“We asked Garry to go up the hill with us that night,” said Connie Bennet, “even though he isn’t in our troop, just because we liked him.”
“And we stopped at Edgevale and brought him along in the Good Turn,” said Will Bronson, “even though we were crowded already. And now he puts one over on us like that! He’s a fine scout!”
“Only you have to say it quick to keep from choking!” added Roy, who had stopped before the Elks cabin.
“He sure got away with it,” added Connie. “He’s got this Jeffrey, or whatever his name is, eating out of his hand.”
“You should worry,” said Roy, as he strolled on.
The next day two men arrived in an automobile, bringing with them the news that Jeffrey’s benefactor was dead. It cast a shadow over the camp even among the many who had not seen the injured man. The boy himself was greatly distressed, wringing his hands like a child, and clinging to Garry.
One of these gentlemen was Mr. Waring’s executor, the other a friend, and since both of them lived in Poughkeepsie, which was the nearest city to Edgevale, neither knew much about Mr. Waring’s home life. They agreed with Mr. Ellsworth that it would be in all ways best for this unfortunate nephew, who seemed to be Mr. Waring’s only survivor, to remain where he was, and accept the hospitality of the camp until his uncle’s affairs could be settled.
“Can I stay with Garry and Raymond and be in their club and take them out in my boat?” Jeffrey asked, excitedly; “it’s mine now, isn’t it?”
“I suppose you boys will have to settle that among yourselves,” said the executor; “but I don’t know about the boat,” he added. “Undoubtedly it will be yours, but you mustn’t try to run it by yourself. It would be all right to use it if these gentlemen (turning to Mr. Ellsworth and one of the camp trustees) will take charge of it.”
“Garry understands marine engines,” Raymond ventured timidly to the visitors, whom the boys had just been showing about the camp.