“Didn’t I start walking?” I said. “Dub and I are going to finish the way we began. Do you want to get the whole three of us in Dutch? You better put some more wood on if you want to dry your shoes.”
“I’ll get a chunk of wood,” Dub said. “You keep drying your shoes,” he said to Will.
“You don’t need a very big piece,” I called after him.
Dub went running up out of the hollow and away toward the shore. Will was holding his shoes close to the fire. I just sat there on a rock, waiting. Will didn’t say anything to me, and I didn’t say anything to him. I guess we waited about ten minutes. Then I called but I didn’t get any answer. I got up and walked up out of the hollow but I didn’t see Dub anywhere. So I went down to the shore. I could see the camp-fire burning away over at camp.
I kept calling Dub but he didn’t answer. It was so dark I took out my flash-light. Because as long as we had gone so far after wood, I thought maybe he remembered seeing a good piece near where I pulled the boat up. But I couldn’t even find the boat. All of a sudden I saw something white on a tree. It was a piece of paper. Then I knew that was just where the boat had been. The paper was held to the trunk by a long, thin switch from a tree that was tied around the trunk. I held my flash-light up to the paper and read it. After I read it I took it down and put it in my pocket, so you can tell that the way I write it out now is just the same as it was on that paper. This is what it said, because I’m copying it. It was all sprawly like.
Please you and Will Dawson hike around to camp and don’t be scrapping. When you get there you don’t need to say you saw me. Nobody knows who started out with you and what they don’t know won’t hurt them. Tell Will Dawson he better go ahead and get to be a Star Scout. I’d like to see Pee-wee at that corn-roast. Like you said he’ll eat two at once. It’s no matter if I get pinched for being out in the boat because I’m going home day after to-morrow anyway and I’ll only lose one day. You shout so much about badges and things, now see if you can be loyal to a Scout in your own patrol.
Dub Smedley.
P.S. You keep still about me, do you hear.
That’s just what he wrote. After I read it I looked out on the lake but I couldn’t see anything and I couldn’t even hear a sound—not even the oar-locks clinking. I shouted, “Dub.” But there wasn’t any answer. I didn’t shout again because I knew he must have heard me. I was afraid they might hear my voice, far away like, over at camp. So I just stood there on the shore trying to see out on the lake. I couldn’t even hear an oar dipping, I thought he must be pretty far out.
I guess he was sculling, because you can hear oar-locks even far off on the water. There was a little kind of a narrow bright path on the water, made by the camp-fire across the lake. Way over there it was wide, but past the middle of the lake, over toward the side where I was, it was just kind of like a bright line—all used up, sort of. I saw something black go across that and I called out again.
But there wasn’t any answer. It was good and dark around there.
[1.] Slady. Nickname for Tom Slade, the young camp assistant and leader of camp activities.