. "

"It has to be you to remind me of it. "

"Shut up!" said Tom. 

They ran for the boat at top speed, for, as they both realized, it waslargely a fight against time. 

"That train was dragging along pretty slow when it passed _us_, " saidTom. 

"Sure, 'bout a million cars, " Roy panted. "There's an up-grade, too, Ithink, between here and Poughkeepsie. Be half an hour, anyway, beforethey make it. You're a wonder. We'll kid the life out of Pee-wee forriding on a train after all. 'Spose he did it on purpose or got lockedin?"

"Locked in, I guess, " said Tom. "Let's try scout pace, I'm gettingwinded. "

The searchlight which had been an important adjunct of the old _Nymph_had not been used on the _Good Turn_, for the reason that the boys hadnot run her at night. It was an acetylene light of splendid power andmany a little craft Harry Stanton had picked up with it in his nocturnalcruising. Pee-wee had polished its reflector one day to pass the time, but with the exception of that attention it had lain in one of thelockers. 

Reaching the boat they pulled the light out, connected it up, and foundto their delight that it was in good working order. 

"My idea, " said Roy, now all excitement, "is to flash it from that hill, then from the middle of the river. Of course, it's a good deal aquestion of luck, but it seems as if _somebody_ ought to catch it, inall these places along the river. Be great if we could find himto-night, hey?"

"They'd just have to hold him till we could get there in the boat--theycouldn't get him back here. "

"No sooner said than stung, " said Roy; "hurry up, bring that can, andsome matches and--yes, you might as well bring the Manual anyway, thought I know that code backwards. "

"You're right you do, " said Tom. 

He was glad to see Roy himself again and taking the lead, as usual. 

"If there was only one of these telegraph operators--guys, as I used tocall them--star-gazing, we'd pass the word to him, all right. "

"A word to the guys, hey? Come on, hustle!"

A strenuous climb brought them to the brow of a hill from which thelights of several villages, and the more numerous lights of Poughkeepsiecould be seen. 

"Now, Tomasso, see-a if you know-a de lesson--queeck! Connect that upand--look out you don't step on the tube! I wish we had a pedestal orsomething. When you're roaming, you have to do as the Romans do, hey?Open your Manual to page 232. No!" he said hurriedly looking over Tom'sshoulder. "_Care of the fingernails!_ That's _259_ you've got. What doyou think we're going to do, start a manicure parlor? _There_ youare--now keep the place to make assurance doubly sure. Here goes! Hello, folks!" he called, as he swung the long shaft fan-wise across theheavens. "Now, three dots for S?"

"Right, " said Tom. 

Roy sent three short flashes into the night, then paused and sent alonger flash of about three seconds. Another pause, then three of thelonger flashes, then a short one, two long ones and a short one. 

"S-T-O-P--stop, " he said. 

"Right-o, " concurred Tom. 

"Now F--two shorts, a long and a short--is it?"

"You know blamed well it is, " said Tom. 

Thus the message was sent. 

_"Stop freight going north; boy locked in car. Hold. Friends coming upriver in boat flying yellow flag. "_

They had on board a large yellow flag with TEMPLE CAMP on it, and Roythought of this as being the best means of identifying the boat foranyone who might be watching for it along the shore. 

Three times they flashed the message, then hurried back to the boat andchugged out, anchoring in midstream. The course of the river is asstraight as an arrow here. The lights in the small towns of Milton andCamelot were visible on either side; tiny lights flickered along therailroads that skirted either shore, and beyond in the distance twinkledthe lights on the great bridge at Poughkeepsie. 

"We're right in the steamer's path here, " said Tom; "let's hurry. "

Roy played the shaft for a minute to attract attention, then threw hismessage again and again into the skies. The long, bright, silent columnseemed to fill the whole heaven as it pierced the darkness in short andlong flashes. The chugging of the _Good Turn's_ engine was emphasized bythe solemn stillness as they ran in toward shore, and the splash oftheir dropping anchor awakened a faint echo from the neighboringmountains. 

"Well, that's all we can do till morning, " said Roy. "What do you say tosome eats?"

"Gee, it's big and wild and lonely, isn't it?" said Tom. 

They had never thought of the Hudson in this way before. 

After breakfast in the morning they started upstream, their big yellowcamp flag flying and keeping as near the shore as possible so as to bewithin hail. Now that the black background of the night had passed andthe broad daylight was all about them, their hope had begun to wane. Thespell seemed broken; the cheerful reality of the morning sunlight uponthe water and the hills seemed to dissipate their confidence in thatlong shaft, and they saw the whole experience of the night as a sort offantastic dream. 

But Pee-wee was gone; there was no dream about that, and the boat didnot seem like the same place without him. 

The first place they passed was Stoneco, but there was no sign of lifenear the shore, and the _Good Turn_ chugged by unheeded. They ran acrossto Milton where a couple of men lolled on a wharf and a few people werewaiting at the little station. They could not get in very close to theshore on account of the flats, but Roy, making a megaphone of an oldnewspaper, asked if a flash message had been received there. After muchshouting back and forth, he learned that the searchlight had been seenbut had been thought to be from one of the night boats plying up anddown the river. It had evidently meant nothing to the speaker or toanyone else there. Roy asked if they would please ask the telegraphoperator if he had seen it. 

"He'd understand it all right, " he said, a bit disheartened. But theanswer came back that the operator had not seen it. 

At Poughkeepsie they made a landing at the wharf. Here expressmen weremoving trunks about, a few stragglers waiting for some boat peeredthrough the gates like prisoners; there was a general air of bustle anda "city" atmosphere about the place. A few people gathered about, looking at the _Good Turn_ and watching the boys as they made their wayup the wharf. 

"Boy Scouts, " they heard someone say. 

There was the usual good-natured curiosity which follows scouts whenthey are away from home and which they have come to regard as a matterof course, but the big yellow flag seemed to carry no particular meaningto anyone here. 

They walked up to the station where they asked the operator if he hadseen the searchlight message or heard anything about it, but he had not. They inquired who was the night watchman on the wharf, hunted him out, and asked him. He had seen the light and wondered what and where it was. That was all. 

"Foiled again!" said Roy. 

They made inquiries of almost everyone they saw, going into a nearbyhotel and several of the stores. They inquired at the fire house, wherethey thought men would have been up at night who might be expected toknow the Morse code, but the spokesman there shook his head. 

"A fellow who was with us got locked in a freight car, " Roy explained, "and we signaled to people up this way to stop the train. "

The man smiled; apparently he did not take Roy's explanation veryseriously. "Now if you could only get that convict that escaped downyonder----"

"We have no interest in him, " said Roy, shortly. 

He and Tom had both counted on Poughkeepsie with its police force andfire department and general wide-awakeness, and they went back to the_Good Turn_ pretty well discouraged, particularly as the good people ofwhom they had inquired had treated them with an air of kindlyindulgence, smiling at their story, saying that the scouts were awide-awake lot, and so forth; interested, but good-naturedly skeptical. One had said, "Are you making believe to telegraph that way? Well, it'sgood fun, anyway. " Another asked if they had been reading dime novels. The patronizing tone had rather nettled the boys. 

"I'd like to have told that fellow that if we _had_ been reading dimenovels, we wouldn't have had time to learn the Morse code, " said Roy. 

_"The Motor Boat Heroes_!" mocked Tom. 

"Yes, volume three thousand, and they haven't learned how to run a gasengine yet! Get out your magnifying glass, Tom; what's that, a village, up there?"

"A house. "

"Some house, too, " said Roy, looking at the diminutive structure nearthe shore. "Put your hand down the chimney and open the front door, hey?"

But as they ran in nearer the shore other houses showed themselvesaround the edge of the hill and here, too, was a little wharf withseveral people upon it and near it, on the shore, a surging crowd on theedge of which stood several wagons. 

"Guess they must be having a mass meeting about putting a new spring onthe post-office door, " said Roy. "Somebody ought to lay a paperweight onthat village a windy day like this. It might blow away. Close yourthrottle a little, Tom and put your timer back; we'll run in and seewhat's up. "

"You don't suppose all that fuss can have anything to do with Pee-wee, do you?" Tom asked. 

"No, it looks more as if a German submarine had landed there. Therewouldn't be so much of a rumpus if they'd got the kid. "

But in another moment Roy's skeptical mood had changed as he saw a tall, slender fellow in brown standing at the end of the wharf with armsoutspread. 

"What's he doing--posing for the movies?"

"He's semaphoring, " Tom answered. 

"I'll be jiggered if he isn't!" said Roy, all interest at once. "C--O--M--E---- I--(he makes his I too much like his C)--N. _What do youknow about that!_ Come in!"

The stranger held what seemed to be a large white placard in either handin place of a flag and his motions were not as clear-cut as they shouldhave been, but to Roy, with whom, as he had often said, the semaphorecode was like "pumpkin pie, " the message was plain. 

As they ran alongside the wharf the khaki-clad signaler greeted themwith the scout salute. 

"Pretty brisk out on the water this morning?" he said. "We got yourmessage--we were out canoeing last night; you use the Internationalcode, don't you?"

"Have you got him?" Roy asked anxiously. 

"Oh, yes, he's here; pulled in somewhere around midnight, I guess. Hestayed all night with one of our troop; he's up there now getting hisbreakfast. Great kid, isn't he?" he laughed. "He was telling us aboutrice cakes. We're kind of out of date up here, you know. I was a littleballed up on your spacing, " he added as they went up the wharf. "Ihaven't got the International down very good. Yes, we were driftingaround, a couple of us, telling Ford jokes, when you sprung it on us. "

"Have you got the signaling badge?" said Roy. 

"Oh, yes, I managed to pull that; I'm out for the star now. "

"You'll get it, " said Tom. 

"Is the kid all right?" Roy asked. 

"Oh, sure; but he had some pretty rough handling, I guess. It was quitea little movie show when we dragged the other one out. Lucky the stationagent and the constable were there. He's up there now waiting for themen from Ossining. "

Through the surging crowd Tom and Roy could see, sitting on a bench atthe station, a man in convict garb, with his hands manacled together anda guard on either side of him. In the broad light of day he was adesperate-looking creature, as he sat with his ugly head hanging low, apparently oblivious to all about him. 

"I don't understand, " said Roy. 

"Didn't you know about him?"

"Not a thing--except we did know someone got away from Sing Sing theother night--but we never thought----"

"Didn't you know he was in the same car? That's why the little fellowcouldn't get away. He'd have come back to you, sure. "

Roy doubted it, but he said nothing and presently the mystery wascleared up by the arrival on the scene of Pee-wee himself, accompaniedby several scouts. They were laughing merrily and seemed greatly elatedthat the boat had come; but Pee-wee was rather embarrassed and held backuntil Roy dragged him forward. 

"Kiddo, " said he, looking straight into the boy's face, "the _Good Turn_couldn't have lived another day without you. So you did hit the railroadafter all, didn't you? Gee, it's good to see you; you've caused us moreworry----" he put his arm over Pee-wee's shoulder and turned away withhim, and the others, being good scouts, had sense enough not to follow. 

"Pee-wee, " said Roy, "don't try to tell me--that can wait. Listen, kiddo. We're in the same boat, you and I. We each wrote a letter that weshouldn't have written, but yours was received and mine wasn't--thanksto Tom. We've got to forget about both those letters, Pee-wee. I wasashamed of mine before I'd finished writing it. There's no good talkingabout it now. You're with us because we want you with us, not becauseMary Temple wanted it, but because _I_ want you and Tom wants you; doyou hear? You know who it is that's always doing something for someoneand never getting any credit for it, don't you? It's Tom Slade. He savedme from being a crazy fool--from sending that letter to Mary. And I cameto my senses the next day. He tracked you to that car, only it alwaysseems to work around so that someone else gets all the glory. It makesme feel like a---- Listen to them over there now, talking about_signaling_. Pee-wee, you gave us an awful scare. It didn't seem naturalon top of the cabin last night without you--you little mascot! We're notgoing to have another word to say about this, kid--I'm your patrolleader, remember. We're going to hit it straight for camp now--the threeof us--the Big Three--and you're with us because we can't do withoutyou. Do you get that?"

"Roy, " said Pee-wee, speaking with difficulty. "I--I had an--adventure. "

"Well, I should think you did. "

CHAPTER XIII

TEMPLE CAMP

The scouts of the village stood upon the wharf and waved a last good-byeto the three as the _Good Turn_ chugged merrily away. 

"I'm going to give that fellow the full salute, " said Tom, raising hishand to his forehead. "He's a wonder. "

The scouts on shore received this tribute to their comrade with shouts, throwing their hats in the air and giving three lusty cheers for the"Silver Foxes and the Elks" as the launch, swerving out into midstream, bent her course for Catskill Landing. 

"He sure is a wonder, " said Roy. 

"I told him all about you, " chimed in Pee-wee, "and all the stunts youcan do. "

"He seems to be prouder of his Ford jokes than of his signal work, "laughed Roy. "He----"

"Oh, crinkums, he knows some dandy Ford jokes, and his wrist is sostrong from paddling that he can stick a shovel in the ground and turnit around with one hand; oh, he's got that paddle twist down fine, Roy;but, gee, he says you're all right; even before you came he said that;as soon as I told him who it was that signaled----"

"Do you think they'll come up?" Roy interrupted. 

"Sure they will; I told them all about the camp and how they could havea cabin to themselves--they're only a small troop, one patrol, and hewants to know you better; gee, I told him all about you and how youcould----"

"All right, kiddo, " laughed Roy. 

"They're coming up in August. Say, that fellow's got eleven meritbadges, but the one thing he's crazy to get is the gold cross. "

"He'll get it, " said Tom, who had been wiping the engine. 

"He says the trouble is, " added Pee-wee, "that he can't save anybody'slife with great danger to his own--that's what it says in the Manual, isn't it?"

"Yes, " said Tom, quietly. 

"He says the trouble is nobody ever gets in danger. The trouble with histroop is they all know how to swim and they're so blamed clever that henever has a chance to rescue one of them. He said he tipped the canoeover with one fellow and the fellow just wouldn't be saved; he swamaround and dived and wouldn't let Garry imperil his life--and that's theonly way you can do it, Roy. You've got to imperil your own life, and hesays he never gets a chance to imperil his life. "

"Must be discouraging, " said Roy. 

"Oh, jiminys, you'd laugh to hear him talk; he's got that quiet wayabout him, Roy--sober like. I told him there's lots of different ways afeller can imperil his life. "

"Sure, fifty-seven varieties, " said Roy. "Well, I'm glad they treatedyou so well, kid, and I hope we'll have a chance to pay them back. Whatdo you say we tie up in Kingston and have a soda?"

Early the next day they came in sight of Catskill Landing. Roy stood ontop of the cabin like Columbus, his rapt gaze fixed upon the dock. 

"We have arrove, " said he. "Gee, I'm sorry it's over. "

[Illustration]

The trip _had_ been enjoyable, but now their every thought was centeredupon Temple Camp to which they were so near and they were filled withdelightful anticipations as they made ready for the hike which still laybefore them. The boating club, with the hospitality which a love of thewater seems always to inspire in its devotees, gave them a mooring buoyand from this, having made their boat fast, they rowed ashore and setout with staves and duffel bags for the quaint little village of Leeds. 

The distance to Leeds depends upon who is making the journey, or fromwhom you get your information. The farmers will tell you it is fivemiles. The summer boarders are likely to tell you that it is ten. To beexact, it is somewhere between two miles and twenty miles, and you can'tget back to Catskill Landing for dinner. 

"I think it's ten miles there and twenty miles back, " said Roy; "_we_should worry! When we get to Leeds we make our grand dash for the lake. "

"Like Peary, " said Pee-wee, already bubbling over with excitement. 

"Something like him, yes. "

Their way took them through a beautiful hilly country and for a whilethey had glimpses of the river, which brought them pleasantreminiscences of their rambling, happy-go-lucky voyage. 

"Who does the _Good Turn_ belong to?" Tom asked. 

"I think it belongs to Honorable Pee-wee Harris, " said Roy. "He did thetrick that won it. "

"I'll tell you who she belongs to, " said Pee-wee. "She belongs to theFirst Bridgeboro Troop, Boy Scouts of America. "

"Raven, Fox and Elk!" said Roy. "Right you are, Pee-wee. United westand, divided we squall. "

A tramp of a couple of hours over country roads brought them to Leeds, and they hiked along its main street contributing not a little to itspicturesqueness with their alert, jaunty air, their brown complexionswhich matched so well with the scout attire, their duffel bags and theirlong staves. More than one farmer and many an early summer boarderstared at them and hailed them pleasantly as they passed along. 

"I like this village, " said Pee-wee. 

"I'll have it wrapped up for you, " said Roy; "Take it, or have it sent?"

"How do we get to Black Lake?" Tom asked of a man who was loungingoutside one of the shops. 

