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Maybe the men put the jacket on him keep still till I get through. Maybe they wanted to disguise him. "It's bad enough for detectives to make fools of themselves and get that kid's family all excited, without scouts doing it. Maybe I'm all wrong but we're going to make sure." "Are you going up there, Slady?" Hervey whispered excitedly, as if ready to start. "No, not yet.
His friend was sitting on the door sill of one of the new cabins, whittling a stick. He looked as if he might have been reflecting, as one is apt to do when whittling a stick. "You got to tell me who you are?" Tom said, standing directly in front of him. "You got a letter? I thought so," his friend said, quietly. "Sit down, Slady."
Far off, beyond the mountains, could be heard the shrill whistle of a train, bringing scouts, perhaps, to crowd the already filled tent space. And amid all these distant sounds which, subdued, formed a kind of outdoor harmony, the voice of Tom's companion sounded strangely in his ear. "My home is out in Broadvale, Ohio, Slady. Ever hear of it? It's west of Dansburg about fifty miles.
It's you that makes me feel like a criminal not those sleuths and bloodhounds out there. Listen, Slady; it's a kind of a camp-fire story, as you would call it, that I'm going to tell you." He laid his hand on Tom's arm as he talked and so they sat there on the rough sill of the cabin doorway, Tom silent, the other eager, anxious, as he related his story.
"That's the trouble, Slady, and it's got me guessing." It is doubtful if ever there was a scout at Temple Camp for whom Tom felt a greater interest or by whom he was more attracted than by this irrepressible boy whose ready prowess he had just witnessed. And the funny part of it was that no two persons could possibly have been more unlike than these two.
Presently Tom paused, holding open the brush. "Hervey," he said in the faintest whisper, "they say you're happy-go-lucky. Are you willing to risk your life again?" "I'm yours sincerely forever, Slady." "We're going home the short way; we're going down the way the turtle did," Tom whispered. "It's the only way look. Shh."
It was clear that he was in some suspense, but Tom, who would have noticed the smallest insect or most indistinct footprint in the path, did not observe this. "H'lo, Slady," he said with a fine show of unconcern; "out for the early worm?" He did not fail to give a sidelong glance at Tom's pocket. "Is your headache all gone?" Tom asked.
"You ask a lot of questions," said Tom in his funny, sober way. "You don't need to make good with me." "Believe me, I've got you and my troop both on my mind now. Are you going to give me a tip about some tracks?" "Maybe to-morrow," Tom said. "Do you know what I think I'll do, Slady?" Hervey suddenly vociferated as if caught by an inspiration.
"If a fellow sticks in one way, he'll stick in another way," Tom said. "If he makes up his mind to a thing " "You said it, Slady," Thornton concurred, giving Tom a rap on the shoulder. "And now you know, you won't tell? You won't tell that I've gone to New York?" he added with sudden anxiety. "Who would I tell?" Tom asked. "Nobody ever made me do anything yet that I didn't want to do."
Every time you get a drink at that pump you'll think of Slady and me. Hey, Slady?" The engine kept on going until they stopped it. And the Philistines put aside their unholy mirth and did not stint their praise and gratitude. "Two plaguy clever American chaps," said a ragged British wireless operator. "Slade and Archer, Consulting Engineers," said Archer.
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