CHAPTER IV
TOM AND ROY
The letter from Mary Temple fell on Camp Solitaire like a thunderbolt. Camp Solitaire was the name which Roy had given his own cosy little tent on the Blakeley lawn, and here he and Tom were packing duffel bags and sharpening belt axes ready for their long tramp when the note from Grantley Square was scaled to them by the postman as he made a short cut across the lawn.
"What do you know about that?" said Roy, clearly annoyed. "We can't take him; he's too small. Who's going to take the responsibility? This is a team hike."
"You don't suppose he put the idea in her head, do you?" Tom asked.
"Oh, I don't know. You saw yourself how crazy he was about it."
"Pee-wee's all right," said Tom.
"Sure he's all right. He's the best little camp mascot that ever happened. But how are we going to take him along on this hike? And what's he going to do when he gets there?"
"He could help us on the troop cabin—getting it ready," Tom suggested.
Roy threw the letter aside in disgust. "That's a girl all over," he said, as he sulkily packed his duffel bag. "She doesn't think of what it means—she just wants it done, that's all, so she sends her what-d'you-call-it—edict. Pee-wee can't stand for a hundred and forty mile hike. We'd have to get a baby carriage!"