“I want to see Mr. Temple—you tell him,” he added, turning suddenly upon Mary, almost with an air of command. “I did something for you—once.”
The girl was sobbing and seemed to hesitate as if not knowing whether to say something to Tom or to do his bidding. “Yes, I’ll get him,” she said.
It was not the scout fashion to order a young girl upon an errand, and it was certainly not the scout fashion, nor anyone else’s fashion to summon John Temple thus peremptorily. But Tom was a sort of law unto himself and even Mr. Ellsworth did not interfere.
The master of Five Oaks came around the house with his daughter clinging to him. And Tom Slade, who had knocked his hat off, stood up and faced him. It was not always easy to get Tom’s meaning; he often used pronouns instead of names and his dogged, stolid temperament showed in his phraseology.
“He told me when I joined the troop that I had to be loyal, and that’s the reason I’m doing it and not because I believe in being a burglar.” The naïveness of this announcement might have seemed ludicrous if Tom’s voice had not trembled with earnestness. “And he said there wasn’t no scouts when he was a boy—that’s my father there. And that’s what you got to remember too. I tracked him before and I got the pin and gave him my five dollars that I’d saved.”
Someone tittered: John Temple frowned and shook his head impatiently and there was no more tittering.
“I guess you know about that, and that I didn’t bring it to her ’cause I was scared, and I couldn’t help him coming here to-night. Only you got to remember there wasn’t any troop when he was a boy—you got to remember that. I’d ‘a’ been a burglar myself, that’s sure, only for him” (indicating Mr. Ellsworth) “and the troop—and Roy. And he’s sick—that’s most what’s the matter with him and I’d like to have him brought to our camp and have Doc take care of him till he gets well enough so’s Mr. Ellsworth can talk to him, ’cause Mr. Ellsworth, he never fails—he’s never failed once. But if you won’t do that—if you won’t leave him—let him—go like that—then you got to remember that there wasn’t any troop when he was a boy-’cause I’m rememberin’ it—and------”
“He will remember it,” said Mary, weeping. “Oh, he does remember it, Tom, he does.”
Mr. Temple drew her to him. “Go on, my boy,” he said. “I’m listening.”
“If you want me to send a wireless for the constable, I’ll do it, ’cause I got to do a service—only you got to remember—that’s only fair. And I got something else to say while I’m not scared of you-’tain’t because I got any reason to be scared of you either—but I’m sorry I threw that stone at you. That was what started him for the bad—when he went away and left me—but it started me for the good anyhow—so that’s something.”