“One thing I’m glad of,” Westy said, “and that is that somebody else gets the money; let them have all the credit, too. We had our fun while it lasted,” he added wistfully. “And I’m glad Warde didn’t count that trip for his first class badge. I’m glad we don’t have anything to do with the bad side of it. It seems now just as if a friend had died, that’s all.”
“I kind of hope he does die,” Grove Bronson said.
“Just after being a hero,” Connie added.
This was too much for Roy. It brought poor Blythe’s heroism and his own rescue home to him with vivid force, his eyes filled and everything about the old familiar scene glistened.
“Come on, let’s get ready,” he finally said. “Let’s get away from here.”
They could not share Pee-wee’s staunch conviction; they doubted whether Pee-wee really did agree with himself in this matter. But they admired him none the less for that.
Disconsolately they set about clearing up and gathering their belongings. It seemed strange that one so quiet and unobtrusive as poor Blythe could be so keenly missed. Now that he was gone they could see nothing but pathetic reminders of him, the old grocery box he sat on at camp-fire, the box in which he put old nails; above all, the windmill where he had suffered that inexplicable brainstorm in the night. As for Roy, who owed his life to their strange friend, he could not regain any measure of his former spirits, nor even put a brave front to the disappointment as the others did. He limped about, silent and crestfallen.
In the mid-afternoon they started on their hike back to Bridgeboro, a cheerless group. Before going out between the old gateposts they turned for a last glimpse of the scene of their pleasant camping and working adventure. Only a few uprights of one shack remained. The accident had done the work of a day in ten seconds. There was the charred area where their mighty fire had been. And further off was the gaunt tower of the windmill, its big fan revolving slowly, the only remaining thing suggestive of life in the desolated camp.
“I suppose we could get the money for our work, maybe,” Westy said.
“We don’t want any money,” said Hunt Ward of the Elks. “All I want is to get back to our old car down by the river. We don’t want any rewards and we don’t want any pay and we don’t want any merits or rank badges or anything on account of being here.”