Westy said we shouldn’t say anything to Mr. Ellsworth, but wait until Skinny had taken the oath and knew all the laws and all about scouting, and then maybe say something to him, how we thought maybe he had made a mistake sometime and would like to fix it right. Westy said we’d call it just getting off the trail. Westy’s a mighty nice fellow, you bet, and he’s a good scout.

But anyway, it knocked all the fun out of that meeting for us, and I don’t know what the other fellows thought.

Skinny was there in his new suit and he showed how proud he was to have it. He was always smiling in that bashful kind of a way, as if he was kind of scared but happy at the same time. Mr. Ellsworth told him to sit with us and he came over and sat in an extra chair right next to me. I guess he kind of liked to be near me—anyway, it seemed like that. I was nice to him all right, but I don’t know, it didn’t seem like it did before. But no fellow could get mad at him—he looked so poor, and his suit didn’t fit him very good and he looked all strange and nervous.

Pretty soon I said to him, kind of half interested, you know, I said, “That’s where you’re going to sit, in that vacant chair where the Elks are. They’re a good patrol, the Elks, and the fellow who used to sit there with them was Tom Slade. You have to try to be a good scout just like he was.”

“I know all the laws, every one,” he said in a whisper.

“Do you know law one?” I asked him.

“Yop, it’s the best of the lot,” he said; “it teaches you about honor. Do you know the two things about scouts I like best?” he asked me.

“No, I don’t,” I said.

“It’s that first law and the belt-axe that they wear.”

“Never you mind about the belt-axe,” I said.

“Yes, but you want me to tell you honest, don’t you?” he blurted out. And he looked straight at me and his eyes were all kind of hollow and excited like. Gee, he was a queer kid. “You can make fun of me all you want,” he said, “I don’t care. Will I be a scout to-night?”

“Not to-night,” I told him, “we’re going to turn you over to the Elks to-night. And then they’ll teach you things and get you ready.”

Pretty soon it came time to present him, but I didn’t feel like making any fun about it. Gee, I don’t know what my patrol thought about me. But anyway, Westy knew. So I just said how we found Alfred McCord and how he wanted to be a scout and we thought it was a good idea to give him to the Elk Patrol, to fill the place of Tom Slade. Cracky, there wasn’t any pep to it at all.

Then afterwards Mr. Ellsworth took up the collection of one dollar and seventy cents from each fellow, to buy the eats and pay the expenses of the cruise. I had to say that I wasn’t ready with it, and I guess he was surprised, because I never miss a chipping in, but anyway, I said I’d have it next day. I should worry about that.

On the way out I met Pee-wee shouting away like a machine gun. “Come on up the street with me,” I said; “I want to tell you something.”

When we were about a block off I said, “You listen here, kiddo. I don’t want you to be shouting about belt-axes and jack-knives and things like that in front of Skinny McCord. I’m telling you that and I want you to remember it. And I’ve got good reasons, too. Scouts aren’t made out of belt-axes and jack-knives and badges. They’re made out of ideas, as you might say. You just remember what I tell you and don’t be springing this stuff about the emblem of the woods and all that. A belt-axe costs two dollars—haven’t you got sense enough to know that. And do you know how much it costs to take the scout oath? Not one blooming cent!”

Jiminy crinkums, he just listened and didn’t say a single word. For two blocks he didn’t say a word.

It was the biggest stunt he ever did.

Now I have to go backward—that’s one good thing about this story, it has a reverse gear; you can go backward.

The first night we had the house-boat, Mr. Ellsworth went to see Mr. Darren, who is superintendent of Northside Woods (that’s owned by the Northside estate) and he asked Mr. Darren if we could chop down some saplings to use on the boat. Because we wanted to make some stanchions for the awning, and another flagpole, and some bumper sticks. He thought that was a good idea, because lumber costs so much. Connie said the reason it was high is because they’re building tall houses. So Mr. Darren marked some saplings with chalk and said we could take those.

The next afternoon after that last meeting, we all hiked over to Northside Woods to chop down the saplings. You have to go across the bridge to get to Northside Woods and then you go up the road toward Little Valley.

Westy didn’t go with the rest of us because he wanted to get a book out of the library, for he thought the library might be closed when we got back.

“Have a heart,” I said, “and don’t be late whatever you do, because there’s been enough of that kind of thing in our patrol lately.”

“I’ll be Johnny-on-the-spot, don’t you fear,” he said. And I knew he would, only he’s one of those fellows that’s always trying to do too much. He isn’t late much, I’ll say that for him, but he always comes running in at the last minute.

