"My home is out in Broadvale, Ohio, Slady. Ever hear of it? It's west ofDansburg--about fifty miles. I worked in a lumber concern out there. Canyou guess the rest? Here's what did it, Slady, (and with admirabledexterity he went through the motions of shuffling cards and shootingcraps). I swiped a hundred, Slady. Don't ask me why I did it--I don'tknow--I was crazy, that's all. So _now_ what have you got to say?" heinquired with a kind of recklessness, releasing Tom's arm.
"I ain't got anything to say," said Tom.
"They don't know it yet, Tommy, but they'll know it Monday. Theaccountants are on the job Monday. So I beat it, while the going wasgood. I started east, for little old New York. I intended to change myname and get a job there and lay low till I could make good. I thoughtthey'd never find me in New York. My right name is Thornton, Slady. RedThornton they call me out home, on account of this brick dome. Tommy,old boy, as sure as you sit there I don't know any more about the boyscouts than a pig knows about hygiene. So now you've got my number,Slady. What is it? Quits?"
"If you knew anything about scouts," Tom said, with the faintest note ofhuskiness in his voice, "you'd know that they don't call quits. If I wasa quitter, do you suppose I'd have stuck up here?"
Thornton gazed about him at the three new cabins, which this queerfriend of his had built there to rectify a trifling act offorgetfulness; he looked at Tom's torn shirt, through which his bruisedshoulder could be seen, and at those tough scarred hands.
"So now you know something about them," Tom said.
"I know something about _one_ of them, anyway," Thornton repliedadmiringly.
"If a fellow sticks in one way, he'll stick in another way," Tom said."If he makes up his mind to a thing----"
"You said it, Slady," Thornton concurred, giving Tom a rap on theshoulder. "And now you know, you won't tell? You won't tell that I'vegone to New York?" he added with sudden anxiety.
"Who would I tell?" Tom asked. "Nobody ever made me do anything yet thatI didn't want to do." Which was only too true.
Thornton crossed one knee over the other and talked with more ease andassurance. "I met Barnard on the train coming east, Slady. He has redhair like mine, so I thought I'd sit down beside him; we harmonized."
Tom could not repress a smile. "He told me in a letter that he had redhair," he observed.
"Red as a Temple Camp sunset, Tommy old boy. You're going to like thatfellow; he's a hundred per cent, white--only for his hair. He's gotscouting on the brain--clean daft about it. He told me all about you andhow he and his crew of kids were going to spend August here and makethings lively. Your crowd----"
"Troop," Tom said.
"Right-o; your troop had better look out for that bunch--excuse me,_troop_. Right? I'm learning, hey? I'll be a good scout when I get outof jail," he added soberly. "Never mind; listen. Barnard thinks you'rethe only scout outside of Dansburg, Ohio. He told me how he was cominghere to give you a little surprise call before the season opened and thekids--guys--scouts, right-o, began coming. Tom," he added seriously, "bythe time we got to Columbus, I knew as much about Temple Camp and you,as _he_ did. He didn't know so much about _you_ either, if it comes tothat. But I found out that you were pretty nearly all alone here.
"Then he got a wire, Tom; I think it was in Columbus. A brakeman camethrough the train with a message, calling his name. Oh, boy, but he waspiffed! 'Got to go home,' he said. That's all there was to it, Tom.Business before pleasure, hey? Poor fellow, I felt sorry for him. Hefound out he could get a train back in about an hour.
"Tommy, listen here. It wasn't until my train started and I looked backand waved to him out of the window, that this low down game I've putover on you occurred to me. All the time that we were chatting together,I was worried, thinking about what I'd do and where I'd go, and how itwould be on the first Monday in August when those pen and ink sleuthsgot the goods on me. I could just see them going over my ledger, Slady.
