He paused at the Elks cabin, the cabin of his own patrol, where most of the members of his troop were gathered. One or two made way for him in the doorway, but did not speak. Roy Blakeley was sitting on the edge of Dory's couch.
"Roy," said Tom, still hesitating in the doorway of his own patrol cabin, "can I speak to you a minute?"
Roy came out and silently followed Tom to a point out of hearing of the others.
"I—I don't care so much what the others think," said Tom. "If they want to think I'm a coward, all right. But I want to tell you how it was so you won't think so."
"Oh, you needn't mind about me," said Roy.
"You and Garry—I——"
"I guess he knows what to think, too," said Roy, coldly. "I guess he has his opinion of the First Bridgeboro Troop's courage."
"That's why I care most," said Tom, "on account of disgrace for one being disgrace for all—and honor, too. But there's something——"
"Well, you should have thought of that," Roy interrupted impetuously, "when you stood there and let a strange fellow rescue one of your own patrol. You practically asked him to do it—everybody saw."
"There's something——"