THE FRIEND IN NEED
Standing on the opposite side of the fire was a young fellow of about
his own age, panting audibly, and smiling at him with an exceedingly
companionable smile. In the light of the fire, Tom could see that his
curly hair was so red that a brick would have seemed blue by comparison,
and the freckles were as thick upon his pleasant face as stars in the
quiet sky. Moreover, his eyes sparkled with a kind of dancing
recklessness, and there was a winning familiarity about him that took
even stolid Tom quite by storm.
The stranger wore a plaid cap and a mackinaw jacket, the fuzzy texture
of which was liberally besprinkled with burrs, which he was plucking off
one by one, and throwing into the fire in great good humor.
"I'm a human bramble bush," he said; "a few more of them and I'd be a
nutmeg grater. I'm not conceited but I'm stuck up."
"I didn't see you until just this minute," Tom said; "or hear you
either. I guess you didn't come by the road. I guess you must have come
by the woods trail to get all those burrs on you."
For just a moment the stranger seemed a trifle taken aback, but he
quickly regained his composure and said, "I came in through the stage
entrance, I guess. I can see you're an A-1 scout, good at observing and
deducing and all that. I bet you can't guess who I am."
"I bet I can," said Tom, soberly accepting the challenge; "you're
William Barnard. And I'm glad you're here, too."
"Right the first time," said the stranger. "And you're Thomas Slade. At
last we have met, as the villain says in the movies. You all alone?
Here, let's get a squint at your mug," he added, sitting on the blanket
and holding Tom's chin up so as to obtain a good view of his face.
Tom's wonted soberness dissolved under this familiar, friendly
treatment, and he said with characteristic blunt frankness, "I'm glad
you came. You're just like I thought you were. I hoped all the time that
you'd come."
"_Get out!_" said Barnard, giving him a bantering push and laughing
merrily. "I bet you never gave me a thought. Well, here I am, as large
as life, larger in fact, and now that I'm here, what are you going to do
with me? What's that; a light?" he added, glancing suddenly down to the
main body of the camp.
"It's just the reflection of this fire in the lake," Tom said; "there
isn't anybody but me in camp now. The season is late starting. I guess
troops will start coming Saturday."
"Yes?" said his companion, rather interested, apparently. "Well, I don't
suppose they'll bother us much if we stick up here. What are you doing,
building a city? The last time we met was in a hole in the ground, hey?
Buried alive; you remember that? Little old France!"
"I don't want to talk about that," Tom said; "when I told Uncle Jeb
about it, it made me have a headache afterwards. I don't want to think
about that any more. But I'm mighty glad to see you, and I hope you'll
stay. It seems funny, kind of, doesn't it?"
Prompt to avail himself of Tom's apparent invitation to friendly
intercourse, his companion lay flat on his back, clasped his hands over
his head and said, "As funny as a circus. So here we are again, met once
more like Stanley and Livingstone in South Africa. And do you know, you
look just like I thought you'd look. I said to myself that Tom Slade has
a big mouth--determined."
"I never thought how you'd look," Tom said soberly; "but I said you were
happy-go-lucky, and I guess you are. I bet your scouts like you. Can you
stay until they come?"
"They're a pack of wild Indians, but they think I'm the only baby in the
cradle."
"I guess they're right," Tom said.
"So you're all alone in camp, hey? And making your headquarters up here?
Nice and cosy, hey? Remote and secluded, eh? That's the stuff for me. I
tell my scouts, 'Keep away from civilization.' The further back you get
the better. Guess they won't bother you up here much, hey? Regular
hermit's den. No, I'm just on a flying visit, that's all. Came to New
York on biz, and thought I'd run up and give the place the once over. I
might loaf around a week or two if you'll let me. Suppose I _could_ stay
until the kids get here, if it comes to that; _my_ kids, I mean. After
all it would be just a case of beating it back to Ohio and then beating
it back here with them."
"You might as well stay here now you're here; I hope you will," Tom
said. "As long as you're here I might as well tell you why _I'm_ here,
all alone."
"Health?"
"Kind of, but not exactly," Tom said. "These three cabins, the old
ones--that one, and that one, and that one," he added, pointing, "are
the ones my troop always had. But I forgot all about it and gave them to
your troop. That got them sore at me. Maybe I could have fixed it for
them, but that would have left you fellows without any cabins, because
all the cabins down below are taken for August. So I came up here to
build three more; that way, nobody'll get left. They don't know I'm
doing it. I only got about two weeks now. I guess I can't finish because
my arm is lame, on account of that wound--_you_ know. And my shoulder is
sore. I wanted to go away before they come--I got reasons."
His companion raised himself to a sitting posture, clasped his hands
over his knees, and glanced about at the disordered scene which shone in
the firelight. "So that's what you've been up to, hey?" he said.
"When I told you in my letter to address your letters here, that's what
I was thinking about," Tom said. "Your troop and my--that other--troop
will be good friends, I guess. I'm going home when I get through and
I'm going to buy a motor-boat."
"Well--I'll--be--jiggered!" his friend said. "Thomas Slade, you're an
old hickory-nut."
"It was just like two trails," Tom said, "and I hit the long one."
"And you're still in the bush, hey? Well, now you listen here. Can I
bunk up here with you? All right-o. Then I'm yours for a finished job.
Here's my hand. Over the top we go. On July thirty-first, the flag
floats over this last cabin. I'm with you, strong as mustard. Building
cabins is my favorite sport. You can sit and watch me. I'm here to
finish that job with you--what do you say? Comrades to the death?"
"You can help," said Tom, smiling.
"That's me," said Billy Barnard.