ws,
what a chance this would be to get ahead of the old chap and camp out
Friday or Saturday--if Mr. Curtis would only let us."

"He won't," said Sherman Ward, decidedly. "Besides, it's a lot too cold
and looks like snow. How did he manage, Ted? Living alone with only those
dogs, it must have been some stunt to get word to anybody."

"He got out to the road and waited for the first team that came along,"
explained Ted. "The people took him into the house, and then sent Dr.
Maxwell out from town. He wanted somebody to come and look after him,
but old Grimey wouldn't hear of it. Said he couldn't stand the expense."

"The old miser! How does he manage to get his meals and look after the
stock?"

"Eats bread and milk and canned stuff, I guess. Bud Hinckley comes in
night and morning, I understand, to look after the horse and cow and wash
dishes and all that, but you know what Bud is."

"So lazy he'd like somebody else to draw his breath for him!" said
Court Parker, promptly. "Whew! What a lovely time the old man must be
having--and to-morrow Thanksgiving!"

As they trooped into school, the last words lingered in Dale Tompkins's
mind. To-morrow would, indeed, be Thanksgiving--the day of turkey, and
mince-pie, and good cheer generally. He had no more cause than the
others for sympathizing with Caleb Grimstone, but somehow the mental
picture of the soured old man sitting alone in his slovenly kitchen,
one arm in a sling, and eating bread and milk, with perhaps a can of
lukewarm tomatoes or corn, when every one else was feasting merrily
in company, made him vaguely uncomfortable.

He forgot it, however, in the excitement of a brisk game of land-hockey
up at Sherman's that afternoon, but after supper the picture returned
with renewed vividness, and with it something the scoutmaster had said
when he passed his second-class examinations a few days ago.

"Never forget the daily good turn, Dale, or let it slump into a
perfunctory sort of thing such as you would have to do anyway whether
you were a scout or not. A fellow can't always find big things, of
course; but when the opportunity comes, he isn't a true scout if he
cannot sacrifice his own comfort or pleasure or inclination to bring
help or happiness to some one who really needs it."

Dale squirmed a little at the recollection and tried to go on with the
book he was reading. But the tale had lost its savor, and presently he
raised his eyes from the printed page and fro