"I've seen a fellow shrink like a whipped cur at the sound of a cannon and then I've seen him flying after the enemy like a fiend," said Tom.
"Yes, human nature's a funny thing," said Mr. Carroll.
Tom's mind was divided between admiration of this kind, tolerant, generous scoutmaster and astonishment at what he had learned.
"Well, that's news to me," he said.
"Yes, the main thing is to build the little codger up now," Mr. Carroll mused aloud.
"Mr. Carroll," said Tom, "Gilbert didn't say anything about going up the mountain with me last night?"
"N-no, I don't know that he did."
"The trustees didn't want anything said about the matter here in camp, or the whole outfit would be going up the mountain. But I suppose the papers will have the whole business by to-morrow, and you might as well have it now. The fellow who ran down the kid was found crushed to death on the mountain last night. His name was Aaron Harlowe."
Tom told the whole harrowing episode to Mr. Carroll, who listened with interest, commenting now and again upon the tragic sequel of the auto accident. It was plain, throughout, however, that his chief interest was in his little charge, Goliath.
"That's a very strange thing," he said; "it has a smack of Divine justice about it, if one cares to look at it that way. Have you any theory of just how it happened?"