“Well, don’t get us in Dutch,” I told him, “that’s all I care about.”

We had a dandy hike over to the woods. My patrol got there first and pretty soon the Ravens came along and Doc Carson had his First Aid kit—you’d think somebody was going to fight a duel, honest. “Why don’t you start a base hospital and be done with it?” I said.

Pretty soon the Elks came along and Skinny was with them. As soon as I looked at him I felt kind of bad like, for I saw I was right about the two dollars. I knew I was right all the time, but now I saw it, and jingoes, it spoiled all my fun. Because he had a belt-axe on and I could see he was very proud of it. He came up to me and smiled that funny kind of a smile he had, and he said, “I got one; see, I got one.”

It was a new one all right, but not a regular scout-axe, and I guessed he must have bought it in the hardware store. It was what they call a camp axe—just the same only different. His belt was loose anyway, on account of him being so thin, but the axe dragged it way down and made him look awful funny, but he had on the scout smile and that’s the principal thing.

“It’s a good one, ain’t it?” he asked me.

“It’s all right,” I said, but I just couldn’t take it and look at it.

“It’ll cut, too,” he said; “and I’m going to chop down a lot of trees. And it’s my very own, isn’t it?”

Jiminy, I didn’t know how to answer that, so I didn’t say anything, only I told him not to chop down many because he wasn’t strong yet. And I told him not to chop any that didn’t have chalk marks. I told him to ask Connie Bennett, and to stay near him, because Connie is the Elks’ leader ever since Tom Slade went away. “You do what Connie tells you,” I said.

Well, the way that kid started you’d think he was going to chop the North Pole in half. “He’d be able to chop through the equator in a couple of hours at that rate,” I told Connie. But anyway, he was getting fresh air and a whole lot of fun.

Some of the fellows chopped and some of them cut off the branches and tied the saplings together, three or four each, because we were going to haul them as far as the bridge and then float them down to the landing.

Every little while I looked at Skinny and he was chopping away at one sapling for dear life. He had it all full of nicks and every nick had a place all to itself.

“That isn’t chopping, it’s what you call woodcarving,” Dorry Benton said.

“He’s a good butcher, anyway,” Artie said.

Every time Skinny hit, he hit in a different place and he would never get the sapling down, I saw that, but he was having the time of his life, just the same.

“Some Daniel Boone,” Will Dawson said. But I told them not to make fun of him.

All the while I kept wondering if Skinny really thought that axe was his very own like he said. And it seemed sort of funny that he could be getting so much fun out of it. Oftentimes he would get tired and begin to cough and Connie would make him sit down and rest. Then he would show his axe to the fellows and match it to theirs and say he liked his best. I don’t know, maybe there was something wrong about Skinny. Maybe he was more crazy about weapons than he was about scouting. He didn’t seem to think about anything except cutting down that sapling, and the more of a botch he made out of it, the harder he worked. I remembered something Mr. Ellsworth said to Tom Slade about not caring more for his gun than he did for his country. But, gee, when I thought about what Skinny said about the two things he liked most, the axe and the law about honor, good night, I couldn’t understand him at all.

Pretty soon I began worrying about Westy, because something is always delaying that fellow, and I even hoped that he wouldn’t stumble over any more good turns, until this day’s work was over. If Westy fell out of a ten-story building, he’d do a good turn on the way down—that’s the way he is.

Well, pretty soon I heard him coming through the woods on the dead run. We all stopped working and laughed, because he was coming along like a marathon runner. All except Skinny—he went right on chopping away and the sapling looked as if a cow had been chewing it.

I don’t know, but something or other made me feel kind of mad at him all of a sudden, and I didn’t laugh at him.

Then he called over to me and he said, “Look—how I’m chopping it down with my axe! See?”

“Who’s axe?” I said, because I just couldn’t help it.

“Look! See?” he shouted, all excited; “ain’t I a good chopper—ain’t I?”

Maybe you won’t understand how it was, because, gee, I can’t tell things so you’ll see them just right. Anyway, I’m not excusing myself, that’s one thing. But I just looked over at Skinny and I said:

“I don’t want to look at your axe! Shut up you little——” I was going to call him a little thief, but I’m mighty glad I didn’t. “Can’t you see I’m looking at something else?” I said, kind of mad.

“You’d be better off if you never thought about the axe; you’re a——”

Just then I heard somebody yell, “Look out, Westy, the boards are gone! You’ll have to climb!”

