“And which is the one who tried to rescue the other?” would be another query as the visitor gazed about.
“You’re not supposed to ask that,” Tom would laugh.
“But it must be known,” a girl was almost sure to ask.
“Oh, it’s known,” Tom would say. “Danny, that one on the left, he was the boy. But they were friends, that’s the point, hey, Pete?” he would inquire of the squirrel.
“It isn’t true that the place is haunted, is it?” was another question. “That colored cook you have says their ghosts come here in the dead of night.”
“Chocolate Drop?” Tom would smile. “Oh, you’re likely to hear all sorts of things from him.”
On the way back through the woods, Tom would usually be more communicative. “You know scouts have to do good turns, don’t you? Well, if any scout does six good turns, big ones, that are passed on by the trustees, he can live there for the rest of the summer and invite one other boy to spend the summer there with him. See? Provisions for two are sent up from cooking shack—the kids have no expenses. You see it’s a memorial of one great big good turn that didn’t work out, and of the friendship those two fellows had for each other.
“Let’s see, this summer it wasn’t occupied at all. Last summer a scout from Boston was up there and he invited a poor little shaver from his home town to share it with him. They lived on beans, those two. Did their own cooking mostly. Summer before that, let’s see—nobody. You see a scout has got to put over six big ones, then after that he’s got to be a friend to one particular fellow. He has to be host. Pretty good idea, huh? Private cabin, stationery, all primeval inconveniences, and everybody coming up with kodaks to take their pictures.”
“Oh, I should think it would be bliss living there,” one girl remarked after a visit to the hallowed spot, “and the idea of two’s a company, I think that’s just wonderful.”
“That’s the idea,” said Tom as they followed the trail down.