"Ye ain't goin' to walk it, be ye?" he answered, scrutinizing themcuriously. 

"Right you are, " said Roy. "How did you guess?"

"Ye got a pooty smart walk afore ye, " the man said, dubiously. 

"Well, we're pretty smart boys, " said Roy. "Break it to us gently, andlet us hear the worst. "

"Baout five mile 'f ye take th' hill rud. "

"Gracious, goodness me!" said Roy, "are they all the same length?"

"Haouw?"

"The miles; lads, I'm just reckless enough to do it. "

"Wall, " drawled their informant, "Ye go 'long this rud t'l ye come t' afield whar thar's a red caouw, then ye cut right through th' middle uvit 'n' go on over a stun wall 'n' ye'll come to a woods rud. Ye follerthat t'l ye come to a side path on the left on it that goes up hill. Black Lake's t'other side that hill. Ye got to pick yer way up throughthe woods 'long that path if ye kin foller it, 'n' when ye git t' thetop ye kin look daown 'n' see th' lake, but ye'll have a smart climbgettin' daown th' hill. "

"That's us, " said Roy. "Thanks--thanks very much. "

When they had gone a little way he halted Tom and Pee-wee with adramatic air. 

"Lads, " said he, "we've got the _Motor Boat Heroes_ and the _DauntlessChums_ and _Submarine Sam_ beaten to a frazzle! We're the _Terrible TrioSeries_, volume two million. Lads, get out your dirks and keep up stouthearts. We have to cut through the middle of a red cow! That man saidso!"

Three-quarters of an hour more along an apparently disused road and theycame upon a trail which was barely discernible, leading up a steep anddensely wooded hill. In places they had to climb over rugged terraces, extricating themselves from such mazes of tangled underbrush as they hadnever before seen. Now and then the path seemed to peter out and theyfound it again with difficulty and only by the skilful use of scouttracking lore. The long, steep climb was filled with difficulties, butthey pressed on amazed at the wildness all about them. 

At last, by dint of much hard effort and after many wasted steps throughloss of the trail, they came out upon the summit, and looked down upona sight which sent a thrill to all three. The other side of the hillwas, perhaps, not as steep as the side which they had mounted, but itwas thickly wooded and at its base was a sheet of water surrounded bylofty hills, all covered with dense forest, which extended right down tothe water's edge. The lake was perhaps a mile long, and lay like a darkjewel amid the frowning heights which closed it in. The trees alongshore were dimly reflected in the still, black water. The quiet of thespot was intense. It was relieved by no sign of habitation, save alittle thin, uncertain column of smoke which rose from among the treeson the farther shore. 

The solemnity of the scene, the blackness and isolation of that sheet ofwater, the dense woods, rising all around it and shutting out the world, was quite enough to cast a spell on anyone, and the three boys lookedabout them awestruck and for a moment speechless. 

"Jiminy crinkums!" said Pee-wee, at length. 

Tom only shook his head. 

"Reminds you of Broadway and Forty-second Street, " said Roy. 

They started down the hill and found that their descent was quite asdifficult as the ascent had been, but at last they reached the foot andnow, from this lower viewpoint they could catch a glimpse of the woodinterior on the opposite shore. There were several log cabinsharmonizing in color with the surrounding forest and, therefore, inconspicuous. Farther from the shore the boys glimpsed another andlarger structure and at the water's edge they now saw a boat drawn up. 

It was evident that the way they had come was not the usual way to reachthe camp, for there was no sign of trail along the shore, and to picktheir way around, with the innumerable obstacles which beset the way, would have taken several hours. 

"It must be lively around here on Saturday nights with the crowd outdoing their marketing, and the movie shows----" began Roy. 

"Aw, shut up!" said Pee-wee. 

They raised their voices in unison and shouted, and the echo resoundedfrom the hills across the water, almost as loud and distinguishable astheir own call. Roy yelled long and loud, slapping his open lips withthe palm of his hand, and a pandemonium of similar sounds came back asif from a multitude of voices. 

"I tell you, when John Temple does a thing he does it right!" saidPee-wee. "Gee, you can't deny that!"

In a few moments a man approached on the opposite shore and leisurelygot into the boat. As he rowed across, he looked around once in a while, and as the boat drew near the boys saw that its occupant had iron grayhair, a long drooping moustache, and a face deeply wrinkled and brownedalmost to a mulatto hue. 

"Hello, " called Roy. "Is that Temple Camp over there? I guess we came inthe back way. "

"Thet's it, " said the man. "You some o' the Bridgeboro boys?"

His voice was low and soft, as of one who has lived long in the woods byhimself. There was a humorous twinkle in his eye which the boys liked. He was long and lanky and wore khaki trousers and a coarse gray flannelshirt. His arms, which were bare, were very sinewy. Altogether, theimpression which he made on the boys was that he was perfectlyself-possessed and at ease, so absolutely sure of himself that nothingin all the wide world could frighten him or disconcert him. ThePresident of the United States, kings, emperors, millionaires--includingJohn Temple--might want to be rowed across and this man would comeleisurely over and get them, but he would not hurry and he would be nomore embarrassed or flustered at meeting them than a tree would be. Nature, the woods and mountains and prairies, had put their stamp uponhim, had whispered their secrets to him, and civilization could notphase him. That was the way he struck the boys, who from being scoutshad learned to be observant and discerning. 

"Are you Mr. Rushmore?" Tom asked, and as the man nodded assent hecontinued, "My name is Tom Slade; we're members of the Bridgeboro Troopand I'm the one selected to help you. I don't know if you expected meyet, but my scoutmaster and Mr. Temple thought I better come ahead ofthe other fellows so's to help you and get acquainted--like. Thesefellows came with me just for fun, but, of course, they want to help getthings ready. The rest are coming up in July. "

This was a good deal for Tom to say at a stretch, and it fell to thevoluble Pee-wee later to edify Mr. Rushmore with all the details oftheir trip, winding up with a glowing peroration on Roy's greatness. 

"Waal, I reck'n I'm glad ye've come--the hull three on ye, " Jeb Rushmoredrawled. 

"That's some trail over that hill, " said Roy, as they rowed across. "Welost it about a dozen times. "

"Thet? Thet ain't no trail, " said Jeb. "Thet's a street--a thurafare. I'm a-goin' t' test you youngsters out follerin' thet on a dark night. "

"Have a heart!" said Roy. "I could never pick that out with aflashlight. "

"A what? Ye won't hev no light o' no sort, not ef _I_ know it. "

The boys laughed. "Well, I see we're up against the real thing, " saidRoy, "but if that's a thoroughfare, I'd like to see a trail--that'sall. "

"Ye don' need ter see it, " drawled Jeb. "Ye jest _feel_ it. "

"You must have a pretty good sense of touch, " said Roy. 

"Ye don' feel it with your hands, youngster, ye jest _sense_ it. "

"_Good night!_" said Roy. 

Tom said nothing. He had been watching Mr. Rushmore and hanging withrapt attention on his every word. 

They found the hill on the opposite shore not as steep as it had lookedfrom across the water, and here at its base, in the dim solitude by theshore, was Temple Camp. There was a large open pavilion built ofuntrimmed wood, which would accommodate eight or ten troops, allowing toeach some measure of privacy and there were as many as a dozen logcabins, some large enough for two or three patrols, others intendedevidently to accommodate but one. There was a shack for the storage ofprovisions and equipment, in which the boys saw among other things pilesupon piles of wooden platters. 

"Not much dishwashing here, " said Pee-wee, joyfully. 

Here, also, were half a dozen tents and every imaginable articlenecessary to camp life. Close by was a cooking shack and outside thisseveral long mess boards with rough seats; and just beyond was a springof clear water. 

Jeb Rushmore had a cabin to himself upon the outside of which sprawledthe skins of as many as a dozen different sorts of animals--the trophiesof his life in the West. 

John Temple had certainly done the thing right; there was no doubt ofthat. He had been a long time falling, but when he fell he fell hard. Temple Camp comprised one hundred acres of woodland--"plenty of room togrow in, " as Jeb said. It was more than a camp; it was really acommunity, and had somewhat the appearance of a frontier trading post. In its construction very little bark had been taken from the wood; thewhole collection of buildings fitted well in their wild surroundings;there wasn't a jarring note. 

