“The Raven patrol attends to the cooking from to-day until the 10th inclusive. Not more than two members to leave camp at one time for longer than an hour. No sentry duty. Collins relieved of all patrol duties because of troop duty.” (Collins was “First Aid” boy.) “The Hyena Patrol canoes to the Lake this afternoon for fishing. Elephant Patrol to accompany them for outing and assistance.” (Smiles from the Raven Patrol.) “Meals as usual. Camp-fire yarns to-night. Blake to go into the village for mail and errands; must have commissions and letters before eleven o’clock. Patrol leaders in conference with scoutmaster at 10:30. No leaves of absence for this evening.”
He thrust the papers into his pocket and took up his book. The brief record of Walter Lee’s return, with the circumstances, was read. Gordon’s name was mentioned without comment or compliment. The troop listened attentively.
“The suspicions of robbery were entertained,” Earle read, “because of a footprint and other signs near the chasm. The visit of two country boys to camp a few days ago and the conversation they heard about Walter’s visiting home to get money for a canoe were regarded with some suspicion. It was thought that the fugitive might have taken the road under the hill, and as the friend and scout partner of Gordon Lord was supposed to be waiting for him on the road under Dibble Mountain, a Morse signal message was sent up telling Lord’s whereabouts and asking him to watch the road. But the fugitive, it appears, did not take the road.”
At this sentence the boys started, and a stir of surprise passed round the board. Even the quiet Al Wilson looked inquiringly at Mr. Wade. Gordon wrestled valiantly with his scout smile, and looked straight before him.
“At ten minutes after two this morning,” the reader continued, “a scout, Harry Arnold by name, leader of the Beaver Patrol, 1st Oakwood, N. J., Troop, brought to camp and delivered to Mr. E. C. Wade, Scoutmaster, a wallet containing two letters and forty dollars belonging to Walter Lee.”
Murmurs of astonishment followed this announcement. Gordon’s eyes were riveted upon a distant tree.
“The full details of how he received and read the Morse message, made sure that no one had gone along the road, traced the robber by means of finger prints on the flooring of a bridge, and followed his trail over hard land by the print of a nail embedded in his shoe; how he came upon the thief in the very act of hiding his booty near his home, took it from him and brought it here; these details belong to the history of the 1st Oakwood Troop, Oakwood, N. J., and will constitute a glorious page in that troop’s annals.”
Gordon, still looking straight before him, had conquered his scout smile; yet he was not wholly victorious, for instead his eyes were brimming over.
“Where is he? Where is he, anyway?” shouted several boys, jumping up. Cattell rose, knocking over a cup, stumbled round the board, and clapped Gordon on the shoulder. “Where is he?” he shouted. “Let’s have a look at him.” Al Wilson came around and placed his arm over Gordon’s shoulder, smiling, saying nothing. Some one suggested the tepee, and it was not till a roystering, shouting group had started in that direction that Gordon got himself under control. They did not wait for him. They had forgotten him. But Harry Arnold, his chum, his friend, his idol, had made good, as he always made good, and they were going to honor him. This was joy enough for Gordon. Then, realizing what they were bent on doing, he rushed pell-mell in pursuit, and coming between them and the closed tepee, spread out his arms.
“You can’t go in, fellows,” he panted. “He’s asleep and Mr. Wade doesn’t want him waked up. He’s awfully tired—honest, he is!” Then, as they paused, he said, as if on second thought, and so as not to make their disappointment too heavy, “But if you come quiet, you can peek in and take a look at him if you want to.”