After that, everything seemed to be all jumbled up. I saw Skinny standing near his sapling just staring at me and he looked as if I had just hit him and he didn’t understand at all. He didn’t even notice all the other fellows who were running. Then I looked and I didn’t see Westy, but all the fellows were heading for the ditch and I knew right away what had happened. Somebody hollered, “Get your kit, Doc, and hurry up.” There was a ditch near where the saplings grew and usually there were a couple of boards across it. But they weren’t there when all of us fellows went across and we had to go down into the ditch and climb up the other side. I guess the woodsmen had taken them, maybe.

Anyway, when Westy came along the path he was running so hard he didn’t notice in time that the boards weren’t there, and he went head over heels into the ditch. I guess I was the last one to get there, and all the fellows were standing around and Doc was kneeling over Westy, and feeling his pulse. Westy’s face was all white and there was blood coming down from his eye and he looked straight up and didn’t notice anybody. All the fellows were quiet and scared, kind of, and waiting for Doc to speak. But he wasn’t excited, only he said we’d better get a doctor. “It isn’t a fracture,” he said; “it’s only a cut, but anyway, we’d better get the doctor.”

Then I saw some blood on the front of Westy’s khaki shirt. But Doc saw it first and he said, “Open his shirt, maybe he has something hanging from his neck that cut him. Feel and see if he has a knife in his breast pocket. Open his shirt first. Give me the iodine and some bandage, one of you fellows.”

I thought I ought to be the one to open his shirt, because he was in my patrol and besides we were special friends, as you might say. So I pushed through past the others and just as I was kneeling down I saw Skinny standing up on the edge of the ditch and his eyes looked big and he was all trembling and excited. There were big red spots on his cheeks and I knew that was the consumption that showed whenever he got excited. He was all by himself up there and he looked kind of wild—I can’t exactly tell you.

Then I opened Westy’s shirt and I saw he had a ring with two keys hanging there and they must have pressed into his chest and cut him. It kind of scared me, because there was so much blood, but Doc said, “Give me the iodine—that’s nothing.”

And I knew he knew what he was talking about.

While he was putting iodine in the cut I felt in Westy’s pocket like Doc told me to do, but there wasn’t any knife there. But there was something else there and I pulled it out. Oh, gee, I hate to tell you about it. It was my two dollar bill. I could tell because it was new and because it had a stain on it in the shape of a half circle.

I always kept oil on those oar-locks, so they wouldn’t get rusty.

Nobody noticed me, I guess, and I just scrambled up the ditch and went away behind a tree and looked at the two dollar bill again. I guess you sure know the shape of an oar-lock all right—kind of round, but open at the top. And that was just the shape of the stain on the bill. I could have laid one of my oar-locks right on that bill and covered up the stain.

Maybe you think I was glad to get the bill back but I wasn’t. What did I care about that bill? Gee, a two dollar bill isn’t anything, compared to a friend, it isn’t. I could have another bill right away if I wanted it, and anyway, I’d be sure to get one on Monday. It was Westy I was thinking about, because you know how you heard me say we were special friends, sort of, Jiminy Christopher! I didn’t care about anything now. Even once when I lost my bronze medal I didn’t feel so bad. Then I said I guessed Westy just put it in his pocket to fool me and that he was going to give it to me. But cracky, there’s no use trying to kid yourself. Then, all of a sudden I thought how he wanted me to hurry and run and how he didn’t want to stop and talk much about it.

Jiminy, I didn’t know what to do and I just felt like going home and going up to my room and locking the door. I knew if I ever told anybody it would be either Ruth or Marjorie. It’s funny how when a fellow really has a lot of trouble he’d rather tell a girl than anybody else. You can laugh at girls, but that’s true. Maybe they can’t run and all that, but they kind of know all about it when you have a lot of trouble. Maybe I’d tell them, too, because they’d wonder if Westy didn’t come to the house any more.

Anyway, I was glad it was me to find the two dollars and none of the other fellows. I decided that as long as it wasn’t any good to me I’d put it back in his pocket if I could get a chance. Then maybe it would be kind of like a memorandum to him and he’d come and give it back when he had plenty of money sometime, maybe.

But when I went back there wasn’t any chance to do that, because all the fellows were still crowding around. I stood up on the edge of the ditch and I heard somebody say that El Sawyer had gone to Bridgeboro. Doc looked up at me and he said, “It isn’t bad, kiddo, don’t worry.” And I knew he was right and it made me feel good.

Anyway, I don’t know why he called me Kiddo sometimes. Because I’m leader of the Silver Fox patrol, why should he call me kiddo. But I guess he felt sorry for me, as you might say.