But Temple Camp was unique not only in its extent, its rustic characterand its magnificent situation; it was the fulfilment of a grand dreamwhich John Temple had dreamed. Any troop of scouts could, by makingtimely application to the trustees, go to Temple Camp and remain threeweeks without so much as a cent of cost. There was to be absolutely nofavoritism of any kind (and Jeb Rushmore was the man to see to that), not even in the case of the Bridgeboro Troop; except that troops fromcities were to be given preference over troops from country districts. Jeb Rushmore was to be the camp manager, working with the trustees andthe visiting scoutmasters; but as it turned out he became a character inthis scout village, and if he fell short in executive capacity he morethan made up for it in other ways. Before the first season was overpeople came miles to see him. There were also a doctor and a cook, though a troop occupying a cabin could do its own cooking and mess byitself if it chose. 

There were some rather interesting rules and regulations. If a scout wona merit badge while at camp this entitled his whole troop to lengthenits stay by two days, if it so elected. If he won the life scout badge, four extra days was the reward of his whole troop. The star badge meantan extra week, the eagle badge ten extra days. A scout winning thebronze cross was entitled with his troop to occupy "Hero Cabin" and toremain two extra weeks at camp. The silver cross meant three extraweeks; the gold cross four extra weeks. If a troop could notconveniently avail itself of this extra time privilege in the currentseason it could be credited with the time and use it, whole orpiecemeal, in subsequent seasons. 

On the lake there were to be several boats which were not yet ready, andevery scout winning a life saving medal was to have a boat named forhim. At the time the boys arrived there was only one boat and that wasnamed _Mary Temple_. 

CHAPTER XIV

HERO CABIN

The history of Temple Camp during that gala season of its opening wouldfill a book; but this is not a history of Temple Camp, and we must passat once to those extraordinary happenings which shook the little scoutcommunity to its very center and cast a shadow over the otherwisepleasant and fraternal life there. 

By the middle of July every inch of space in the pavilion was occupied, and among the other troops which lodged there was the little troop fromdown the Hudson, of which Garry Everson was the leader. Tom had tried toprocure cabin accommodations for these good friends, but the cabins hadall been spoken for before their application came and they had to becontent with the less desirable quarters. During the early days of theirstay the Bridgeboro Troop arrived in a blaze of glory; the Ravens, withtheir pride and delight, Doc Carson, first aid boy; the rest of theSilver Foxes with Westy Martin, Dorry Benton and others; and Tom's ownpatrol, the Elks, with Connie Bennett, the Bronson boys, the famousO'Connor twins, all with brand new outfits, for this was a new patrol. Three small cabins had been reserved for them and in these they settleddown, each patrol by itself and flying its own flag. Tom, by reason ofhis duties, which identified him with the camp as a whole rather thanwith any troop or patrol, occupied the cabin with Jeb Rushmore, andthough he was much with the Elks, he had delegated Connie Bennett tosubstitute as patrol leader for the time being. 

Garry Everson was a general favorite. Not only had his stunt ofreceiving the signal message and restoring the fugitive Pee-wee won himhigh regard with the Bridgeboro boys, but his quiet manner and whimsicalhumor had made him many friends throughout the camp. He was tall andslim, but muscular; the water seemed to be his specialty; he was anexpert at rowing and paddling, he could dive in a dozen different waysand as for swimming, no one at Temple Camp could begin to compete withhim. 

Tom's friendship with Garry Everson had grown quite intimate. They wereboth interested in tracking and made many little trips together, forTom had much time to himself. 

One morning, as Tom, according to rule, was making his regularinspection of the pavilion, he lingered for a few minutes in Garry'scorner to chat with him. 

"You're not getting ready to go?" he asked in surprise, noticing thatsome of the troop's paraphernalia had been packed. 

"Beginning to get ready, " said Garry. "Sit down. Why didn't you bringyour knitting?"

"I can't stay long, " said Tom. "I've got to inspect the cabins yet, andthen I've got to make up the program for campfire yarns to-night. Bythe way, couldn't _you_ give us a spiel?"

"Oh, sure, " said Garry. "_The Quest of the Honor Medal_. I'll tell hownobody ever gets into danger here--or imperils his life, as Pee-weewould say. I'm going to put a notice up on one of the trees and get youto read another at mess with the regular announcements: Wanted; by scoutseeking honor medal; someone willing to imperil his life. Suitablereward. Apply Temple Camp pavilion. Signed, Would-be Hero. "

Tom laughed. 

"I'm like old What's-his-name, Cæsar. Ready to do the conquest act, butnothing more to conquer. Believe me, it's no cinch being a would-behero. Couldn't you get bitten by a rattlesnake on one of your trackingstunts? Get your foot on him, you know, and he'll be wriggling andsquirming to get his head free, and his cruel fangs will be within aninch of your ankle and you'll just begin to feel them against yourstocking----"

"Don't, " laughed Tom. 

"When all of a sudden I'll come bounding out of the thicket, and I'llgrab him by the head and force his cruel jaws shut and slip an elasticband around his mug. That ought to pull the silver cross, hey? And I andmy faithful followers would get three extra weeks in camp. "

"Would you like to stay longer?" Tom asked. 

"Foolish question, number three million. Haven't we had the time of ouryoung lives? I never knew two weeks to go so fast. Never mind, we've gottwo days more--and two days _only_ unless I get some answers to my'ad. '"

"Where's your patrol this morning?"

"Stalking; they've a date with a robin. I would have gone along except Ididn't see much chance of any of them imperilling their lives takingsnapshots of robins. So I stayed home to do a little packing--things wewon't need again. But no use thinking about that, I suppose; that's whatI tell them. We've had some good times, all right. Seems a pity we haveto go just when Mr. Temple and his daughter have come. You're a luckykid; you stay till the last gun is fired, don't you?"

"Yes, I'm going to stay till we close up. Come on, stroll up the hillwith me. I've got to raise the colors. If you've only two days morethere's no use moping around in here. "

"All right, wait a minute and I'll be with you--dry the pensive tear, asyour friend Roy would say. He's an all-around scout, isn't he?"

"Yes, he came right off the cover of the Manual, Mr. Ellsworth says. "

"You're a bully troop, you fellows. Gee, I envy you. Trouble with us, "he continued, as they walked up the hill together, "is we haven't anyscoutmaster. I'm scoutmaster and patrol leader rolled into one. We'regoing to get better organized this winter. There's only just the sevenof us, you know, and we haven't got any money. You might think thatbecause we live in a country village on the Hudson everything's fine anddandy. But there's blamed little money in our burg. Four of our troophave to work after school. One works all day and goes to night schooldown to Poughkeepsie. I saved up two years to buy that canoe I was inwhen I caught your message. "

"Well, you caught it all right, " said Tom, with a note of pride in hisusually expressionless voice. 

"We'll come out all right, though, " said Garry, cheerily. "That's whatI'm always telling them; only we're so gol-blamed poor. "

"I know what it is, " said Tom, after a pause. "Maybe that's what makesus such good friends, sort of. I lived in a tenement down in Bridgeboro. I've got to thank Roy for everything--Roy and Mr. Ellsworth. They alltreat me fine and you'd never know most of them are rich fellows; butsomehow--I don't just know how to tell you---- but you know how a scoutis supposed to be a brother to every other scout. Well, it seems to me, kind of, as if a poor fellow is a brother to every other poorfellow--and--and--I understand. "

"It's easy to see they all think a lot of you, " said Garry. "Well, we'vehad a rattling good time up here and I don't suppose we'll feel anyworse about going away than lots of others will. If you miss one thingyou usually have another to make up. We're all good friends in ourlittle troop--we have more fun than you could shake a stick at, joshingeach other about different kinds of heroic stunts, to win an honormedal, and some of them have thought up the craziest things----"

"I wish you could stay, " said Tom. 

"Well, if wishes were horses, beggars would ride, as some old duffersaid. "

The wooded hill sloped upward behind the camp for a distance of somehundred yards, where it was broken by a sheer precipice forming one sideof a deep gully. This was the work of man, having once been a railroadcut, but it had been in disuse for many years and was now covered withvegetation. You could walk up the hill till you came to the brink ofthis almost vertical chasm, but you could no more scramble down it thanyou could scramble down a well. On the opposite side of the cut the hillcontinued upward and the bridging of the chasm by the scouts themselveshad been a subject of much discussion; but up to the present timenothing had been done and there was no way to continue one's ascent ofthe hill except to follow along the edge of the cut to a point where theprecipice was low enough to allow one to scramble down--a walk ofseveral miles. 

