“Chief, I—I want to tell you something.”
“Go ahead, Blackie.” The Chief’s face betrayed nothing of what he might be thinking. “They say that confession is good for the soul.”
“I lied to you the other night. I was with Gallegher when he broke the camp rule against smoking, and I smoked too. I’m sorry I lied, and I’m willing to take my punishment.”
“You know what that means?”
“Yes, sir.”
“All right. You can go now.”
The Chief nodded that the affair was ended for the present, and Blackie left the little office. He had done it. A great load was lifted from his heart; he had confessed like a man, and things were understood between the Chief and himself. However painful might be the outcome, at least he had cleared away the black stain on his conscience.
A busy crew of stage-hands was arranging the lodge in the semblance of a theater, for that night was to be given the musical show, “Coo-Coo,” in which Sax McNulty and an imposing troupe of camp talent were to perform for the amusement of the campers, a few visitors from the city, and some neighboring farmers. As Blackie passed out to the porch, it was just growing dusk. From the lake he could hear laughter and shouts of gaiety; in spite of the afternoon’s defeat it was to be a night of merriment. Chinese lanterns gleamed from the dock, which was crowded with campers dressed in masquerade regalia; boat-loads of boys in costumes ranging from African wild-man to pirate were rowing about amidst song and fun-making, watching a canoe-tilting contest, at the end of which one crew or another would be pushed over with a long bamboo pole and precipitated into the water. Blackie turned away and headed for the hospital tent. There was little happiness in his heart, and he did not wish to be reminded of the gaiety of others.
Ken Haviland was sitting up in bed when he arrived, and invited him in with a voice that showed he had quite recovered from the mishap of the swimming race. “Sit down here on the bed, Blackie,” he said. “The Doc filled me up with hot water and ginger, and I’m as well as ever, only he won’t let me get up. It’s too bad, because I feel fine, and don’t want to miss the big show.”
“That’s great, Ken.”