“Sometimes there are different trails and they take you to the same place,” Tom said.
No doubt this was one of the sort of remarks that Tom was famous for making which had either no particular meaning or a meaning poorly expressed.
Hervey stared at him for a few seconds, then said, “I don’t care whether it’s easy or hard, if that’s what you mean. Is it true that there are wild cats up in these mountains?”
“Some,” Tom said.
“Well, if you were in my place, where would you go to look for a trail? I mean a real trail, not a cow or a horse or Chocolate Drop’s kitten. [Chocolate Drop was the negro cook at Temple Camp.] If I can just dig up the trail of a wild animal somewhere, right away quick, the Eagle award is mine—ours. See? Can you give me a tip?”
Tom’s answer was characteristic of him and it was not altogether satisfactory.
“I’m not so stuck on eagles,” he said.
“You’re not?” Hervey asked in puzzled dismay. “You can bet that every time I look at that little old gold eagle on top of the flag pole I say, ‚Me for you, kiddo.’”