Right on the brink of this old overgrown cut was a shack which hadprobably once been used by the workmen. Although on the Camp property itwas rather too far removed from the other buildings to be altogetherconvenient as a living place, but its isolated situation had attractedthe boys, and the idea of calling it Hero Cabin was an inspiration ofRoy's. Mr. Keller, one of the trustees, had fallen in with the notionand while deprecating the use of this remote shack for regular livingquarters, had good-naturedly given his consent that it be used as thehonored domicile of any troop a member of which had won an honor medal. Perhaps he thought that, honor medals being not so easily won, it wouldbe quite safe to make this concession. 

In any event, it was quite enough for the boys. A committee was formedwith a member from each troop to make the shack a suitable abode for ahero and his court. Impulsive Roy was the moving spirit of the plan;Pee-wee was its megaphone, and in the early days of the Bridgeborotroop's stay a dozen or more scouts had worked like beavers making apath up through the woods, covering the shack with bark, and raising aflagpole near it. They had hiked into Leeds and bought material for aflag to fly above the shack showing the name, HERO CABIN, and they hadfitted it with rustic bunks inside. 

The idea was a good one, the boys had taken a great deal of pride andpleasure in the work of preparation, the whole thing had given rise tomuch friendly jealousy as to what troop should be honored by residencehere and what fortunate scout should be escorted to this new abode amidacclamations. Probably every troop in camp had dreams of occupying it (Iam sure that Pee-wee had), and of spending its "honor time" here. 

But apparently Mr. Keller, who was not much given to dreaming, was rightin his skeptical conjecture for Hero Cabin remained unoccupied, thoughTom made it a point to tramp up and raise and lower the colors thereeach day. 

"Some day, maybe next season, " said he as they stood on the brink andgazed across the deep gully, "they'll bring somebody up here riding ontheir shoulders. You can't win an honor medal every day in the week. Ithink the bronze cross would be enough for _me_--let alone the silver orthe gold one. I'd be satisfied with that, wouldn't you?"

"Except that the gold cross gives you four extra weeks, " said Garry, "and, of course, the more risk a fellow takes, the greater the honoris. " He picked up a pebble and threw it at a tree across the gully. "I'drather have one of those medals, " he said, "than anything in theworld--and I want a wireless outfit pretty bad, too. But besides that"(he kept throwing pebbles across the gully and spoke half absently), "besides that, it would be fine to have that extra time. Maybe wecouldn't use it _all_ this season, but--look, I can hit that thin treeevery time--but I'm thinking of the little codger mostly; you know theone I mean--with the light hair?"

"The little fellow that coughs?"

"He doesn't cough any more. He did before we came up here. His fatherdied of consumption. No, he doesn't cough much now--guess it agrees withhim up here. He's---- There, I hit it six times in succession. "

For a few minutes Tom said nothing, but watched as Garry, time aftertime, hit the slender tree across the gully. 

"I often dream about having an honor medal, too, " he said, after awhile. "We haven't got any in our troop. Roy'll be the one, I guess. Isuppose the gold cross is the highest award they'll ever have, hey?"

"Guess so. "

"There's nothing better than gold, is there?"

"It isn't because there's nothing better than gold, " said Garry, stillintent upon hitting his mark. "It's because there's nothing better thanheroism--bravery--risking your life. "

"Diamonds--they might have a diamond cross, hey?"

"What for?"

"In case they found anything that's better than heroism. [missing: "?]

"What?"

"Oh, I don't know. There might be. "

Garry turned and laughingly clapped Tom on the back. "I might push youover this precipice and then jump down after you, hey?" he laughed. 

"You'd be crushed to death yourself, " said Tom. 

"Well, stop talking nonsense or I'll do it. Come on, get your choresdone and we'll go down and have a swim. What'd' you say?"

He ran his hand through Tom's thick shock of hair and laughed again. "Come on, forget it, " said he. "I've only got two days more here andI'm not going to miss a morning dip. Come on, I'll show you the doubletwist dive. "

He put his arm through Tom's with the contagious gaiety that was his, and started down the hill with him toward the lake. 

"Come on, wake up, you old grouch, " he said. 

CHAPTER XV

COWARD!

There were not many boys bathing at the time this thing happened. Royand several of the Silver Foxes were at a little distance from the shorepractising archery, and a number of scouts from other troops lolledabout watching them. Three or four boys from a Pennsylvania troop werehaving an exciting time with the rowboat, diving from it out in themiddle of the lake. Pee-wee Harris and Dory Bronson, of Tom's patrol, were taking turns diving from the spring-board. Tom and Garry joinedthem and, as usual, whenever Garry was diving, boys sauntered down tothe shore and watched. 

"Here goes the Temple Twist, " said he, turning a complete somersault andthen jerking himself sideways so as to strike the water crossways to thespring-board. 

There was some applause as he came up spluttering. Tom tried it, butcould not get the twist. 

"Try this on your piano, " said Garry, diving and striking the waterflat. 

"That's what you call the Bridgeboro Botch, " he laughed, as Tom wentsprawling into the water. "Hey, Blakeley, " he shouted to Roy, "did yousee the Bridgeboro Botch?"

"There's no use their trying _your_ tricks, " Roy called in genuineadmiration. "I'm coming in in a few minutes, myself. "

But Tom dived very well for all that, and so did Pee-wee, but DoryBronson was new at the game. 

The thing which was destined to have such far-reaching consequenceshappened suddenly and there was some difference of opinion among theeye-witnesses as to just how it occurred, but all were agreed as to themain fact. Dory had just dived, it was Pee-wee's turn next, Tom wouldfollow, and then Garry, who meanwhile had stepped up to where Roy andthe others were shooting, and was chatting with them. 

They had dived in this order like clockwork for some time, so that whenDory did not appear on the board the others looked about for him. Justat that moment a piercing cry arose, and a dozen pairs of eyes wereturned out on the lake where the boy was seen struggling frantically. It was evident that the boys in the boat were pulling to his assistance, but they were too far away and meanwhile he floundered and struggledlike a madman, sending up cries that echoed from the hills. How he hadgotten out so far no one knew, unless indeed he had tried to swim to theboat. 

The sight of a human being struggling frantically in the water and lostto all sense of reason by panic fright is one to strike terror to astout heart. Even the skilful swimmer whose courage is not of thestoutest may balk at the peril. That seemed to be the feeling whichpossessed Tom Slade as he stood upon the end of the spring-board andinstead of diving cast a hurried look to where Garry Everson was talkingwith Roy. 

It all happened in a moment, the cries from the lake, Tom's hesitation, his swift look toward Roy and Garry, and his evident relief as thelatter rushed to the shore and plunged into the water. He stood there onthe end of the high spring-board, conspicuous against the blue sky, withhis eyes fixed upon the swimmer. He saw the struggle in the water, sawthe frantic arms clutch at Garry, watched him as he extricated himselffrom that insane grasp, saw him catch the struggling figure with the"neck grip" as the only means of saving both lives, and watched him ashe swam toward shore with his now almost unconscious burden. What hethought, how he felt, no human being knew. He stood motionless like astatue until the growing crowd below him set up a cheer. Then he wentdown and stood among them. 

"Didn't you see him drowning there?" a fellow demanded of him. 

"Yes, I did, " said Tom. 

The other stared at him for a moment with a peculiar expression, thenswung on his heel and strode away. 

Tom craned his neck to see and spoke to those nearest him, but they onlyanswered perfunctorily or ignored him altogether. He moved around towhere Roy stood, and Roy, without looking at him, pressed farther intothe crowd. 

"That's he, " a boy near him whispered to his neighbor; "stood on the endof the board, watching. I didn't think we had any cowards here. "

In every face and most of all in the faces of his own troop Tom sawcontempt plainly written. He could not go away from them, for that mightexcite fresh comment; so he remained, trying to disregard thesignificant glances and swallowing hard to keep down the lump which keptrising in his throat. 

Soon the doctor came, relieving Doc Carson of the Ravens, and thehalf-drowned boy was taken to his cabin. 

"He--he's all right, isn't he?" Tom asked of the doctor. 

"Yes, " said the doctor, briefly. "He's one of your own patrol, isn'the?"

"Yes--sir. "

The doctor looked at him for a moment and then turned away. 

"Hello, old man, " said Garry, as he passed him, hurrying to thepavilion. "Cold feet, eh? Guess you got a little rattled. Never mind. "

The words stabbed Tom like a knife, but at least they were friendly andshowed that Garry did not entirely condemn him. 

He paused at the Elks cabin, the cabin of his own patrol, where most ofthe members of his troop were gathered. One or two made way for him inthe doorway, but did not speak. Roy Blakeley was sitting on the edge ofDory's couch. 

