“Well, I think it’s best for him to stay right here where he is.”
Arnold rose angrily. Garry went on whittling.
“These fellows are beginning to see you in your true light, I’m afraid,” said Arnold. “I thought maybe they were mistaken but I guess they’re not. They’re saying now that you did Tom Slade out of the Silver Cross last year.”
“Does Tom say that?”
“The rest of them do. Well, I don’t see as I can do much good staying here and talking. What I came to ask you was if you didn’t think it would be a bully idea to turn Jeffrey over to the Elks on Saturday—as a birthday present to the patrol.” Arnold waited a moment hoping Garry would make some reply. “Tom found him—he plowed up through that mess—Jeb calls it nature tied in a knot—it was his idea and it was his job—and it’s about all he could be expected to do.”
“He may have more to do.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, nothing in particular.”
“Well,” concluded Arnold, “it’s just a case of rendering unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s. What do you say?”
“What do you mean?”