ing to do."

Tom paused, seemingly irresolute, as if not knowing whether to say what
was in his mind or not. And presently they started toward the camp,
Hervey limping along and carrying the branch.

"An oriole picks up everything he can find and weaves it into his nest,"
Tom said; "string, ribbon, bits of straw, any old thing. He likes things
that are bright colored."

"He's got the right idea, there," Hervey said.

Tom tried again to interest the rescuer in this little companion,
imprisoned within its own cozy little home, whom they were taking back
to camp. He could not comprehend how one who had performed such a stunt
as Hervey had just performed, and been so careful and humane, could
forget about his act so soon and take so little interest in the bird
which had been saved by his reckless courage. But that was Hervey
Willetts all over. His heart went where action was. And his interest
lapsed when action ceased.

"Somebody in a book called the oriole Orestes, because that means
dweller in the woods," Tom ventured.

"He dwells in a sky-scraper, that's what _I_ say," Hervey commented. "In
a hall bedroom upside down, twenty floors up."

Tom tried again. "What do you mean to do with her now that you've got
her?" he asked.

"I'm going to turn her over to you, Slady. You're the real scout; none
genuine unless marked T. S. You've got the birds all eating out of your
hands."

"You didn't tear the nest from the branch," Tom said. "You must have had
some idea."

"Well," said Hervey, "my idea was to stick it up in an elm tree down at
camp. Think she'd stand for it?"

"Guess so," Tom said.

"You see I'm all through bird study," Hervey said with amusing
artlessness, "so I think you'd better adopt Erastus--is that the way you
say it?"

"Orestes," Tom corrected him.

"Pardon _me_," Hervey said.

"Maybe you don't even care if I tell them what you did?" Tom queried.

"Tell them whatever you want," Hervey said. "I don't care. What I'm
thinking now is----"

"The next stunt," Tom interrupted him.

"You said it," Hervey answered cheerily; "just about a mile or so of
tracks. I guess you think I'm kind of happy-go-lucky, don't you?"

"I don't blame you for not remembering all the things you've done," Tom
said, "and all the rules and tests and like that. But most every scout
goes in for some particular thing. Maybe it's first aid, or maybe it's
signaling. And he keeps on with that thing even after he has the badge.