"Roy, " said Tom, still hesitating in the doorway of his own patrolcabin, "can I speak to you a minute?"

Roy came out and silently followed Tom to a point out of hearing of theothers. 

"I--I don't care so much what the others think, " said Tom. "If they wantto think I'm a coward, all right. But I want to tell _you_ how it was so_you_ won't think so. "

"Oh, you needn't mind about me, " said Roy. 

"You and Garry--I----"

"I guess _he_ knows what to think, too, " said Roy, coldly. "I guess hehas his opinion of the First Bridgeboro Troop's courage. "

"That's why I care most, " said Tom, "on account of disgrace for onebeing disgrace for all--and honor, too. But there's something----"

"Well, you should have thought of that, " Roy interrupted impetuously, "when you stood there and let a strange fellow rescue one of your ownpatrol. You practically asked him to do it--everybody saw. "

"There's something----"

"Oh, sure, _there's something_! I suppose you'll be able to digsomething out of the Handbook, defending cowards! You're great on theHandbook. "

Again that something came up in Tom's throat and the ugly word cut himso that he could hardly speak. 

"No, there isn't anything in the Manual about it, " said he, in his slowmonotone, "because I looked. "

Roy sneered audibly. 

"But I thought there might be another law--a 13th one about----"

"Oh, you make me sick with your 13th law!" Roy flared up. "Is that whatyou were dreaming about when you stood on the end of that board andbeckoned to Garry----"

"I didn't beckon, I just looked----"

"Just looked! Well, I don't claim to be up on the law like you, but the10th law's good enough for me, --'A scout is brave; he has the courage toface danger in spite of fear. ' This fellow will have the bronze cross, maybe the silver one, for rescuing one of _our_ troop, one of _your own_patrol. _You_ know how we made a resolution that the first honor medalshould come to us! And here you stand there watching and let a strangerwalk away with it!"

"Do you think he'll get it?" Tom asked. 

"Of course, he'll get it. "

Tom smiled slightly. "And _you_ think I'm a coward?"

"I'm not saying what I think. I never _did_ think so before. I know thatfellow will have the cross and they'll be the honor troop because in_our_ troop we've got----"

"Don't say that again, Roy; please don't--I----"

Roy looked at him for one moment; perhaps in that brief space all thehistory of their friendship came rushing back upon him, and he was onthe point of stretching out his hand and letting Tom explain. But theimpulse passed like a sudden storm, and he walked away. 

Tom watched him until he entered the patrol shack, and then went on tohis own cabin. Jeb Rushmore was out with the class in tracking, teachingthem how to _feel_ a trail, and Tom sat down on his own couch, glad tobe alone. He thought of the members of his own troop, in and about hisown patrol cabin, ministering to Dory Bronson. He wondered what theywere saying about him and whether Roy would discuss him with others. Hedidn't think Roy would do that. He wondered what Mr. Ellsworth wouldthink--and Jeb Rushmore. 

He got up and, fumbling in his duffel bag, fished out the thumbed anddilapidated Handbook, which was his trusty friend and companion. Heopened it at page 64. He knew the place well enough, for he had manytimes coveted what was offered there. There, standing at attention andlooking straight at him, was the picture of a scout, very trim andnatty, looking, as he had often thought, exactly like Roy. Beside it wasanother picture of a scout tying knots and he recalled how Roy hadtaught him the various knots. His eyes scanned the type above till hefound what he sought. 

 "The bronze medal is mounted on a red ribbon and is awarded to a scout who has actually saved life where risk is involved. 

 "The silver medal is mounted on a blue ribbon and is awarded to a scout who saves life with considerable risk to himself. 

 "The gold medal is mounted on white ribbon and is the highest possible award for heroism. It may be granted to a scout who has gravely endangered his own life in actually saving the life of another. "

"It'll mean the silver one for him, all right, " said Tom to himself, "and that's three more weeks. I wish it could be the gold one. "

Idly he ran through the pages of the book, pausing here and there. Onpage 349 were pictures of scouts rescuing drowning persons. He knew themethods well and looked at the pictures wistfully. Again at page 278 wassome matter about tracking, with notes in facsimile handwriting. Thisput the idea into his mind that he might insert a little handwriting ofhis own at a certain place, and he turned to the pages he knew best ofall--33 and 34. He read the whole twelve laws, but none seemed quite tocover his case. So he wrote in a very cramped hand after Law 12 thesewords:

 "13--A scout can make a sacrifice. He can keep from winning a medal so somebody else can get it. Especially he must do this if it does the other scout more good. That is better than being a hero. "

He turned to the fly leaf and wrote in sprawling, reckless fashion: "Iam not a coward. I hate cowards. " Then he tore the page out and threw itaway. He hardly knew what he was doing. After a few minutes he turned topage 58, where the picture of the honor medal was. As he sat gazing atit, loud shouting arose in the distance. Nearer and nearer it came, andlouder it grew, until it swelled into a lusty chorus. Around the cornerof the pavilion they came, two score or more of scouts, yelling andthrowing their hats into the air. Tom looked up and listened. Throughthe little window he could glimpse them as they passed, carrying GarryEverson upon their shoulders, and shrieking themselves hoarse. Pee-weewas there and Artie Val Arlen, of the Ravens, and the littlesandy-haired fellow with the cough, running to keep up and yellingproudly for his chief and idol. 

"Hurrah for the silver cross!" they called. 

"Three cheers for the honor scout!"

"Three cheers and three extra weeks!"

They paused within a dozen feet of where Tom sat, and pushing, elbowing, fell into the woods path leading up to Hero Cabin. Tom listened untiltheir voices, spent by the distance, were scarcely audible. Then he fellto gazing again at the picture of the medal. 

CHAPTER XVI

OSTRACIZED

The question was as to the bronze cross or the silver one, and it wasthe silver one which came. Roy, who had been the most observant witness, testified before the Honor Court that the frantic struggling of therescued scout must have incurred danger to the rescuer and that only hisdexterity and skill had saved him. 

But after all, who can say how much risk is involved in such an act. Itis only in those deeds of sublime recklessness where one throws his lifeinto the balance as a tree casts off a dried leaf that the true measureof peril is known. That is where insanity and heroism seem to joinhands. And hence the glittering cross of the yellow metal lying againstits satin background of spotless white stands alone by itself, apartfrom all other awards. 

There was no thought of it here and least of all by Garry himself. Whenasked by the court how much he believed he had jeopardized his life, hesaid he did not know, and that at the time he had thought only of savingDory Bronson. He added that all scouts know the different life-saving"wrinkles" and that they have to use their judgment. His manner had atouch of nonchalance, or rather, perhaps of indifference, which struckone or two of the visiting scoutmasters unfavorably. But Jeb Rushmore, who was in the room, sitting far back with his lanky arms clasped abouthis lanky limbs, and a shrewd look in his eyes, was greatly impressed, and it was largely because of his voice that the recommendation went toheadquarters for the silver medal. In all of the proceedings the name ofTom Slade was not once mentioned, though his vantage point on thespring-board ought to have made his testimony of some value. 

So Garry Everson and his little one-patrol troop took up their abode inHero Cabin, and the little sandy-haired fellow with the cough raised andlowered the colors each day, as Tom had done, and ate more heartily downat mess, and made birchbark ornaments in the sunshine up at his belovedretreat, and was very proud of his leader; but he had little use for TomSlade, because he believed Tom was a coward. 

In due time the Silver Cross itself came, and scouts who strolled up tovisit the cabin on the precipice noticed that sometimes the littlesandy-haired fellow wore it, so that it came to be rumored about thatGarry Everson cared more about him than he did about the medal. Therewere times when Garry took his meals up to him and often he was not atcampfire in the evenings. But the little fellow improved each day andevery one noticed it. 

In time the feeling toward Tom subsided until nothing was left of itexcept a kind of passive disregard of him. Organized resentment wouldnot have been tolerated at Temple Camp and it is a question whether thescouts themselves would have had anything to do with such a conspiracy. But the feeling had changed toward him and was especially noticeable incertain quarters. 

Perhaps if he had lived among his own troop and patrol as one of themthe estrangement would have been entirely forgotten, but he lived a lifeapart, seeing them only at intervals, and so the coldness continued. Asthe time drew near for the troop to leave, Tom fancied that the feelingagainst him was stronger because they were thinking of the extra timethey might have had along with the honor they had lost, but he wassensitive and possibly imagined that. He sometimes wondered if Roy andthe others were gratified to know that these good friends of their happyjourney to camp could remain longer. But the camp was so large and theHonor Troop stayed so much by itself that the Bridgeboro boys hardlyrealized what it meant to that little patrol up at Hero Cabin. Tom oftenthought wistfully of the pleasant cruise up the river and wondered ifRoy and Pee-wee thought of it as they made their plans to go home in the_Good Turn_. 

