ere they had talked before. "I can't do it, Tom," he said
finally; "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 let
a friend help you. I can see you're smart, and some day you'll make a
lot of money and you'll pay me back. But anyway, I don't care about
that. I only bought them so as to help the government. If they'd let me
help them, I don't see why _you_ shouldn't."

Thornton, still holding the money in his hand looked up and smiled, half
willingly, 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 go
anyway."

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 nothing
now to take him home, either. Nothing, indeed, except his work. The
bottom seemed to have dropped out of all his plans, and he lingered on
his lonely hilltop for the remaining day or two before the unsuspecting
tenants of this remote little community should arrive.

Of course he might have stayed and enjoyed his triumph, but that would
not have been Tom Slade. He had not forgotten those stinging and
accusing words of Roy's that morning when they had last met. He did not
remember them in malice, but he could not forget them, and he did not
wish 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 into
camp, for he wished to be by himself, and not to have to answer
questions about his departed friend, toward whom, strange to say, he
cherished a stronger feeling of attachment than before. He was even
grateful to Thornton for perhaps saving him the humiliation of Margaret
Ellison's refusing to go out with him in his boat. There was no telling
what a girl might say or do, and at least he was well out of that
peril....

He busied himself clearing up the litter about the new cabins and
getting them ready for occupancy. On Saturday morning he went down and
told Uncle Jeb that he was starting for home. He was greatly relieved
that the old man did not ask any questions about his companion. Uncle
Jeb was much preoccupied now with the ever-growing multitude of scouts
and their multifarious needs, and gave slight thought to that little
sprig of a camp up on the hill.

"En so ye