Chapter XVII: Hervey Goes His Way

So Hervey went his way alone, and a pretty lonesome way it was. The members of his troop made no secret of their disappointment and annoyance, he was clearly an outsider among them, and Mr. Warren treated him with frosty kindness. Hervey had been altogether too engrossed in his mad career of badge-getting to cultivate friends, he was always running on high, as the scouts of camp said, and though everybody liked him none had been intimate with him. He felt this now.

In those two intervening days between his adventure in the elm tree and the big pow-wow on Saturday night, he found a staunch friend in little Skinny, who followed him about like a dog. They stuck together on the bus ride down to the regatta on the Hudson and were close companions all through the day.

Hervey did not care greatly for the boat races, because he could not be in them; he had no use for a race unless he could win it. So he and Skinny fished for a while over the rail of the excursion boat, but Hervey soon tired of this, because the fish would not coöperate. Then they pitched ball on the deck, but the ball went overboard and Mr. Warren would not permit Hervey to dive in after it. So he made a wager with Skinny that he could shinny up the flag-pole, but was foiled in his attempt by the captain of the boat. Thus he was driven to the refuge of conversation.

Balancing himself perilously on the rail in an unfrequented part of the steamer, he asked Skinny about the coveted award. "They're not going to put you through a lot of book sprints, are they?" he inquired.

"I'm going to get it Saturday night," Skinny said. "I bet all my troop will like me then, won't they? I have to stand up straight when I go on the platform. Some fellows get a lot of clapping when they go on the platform. I know two fellows that are going to clap when I go on. Will you clap when I go on? Because I like you a lot."

"I'll stamp with both feet," said Hervey.

"And will you clap?"

"When you hear me clap you'll think it's a whole troop."

"I bet your troop think a lot of you."

"They could be arrested if they said out loud what they think of me."

"My father got arrested once."

"Well, I hope they won't trip you up. That was a fine stunt you did, Skinny. When those trustees and scoutmasters once get busy with the handbook, _good night_, it reminds you of boyhood's happy school days."

"It's all on page thirty," Skinny said; "and I've done all of those ten things, because the tracking made ten, and Mr. Elting said as long as you said you saw me do it, it's all right, because he knows you tell the truth."

"Well, that's one good thing about me," Hervey laughed.

"And he said you came near winning the Eagle award, too. He said you only just missed it. I bet you're a hero, ain't you?"

"Some hero."

"A boy said you gave the eagle a good run for it, even if you didn't get it. He said you came near it."

Hervey just sat on the rail swinging his legs. "I came pretty near the eagle, that's right," he said; "and if I'd got a little nearer I'd have choked his life out. That's how much I think of the eagle."

Skinny looked as if he did not understand.

"Did you see that bird that Tom Slade got? He got the nest and all. It's hanging in the elm tree near the pavilion. There's an oriole in that nest."

"Get out!"

"Didn't you see it yet?"

"Nope."

"All the fellows saw it. That bird has got a name like the one you called me."

"Asbestos?"

"Something like that. Why did you call me that name--Asbestos?"

"Well, because you're more important than an eagle. See?"

"That's no good of a reason."

"Well, then, because you're going to be a second-hand scout."

"You mean second-_class_," Skinny said; "that's no good of a reason, either."

"Well, I guess I'm not much good on reasons. I'd never win the reason badge, hey?"

"Do you know who is the smartest fellow in this camp?" Skinny asked, jumping from one thing to another in his erratic fashion. "Tom Slade. He knows everything. I like him but I like you better. He promised to clap when I go on the platform, too. Will you ask your troop to clap?"

"I'm afraid they don't care anything about doing me a favor, Alf. Maybe they won't feel like clapping. But your troop will clap."

"Pee-wee Harris, he's in my troop; he said he'd shout."

"Good night!" Hervey laughed. "What more do you want?"