Tom Slade at Black Lake Part 16

"Right-o; your troop had better look out for that bunch--excuse me, _troop_. Right? I'm learning, hey? I'll be a good scout when I get out of jail," he added soberly. "Never mind; listen. Barnard thinks you're the only scout outside of Dansburg, Ohio. He told me how he was coming here to give you a little surprise call before the season opened and the kids--guys--scouts, right-o, began coming. Tom," he added seriously, "by the time we got to Columbus, I knew as much about Temple Camp and you, as _he_ did. He didn't know so much about _you_ either, if it comes to that. But I found out that you were pretty nearly all alone here.

"Then he got a wire, Tom; I think it was in Columbus. A brakeman came through the train with a message, calling his name. Oh, boy, but he was piffed! 'Got to go home,' he said. That's all there was to it, Tom.

Business before pleasure, hey? Poor fellow, I felt sorry for him. He found out he could get a train back in about an hour.

"Tommy, listen here. It wasn't until my train started and I looked back and waved to him out of the window, that this low down game I've put over on you occurred to me. 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.

"Well, I looked out of the car window and there stood Barnard, and the sun was just going down, Tommy, just like you and I have watched it do night after night up here, and that red hair of his was just shining in the light. 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. Wouldn't a place like that be better than New York? Maybe you'll say I took a long chance--reckless. That's the way it is with red hair, Slady. I took a chance on you being easy and it worked out, that's all. Or rather, I mean it _didn't_, for I feel like a murderer, and it's all on account of you, Slady.

"I didn't know what to do, I didn't know where to go; I just wanted to get away from home before the game was up and they nabbed me. It's no fun being pinched, Tom. I thought I might make the visit that this friend of yours was going to make, and hang around here where it's quiet and lonesome, till it was time for him to come. I guess that's about as far as my plans carried. It was a crazy idea, I see that well enough now. But I was rattled--I was just rattled, that's all. I thought that when the time came that I'd have to leave here, maybe I could tramp up north further and change my name again and get a job on some farm or other, till I could earn a little and make good. What I didn't figure on was the kind of a fellow I was going to meet. I--I----" he stammered, trying to control himself in a burst of feeling and clutching Tom's knee, "I--I didn't put it over on you, Tom; maybe it seems that way to you--but--but I didn't. It's you that win, old man--can't you see? It's _you_ that win. You've put it all over _me_ and rubbed it in, and--and--instead of getting away with anything--like I thought--I'll just beat it away from here feeling like a bigger sneak than I ever thought I was. I've--I've seen something here--I have. I thought some of these trees were made of pretty good stuff, but you've got them beat, Slady. I thought I was a wise guy to dig into this forsaken retreat and slip the bandage over your eyes, but--but the laugh is on me, Slady, don't--don't you see?" he smiled, his eyes glistening and his hand trembling on Tom's knee. "You've put it all over me, you old hickory-nut, and I've told you the whole business, and you've got me in your power, see?"

Tom Slade looked straight ahead of him and said never a word.

"It's--it's a knockout, Slady, and you win. You can go down and tell old Uncle Jeb the whole business," he fairly sobbed, "I won't stop you. I'm sick and discouraged--I might as well take my medicine--I'm--I'm sick of the whole thing--you win--Slady. I'll wait here--I--I won't fool you again--not once again, by thunder, I won't! Go on down and tell him a thief has been bunking up here with you--go on--I'll wait."

There was just a moment of silence, and in that moment, strangely enough, a merry laugh arose in the camp below.

"You needn't tell me what to do," said Tom, "because I _know_ what to do. There's n.o.body in this world can tell me what to do. Mr. Burton, he wanted to write to those fellows and fix it. But I knew what to do. Do you call me a quitter? You see these cabins, don't you? Do you think _you_ can tell me what to do?"

"Go and send a wire to Broadvale and tell 'em that you've got me,"

Thornton said with a kind of bitter resignation; "I heard that scouts are good at finding missing people--fugitives. You--you _have got_ me, Tommy, but in a different way than you think. You got me that first night. Go ahead. But--but listen here. I _can't_ let them take me to-day, my head is spinning like a buzz-saw, Tommy--I can't, I can't, I _can't_!

It's the cut in my head. All this starts it aching again--it just----"

He lowered his head until his wounded forehead rested on Tom's lap.

"I'm--I'm just--beaten," he sobbed. "Let me stay here to-day, to-night--don't say anything yet--let me stay just this one day more with you and to-morrow I'll be better and you can go down and tell. I won't run away--don't you believe me? I'll take what's coming to me.

Only wait--my head is all buzzing again now--just wait till to-morrow.

Let me stay here to-day, old man ..."

Tom Slade lifted the head from his lap and arose. "You can't stay here to-night," he said; "you can't stay even to-day. You can't stay an hour.

n.o.body can tell me what I ought to do. You can't stay here ten minutes.

