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 documents 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.