Two friends Tom had, at all events, and these were Jeb Rushmore andGarry Everson. The Honor Troop was composed mostly of small boys and allexcept the little boy who was Garry's especial charge were in Tom'stracking class. He used to put them through the simpler stunts and thenturn them over to Jeb Rushmore. Apparently, they did not share thegeneral prejudice and he liked to be with them. 

One afternoon he returned with three or four of these youngsters andlingered on the hill to chat with Garry. He had come to feel more athome here than anywhere else. 

"How's the kid?" Tom asked, as the sandy haired boy came out of thecabin and passed him without speaking. 

"Fine. You ought to see him eat. He's a whole famine in himself. Youmustn't mind him, " he added; "he has notions. "

"Oh, " said Tom, "I'm used to being snubbed. It just amuses me in hiscase. "

"How's tracking?"

"Punk. There's so much dust you can't make a track. What we need israin, so we can get some good plain prints. That's the only way to teacha tenderfoot. Jeb says dust ought to be good enough, but he's a fiend. "

"He could track an aeroplane, " said Garry. "Everything's pretty dry, Iguess. "

"You'd say so, " said Tom, "if you were down through those east woods. You could light a twig with a sun glass. They're having forest fires upback of Tannerstown. "

"I saw the smoke, " said Garry. 

"There's a couple of hoboes down the cut a ways; we tracked them today, cooking over a loose fire. I tried to get them to cut it out; told 'emthey'd have the whole woods started. They only laughed. I'm going toreport it to J. R. "

"They on the camp land?"

"If they were they'd have been off before this. "

They strolled out to the edge of the cut and looked off across thecountry beyond where the waning sunlight fell upon the dense woods, touching the higher trees with its lurid glow. Over that way smoke aroseand curled away in the first twilight. 

"There's some good timber gone to kindling wood over there, " said Garry. 

"It's going to blow up to-night, " said Tom; "look at the flag. "

They watched the banner as it fluttered and spread in the fresheningbreeze. 

"Looks pretty, don't it?" said Tom. "Shall we haul it down?"

"No, let the kid do it. "

Garry called and the little fellow came over for the task he loved. 

"Sunset, " said Garry. "Now just look at his muscle, " he added, winkingat Tom. "By the time this precious three weeks is up, he'll be a regularSamson. "

Garry walked a few paces down the hill with Tom. "I wish I could havehad a chance to thank Mr. Temple when he was here, " he said, "for thisbully camp and that extra time arrangement. "

"He deserves thanks, " said Tom. 

They walked on for a few moments in silence. 

"You--_you_ don't think I'm a coward, do you?" said Tom, suddenly. "Iwouldn't speak about it to anyone but you. But I can't help thinkingabout it sometimes. I wouldn't speak about it even to Roy--now. "

"Of course, I don't. I think you were a little rattled, that's all. I'vebeen the same myself. For a couple of seconds you didn't know what todo--you were just up in the air--and by the time you got a grip onyourself--I had cheated you out of it. You were just going to dive, weren't you?"

"Sometimes it's hard to make a fellow understand, " said Tom, notanswering the question. "I can't tell you just what I was thinking. That's my own business. I--I've got it in my Handbook. But all I want toknow is, _you_ don't think I'm a coward, do you?"

"Sure, I don't. "

Garry turned back and Tom went on down the winding path through thewoods to camp. The breeze, becoming brisker, blew the leaves this wayand that, and as he plodded on through the dusk he had to lower his headto keep his hat from blowing off. The wind brought with it a faint butpungent odor which reminded him of the autumn days at home when he andRoy raked up the leaves and burned them behind the Blakeley house. Heavoided this train of thought. His face was stolid, and his mannerdogged as he hurried on, with the rather clumsy gait which still borethe faintest trace of the old shuffle Barrel Alley had known so well. 

Near the camp he ran plunk into Roy. 

"Hello, " he said. 

"Hello, " said Roy, and passed on. 

"Roy, " Tom called after him, "I want to speak to you a minute. "

Roy paused. 

"I--I was thinking--do you smell smoke, Roy? It makes me think how weused to rake up the leaves. "

Roy said nothing. 

"I understand the troop is going home tomorrow and some of you are goingin the _Good Turn_. I hope you'll have a fine trip--like when we cameup. I wish you could all stay longer. It makes me kind of homesick tosee you all go. "

"We might have stayed longer, " said Roy, coldly, "only--is that all youwant to say to me?" he broke off. 

"I just want to say good-bye and----"

"All right, good-bye, " said Roy, and walked away. 

Tom watched him for a few seconds, then went on down to supper. 

CHAPTER XVII

THE WINNING OF THE GOLDEN CROSS

The wind had become so strong that it was necessary to move the messboards around to the leeward side of the pavilion. Several fellowsremarked on the pungent odor which permeated the air and a couple whohad been stalking spoke of the woods fires over beyond Tannerstown. 

Garry was not at supper, nor the little sandy-haired fellow, but theothers of his patrol came down before the meal was over. 

"Guess we'll cut out yarns to-night, " said Jeb Rushmore, "and hike out ona little tour of inspection. "

"There are a couple of tramps in the woods this side of the cut, rightup the hill a ways, " said Tom. 

"We need rain, that's sure, " said another scout. 

"Maybe we'll get some with this wind, " remarked another. 

"No, I reckon it's a dry wind, " said Mr. Rushmore, looking about andsniffing audibly. "Gol smash it, " he added, rising and sniffing stilllouder. "Thar's somethin' in the air. "

For a minute he stood near his place, then strode off up the hill alittle way, among the trees, where he paused, listening, like an animalat bay. They could see his dark form dimly outlined in the darker night. 

"J. R. 's on the scent, " remarked Doc. Carson. 

Several fellows rose to join him and just at that minute Westy Martin, of the Silver Foxes, and a scout from a Maryland troop who had beenstalking, came rushing pell-mell into camp. 

"The woods are on fire!" gasped Westy. "Up the hill! Look!"

"I seed it, " said Jeb. "The wind's bringin' it. "

"You can't get through up there, " Westy panted. "We had to go around. "

"Ye couldn't get round by now. B'ys, we're a-goin' ter git it for sure. It's goin' ter blow fire. "

For a moment he stood looking up into the woods, with the boys abouthim, straining their eyes to see the patches of fire which were visiblehere and there. Suddenly these patches seemed to merge and make thenight lurid with a red glare, a perfect pandemonium of crackling androaring assailed the silent night and clouds of suffocating smokeenveloped them. 

The fire, like some heartless savage beast, had stolen upon themunawares and was ready to spring. 

Jeb Rushmore was calm and self-contained and so were most of the boys asthey stood ready to do his bidding. 

"Naow, ye see what I meant when I said a leopard's as sneaky as a fire, "said Jeb. "Here, you Bridgeboro troop and them two Maryland troops andthe troop from Washin't'n, " he called, "you make a bucket line like wepracticed. Tom--whar's Tom? And you Oakwood b'ys, git the buckets out'nthe provish'n camp. Line up thar ri' down t' the water's edge and comeup through here. You fellers from Pennsylvany 'n' you others thar, gitthe axes 'n' come 'long o' me. Don't git rattled, now. "

Like clockwork they formed a line from the lake up around the camp, completely encircling it. The fire crept nearer every second, stiflingthem with its pungent smoke. Other scouts, some with long axes, otherswith belt axes, followed Jeb Rushmore, chopping down the small treeswhich he indicated along the path made by this human line. In less thana minute fifty or more scouts were working desperately felling treesalong the path. Fortunately, the trees were small, and fortunately, too, the scouts knew how to fell them so that they fell in each case awayfrom the path, leaving an open way behind the camp. 

Along this open way the line stood, and thus the full buckets passingfrom hand to hand with almost the precision of machinery, were emptiedalong this open area, soaking it. 

"The rest o' you b'ys, " called Jeb, "climb up on the cabins--one on eachcabin, and three or four uv ye on the pavilion. Some o' ye stay below topass the buckets up. Keep the roofs wet--that's whar the sparks'lllight. Hey, Tom!"

