“Yer better get away,” he warned. “Old John sent automobiles out and telephoned a lot. Don’t—don’t lose it,” he added, realizing the large amount of the money. “If yer tied it ’round yer neck it ’ud be safer.”
He stood just where he was as his father reeled away, watching him a little wistfully and doubtful as to whether he was sufficiently impressed with the sum he was carrying to be careful of it.
“It ’ud be safer if you tied it ’round yer neck,” he repeated as his father passed among the trees with that sideways gait and half-limp which bespeaks a prideless and broken character.
“I’ll never tell ’em of the tracking I do—did,” he said, “so I won’t pass on that; but even if I did I couldn’t pass, ’cause I haven’t got the money to put in the bank—now.”
He had lost his great fortune and his cherished dream in one fell swoop.
And this was the triumph of his tracking
[Chapter XI]
R-R-R-evenge
Tom Slade had not the moral courage to crown his splendid triumph by going straightway and giving the pin to Mary Temple. He could not overcome his fear of John Temple and the awe of the palatial residence. You see, he had not the legacy of refined breeding to draw upon. The Scout movement had taken a big contract in the making of Tom Slade, but Mr. Ellsworth (good sport that he was) was never daunted. Tom did not know how to go alone up to the luxurious veranda at Five Oaks, ring the bell, face that stoical Japanese, ask to see the pretty, beautifullydressed girl, and restore her pin to her. He could have done it without revealing the identity of the fugitive, but he did not know how to do it; he would not ask Roy to come to his assistance, and he missed the best fruits of his triumph.
So he went back to camp (scout pace, for it was getting late), his empty membership booklet flapping against his chest as he ran.