ARCHER
When these two troops reached camp they found the tall scout Archer
waiting for them. How much he knew or suspected it would be difficult to
surmise.
"Uncle Jeb told me I might show you up to the hill," he said. "Some of
you fellows came from Ohio, I understand. You're all to bunk up on the
hill."
"I guess that's a mistake," Roy said.
"No, I think Uncle Jeb has things down about pat," Archer said in his
easy off-hand manner. "The old man's pretty busy himself and so he told
me to be your guide, philosopher and friend, as old somebody-or-other
said."
The two troops followed as he led the way, the Bridgeboro boys glancing
fondly at the familiar sights all about them.
"There's where we'll put up our tent," one of them said, pointing at the
area which was already crowded with the canvas domiciles. The place did
not look so attractive as Roy and his companions had tried to picture it
in their mind's eyes. They had never envied the scouts who had been
compelled to make their camp homes there. It seemed so much like a
military encampment, so close and stuffy and temporary, and unlike the
free and remote abode that they were used to. They all of them tried not
to think of it in this way, and Roy was in no mood to cherish any
resentment against Tom now.
"It's near the cooking shack anyway, that's one good thing," Peewee
observed.
"Listen to the human famine," Connie Bennett said. "Peewee ought to be
ashamed to look Hoover in the face."
Roy said nothing. There was one he would be ashamed to look in the face
anyway.
When they reached the hill, he was the first to pause in amazement.
"What do you call this?" Connie asked in utter astonishment.
There stood the six cabins, the new ones bright and fresh in the
afternoon sun.
"I--I don't understand it," Roy said, almost speechless with surprise.
Archer sat down upon a rock and beckoned Roy to him. "There isn't much
to tell you," he said. "A fellow from your town has been up here
building these three cabins, that's all. We fellows down at camp called
him Daniel Boone, but I believe his name is Slade. He's been a kind of a
mystery up here for some time. The cabins are for you and your troop,
there's no mistake about that; Uncle Jeb knows all about it. You can see
him later if you want to; there's no use bothering him now. I just want
to say a word to you there isn't much time to spare. Uncle Jeb tried to
make that fellow stay, but he wouldn't. I don't know anything about his
business, or yours. I'm just going to tell you one thing. That fellow
started away a little while ago, lame and without any money to hike
home to the town where he lives. It's none of _my_ business; I'm just
telling you what I know. I've banged around this country a little since
I came up--I'm a kind of a tramp--I have an idea he's hit into the road
for Kingston. There's a short cut through the woods which comes out on
that road about six or seven miles down. You could save--let's see--oh,
about three miles and--oh, yes, Uncle Jeb told me to say you can have
lunch any time you want it. I suppose you're all hungry."
Not another word did Archer say--just left abruptly and, amid the
enthusiastic inspection and glowing comments of his companions of both
troops, Roy saw, through glistening eyes, this new acquaintance
strolling down the hill, hitting the wildflowers to the right, and left
with a stick which he carried.
There was no telling how much he knew or what he suspected. He was a
queer, mysterious sort of fellow....
[Illustration: ROY BLAKELEY HELD OUT HIS ARMS SO THAT TOM COULD NOT PASS.
Tom Slade at Black Lake--Page 199]