"There was great confusion and excitement here," Mr. Denny continued. "The whole camp turned out to save the lake, to stem the flood. But you were not here. Your companions in our troop worked till they were dog tired. But where were you? Helping? No, you were off on some vagabond journey—disobedient, insubordinate."
Mr. Denny spoke with resolute firmness now and his voice rang as he uttered his scathing accusations.
"You were a traitor not only to your troop, but to the camp—the camp which held out the hand of good fellowship to you when you came here. A slacker——"
Hervey broke his stick in half and threw it on the ground. His breast heaved. He looked down. He said nothing. Mr. Denny studied him curiously for a few seconds.
"That is the truth, Hervey. One wrong always produces another. You were disobedient and insubordinate, and that led to—what?"
Hervey gulped, but whether in shame or remorse or what, Mr. Denny could not make out, He was to know presently.
"It led to shirking, whether intentional or not. And to-night, because there is no train, you are going to sleep in the camp which you deserted. You will, perhaps, row on the lake which others have saved for you. You see it now in its true light, don't you? You had better go and thank Blakeley and his comrade for what they did, if you have any real feeling for the camp."
"I——"
"Don't speak. Nothing you could say would make a difference, Hervey. I know from Mr. Carroll and his boys where you showed up. I know they found you clinging to one of the stage horses. I was there later and saw you. You might have been plunged into that chasm with all the rest of them and been crushed to pieces, if one of those scouts hadn't gone ahead, as he was told to do, and if he hadn't kept his mind on what he had been told to do, instead of disregarding his scoutmaster and——"
He paused, for Hervey was shaking perceptibly. He watched the boy curiously. Should he go on with this thing and see it through? He summoned his resolution.