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Updated: June 15, 2025
"Now for the buried treasure, hey, Slady?" he said. "I want you to promise me not to sing," Tom said soberly. "Now listen," he added, whispering. "That turtle came from way up in that mountain. It has T. H. cut on its shell, and I think the carving is new. That trainman said two men with a kid got out at Catskill. He said the kid had a jack-knife. His folks said he had a sweater.
"Say nothing, but saw wood; that's the battle cry, Slady," he had cheerfully observed, mopping the perspiration from his brow. And now, as Tom looked into that jagged hollow, his thoughts went even further back, and he thought how it was in some such earthen dungeon as this that he and Barnard had first seen each other or rather, met.
All the time that we were chatting together, I was worried, thinking about what I'd do and where I'd go, and how it would be on the first Monday in August when those pen and ink sleuths got the goods on me. I could just see them going over my ledger, Slady.
"They won't be stuck on me after Saturday. That'll be the end of my glorious career." "What did you do?" Tom asked, after his customary fashion of construing talk literally. "Oh, I didn't exactly commit a murder," the other laughed, "but I fell down, Sla you don't mind my calling you Slady, do you?" "That's what most everybody calls me," Tom said, "except the troop I was in. They call me Tomasso."
Tom was a trifle nettled. "Well, are you willing to help me or not?" he asked. "Slady, I'm yours sincerely forever." "Well then, meet me under Asbestos' elm tree at quarter of eleven, and keep your mouth shut about it. We're going to see if we can find Anthony Harrington, Jr." "Tony is nickname for Anthony; you just said so in your song." "When my soul burst forth in gladness, hey?
Which was only too true. Thornton crossed one knee over the other and talked with more ease and assurance. "I met Barnard on the train coming east, Slady. He has red hair like mine, so I thought I'd sit down beside him; we harmonized." Tom could not repress a smile. "He told me in a letter that he had red hair," he observed. "Red as a Temple Camp sunset, Tommy old boy.
As long as they went up I thought I might as well let them show us the easy way." "You're a wonder, Slady!" "There are two sides to every mountain," Tom said. "Like every story, hey?" "You're a good scout only you don't use your brain enough. You use your hands and feet and your heart, I can't deny that." "The pleasure is mine," said Hervey. "We're going to sneak up the back way, hey?"
But I've been living one; that's worse. I'm so contemptible I it's putting anything over on you that's what makes me feel such a contemptible, low down sneak. That's what's got me. I don't care so much about the other part. It's you Slady " He put his hand on Tom's shoulder and looked at him with a kind of expectancy. And still Tom's gaze was fixed upon the camp below them.
"Same here, Slady; go to bed and get some sleep yourself." It was two or three o'clock in the morning before the sufferer did get to sleep, and he slept correspondingly late. Tom knew that the headache must have stolen off and he felt sure that his companion would awaken refreshed. "I'll be glad because then I won't have to get the doctor," he said to himself.
He was still partial to khaki trousers, and these were worn with a strange contraption for a belt; it was a kind of braided fiber of his own manufacture, the material of which was said to have been taken from a string tree. As he resumed his way through the woods he presently heard a cheery, but rather exhausted, voice behind him. "Have a heart, Slady, and wait a minute, will you?"
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