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He had never had a headache like that. "If you could only fall asleep," Tom said. "Well, I guess I will; I'm pretty good at falling," his friend observed. "I fell for you, hey Slady? O-h-h! My head!" "It's the same with me," said Tom. "You got one too? Good night!" "I mean about what you were saying about falling for me. It's the same with me."
"They're putting up the overflow tents," he said, irrelevantly; "there'll be a lot coming Saturday." Then, again, there was silence for a few moments. "I'm used to having things turn out different from the way I expected," Tom said, dully. "Slady " his friend began, but paused.
It came to me just like that, Slady," Thornton said, clapping his hands, "and I said to myself, I'm like that chap in one way, anyhow, and he and this fellow Slade have never seen each other. Why can't I go up to that lonely camp in the mountains and be Billy Barnard for a while? Why can't I lie low there till I can plan what to do next? That's what I said, Slady.
Archer retorted. "We're goin' to find that girrl or perish in the attempt like old What's-his-name. You've got the right idea, Slady." "It ain't an idea," said Tom soberly, "and if you think it's kind of that I that I like her " "Surre it ain't, it's 'cause you hate herr," said Archer readily. "You make me tired," said Tom, flushing.
"Slady, you're a wonder." "Except when it comes to climbing trees," Tom said. At Catskill they hired a skiff and rowed out to about the middle of the river. From there Hervey was greatly surprised at what he saw. His bantering mood was quieted at last and he became sober as Tom, holding the oar handles with one hand, pointed up to a mountain behind the bordering heights along the river.
How many guesses do I have?" "Those letters were printed wrong way around in the mud up near that log when the turtle fell off the log upside down," Tom continued soberly. "He fell all over himself, hey?" "You didn't happen to notice those letters up there, did you?" "Not guilty." "It's best always to keep your eyes open," Tom said. "Not always, Slady." "Yes, always." "When you're asleep?"
Good I won't have to, hey?" "I thought you were going to," Tom said soberly. "So I am," Hervey shot back at him; "trails up in the air don't count. Never mind, I'll find a trail to-morrow. It's my troop I'm thinking of. I'll land it, all right. When I get my mind on a thing.... Hey, Slady, what in the dickens is that streak of red in the nest? Is it a trade mark or something like that?
I worked in a lumber concern out there. Can you guess the rest? I swiped a hundred, Slady. Don't ask me why I did it I don't know I was crazy, that's all. So now what have you got to say?" he inquired with a kind of recklessness, releasing Tom's arm. "I ain't got anything to say," said Tom. "They don't know it yet, Tommy, but they'll know it Monday. The accountants are on the job Monday.
Barnard's ankle was strained somewhat, and he had an ugly cut on his forehead, which Tom cleansed and bandaged, and it being already late, the young man who had tried walking on a shadow decided that he would turn in and try the remedy of sleep on his throbbing head. "Look here, Slady," he said, after he was settled for the night, "I've got your number, you old grouch.
Bridges, they may be nothing but shadows, hey? According to you, you can't depend on half of them. I wonder if it's that way with friendships, huh?" "It ain't with mine," Tom said simply. And still Barnard clung to Tom's hand. "Maybe we'll test it some day, Slady old boy." "There's no use testing a thing that's sure," Tom said. "Yes?" And still Barnard did not release his hand.
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