"He just blurts everything out," I said, "that's all."
"Well, he mustn't," Mr. Ellsworth laughed, "especially when he's out on the lake. His tirade to-day, after the rescue, sounded very strange. The boys are not used to hearing talk about picking pockets and stealing silverware. They don't understand it."
"I should worry about them," I said; "Skinny's just a kind of a freak. Look at the way he wanted to go away and be alone by himself. Doesn't that prove it?"
"Well," Mr. Ellsworth said, "it will be more to the point if he comes back all right."
"It would be more to the point if the Elks were out hunting for him," I said. You can bet I wasn't afraid to say it—to Mr. Ellsworth or anybody else.
"I think we'll have to organize a search if he doesn't show up soon,"
Mr. Ellsworth said. Then neither of us said anything for a few seconds.
"How about the camping fellow?" I asked him.
"They took him home in a skiff," Mr. Ellsworth said; "he wanted to go, so three of the boys rowed him across after the weather cleared."
"I don't see how Skinny held him up—I just don't," I told Mr.
Ellsworth.
Mr. Ellsworth said, "No, it was marvelous any way you look at it. I think Skinny nearly broke the poor fellow's jaw. There is wonderful power in frantic desperation."