"Well, then, we'll all go?" Gilbert asked rather anxiously.
Hervey spread out his arms by way of saying that anything that suited Gilbert and the stranger would suit him.
So the three started off to camp, the stranger rather hesitating, Gilbert highly elated with his success, and Hervey perfectly agreeable to anything which meant action.
It was characteristic of Hervey that he really had not the faintest idea of why he was to be honored with the highest scout award. He had apparently forgotten all about his almost superhuman exploit. He would never have mentioned it nor thought of it. He did recall it in that moment of humiliation when Mr. Denny had talked with him. But he would not speak of it even then. He would suffer disgrace first. And how much less was he likely to think of it now! Surely the Gold Cross had nothing to do with that fiasco which had ended in unconsciousness. That was not supreme heroism. There was something wrong, somewhere. That was just a stunt....
Well, he would take things as they came—quicksand, a frantic run in storm and darkness, new friends, the Gold Cross, anything....
Was there one soul in all that great camp that really understood him?
As they picked their way through the woods, following his lead (for he alone knew the way) he edified them with another song, for these ballads which had made him the wandering minstrel he remembered even if he remembered nothing else.
"You wouldn't think to look at me
That I'm as good as good can be—
a little saint.
You wouldn't care to make a bet,
That I'm the teacher's little pet—
I ain't."