"Well, I looked out of the car window and there stood Barnard, and thesun was just going down, Tommy, just like you and I have watched it donight after night up here, and that red hair of his was just shining inthe light. It came to me just like that, Slady," Thornton said,clapping his hands, "and I said to myself, I'm like that chap in _one_way, anyhow, and he and this fellow Slade have _never seen each other_.Why can't _I_ go up to that lonely camp in the mountains and be BillyBarnard for a while? Why can't I lie low there till I can plan what todo next? That's what I said, Slady. Wouldn't a place like that be betterthan New York? Maybe you'll say I took a long chance--reckless. That'sthe way it is with red hair, Slady. I took a chance on you being easyand it worked out, that's all. Or rather, I mean it _didn't_, for I feellike a murderer, and it's all on account of you, Slady.
"I didn't know what to do, I didn't know where to go; I just wanted toget away from home before the game was up and they nabbed me. It's nofun being pinched, Tom. I thought I might make the visit that thisfriend of yours was going to make, and hang around here where it's quietand lonesome, till it was time for him to come. I guess that's about asfar as my plans carried. It was a crazy idea, I see that well enoughnow. But I was rattled--I was just rattled, that's all. I thought thatwhen the time came that I'd have to leave here, maybe I could tramp upnorth further and change my name again and get a job on some farm orother, till I could earn a little and make good. What I didn't figure onwas the kind of a fellow I was going to meet. I--I----" he stammered,trying to control himself in a burst of feeling and clutching Tom'sknee, "I--I didn't put it over on you, Tom; maybe it seems that way toyou--but--but I didn't. It's you that win, old man--can't you see? It's_you_ that win. You've put it all over _me_ and rubbed it in,and--and--instead of getting away with anything--like I thought--I'lljust beat it away from here feeling like a bigger sneak than I everthought I was. I've--I've seen something here--I have. I thought some ofthese trees were made of pretty good stuff, but you've got them beat,Slady. I thought I was a wise guy to dig into this forsaken retreat andslip the bandage over your eyes, but--but the laugh is on me, Slady,don't--don't you see?" he smiled, his eyes glistening and his handtrembling on Tom's knee. "You've put it all over me, you oldhickory-nut, and I've told you the whole business, and you've got me inyour power, see?"
Tom Slade looked straight ahead of him and said never a word.
"It's--it's a knockout, Slady, and you win. You can go down and tell oldUncle Jeb the whole business," he fairly sobbed, "I won't stop you. I'msick and discouraged--I might as well take my medicine--I'm--I'm sick ofthe whole thing--you win--Slady. I'll wait here--I--I won't fool youagain--not once again, by thunder, I won't! Go on down and tell him athief has been bunking up here with you--go on--I'll wait."
There was just a moment of silence, and in that moment, strangelyenough, a merry laugh arose in the camp below.
"You needn't tell me what to do," said Tom, "because I _know_ what todo. There's nobody in this world can tell me what to do. Mr. Burton, hewanted to write to those fellows and fix it. But I knew what to do. Doyou call me a quitter? You see these cabins, don't you? Do you think_you_ can tell me what to do?"
"Go and send a wire to Broadvale and tell 'em that you've got me,"Thornton said with a kind of bitter resignation; "I heard that scoutsare good at finding missing people--fugitives. You--you _have got_ me,Tommy, but in a different way than you think. You got me that firstnight. Go ahead. But--but listen here. I _can't_ let them take me to-day,my head is spinning like a buzz-saw, Tommy--I can't, I can't, I _can't_!It's the cut in my head. All this starts it aching again--it just----"
He lowered his head until his wounded forehead rested on Tom's lap."I'm--I'm just--beaten," he sobbed. "Let me stay here to-day,to-night--don't say anything yet--let me stay just this one day morewith you and to-morrow I'll be better and you can go down and tell. Iwon't run away--don't you believe me? I'll take what's coming to me.Only wait--my head is all buzzing again now--just wait till to-morrow.Let me stay here to-day, old man ..."
Tom Slade lifted the head from his lap an
d arose. "You can't stay hereto-night," he said; "you can't stay even to-day. You can't stay an hour.Nobody can tell me what I ought to do. You can't stay here ten minutes.If you tried to get away I'd trail you, I'd catch you. You stay whereyou are till I get back."
