“That’s because—you—you lived down in an alley where people kill each other—and burglars live—and men get drunk and you don’t know how other kinds of people act—you don’t.... And maybe, you stole other things before—maybe you did—before you ever stole Jeff—I mean Harry Stanton! I wouldn’t call you a scout with your old rags on—I wouldn’t. Scouts wear the uniform and they don’t steal——”
Then they stopped him.
“It’s my fault,” said Roy, as Connie vaulted to the cabin edge and put his arm about Raymond, trying to quiet him.
“I know about scouts—I do—and I know what a scout is—I do——” he shouted, almost crying.
“All right, all right, Ray,” said Connie, soothingly.
Tom Slade looked up, straight at Raymond. He was gulping and it was pitiful to look at him. “I know I did,” he almost sobbed. “I——”
“Never mind, Tom,” said Roy, softly. “Don’t mind him. He doesn’t mean it.”
“I know I did,” Tom said again. “But you can have an invisible badge, just the same—I don’t care for Mr. Ellsworth or anybody.”
With a supreme effort to control himself, swallowing sob after sob in great painful gulps, he pushed aside the cabin locker, went down into the cabin and banged the door shut.
Roy followed after him, but Tom’s stolid nature had been pierced at last and he turned away even from Roy.