It was funny, but as soon as I knew Westy was going to get better, I didn’t want to stay there. I was afraid he might look at me and see that everything wasn’t all right. I was afraid he might see something in my eyes—you know. So I walked away, and besides, anyway, I wanted to think and I just felt I wanted to be alone by myself.

Just as I was going away one of the fellows said, “Here you go, kiddo,” and chucked a book up at me. “You take care of it; it was in his pocket,” he said. I guessed it was the book Westy had got out of the library and I was pretty glad because when you’re all alone and haven’t got any friends and everybody goes back on you, kind of, it’s dandy to read a book. Because, anyway, books never go back on you, that’s one sure thing. And they don’t take—anyway they’re good friends. When I looked at this one, I saw it was “Treasure Island” and I was glad ’cause I always liked that one.

That fellow, Jim Hawkins, he was a fine fellow, anyway. Gee, I said to myself, I’d like to have him for a friend, that’s sure. Because a fellow in a book can be a friend to you just like a real one. Even better, sometimes.

One thing, I hoped they’d all go home soon so I could sit down on a log and read some more in that book. Only lately I read it, but cracky, that doesn’t make any difference when it’s a good book, I thought I’d go back to the ditch pretty soon—as soon as El Sawyer came with the doctor. But, anyway, I wanted to be alone now.

So I stuffed the book in my pocket and strolled over to where we had been cutting the saplings. Then I went over close and looked at the one Skinny had been chopping. I guess I didn’t know what I was doing and thinking about. Anyway, now that I looked at it, I was sorry I made fun of him and got mad at him. It wasn’t only because I knew he didn’t take the two dollars, but anyway, I felt sorry for him.

I couldn’t see him anywhere around and he wasn’t in the ditch, I knew that. If he had been there then, you bet I’d have been all right with him. It made me feel bad when I looked at that sapling all hacked and standing up just as strong as ever. He must have chopped away on it for half an hour and about all the poor little kid did was to get the bark off. Right close by, I saw his belt-axe lying just where he left it. It had Skinny marked on it, and I guess he did it himself. It made me feel kind of sorry for him that he called himself Skinny. It was his axe, anyway. And I felt like kicking myself. And I saw how he had been trying to be a scout just like the other fellows, poor little kid. It wasn’t any of my business where he got the money. It was his, anyway.

Then I began kicking the chips around with my foot and saying, “Poor kid.” And I said I guessed he’d die before he could ever chop down a tree. Because, now since I had seen those red spots on his cheeks I knew how bad he was. I knew he didn’t have any strength at all, and all the time something he had said kept running in my mind. “I like the one about honor.” “Poor little Skinny,” I said. I was feeling bad, anyway.

All of a sudden I heard a sound and saw three or four fellows scrambling up out of the ditch. So I went over there and just as I got there, I saw something that I’ll never forget, you can bet.

First I thought it was a ghost, and all the fellows were flabbergasted. It was Skinny standing right near and clutching hold of a tree, and he was all trembling and I thought he was going to fall down. Honest, I never saw anything like the way he looked. His hair was all flying loose and it made him look wild, because it wasn’t cut. And his eyes were all like as if they were on fire.

“I got him,” he said, “I got him—he’s coming. He’s getting—out of—out of his automobile. I got him because I’m—I’m a swamp-rat!” That’s just the way he said it, and he hung onto the tree and his fingers were all thin like an old man’s and the spots were in his cheeks. “He’s coming!” he panted out.

Just then I could see Doctor Winters coming through the trees with a little black bag. He must have left his machine out on the road about a hundred yards away. And I guess Skinny must have jumped out and run in ahead to show him the way. And he just kept saying, “I got him, I got him. Because I’m a swamp-rat—everybody says so—and I know the short cut—now can I have a badge—maybe—sometime? Maybe am I a scout now?”

I just looked at him and it gave me the creeps. Because I knew what he had done. And I remembered now how people called him a dirty swamp-rat. Many a time I’d heard them call him that. Just a dirty little swamp-rat. And now, he was sort of proud of it.

First, I couldn’t move and I just couldn’t speak. Then I went up to him and I said—I didn’t care for the doctor or anybody—I said, “Skinny, there’s one fellow here who knows what the marshes are and that’s me. Because I came near getting swallowed up by them.”

“It’s—it’s—short—cut,” he just panted out. “All I want to tell you is,” I said, “there’s not another scout in the whole troop could do it—do you hear! You’re not a swamp-rat, you’re a swamp-scout,” I said.

