THE DOUBLE DARE
Mr. Denny's troop had turned in with the warmth of the roaring camp-fire still lingering in their cheeks when the black sheep went up the hill. The scoutmaster, sitting in his tepee, was writing up the troop's diary in the light of a railroad lantern. He showed no great surprise at his wandering scout's arrival.
"Well, Hervey," said he. "Back again? I told you it would be better to wait till morning. Missed the train, eh? You see my advice is sometimes best after all." He did not look up but continued writing. If Hervey had expected to create a sensation he was disappointed. "Better go to bed and catch the nine fifty-two in the morning," said Mr. Denny kindly.
"I came back because Tom Slade sent for me. I've got to get a medal, but I don't care anything about that."
"So? What's that for?"
"I always said that fellow Slade was a friend of mine, but I wouldn't let him put one over on me, I wouldn't."
"You mean he was just fooling you about the medal?"
"Maybe you can tell," said Hervey. "Because anyway I didn't do anything to win a—the Gold Cross."
Mr. Denny raised his eyebrows in frank surprise. "The Gold Cross?"
"I don't care anything about that, anyway," said Hervey; "but I wouldn't take a dare from anybody; I never did yet."