uthorizing him to repeat it, that he could not forget or forgive. "_You
can tell them that I did not know anything about them if you want to_."
And all the while he, Tom, had known this Barnard, or whatever his name
was, and had fixed things so that he and Barnard might be together at
Temple Camp. Barnard was a grown-up fellow, Roy told himself, and a
soldier, and he didn't exactly blame Tom, but....

And then their trails crossed again, right there at the foot of the
elevator shaft, where Tom was waiting to go up.

Roy's first impulse was to brush past his friend saying nothing, but
when he had all but reached the door he wheeled about and said, "If you
want to hand out any lies to the troop, you'd better do it yourself; I'm
not going to do it for you."

"What?" said Tom, a little startled out of his usual stolid manner.

"Oh, you know what, all right," Roy answered sneeringly. "You thought
I'd never find out, didn't you? You didn't think I'd go up to the
office. You thought you'd get away with it and have me lying to the
troop--the fellows that used to be your friends before you met Barnyard
or whatever you call him. I know who he is, all right. If you wanted to
give him our cabins, him and his troop, why didn't you come and say so?
Gee whiz, we would have been willing to do them a good turn. We've
camped in tents before, if it comes to that."

Tom stood perfectly motionless, with no more expression, either of anger
or sorrow or surprise, than he usually showed. His big, tight set,
resolute mouth was very conspicuous, but Roy did not notice that. The
elevator came down, and the metallic sound of its door opening was
emphasized in the tense silence which followed Roy's tirade.

"Going up," the colored boy said.

The door rolled shut and still Tom Slade stood there, stolid and without
any show of emotion, looking straight at Roy. "I didn't ever tell a
lie--not since I got in with the scouts," he said simply.

"Well, that makes two," said Roy mercilessly; "do you mean to tell me
you don't know what's-his-name--Barnard? Will you stand there and say
you don't know him?"

"I do know him," Tom said; "he saved my life in France."

"And didn't you tell me only ten minutes ago that I could tell the
fellows that you didn't know anything about--about that troop--about him
and his troop? Didn't you? Do you deny that you did? You told me I could
go back and lie to the fellows--you did! If you think I'll do that
you've go