Then I was going to say more, only Skinny seemed as if he was going to fall and the doctor kind of seemed to want me to move away. Anyway, I went over and got Skinny’s belt-axe to carry it home for him.

As soon as the fellows knew for sure that there was nothing much the matter with Westy, they scrambled out of the ditch and all stood around Skinny, praising him up and he was so excited that he didn’t talk straight, but sort of yelled at them. The only ones with Westy were the real doctor and Doc Carson, and Doc was helping him fix the bandages better.

When I saw them down there it made me feel as if I’d like to go down and say something to Westy. His face was all white and the bandage on his head made him look—oh, I don’t know—sort of as if he might die. And then I’d be sorry I hadn’t said something to him. Because I had known Westy an awful long time.

So I went down and pretty soon the doctor went up to see Skinny and Doc Carson went too. So I was alone with him down there, but his eyes were shut on account of his being weak from losing so much blood, and he didn’t notice me.

Anyway, I slipped that two dollars into his shirt pocket because I didn’t want it anyway, and I thought maybe it would be a memorandum to him, like I said. Besides I didn’t have a right to keep money I got out of another fellow’s pocket.

I said, “It’s me, Westy; the reason I didn’t come around was because all the other fellows were here. But now you’re alone I want to tell you that I’m glad you’re not hurt bad.”

He just looked at me and he said, “I went—I did it.”

First I didn’t know what to say, and then I said, “Never you mind, I guess you were kind of crazy. We all get crazy sometimes. I was crazy when I thought Tom Slade was lying once. Never you mind.”

“I guess I was crazy,” he just said, and then he shut his eyes and I didn’t bother him any more—only just sat there. I don’t know what made him tell me, but anyway, I was glad.

Pretty soon I helped him to Dr. Winters’ automobile because he limped pretty bad. Skinny went in the automobile, too, and Doc Carson, but they didn’t ask me. All the fellows went along the road, too, because nobody felt like hauling the saplings that day, and I didn’t, that’s sure. I said I was going back to get Skinny’s axe, and I was glad when I was all alone in the woods. That’s the best place to be if you’ve got any troubles and you want to think.

And I kind of didn’t want to think about Westy, so I thought about Skinny just to keep everything else out of my head. Because I knew it wouldn’t ever be just the same again with Westy and I didn’t want to think about it. In the troop it would be all right, and maybe in the patrol too, but it wouldn’t ever be just the same again with Westy and me.

I was glad that I’d be interested in Skinny and now I could see he was different from all of us—kind of wonderful—I don’t know how to tell you. His eyes were so big, and wild, and starey. And he said things in such a funny way and he got so excited. Up at Temple Camp, afterwards, Mr. Ellsworth told Jeb Rushmore that Skinny was inspired, but I don’t know just what he meant. All I knew is we were even scared of him sometimes. He never called any of us by our names—that was funny.

Pretty soon I went home. It was all dark in the woods and dandy for thinking, and I was glad I had one friend, anyway, and that was Jim Hawkins in the book. I guessed maybe that was the reason that Westy got the book, because only lately I had read it, and I had told him so much about it. All the way home I kept thinking about Westy and I wished I had never found that out.

Mostly at night I sit on the porch with my mother and father, but that night I went to my tent and lit the lantern and sat there. I like a lantern because it reminds you of camping. Nix on electric lights up at Temple Camp, that’s what Jeb Rushmore says. Gee, he has no use for electric lights—electric lights and umbrellas. But, anyway, I’ve got a wire from our garage to Camp Solitaire (that’s my tent) and a bulb for when I want to read. Jerry says I ought to pay for tapping the garage current. I should worry.

I sat down and began reading Treasure Island all over again. I skipped a lot because I had only just lately read it, and pretty soon I was reading about in the middle of it, where they start off in the ship. That’s the part I like best. All of a sudden I couldn’t see the reading very good and I noticed there was a stain on the page.

Here’s where I wish that I knew all about writing books like a regular grown up author, because I have to explain something to you and, cracky, I wish you could see that book, because then it would be easier. First, I didn’t think anything about it at all, only I noticed that the stain was on the left hand page. Then, all of a sudden I noticed something about that stain that got me all excited.

It was in the shape of a ring, kind of.

Right away I knew what it meant. I picked up one of my oar-locks and laid it on the stain and it just covered it. So I saw I had damaged the book when I had it before. That’s one thing you’re not supposed to do—damage books out of the library. If you keep a book till it’s overdue, that isn’t so bad, because then you just pay a fine. Connie says that’s being a good bookkeeper.

