"I wish—I wish you had told Mr. Ellsworth that."
"I couldn't have proved—I mean—well, it isn't so easy to talk to Mr. Ellsworth as it is to you, kiddo."
"I'll tell you something if you'll promise not to tell it—not even to Mr. Ellsworth," said Roy.
"A soldier's word of honor," said Roscoe, with a little bitter sneer.
"All the fellows in the Elk Patrol—that's Tom's own patrol, he started it—they made an agreement they wouldn't ask any fellows to join, or even vote for one—not for six months. In that time we might hear something—you can't tell. Mr. Ellsworth may possibly be wrong. Something may have happened to Tom. My patrol and the Ravens, they mostly agree with Mr. Ellsworth, and even some of the Elks do, I guess; but I asked them as a special favor."
"So they're doing it for your sake, eh?"
"Yop. And oh, gee, I'm glad you're with me! I didn't know you ever knew Tom Slade.—I'm glad you think the way I do.—I used to see you with Rolf Brownell in his automobile. I didn't know who you were then.... I—I believe in sticking to a fellow through thick and thin—don't you?"
"Some fellows."
"I got Tom in the troop, you know."
"You did a good job, I guess, that time," said Roscoe absently.