When Alec stole back to his cabin, noiselessly entered it, and climbed into his bunk, half an hour later, it was not very clear in his mind how he could contrive, even with Joe’s possible assistance, to bring Hugh Hardin into the shadow of blame for the fire. Of course, he could admit that he had caught Hugh and Billy in the act of putting out the flames, and the fact that they had done it secretly, as it were, without arousing the whole camp, would cast some suspicion upon them.
But their words would be worth exactly as much as his, and, moreover, Hugh would have Billy’s testimony in support.
How much credence would be given to the halfbreed’s vague hints? Could Joe be trusted to say anything? Or, might he not even say just the wrong thing at the critical point, the right thing at the wrong moment?
These questions troubled Alec as he crept shivering between his chilly sheets and drew his blanket around him closer.
“Wish I had primed Joe a little more,” he said to himself miserably, “but perhaps I’ll get a chance to speak with him again to-morrow.”
With this comforting reflection he sank into uneasy slumber.
It was strange that a boy trained in the principles and spirit of scout-craft, particularly a boy who had reached Alec’s position among his mates, could be capable of feeling such jealousy as Alec showed in his attitude toward Hugh. But young Sands was an unusual boy, and he had always been over-indulged. Only with difficulty had he ever been able to overcome an instinctive dislike of any rival, and in the case of Hugh he had not tried to do more than comply with the rules of outward courtesy that obtained in camp.
The rules of Pioneer Camp were few and simple, and every boy in the four patrols that formed the troop was put on his honor and trusted to live up to them. Faithfulness to duty, one of the scout virtues, was required by Lieutenant Denmead, and scarcely a boy in the camp cared or dared to shirk.
Reveille was sounded at six o’clock every morning, except Sunday, when it was an hour later. At six-thirty on week-days and seven-thirty on Sundays mess was served to two of the patrols, and half an hour later to the other two, the patrols alternating in the order of service. Noon mess was served from twelve to one o’clock, and evening mess from six to seven-thirty. At nine o’clock came “taps” which meant “camp-fires carefully extinguished, lights out, and every boy in bed.”
Every morning, also, a detail from each cabin was assigned to police the camp; that is, clear up all rubbish, chop fire-wood, draw water from the bubbling spring nearby, wash dishes, and keep the camp in order.