It was past the middle of the afternoon when this talk occurred. Frank and Jerry were busy elsewhere.
“I don’t know about that,” Bluff remarked. “In the first place we’ve got just four bunks, which is one apiece. While I was willing to give mine up to Mr. Darrel, I’d seriously object to being turned out by a boy, and Nackerson’s boy at that.”
“No need of that,” Will rejoined; “if he stayed he’d be only too glad to sleep on that floor cot you had. Besides, he says he’s a good cook, and would take that job on his shoulders. You know some of us sometimes hate to have to work at getting the grub ready.”
“Y-yes, I guess we do, Will,” admitted Bluff, who could remember lots of occasions when he served only through a sense of duty, and not because he was fond of getting meals.
“Then besides,” continued Will, seeing that his argument was beginning to tell, as Bluff showed signs of cooling down, “what if we made him go back to Nackerson, and anything happened to him, we wouldn’t ever be able to forgive ourselves.”
“He certainly is in a bad box,” muttered Bluff.
“Put yourself in his place, if you can, Bluff; and see how you’d feel about it, that’s all,” continued Will. “But then, I ought to know you too well to think you’d send a chap adrift, when we could give him a shelter and three square meals a day just as easy as say so.”
“Let Frank decide it,” Bluff said at last in desperation. “Whatever he settles on the rest of us’ll agree to stand for. Frank knows best what to do and there will be no kick coming, whatever he says.”
Will went away satisfied that Teddy would stay. Bluff was generally the obstreperous one, and if he could be induced to shift all responsibility on to Frank’s shoulders, there was little more to say.
It may have been half an hour after this talk that the boys heard a shout off in the woods in the direction of Lumber Run Camp.