But to damage a book—g-o-o-d night!

I was just thinking how funny it was that Westy got this very same book that I had, but maybe it wasn’t so funny, because that was what put it into his head to get it—seeing it in my tent. Anyway, I was glad it came back to me, because now I saw what I had done and I made up my mind that I’d buy a new book for the library.

Then I was thinking how I’d have to tell Westy about it, and, oh, I don’t know, I just didn’t know how to go and speak to him. I wasn’t mad at him, but anyway, I felt as if I didn’t want to see him—yet. Anyway, I didn’t have any money yet and books like that cost a lot.

All of a sudden I heard Don start barking and then he stopped. So I knew somebody was coming that he knew. Then I heard somebody say, “You’re always suspicious, ain’t you,” and oh, I felt awful funny, because I knew it was Westy. It seemed as if he might be saying that to me, but I knew he was saying it to Don—just kind of jollying him. Maybe you think you can’t jolly a dog but you can. You can Don, anyway.

I didn’t know what I would say to him, because I thought probably he’d come to give me my two dollars and say he was sorry and must have been crazy or in a hurry. Jiminy, any excuse would be good enough for me, as long as he told me straight out about it, like he did in the ditch. And maybe things would get to be all right after a while. But I couldn’t understand how he could come up the lawn whistling and jollying Don and feeling so good. I don’t mean because he was hurt, because I knew that wasn’t so bad, but I didn’t see how he could be feeling so happy.

Pretty soon he came in and Don was jumping up all around him and wagging his tail.

“I’m glad you’re well enough to come out,” I said.

“You should worry about me,” he said; “I just have to limp a little, that’s all. I’m a swell looking Silver Fox, hey?” And then he gave me a push and rumpled my hair all up and said, “You won’t be ashamed of me on account of my honorable wounds, will you? I was a punk scout to go and do that.”

Gee, I didn’t know what to think, because it wasn’t anything to be laughing at, that’s sure.

“Do what?” I said.

“Run right into that ditch.”

“Is that what you meant you did—when you told me?” I said, kind of disappointed.

“Sure it is,” he said, “I’m a swell scout, hey? Going headlong into a ditch!”

I just listened to him and I felt pretty bad, because now I saw that was what he meant.

Then he gave me another shove and he said all happy like, “But I’m the champion boy sleuth all right. Look at this—here’s your two bucks and Skinny never took it at all.”

“I—I know he didn’t,” I said.

“How did you know,” he shot right at me.

“Because,” I started to say and then he rumpled my hair up some more and began talking and never gave me a chance.

“Because it was right in that copy of Treasure Island that’s laying there,” he shouted, “and I’m one big gump, that’s what I am! I got that copy of Treasure Island out of the library this morning, because you were telling me about it, and right there in the middle of it was your plaguy old two buckarinos!”

Just for a minute I looked at him and I knew it was just like he said, because he was laughing—he was so blamed happy about it.

Oh, boy, didn’t I feel good!

“How in the dickens did it get there?” he said.

“That’s one puzzle,” I answered him.

“Anyway, you’ve got your two bucks back.”

“A lot I care about that,” I said; “jiminy, I’ve got something better than two dollars, and that’s friends, you can bet.”

Then I showed him the stain on the page of the book and we both sat there gaping at it and thinking.

“I’m hanged if I know,” Westy said; “it would take Tom Slade to dope that out.”

“Maybe Skinny was looking at the book and shut it with the two dollar bill inside,” I said.

“How about the stain?” Westy asked me.

“Jingoes, it’s a puzzle,” I said.

All of a sudden he laid the book down open and laid the bill on it and then he laid the oar-lock on the bill. Then he just sat there like as if he was studying. Pretty soon he said, “We have to get a new copy for the library, anyway. Do you mind if I make another stain on this one? I’ve got a sort of an idea.”

“Go ahead,” I said.

So now I’ll tell you just what he did and you’ll see how it solved the puzzle. And, believe me, you’ll have to admit that Westy’s a pretty smart fellow. If you have an old book you don’t care anything about, you can even try it and you don’t even need an oar-lock. Westy turned to a new place in the book and then he laid the bill down on the right hand page. Then he laid the oar-lock on the bill. “That’s just exactly what you did when you laid the bill down in such a hurry that night you were fixing Skinny up. You laid it on the open book just like that—see?”

“Maybe I did.” I said, “but what’s the big idea, kind sir?”