CHAPTER XXVIII
RED THORNTON LEARNS SOMETHING ABOUT SCOUTS
And strange to say Red Thornton did stay just where he was. Perhaps,seeing that Tom limped as he went down the hill, the fugitiveentertained a momentary thought of flight. If so, he abandoned it,perhaps in fear, more likely in honor. Who shall say? His agitation hadcaused his head to begin aching furiously again, and he was a pitifulfigure as he sat there upon the doorsill, in a kind of desperateresignation, resting his forehead in his two hands, and occasionallylooking along the path down the hill at Tom as he limped in and outamong the trees, following the beaten trail. It had never occurred tohim before, how lame Tom was, as the result of his injuries andexcessive labors. And he marvelled at the simple confidence which wouldleave him thus free to escape, if he cared to. Perhaps Tom could havetracked and caught him, perhaps not. But at all events Tom had beatenhim with character and that was enough. He had him and Thornton knew andconfessed it. It _was_ curious how it worked out, when you come to thinkof it.
Anyway, Thornton had given up all his fine plans and was ready to bearrested. He would tell the authorities that it was not on account ofthem that he gave himself up, but on account of Tom. Tom should have allthe credit, as he deserved. He could hardly realize now that he haddeliberately confessed to Tom. And having done so, he realized that Tom,being a good citizen, believing in the law and all that sort of thing,could not do otherwise than hand him over. What in the world else couldTom Slade do? Say to him, "You stole money; go ahead and escape; I'mwith you?" Hardly.
There was a minute in Red Thornton's life when he came near makingmatters worse with a terrible blunder. After about fifteen or twentyminutes of waiting, he arose and stepped over to the gully andconsidered making a dash through the woods and striking into the road.Perhaps he would have done this; I cannot say. But happening just atthat moment to glance down the hill in the opposite direction, he wasastonished at seeing Tom plodding up the hill again quite alone. NeitherUncle Jeb nor any of those formidable scoutmasters or trustees wereanywhere near him. Not so much as an uproarious, aggressive tenderfootwas at his heels. No constables, no deputy sheriffs, no one.
And then, just in that fleeting, perilous moment, Red Thornton knew TomSlade and he knew that this was their business and no one else's. Hecame near to making an awful botch of things. He was breathing heavilywhen Tom spoke to him.
"What are those fellows you were speaking about? Pen and ink sleuths?"Tom asked. "They come to Temple Camp office, sometimes."
"That's them," Thornton said.
"When did you say they come?"
"Next Monday, first Monday in August. What's the difference? The soonerthe better," Thornton said.
"Was it just an even hundred that you took, when you forgot about whatyou were doing, sort of?" Tom asked.
"A hundred and three."
"Then will twenty-three dollars be enough to get back to that placewhere you live?"
"Why?"
"I'm just asking you."
"It's twenty-one forty."
"That means you'll have a dollar sixty for meals," Tom said, "unless youhave some of your own. Have you?"
Thornton seemed rather puzzled, but he jingled some coin in his pocketand pulled out a five dollar bill and some change.
"Then it's all right," Tom said, "'cause if I asked anybody for money Imight have to tell them why. Here's two Liberty Bonds," he said, placinghis precious, and much creased documents in Thornton's hand. "You canget them cashed in New York. You have to start this morning so as tocatch the eleven twenty train. I guess you'll get home to-morrow nightmaybe, hey? You have to give them their money before those fellows getthere. You got to tell them how you made a mistake. Maybe if you don'thave quite enough you'll be able to get a little bit more. This isbecause you helped me and on account of our being friends."
Thornton looked down into his hand and saw, through glistening eyes, thetwo dilapidated bonds, and a couple of crumpled ten-dollar bills andsome odds and ends of smaller bills and currency. They represented thesumptuous fortune of Lucky Luke, alias Tom Slade.
"And I thought you were going to ..." Thornton began; "Slady, I can't dothis; it's all you've got."
"It's no good to me," Tom said. "Anyway, you got to go back and getthere before those fellows do. Then you can fix it."
Thornton hesitated, then shook his head. Then he went over and sat onthe sill where they had talked before. "I can't do it, Tom," he saidfinally; "I just can't. Here, take it. This is my affair, not yours."
