something righteous, in this fine abandon. In the
setting of the outburst of hurt pride even the profane word seemed to
justify itself. The tables were completely turned and Hervey Willetts
was master of the situation.

CHAPTER XX

TOM ADVISES GOLIATH

It was late afternoon when Tom Slade, tramping home after his day spent
with the minions of the law, crossed the main road and hit into the
woods trail which afforded a short cut to camp.

It was the laziest hour of the day, the gap between mid afternoon
and supper time. It was a tranquil time, a time of lolling under trees
and playing the wild game of mumbly-peg, and of jollying tenderfoots,
and waiting for supper. Roy Blakeley always said that the next best thing
to supper was waiting for it. The lake always looked black in that
pre-twilight time when the sun was beyond though not below the summit of
the mountain. It was the time of new arrivals. In that mountain-surrounded
retreat they have two twilights--a tenderfoot twilight and a first class
twilight. It was the time when scouts, singly and in groups, came in from
tracking, stalking and what not, and sprawled about and got acquainted.

But there was one who did not come in on that peaceful afternoon, and
that was the wandering minstrel. If Tom Slade had crossed the main road
ten minutes sooner, he might have seen that blithe singer going along
the road, but not with a song on his lips. The sun of that carefree
nature was under a cloud. But his loyal stocking kept descending, and
his suit-case dangled from a stick over his shoulder. His trick hat
perched jauntily upon his head, Hervey Willetts was himself again. Not
quite, but _almost_. At all events he did not ponder on the injustice of
the world and the cruelty of fate. He was wondering whether he could
make Jonesville in time for the night train or whether he had better try
for the boat at Catskill Landing. The boat had this advantage, that he
could shinny up the flagpole if the pilot did not see him. The train
offered nothing but the railing on the platforms....

If Tom had been ten minutes earlier!

The young camp assistant left the trail and hit down through the grove
and around the main pavilion. The descending sun shone right in his face
as he neared the lake. It made his brown skin seem almost like that of a
mulatto. His sleeves were rolled up as they always were, showing brown
muscular arms, with a leather wristlet (but no watch) on one. His