“Well, then,” he said, “I came up here to get your two bucks for you, didn’t I? And you remember I told you there was a breeze blowing? Now what did I do—in the dark?”

“Search me,” I said.

“Why, you big galook, I felt around in the dark and lifted the oar-lock off the bill and then felt there for it, but the breeze was too quick for me. It blew the page over and I slapped my hand down on—what?”

“Another page,” I said; “good night!”

“Good-bye two dollar bill,” he said, “it was between those two other pages. That’s why there was a stain on the right page in the book. There was a stain on the bill made by the oar-lock and when the page and the bill blew over, the fresh oil on the bill kind of stamped itself on the left hand page. You didn’t damage the book. You only damaged the bill. It was the breeze that damaged the book—see?”

“Believe me! I’ll be responsible,” I told him.

“That breeze was a thief,” he said.

“It’ll come to grief some day,” I told him.

Then we both began to laugh.

“And it’s lucky I got that book out of the library,” he said. “There was your two bucks tucked away all nice and neat between the pages. It was just where Jim Hawkins was starting away on the ship.”

“Narrow escape,” I said, “hey? If you hadn’t taken the book out just when you did, good night, the ship might have started and good-bye to my two dollars.”

“You crazy Indian,” he said.

“And all the time I was saying Jim Hawkins was honest and a good friend and all that, and all the time he had my two bucks.”

“Believe me I wouldn’t trust that fellow with a postage stamp,” Westy said.

Laugh! Oh, boy, I thought I’d die laughing—and Westy, too.

That’s the reason I’ll never trust a gentle breeze. In books you find all kinds of nice things about gentle breezes, but look out for them, that’s what I say. Whenever I leave my bathing suit on the grass to dry, I lay a good big rock on it, you can bet. I’d trust Skinny with a hundred dollars, I would, and Westy too, but gentle breezes—Nix. They’re so plaguy sly and sneaky like.

Westy and I went and bought a dandy copy of Treasure Island for the library. It cost us a quarter more than my two dollars, but we should worry.

Now I have to tell you one other thing that happened before we got started on our cruise, especially because it has a lot to do with our cruise.

The next morning we all went back to Northside Woods to tie up the saplings and drag them over to the river. Then we were going to use a rowboat and tow them down and maybe float some of them down. I told you about our old launch, but it’s too shallow to use a launch up as far as Northside Woods.

All the fellows were there except Skinny, because the doctor made him stay home on account of being all played out. I bet that doctor had some scrap with him. One thing sure, Westy and I stuck together. By noontime we had all the stuff hauled over to the river and some odds and ends of kindling wood besides, to take in the house-boat.

We filled the rowboat with the small stuff and towed the saplings and started downstream that way. The tide was running up and it was almost full and we had some job bucking it. Some of the fellows wanted to wait till it turned and come down with it. But I said that would be an hour maybe and that if the tide didn’t want to turn and go with us, we should worry.

Now that there wasn’t anything left to do, but tow the stuff down, all the fellows except Westy and I and Pee-wee started to hike it home. We said we’d take him with us in the boat so that he could bail, because that boat is built like a sieve.

“If it keeps on leaking like that,” I said, “there won’t be any water left in the river—it’ll all be in the boat.”

“It’s pretty hard bucking the tide,” Westy said.

“And we’re going up hill besides, too,” I told him; “remember that.”

Well, you should have seen Pee-wee. “What are you talking about—up hill!” he shouted.

“When we begin going down hill,” I said, all the while winking at Westy, “she’ll go easier, thank goodness.”

“We’ll have to put on the brakes,” Westy said. “Do you know why they talk about towing lumber?” I asked Pee-wee; “because it’s measured by the foot.”

“You’re crazy!” he shouted.

“Just the same as when they use it for back fences, it’s measured by the yard,” Westy said, all sober like.

“Sure—back—yard,” I said.

“You think you can jolly me, don’t you?” Pee-wee shouted.

“You just keep on bailing,” I said, “and don’t stop. When the tide begins turning you won’t have to bail so fast.”

Jiminy, Pee-wee didn’t know what to think—whether I was kidding him or not. “Why won’t I?” he wanted to know.

“Because it will be going the other way,” I said, “see? It’ll be flowing away from the boat.”

Oh, boy! Pee-wee just emptied the bailing can down my neck.

And that’s the way it was all the way down. Cracky, but we had Pee-wee so crazy that he’d bail up a can of water out of one end of the boat and empty it in the other end.

