"Don't you worry," he said; "I know all the high mucks here. You leave it to me." He was singularly confident for one in disgrace. "I'll get you a job, all right. When you see Slady or Uncle Jeb you just tell them you're a friend of mine." Robin Hood seemed somewhat reassured by the words of one so influential. By way of giving him a cheery reminder of certain undesirable facts and reconciling him to a life of toil, Hervey sang as they made their way to the office.
"You gotta go to work,
You gotta go to work,
You gotta go to work—
That's true.
And the reason why you gotta go to work
IS
The work won't come to you
SEE?
"I gotta go to bed,
I gotta go to bed,
Like a good little scout—
You see.
And the reason why I gotta go to bed
IS
The bed won't come to me.
D'you see?
The bed won't come to me."
This ballad of toil and duty (which were Hervey's favorite themes) was accompanied by raps on Gilbert's head with a stick, which became more and more vigorous as they approached the office. Here the atmosphere of officialdom did somewhat subdue the returning prodigal son and he removed his precious hat as they entered.
This matter was in Tom Slade's hands and he was going to see it through alone. From camp-fire his watchful eye had seen the trio passing through the grove and he was in the office before they reached it.
The office was a dreadful place, where the mighty John Temple himself held sway on his occasional visits, where councilmen and scoutmasters conferred, and where there was a bronze statue of Daniel Boone. Hervey had many times longed to decorate the sturdy face of the old pioneer with a mustache and whiskers, using a piece of trail-sign chalk.
At present he was seized by a feeling of respectful diffidence, and stood hat in hand, a trifle uncomfortable. Robin Hood was uncomfortable too, but he was in for it now. He was relieved to see that the official who confronted him was an easy-going offhand young fellow of about his own age, dressed in extreme negligée, sleeves rolled up, shirt open, face and throat brown like the brown of autumn. It seemed to make things easier for the trio that Tom vaulted up onto the bookkeeper's high desk, as if he were vaulting a fence, and sat there swinging his legs, the very embodiment of genial companionship.
"Well, Gilbert, you got away with it, huh?"
"Here he is," said Gilbert proudly. "I found him in a kind of cave in the woods——"
"Gilbert deserves all the credit for finding me," Hervey interrupted. "You've got to hand it to him, I'll say that much."
"It isn't everybody who can find you, is it?" said Tom.