own mistake in the best possible way--the scout way?
And how was that? By going to Mr. Burton and taking the matter up and
perhaps causing disappointment to those boys out in Ohio, for the sake
of these boys in Bridgeboro? Robbing Peter to pay Paul?

Perhaps Mr. Burton would have done that, under all the circumstances.
Perhaps Mr. John Temple, head of the whole shebang, would have approved
this--under the circumstances. Perhaps the average clerk would have
proposed this; would have suggested hitting this convenient little
trail, about as short and prosy as a back alley. All you need on that
trail is a typewriter machine. Perhaps Tom Slade was not a good clerk.
His way out of the difficulty was a longer and more circuitous way. But
it was the scout way. He was a scout and he hit the long trail.

CHAPTER XIII

ROY'S TRAIL

As for Roy, he went home feeling heavy of heart, but he was not sorry
for what he had said. He had known that Tom had been slipping away from
the troop and that his interest in the old associations had waned ever
since his return from France. But that Tom should have lied to him and
that he should use Temple Camp and that old beloved spot up on the hill
for new friends, deliberately giving them precedence over these
companions of his real scouting days--_that_ Roy could not stand. And he
told himself that he was through with Tom, even as Tom was through with
the troop.

The trail of Roy and his friends is short and easy to follow, and it is
not the main trail of this story. It took them into the city where they
bought a tent, (not a very large one, for they could not get together
much money), but big enough to bunk in and enable them to spend their
vacation at the beloved, familiar spot. He said that "he should worry
about that fellow Barnard," and that he guessed Tom's fondness for that
individual was like Peewee's fondness for mince pie--a case of love at
first bite. But did he forget about Tom, and miss him at the meetings?

We shall have to guess as to that. Tom was seldom mentioned, at all
events. The first member of the Bridgeboro troop to outgrow his
companions and turn his thoughts to new friends and associates had
broken away from the hallowed circle and deserted them, and repudiated
them with a lie on his lips; that was what the scouts said, or at least,
thought. They had seen it coming, but it had hurt just the same.

And so the days went by, and the breath of Spring grew heav