"You said we were good friends up here," Tom said; "it's nothing to leta friend help you. I can see you're smart, and some day you'll make alot of money and you'll pay me back. But anyway, I don't care aboutthat. I only bought them so as to help the government. If they'd let mehelp them, I don't see why _you_ shouldn't."
Thornton, still holding the money in his hand looked up and smiled, halfwillingly, at his singular argument.
"How about the motor-boat--and the girl?" he asked wistfully.
"You needn't worry about that," Tom said simply, "maybe she wouldn't goanyway."
And perhaps she wouldn't have. It would have been just his luck.
CHAPTER XXIX
TOM STARTS FOR HOME
There was nothing now to keep Tom at Temple Camp, yet there was nothingnow to take him home, either. Nothing, indeed, except his work. Thebottom seemed to have dropped out of all his plans, and he lingered onhis lonely hilltop for the remaining day or two before the unsuspectingtenants of this remote little community should arrive.
Of course he might have stayed and enjoyed his triumph, but that wouldnot have been Tom Slade. He had not forgotten those stinging andaccusing words of Roy's that morning when they had last met. He did notremember them in malice, but he could not forget them, and he did notwish to see Roy. We have to take Tom Slade as we find him.
In those last hours of his lonely stay he did not go down much intocamp, for he wished to be by himself, and not to have to answerquestions about his departed friend, toward whom, strange to say, hecherished a stronger feeling of attachment than before. He was evengrateful to Thornton for perhaps saving him the humiliation of MargaretEllison's refusing to go out with him in his boat. There was no tellingwhat a girl might say or do, and at least he was well out of thatperil....
He busied himself clearing up the litter about the new cabins andgetting them ready for occupancy. On Saturday morning he went down andtold Uncle Jeb that he was starting for home. He was greatly relievedthat the old man did not ask any questions about his companion. UncleJeb was much preoccupied now with the ever-growing multitude of scoutsand their multifarious needs, and gave slight thought to that littlesprig of a camp up on the hill.
"En so yer ain't fer stayin', Tommy? I kinder cal'lated you'd weakenwhen the time come. Ain't goin' ter think better of it, huh?" The oldman, smiling through a cloud of tobacco smoke, contemplated Tom withshrewd, twinkling, expectant eyes. "Fun's jest about startin' naow,Tommy. 'Member what I told yer baot them critters. Daont yer go back onaccount of no gal."
"I ain't going back on account of a girl," said Tom.
"What train yer thinkin' uv goin' daon on?" the old man asked.
"I'm going to hike it," Tom said.
Uncle Jeb contemplated him for a moment as though puzzled, but afterall, seeing nothing so very remarkable in a hike of a hundred and fiftymiles or so, he simply observed. "Yer be'nt in no hurry ter get back,huh? Wall, yer better hev a good snack before yer start. You jest tellChocolate Drop to put yer up rations fer ter night, too, in case youcamp."
* * * * *
The guests at Temple Camp paid no particular attention to the youngfellow who was leaving. He had not associated with the visiting sc
outs,and save for an occasional visit to his isolated retreat, where theyfound little to interest them, he had been almost a stranger among them.Doubtless some of them had thought him a mere workman at the camp andhad left him undisturbed accordingly.
It was almost pitiful, now that he was leaving, to note how slightly hewas known and how little his departure affected the general routine ofpleasure. A few scouts, who were diving from the spring board paused toglance at him as he rowed across the lake and observed that the "fellowfrom up on the hill" was going away. Others waved him a fraternalfarewell, but there was none of that customary gathering at the landing,which he had known in the happy days when he had been a scout amongscouts at his beloved camp.
But there was one scout who took enough interest in him to offer to goacross in the rowboat with him, on the pretext of bringing it back,though both knew that it was customary to keep boats on both sides ofthe lake. This fellow was tall and of a quiet demeanor. His name wasArcher, and he had come with his troop from somewhere in the west, wherethey breed that particular type of scouts who believe that actions speaklouder than words.
Tom Slade at Black Lake Page 9
