Tom smiled a little, but said nothing.
"Oh, well, if that's the way you feel," said Roy, pulling the cord of his duffel bag so tight that it snapped, "you and Pee-wee had better go and I'll back out."
"It ain't the way I feel," said Tom, in his slow way. "I'd rather go alone with you. Didn't I say so? I guess Pee-wee thinks he's stronger than he is. I think he'd better be at home too and I'd rather he'd stay home, though it's mostly just because I want to be alone with you. Maybe it's selfish, but if it is I can't help it. I think sometimes a feller might do something selfish and make up for it some other way—maybe. But I don't think any feller's got a right to do something selfish and then call it a good turn. I don't believe a long hike would hurt Pee-wee. He's the best scout-pacer in your patrol. But I want to go alone with you and I'd just as soon tell Mary so. I suppose it would be selfish, but we'd just try to make up——"
"Oh, shut up, will you!" snapped Roy. "You get on my nerves, dragging along with your theories and things. I don't care who goes or if anybody goes. And you can go home and sleep for all I care."
"All right," said Tom, rising. "I'd rather do that than stay here and fight. I don't see any use talking about whether it's a good turn to Pee-wee." (Roy ostentatiously busied himself with his packing and pretended not to hear.) "I wasn't thinking about Pee-wee so much anyway. It's Mary Temple that I was thinking of. It would be a good turn to her, you can't deny that. Pee-wee Harris has got nothing to do with it—it's between you and me and Mary Temple."
"You going home?" Roy asked, coldly.
"Yes."
"Well, you and Pee-wee and Mary Temple can fix it up. I'm out of it."
He took a pad and began to write, while Tom lingered in the doorway of the tent, stolid, as he always was.
"Wait and mail this for me, will you," said Roy. He wrote: