“I’m glad you admit it’s a fool enterprise,” I said. “Brent was afraid you’d want to go fishing for it yourself.”
“All I’m interested in is fixing Arnoldson,” Hervey said. “I’ll make him look like two cents before I go. Come on, Sandwich, if you’re going.”
I said, “What are you going to do, Herve?”
“I’m going to swim over there,” he said. “If it’s that dancing monkey out there, he’s coming back here to admit he answered the ’phone. I don’t care anything about his sneaking into Administration Shack or anything else, that’s his business. But he’s coming back here to say he answered that ’phone call. Or else he’s going to the bottom of the lake. That’s me.”
He started sliding off the board, but I held him back. I said, “Hervey, you’re crazy, you’re not going to swim over there.”
“The boats are locked,” he said.
“Well,” I said, “I’ve got the key for them.” Gee, I never felt more sorry for Hervey than I did then. Because all the scouts at camp had keys for the boats. They were only kept locked at night on account of strange fellows coming there and using them for eel bobbing. It seemed that Hervey was the only fellow that didn’t have a key.
I said, “Hervey, I can’t swim that far, even if you and Sandwich can. But I’m going with you, so you’ll have to use a boat; remember you’ve got a punk scout with you, Herve. You have to make allowance for me. Will you wait just a minute?”
I groped my way back to my patrol cabin and got a padlock key out of my duffel bag. Hervey was still waiting, swinging his legs from the board. Sandwich was right close beside him.
“Come on,” I said, “we’ll row over. If he’s there we’ll find him and if he’s the one why then he’ll sit out the next dance and have a free ride back to camp; that ought to appeal to him.”