“You leave it to me.”
“And you’ll go right straight back and report to your scoutmaster or camp manager or whatever he is? To the right one?”
“Suuuuure.”
“All right, so long. And you’re dead sure you stamped the fire out? Fires are bad things, you know. Some day I’ll show you how to roast potatoes on a stick—you need a wire.”
“I bet you’re a trapper, I bet.”
“So long, you little rascal. You don’t need any H-E-L-P.”
Tom watched him as he trudged along the dark trail, then retraced his steps to the cabin, staggering in with a theatrical show of weariness. “Guess we’ll call it a day, huh?” he said. “I’m about all in.”
“Did you look in the Ford while you were up that way?”
“I did not.”
“Some kid, huh?”