Tom Slade on the River Part 13

"Yes. He says Tom's got a little vein of the dime novel in him-'Back From Death' or the 'Mystery of the Busted Dory' as Roy says. He calls Tom Sherlock n.o.body Holmes."

"I guess n.o.body understands Tom Slade very well," said Garry.

"I suppose maybe that's just the reason the troop makes such a lot of him. If you played-if somebody played a mean trick on-on-Doc Carson, for instance, the fellows wouldn't be so sore about it. But when you put one over on Tom you hit them all."

"Do you think I play mean tricks?" queried Garry, beginning to carve a willow stick.

"I didn't say that. But you can see Tom is a favorite and anybody with two squinters in his head, surely any scout, can see why. He came out of the slums and he's poor and in some ways he's different from these fellows. They're all rich fellows and pretty well educated-you know what I mean. They made him a scout, and they're always on the watch for fear he'll see some difference. They're proud of him because he's made good and they're going to see to it that the scouts make good. They want him to have all that's coming to him just because he hasn't got some things that they've got-you understand, don't you?"

"I think I come pretty near knowing what it is to be poor," said Garry, whittling.

"Well, these fellows here have been pretty decent to you, too, first and last, haven't they?"

"Do you think I don't know that?"

"Do you know what I think?" said Arnold, after a pause.

"What?"

"Every fellow has some kind of a bug. Pee-wee's bug is good turns. Doc Carson's bug is first-aid-honest, I believe that fellow'd give you a black eye just for the fun of putting a bandage on it--"

Garry laughed.

"_I'm_ Gordon's bug. Tom's bug is that poor fellow that's been dead two years-and they kid the life out of him about it."

"Do they?"

"Sure; and your bug is--"

"Break it to me gently."

"Your bug is Raymond Hollister."

"He's getting to be a strong, healthy bug, don't you think?"

"I think that's just the reason you copped this new fellow, Jeffrey. You wanted to please Raymond. And you let them both think that you're a patrol--"

Garry smiled.

"I think maybe the fact that Jeffrey lives near you--"

"It isn't so near."

"Well, anyway, I think maybe that has something to do with it. But I'm going to pa.s.s you some straight talk, Everson, and I don't want you to get mad. You know, Slade is crazy about his patrol and by all the rules of the game this fellow belongs with him. He's nutty about his patrol, whereas you haven't really any patrol at all."

"Do you think I don't know that?"

"Well, then, why not let Tom have him?"

"Jeffrey isn't a slave."

"I know, but he'll do anything you tell him is best for him."

"Well, I think it's best for him to stay right here where he is."

Arnold rose angrily. Garry went on whittling.

"These fellows are beginning to see you in your true light, I'm afraid,"

said Arnold. "I thought maybe they were mistaken but I guess they're not.

They're saying now that you did Tom Slade out of the Silver Cross last year."

"Does Tom say that?"

"The rest of them do. Well, I don't see as I can do much good staying here and talking. What I came to ask you was if you didn't think it would be a bully idea to turn Jeffrey over to the Elks on Sat.u.r.day-as a birthday present to the patrol." Arnold waited a moment hoping Garry would make some reply. "Tom found him-he plowed up through that mess-Jeb calls it nature tied in a knot-it was his idea and it was his job-and it's about all he could be expected to do."

"He may have more to do."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing in particular."

"Well," concluded Arnold, "it's just a case of rendering unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's. What do you say?"

"What do you mean?"

"Will you fix it up with Jeffrey Waring to join the Elks?"

"No, I won't," said Garry.

Arnold looked steadily at him for a moment, then turned on his heel and strode away.

CHAPTER IX A NEW KIND OF FIRST AID

Garry sat outside the little makeshift shack which he and Jeffrey and Raymond occupied, and whittled as Arnold strode along the beaten path toward the main body of camp. He was still whittling when Raymond and Jeff returned from the sh.o.r.e, their arms laden with willow branches.

"Kiddo," he said to Raymond, "suppose you get me that other shirt of yours and I'll sew up that tear. I've got to fix my own, too. We're not very strong on clothes, are we?"

"I'll buy us all clothes," put in Jeffrey. "When I get my own scout suit I'll get new ones for you and Raymond-I'll have thousands of dollars."

"All right," laughed Garry. "You put some water boiling now, while Raymond peels the potatoes, so we can have grub. Then come over here and talk to me while I do the family mending."

Raymond busied himself with preparations for supper and Jeffrey sat down on the ground close to Garry.

"I'm glad we're here by ourselves, aren't you?" he said, "and I'm going to give you two thousand dollars for letting me be in your cla.s.s."