“What’s the difference whether it’s inside or outside?” Westy said, “as long as it’s there. I bet there’s a lot of canned salmon in this river.”

“Canned what?” Pee-wee shouted.

“Keep on bailing,” I said; “canned salmon is what he said, but I think there are more pickled herrings. There’s lots of pickled herrings in the Hudson, I know that.”

“You mean smoked herring,” Westy said, all the while rowing and looking around very sober like at me.

Oh, boy, didn’t Pee-wee open his eyes and stare! He didn’t know whether to take it for a joke or not—we were so serious.

“I suppose it’s on account of the smoke from the big Hudson River boats,” I said, “just the same as Oyster Bay.”

“What about Oyster Bay?” Pee-wee shouted.

“When the water gets all stewed up in rough weather, they get stewed oysters.”

“Not always,” Westy said.

“No, but most of the time,” I said.

“Oh, sure,” Westy said, “but I’ve seen lots of red lobsters that didn’t come from Red Bank——”

“It’s boiling makes them red; you big galook!” Pee-wee yelled.

“Oh, sure,” I said, not paying any attention to him, but all the while rowing hard and looking around very sober like at Westy, “because I know there are lots of bluefish caught near Greenland and you’d think by rights they ought to be green.”

“Sure,” Westy said, “just the same as the fish caught in American River out west, are red, white and blue.”

“And stars,” I said.

“Sure the river’s full of starfish and striped mackerel—stars and stripes. That’s why you have to stand up in the boat if you’re rowing on that river.”

“Oh, sure,” Westy said, “that’s why so many boats get upset.”

Good night! you should have seen Pee-wee.

“Keep on bailing, kiddo,” I said, “keep plenty of water in the river.”

“Maybe it would be better to let a little more come into the boat,” Westy said, “so as to lower the water in the river, so we can get under the bridge.”

“The both of you make me tired!” Pee-wee yelled; “do you think I believe all that stuff?”

Good night, some circus! It’s always that way when Westy and I get out with Pee-wee.

Pretty soon we heard a loud whistling and we wondered what it was, because it didn’t sound like a train and it sure wasn’t on a motor-boat.

Then Westy began asking what we were going to do about power after we got our stanchions and bumper-sticks and all that fixed. I said we’d have to get Jake Holden to tow us down around into the Hudson and then get somebody to tow us up. Westy said Mr. Ellsworth thought it would be cheaper to take our little three horsepower engine out of our launch and install it in the houseboat.

I said, “That would be all right, only it would kick us along so slow that we’d spend all our vacation on the trip and wouldn’t have any time at camp.” Cracky, I didn’t want to start back as soon as we got there.

“Well, then, there’s only one thing to do,” Westy said, “and that’s for us to get towed and that costs a lot of money.”

All the while the whistling kept up and it was awful loud and shrill, sort of, as if it was mad—you know how I mean.

“I know what it is,” I said; “it’s somebody waiting for the bridge to be opened.”

“Good night, they stand a tall chance,” Westy said.

“It’s a tug, that’s what it is,” Pee-wee said; “I can see the smoke. It’s going up in a big column.”

“It’s more than a column, its a whole volume,” Westy said, looking around. “There must be books on that boat; the smoke is coming out in volumes.”

All the while we were getting nearer to the bridge and it was easier rowing, because the tide was on the turn.

Now maybe if you fellows that read this don’t live in the country where there’s a river, you won’t understand about tides and bridges and all that. So I’ll tell you how it is, because, gee, we’re used to all that, us fellows.

Jimmy Van Dorian, he lives right near the bridge in a little shanty and he’s lame and he’s a bridge tender. You don’t get much for being a bridge tender and mostly old veterans are bridge tenders. Anyway, they don’t get much out our way, because big boats don’t come up and they don’t have to open the bridge often.

When we got down to the bridge we saw that the tide was right up so we even had to duck our heads to get under, and right on the other side of the bridge was a tugboat standing facing upstream and its whistle was screeching and screeching just like a dog stands and barks when he’s mad. It seemed awful funny because it was a small tug and it made so much noise.

“It ought to be named the Pee-wee,” Westy said.

“Nobody’s paying much attention to it,” I told him.

Just as we came under the bridge we could see a big fat man, oh, Christopher, wasn’t he fat, standing up in the pilot house pulling and pulling the whistle rope, for the bridge to open. Sometimes he’d pull it very fast, just like you do with the receiver on the telephone when you’re good and mad because Central don’t answer. And it was pretty near as bad as the telephone, too, because he went on tooting and tooting and tooting and nobody paid any attention to him.