Tom was thrilled by this fresh thought. For half a minute he stood just where he was, hardly knowing what to do, what to think.
“You’re a good scout, Llewellyn,” he finally mused aloud; “old Rough and Ready—slow but sure. Do you know what you did, you clumsy old ice wagon? You brought a second-class scout badge and an Eagle award with you. And I’d like to know if you brought anything else of value. That’s what I would.”
But Llewellyn did not hear, at least he did not seem at all impressed. His head, claws and tail were drawn in again. He had changed himself into a rock. He was a good detective, because he knew how to keep still.
Tom strolled up to supper, as excited as it was in his nature to be, and greatly preoccupied.
On his way up he dropped Llewellyn into Tenderfoot Pond, a diminutive sheet of water, so named in honor of the diminutive scout contingent at camp. He would have room enough to spend the balance of his life resting after his arduous and memorable journey. And there he still abides, by last accounts, monarch of the mud and water, and suns himself for hours at a time on a favorite rock. He is ranked as a scout of the first-class, as indeed he should be, but he is frightfully lazy. He is a one stunt scout, as they say, but immensely popular. One hundred dollars in cash was offered for him and refused, so you can tell by that.
After supper Tom sought out Hervey. “Herve,” he said, “I don’t suppose you ever tried your hand at keeping a secret, did you? Where’s your Eagle badge?”
“My patrol has got it.”
“Well, if you can’t keep a badge do you think you can keep a secret? You were telling me you wouldn’t let a girl wear an honor badge of yours——”
“That was three days ago I told you that. Girls are different from what they were then. Can you balance a scout staff on your nose?”
“I never tried that. Listen, Hervey, and promise you won’t tell anybody. I’m telling you because I know I can trust you and because I like you and I think you can help me. I want you to do something for me, will you?”