“What did you quit?” asked Tom, taking his informant literally.
“Oh, never mind.”
“It’s all right, as long as you don’t quit each other,” Tom said, and strolled on to inspect the work of the other troops.
Hervey followed him and in a kind of reckless abandonment said, “Well, you see you were wrong after all—I don’t care. You said I’d win it. So I put one over on you, anyway,” he laughed in a way of mock triumph. “Tom Slade is wrong for once; how about that? The rotten egg put one over on you. See? I’m the rotten egg—the rotten egg scout. I should bother my head!”
“Go back and pick up those stones, Willetts,” said Tom quietly, “and pile them up down by the woodshed.”
“You didn’t even tell them I saved that little bird, did you?” Hervey said, giving way to his feelings of recklessness and desperation. “What do you suppose I care? I don’t care what anybody thinks. I do what I do when I do it; that’s me! I don’t care a hang about your old badges—I——”
“Hervey,” said Tom; “go back and pile up those stones like I told you. And don’t get mad at anybody. You do just what I tell you.”
“Did you hear——”
“Yop. And I tell you to go back there and keep calm. I’m not interested in badges either; I’m interested in scouts. They’ll never be able to make a badge to fit you. Now go back and do what I told you. Who’s running this show? You or I?”