If you tried to get away I'd trail you, I'd catch you. You stay where you are till I get back."

CHAPTER XXVIII

RED THORNTON LEARNS SOMETHING ABOUT SCOUTS

And strange to say Red Thornton did stay just where he was. Perhaps, seeing that Tom limped as he went down the hill, the fugitive entertained a momentary thought of flight. If so, he abandoned it, perhaps in fear, more likely in honor. Who shall say? His agitation had caused his head to begin aching furiously again, and he was a pitiful figure as he sat there upon the doorsill, in a kind of desperate resignation, resting his forehead in his two hands, and occasionally looking along the path down the hill at Tom as he limped in and out among the trees, following the beaten trail. It had never occurred to him before, how lame Tom was, as the result of his injuries and excessive labors. And he marvelled at the simple confidence which would leave him thus free to escape, if he cared to. Perhaps Tom could have tracked and caught him, perhaps not. But at all events Tom had beaten him with character and that was enough. He had him and Thornton knew and confessed it. It _was_ curious how it worked out, when you come to think of it.

Anyway, Thornton had given up all his fine plans and was ready to be arrested. He would tell the authorities that it was not on account of them that he gave himself up, but on account of Tom. Tom should have all the credit, as he deserved. He could hardly realize now that he had deliberately confessed to Tom. And having done so, he realized that Tom, being a good citizen, believing in the law and all that sort of thing, could not do otherwise than hand him over. What in the world else could Tom Slade do? Say to him, "You stole money; go ahead and escape; I'm with you?" Hardly.

There was a minute in Red Thornton's life when he came near making matters worse with a terrible blunder. After about fifteen or twenty minutes of waiting, he arose and stepped over to the gully and considered making a dash through the woods and striking into the road.

Perhaps he would have done this; I cannot say. But happening just at that moment to glance down the hill in the opposite direction, he was astonished at seeing Tom plodding up the hill again quite alone. Neither Uncle Jeb nor any of those formidable scoutmasters or trustees were anywhere near him. Not so much as an uproarious, aggressive tenderfoot was at his heels. No constables, no deputy sheriffs, no one.

And then, just in that fleeting, perilous moment, Red Thornton knew Tom Slade and he knew that this was their business and no one else's. He came near to making an awful botch of things. He was breathing heavily when Tom spoke to him.

"What are those fellows you were speaking about? Pen and ink sleuths?"

Tom asked. "They come to Temple Camp office, sometimes."

"That's them," Thornton said.

"When did you say they come?"

"Next Monday, first Monday in August. What's the difference? The sooner the better," Thornton said.

"Was it just an even hundred that you took, when you forgot about what you were doing, sort of?" Tom asked.

"A hundred and three."

"Then will twenty-three dollars be enough to get back to that place where you live?"

"Why?"

"I'm just asking you."

"It's twenty-one forty."

"That means you'll have a dollar sixty for meals," Tom said, "unless you have some of your own. Have you?"

Thornton seemed rather puzzled, but he jingled some coin in his pocket and pulled out a five dollar bill and some change.

"Then it's all right," Tom said, "'cause if I asked anybody for money I might have to tell them why. Here's two Liberty Bonds," he said, placing his precious, and much creased doc.u.ments in Thornton's hand. "You can get them cashed in New York. You have to start this morning so as to catch the eleven twenty train. I guess you'll get home to-morrow night maybe, hey? You have to give them their money before those fellows get there. You got to tell them how you made a mistake. Maybe if you don't have quite enough you'll be able to get a little bit more. This is because you helped me and on account of our being friends."

Thornton looked down into his hand and saw, through glistening eyes, the two dilapidated bonds, and a couple of crumpled ten-dollar bills and some odds and ends of smaller bills and currency. They represented the sumptuous fortune of Lucky Luke, alias Tom Slade.

"And I thought you were going to ..." Thornton began; "Slady, I can't do this; it's all you've got."

"It's no good to me," Tom said. "Anyway, you got to go back and get there before those fellows do. Then you can fix it."

Thornton hesitated, then shook his head. Then he went over and sat on the sill where they had talked before. "I can't do it, Tom," he said finally; "I just can't. Here, take it. This is my affair, not yours."

"You said we were good friends up here," Tom said; "it's nothing to let a friend help you. I can see you're smart, and some day you'll make a lot of money and you'll pay me back. But anyway, I don't care about that. I only bought them so as to help the government. If they'd let me help them, I don't see why _you_ shouldn't."

Thornton, still holding the money in his hand looked up and smiled, half willingly, at his singular argument.

"How about the motor-boat--and the girl?" he asked wistfully.

"You needn't worry about that," Tom said simply, "maybe she wouldn't go anyway."

And perhaps she wouldn't have. It would have been just his luck.

CHAPTER XXIX