ng for me to forget about that. But now I'm glad,
because I have thought of another scheme. I thought of it while I
was lying in bed last night and couldn't sleep. So now I'm glad you
have those cabins. And you bet I'm glad you wrote to me. It's funny
how things happen.

Maybe you'll remember how I thought I was going to die in that hole,
and you said how we could dig our way out with your helmet, because
if a fellow _has_ to do something he can do it. I'm glad you said
that, because I thought about it last night. And thinking of that
made me decide I would do something.

I would like it if you will write to me again before summer, and you
can send your letters care of Temple Camp, Black Lake.

When you come, you bet I'll be glad to see you.

Your friend,
TOM SLADE.

When Tom had sealed and stamped this letter, he laid the other one on
Miss Margaret Ellison's desk, thinking that she might be interested to
read it.

CHAPTER XI

TOM AND ROY

Anxious that his letter should go as soon as possible, Tom went down in
the elevator and was about to cross the street and post it when he ran
plunk into Roy, who was waiting on the steps.

"Good night, look who's here," Roy said, in his usual friendly tone; "I
might have known that you were upstairs. You've got the early bird
turning green with envy."

"I always come early Saturdays," Tom said.

"I want to tell you that I'm sorry about the way I spoke to you last
night, Tom," Roy spoke up. "I see now that it wasn't so bad. I guess you
have a whole lot to do up in the office, and maybe you just forgot about
how we always had the hill cabins. You can't do _everything_ you want
to do, gee I realize that."

"I can do anything I want to do," Tom said.

Roy looked at him as if he did not quite understand.

"Going back on people isn't the way to square things," Tom said. "You
got to make things right without anybody losing anything. There's always
two ways, only you've got to find the other one."

Roy did not quite understand the drift of his friend's talk, it was not
always easy to follow Tom, and indeed he did not care much what Tom
meant; he just wanted him to know that their friendship had not been
wrecked--could not be wrecked by any freakish act of Tom's.

"I don't care thirty cents what anybody says," T