CHAPTER x.x.xI

ARCHER

When these two troops reached camp they found the tall scout Archer waiting for them. How much he knew or suspected it would be difficult to surmise.

"Uncle Jeb told me I might show you up to the hill," he said. "Some of you fellows came from Ohio, I understand. You're all to bunk up on the hill."

"I guess that's a mistake," Roy said.

"No, I think Uncle Jeb has things down about pat," Archer said in his easy off-hand manner. "The old man's pretty busy himself and so he told me to be your guide, philosopher and friend, as old somebody-or-other said."

The two troops followed as he led the way, the Bridgeboro boys glancing fondly at the familiar sights all about them.

"There's where we'll put up our tent," one of them said, pointing at the area which was already crowded with the canvas domiciles. The place did not look so attractive as Roy and his companions had tried to picture it in their mind's eyes. They had never envied the scouts who had been compelled to make their camp homes there. It seemed so much like a military encampment, so close and stuffy and temporary, and unlike the free and remote abode that they were used to. They all of them tried not to think of it in this way, and Roy was in no mood to cherish any resentment against Tom now.

"It's near the cooking shack anyway, that's one good thing," Peewee observed.

"Listen to the human famine," Connie Bennett said. "Peewee ought to be ashamed to look Hoover in the face."

Roy said nothing. There was one he would be ashamed to look in the face anyway.

When they reached the hill, he was the first to pause in amazement.

"What do you call this?" Connie asked in utter astonishment.

There stood the six cabins, the new ones bright and fresh in the afternoon sun.

"I--I don't understand it," Roy said, almost speechless with surprise.

Archer sat down upon a rock and beckoned Roy to him. "There isn't much to tell you," he said. "A fellow from your town has been up here building these three cabins, that's all. We fellows down at camp called him Daniel Boone, but I believe his name is Slade. He's been a kind of a mystery up here for some time. The cabins are for you and your troop, there's no mistake about that; Uncle Jeb knows all about it. You can see him later if you want to; there's no use bothering him now. I just want to say a word to you there isn't much time to spare. Uncle Jeb tried to make that fellow stay, but he wouldn't. I don't know anything about his business, or yours. I'm just going to tell you one thing. That fellow started away a little while ago, lame and without any money to hike home to the town where he lives. It's none of _my_ business; I'm just telling you what I know. I've banged around this country a little since I came up--I'm a kind of a tramp--I have an idea he's. .h.i.t into the road for Kingston. There's a short cut through the woods which comes out on that road about six or seven miles down. You could save--let's see--oh, about three miles and--oh, yes, Uncle Jeb told me to say you can have lunch any time you want it. I suppose you're all hungry."

Not another word did Archer say--just left abruptly and, amid the enthusiastic inspection and glowing comments of his companions of both troops, Roy saw, through glistening eyes, this new acquaintance strolling down the hill, hitting the wildflowers to the right, and left with a stick which he carried.

There was no telling how much he knew or what he suspected. He was a queer, mysterious sort of fellow....

[Ill.u.s.tration: ROY BLAKELEY HELD OUT HIS ARMS SO THAT TOM COULD NOT Pa.s.s.

Tom Slade at Black Lake--Page 199]

CHAPTER x.x.xII

TOM LOSES

"_Me for lunch! Me for lunch!_" Roy heard Peewee scream at the top of his voice. And for just a moment he stood there in a kind of daze, watching his companions and new friends tumbling pell mell over each other down the hill. He was glad to be alone.

Yet even still he paused and gazed at the task, which Tom Slade, traitor and liar, had completed. There it was, a herculanean task, the work of months, as it seemed to Roy. He could hardly control his feelings as he gazed upon it.

But he did not pause to torture himself with remorse. Down through the woods he went, and into the trail which Archer had indicated. Scout though he was, he was never less hungry in his life. Over fields he went, and through the brook, and up Hawk's Nest mountain, and into the denser woods beyond. Suppose Archer should be mistaken. Suppose this dim trail should take him nowhere. Panting, he ran on, trying to conquer this haunting fear. Beyond Leeds Crossing the trail was hardly distinguishable and he must pause and lose time to pick it up here and there. Through woods, and around hills, and into dense, almost impenetrable thickets he labored on, his side aching, and his heart thumping like a triphammer.

At last he came out upon the Kingston road and was down on his knees, examining minutely every mark in the dusty road, trying to determine whether Tom had pa.s.sed. Then he sat down by the roadside and waited, panting like a dog. And so the minutes pa.s.sed, and became an hour and----

Then he heard someone coming around the bend.

Roy gulped in suspense as he waited. One second, two seconds, three, four--Would the pedestrian never appear?

And then they met, and Roy Blakeley stood out in the middle of the road and held his arms out so the wayfarer could not pa.s.s. And yet he could not speak.

"Tom," he finally managed to say, "I--I came alone because--because I wanted to come alone. I wanted to meet you all alone. I--I know all about it, Tom--I do. None of the fellows will bunk in these cabins till you--till you--come back--they won't. Not even Barnard's troop. I'm sorry, Tom; I see how I was all wrong. You--you can't get away with it, you can't Tom--because I won't let you--see? You have to come back--we--we can't stay there without you----"

"I told you you wouldn't lose anything," Tom said dully.

"Yes, and it's a--it's a _lie_," Roy almost sobbed. "We're losing _you_, aren't we? We're losing everything--and it's all _my_ fault. You--you said we wouldn't lose anything, but we _are_. Can't you see we are?

You've got to come back, Tom--or I'm going home with you--you old--you old brick! Barnard wants you, we _all_ want you. We haven't got any scoutmaster if you don't come back--we haven't."

Tom Slade who had chopped down trees and dragged them up the hill, found it hard to answer.

"I'll go back," he finally said, "as long as you ask me."

And so, in that pleasant afternoon, they followed the trail back to camp together, just as they had hiked together so many times before. And they talked of Peewee and the troop and joked about there not being anything left to eat when they got there, and Roy said what a fine fellow Barnard was, and Tom Slade said how he always liked fellows with red hair. He said he thought you could trust them....

Let us hope he was right.

THE TOM SLADE BOOKS

By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH

Author of the ROY BLAKELEY BOOKS

The Tom Slade books have the official endors.e.m.e.nt and recommendation of THE BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA. In vivid story form they tell of Boy Scout ways, and how they help a fellow grow into a manhood of which America may be proud.

Tom Slade, Boy Scout

Tom Slade lived in Barrel Alley. The story of his thrilling Scout experiences, how he was gradually changed from the street gangster into a First Cla.s.s Scout, is told in almost as moving and stirring a way as the same narrative related in motion pictures.

Tom Slade at Temple Camp