Tom Slade at Temple Camp

by Percy Keese Fitzhugh

"We're here," called Garry.

"Hurt? Did you jump—both of you?"

"Three, the kid and I and Tom Slade."

"Tom Slade? How did he get here?"

"Came up through the woods and brought us a rope. We're all right, but he's played out. Got a stretcher?"

"Sure."

They came up, swinging their lanterns, to where Tom lay on the ground with Garry's jacket folded under his head for a pillow, and they listened soberly to Garry's simple tale of the strange, shrouded apparition that had emerged from the flames with the precious life line coiled about its neck.

It was hard to believe, but there were the cold facts, and they could only stand about, silent and aghast at what they heard.

"We missed him," said one scout.

"Is the camp saved?" asked Garry.