Tom understood, and he did not contest the point. He pressed the Doctor's hand and said:
"Well, then, let me have two dollars, please?"
"Make it five," said the Doctor.
"No," answered Tom. "Two dollars will be quite enough. Somebody in the mountains might murder me for five dollars. And, besides, nobody up there could change the bill. So, if you will let me have two one dollar bills I shall be grateful."
"What are you going to do, Tom? Nothing rash, I hope."
"I don't know yet what I'm going to do," answered Tom. "And please don't say anything to the other boys about it. I'll be gone from here when they get up in the morning. Maybe I'll bring back some game. You see that bear won't last very long with six hearty men eating three meals a day off it, with no other food to help fill up."
The Doctor saw that Tom did not want to talk of his plans—it was always Tom's way to keep such things to himself—and so he asked no more questions, but went to the doorway for light, selected two one dollar bills, and returning, placed them in Tom's hand. Then Tom said:
"Now, Doctor, you fellows are not to worry about me if I don't turn up when you expect me. I shall probably be away from camp for several days—may be a week, or possibly even more than that. Don't worry, in any case. Remember that I know how to take care of myself."
The Doctor promised, but it was with much of apprehension in his mind. He saw that Tom was looking forward to his projected expedition with a good deal less of confident hope than he usually manifested on such occasions, and he gravely feared that the boy was planning to take some serious, if not even desperate, risk. He knew that Tom was daring to a fault, and that when he had formed a purpose he pursued it to its ultimate accomplishment or failure, with no regard whatever to the risks run, except that prudent forethought and circumspection which might enable him to avoid threatened evils.