As the hurried work went on one of Garry's troop grasped Jeb by the arm. "How about our cabin?" said he, fearfully. "There are two fellows upthere. "

Jeb paused a moment, but shook his head. "They'll hev ter risk jumpin'int' th' cut, " said he. "No mortal man c'u'd git to 'em through themwoods naow. "

The boy fell back, sick at heart as he thought of those two on thelonely hill surrounded by flame and with a leap from the precipice astheir only alternative. It was simply a choice between two forms ofawful death. 

The fire had now swept to within a few yards of the outer edge of thecamp, but an open way had been cleared and saturated to check itsadvance and the roofs of the shacks were kept soaked by a score or moreof alert workers as a precaution against the blowing sparks. 

Tom Slade had not answered any of Jeb's calls for him. At the time ofhis chief's last summons he was a couple of hundred feet from thebuildings, tearing and tugging at one of the overflow tents. Like amadman and with a strength born of desperation he dragged the pole downand, wrenching the stakes out of the ground by main force, neverstopping to untie the ropes, he hauled the whole dishevelled mass freeof the paraphernalia which had been beneath it, down to the lake. Duffelbags rolled out from under it, the uprooted stakes which came along withit caught among trees and were torn away, the long clumsy canvas trailrebelled and clung to many an obstruction, only to be torn and ripped asit was hauled willy-nilly to the shore of the lake. 

In he strode, tugging, wrenching, dragging it after him. Part of itfloated because of the air imprisoned beneath it, but gradually sank asit became soaked. Standing knee-deep, he held fast to one corner of itand waited during one precious minute while it absorbed as much of thewater as it could hold. 

It was twice as heavy now, but he was twice as strong, for he was twiceas desperate and had the strength of an unconquerable purpose. The lipsof his big mouth were drawn tight, his shock of hair hung about hisstolid face as with bulldog strength and tenacity he dragged the deadweight of dripping canvas after him up onto the shore. The watertrickled out of its clinging folds as he raised one side of the soakingfabric, and dragged the whole mass up to the provision cabin. 

He seized the coil of lasso rope and hung it around his neck, thenraising the canvas, he pulled it over his head like a shawl and pinnedit about him with the steel clutch of his fingers, one hand at neck andone below. 

Up through the blazing woods he started with the leaden weight of thisdripping winding sheet upon him and catching in the hubbly obstructionsin his path. The water streamed down his face and he felt the chill ofit as it permeated his clothes, but that was well--it was his onlyfriend and ally now. 

Like some ghostly bride he stumbled up through the lurid night, draggingthe unwieldly train behind him. Apparently no one saw this strangeapparition as it disappeared amid the enveloping flames. 

"Tom--whar's Tom?" called Jeb Rushmore again. 

Up the hill he went, tearing his dripping armor when it caught, andpausing at last to lift the soaking train and wind that about him also. 

The crackling flames gathering about him like a pack of hungry wolveshissed as they lapped against his wet shroud, and drew back, baffled, only to assail him again. The trail was narrow and the flames close oneither side. 

Once, twice, the drying fabric was aflame, but he wrapped it underwetter folds. His face was burning hot; he strove with might and mainagainst the dreadful faintness caused by the heat, and the smoke all butsuffocated him. 

On and up he pressed, stooping and sometimes almost creeping, for it waseasier near the ground. Now he held the drying canvas with his teethand beat with his hands to extinguish the persistent flames. His powerof resistance was all but gone and as he realized it his heart sankwithin him. At last, stooping like some sneaking thing, he reached thesparser growth near the cut. 

Two boys who had been driven to the verge of the precipice and lingeredthere in dread of the alternative they must take, saw a strange sight. Adull gray mass, with two ghostly hands reaching out and slapping at it, and a wild-eyed face completely framed by its charred and blackeningshroud, emerged from amid the fire and smoke and came straight towardthem. 

"What is it?" whispered the younger boy, drawing closer to Garry inmomentary fright at the sight of this spectral thing. 

"Don't jump--it's me--Tom Slade! Here, take this rope, quick. I guess itisn't burned any. I meant to wet it, too, " he gasped. "Is that treesolid? I can't seem to see. All right, quick! I can't do it. Make a loopand put it under his arms and let him down. "

There was not a minute to spare, and no time for explanations orquestions. Garry lowered the boy into the cut. 

"Now you'll have to let me down, I'm afraid, " said Tom. "My hands arefunny and I can't--I can't go hand over hand. "

"That's easy, " said Garry. 

But it was not so easy as it had been to lower the smaller boy. He hadto encircle the tree twice with the rope to guard against a too rapiddescent, and to smooth the precipice where the rope went over the edgeto keep it from cutting. When Tom had been lowered into the cut, Garryhimself went down hand over hand. 

It was cool down there, but they could hear the wild flames raging aboveand many sparks descended and died on the already burned surface. Theair blew in a strong, refreshing draught through the deep gully, and thethree boys, hardly realizing their hair-breadth escape, seemed to be ina different world, or rather, in the cellar of the world above, whichwas being swept by that heartless roistering wind and fire. 

 * * * * *

Along through the cut they came, a dozen or more scarred and wearyscouts, their clothing in tatters, anxious and breathing heavily. Theyhad come by the long way around the edge of the woods and got into thecut where the hill was low and the gully shallow. 

"Is anyone there?" a scout called, as they neared the point above whichHero Cabin had stood. They knew well enough that no one could be leftalive above. 

"We're here, " called Garry. 

"Hurt? Did you jump--both of you?"

"Three, the kid and I and Tom Slade. "

"Tom Slade? How did _he_ get here?"

"Came up through the woods and brought us a rope. _We're_ all right, buthe's played out. Got a stretcher?"

"Sure. "

They came up, swinging their lanterns, to where Tom lay on the groundwith Garry's jacket folded under his head for a pillow, and theylistened soberly to Garry's simple tale of the strange, shroudedapparition that had emerged from the flames with the precious life linecoiled about its neck. 

It was hard to believe, but there were the cold facts, and they couldonly stand about, silent and aghast at what they heard. 

"We missed him, " said one scout. 

"Is the camp saved?" asked Garry. 

"Mostly, but we had a stiff job. "

"Don't talk about _our_ job, " said Doc Carson as he stooped, holdingthe lantern before Tom's blackened face and taking his wrist to feel thepulse. 

Again there was silence as they all stood about and the littlesandy-haired fellow with the cough crept close to the prostrate form andgazed, fascinated, into that stolid, homely face. 

And still no one spoke. 

"It means the gold cross, " someone whispered. 

"Do you think the gold cross is good enough?" Garry asked, quietly. 

"It's the best we have. "

Then Roy, who was among them, kneeled down and put his arm out towardTom. 

"Don't touch my hand, " said Tom, faintly. "It isn't that I don't want toshake hands with you, " he added. "I wanted to do that when I metyou--before supper. Only my hands feel funny--tingly, kind of--and theyhurt. 

"Any of my own patrol here?" he asked after a moment. 

"Yes, Connie Bennett's here--and Will Bronson. "

"Then I'd rather have them carry the stretcher, and I'd like for you towalk along by me--I got something to say to you. "

They did as he asked, the others following at a little distance, exceptthe little sandy-haired boy who persisted in running forward until Garrycalled him back and kept his own deterring arm about the boy's shoulder. 

"I don't mind my own patrol hearing--or you. I don't care about the goldcross. It's only what it means that counts--sort of. I let Garry saveyour brother, Will, because I knew he needed to stay longer--I knewabout that kid not being strong--that's all. I can go through water aseasy as I can through fire--it's--it's easier--if it comes to that. "

"Don't try to talk, Tom, " said Roy, brokenly. 

"But I wouldn't tell even you, Roy, because--because if he'd found itout he wouldn't think it was fair--and he wouldn't have taken it. That'sthe kind of a fellow he is, Roy. "

"Yes, I know what kind of a fellow he is, " said Roy. 

"Anyway, it's no matter now. You see yourself Hero Cabin is burned down. A fellow might--he might even lose the cross. It's the three weeks thatcounted--see?"

"Yes, I see, " said Roy. 

"And tomorrow I want to go back with you fellows in the _GoodTurn_--and see Mr. Temple. I want to ask him if that kid can stay withJeb 'till Christmas. Then I'll come back up to camp. I've thought a lotlately about our trip up in the _Good Turn_, Roy. "

"Yes--so have I, Tom. But don't talk now. Doc doesn't want you to. "

"We've got to find Harry Stanton, " said Tom, after a few minutes. 

"Yes, " said Roy. 

But whether they ever did find him and the singular adventures attendingtheir quest, are really part of another story. 

THE END