THE BLACK SHEEP
The scouts were all around the camp-fire when Gilbert Tyson returned
with his captives. As they crossed the road and came upon the camp
grounds, the stranger seemed apprehensive and ill at ease, but Hervey
with an air of sweeping authority informed him that everything was all
right, that he would fix it for him.
"Don't you worry," he said; "I know all the high mucks here. You leave
it to me." He was singularly confident for one in disgrace. "I'll get
you a job, all right. When you see Slady or Uncle Jeb you just tell them
you're a friend of mine." Robin Hood seemed somewhat reassured by the
words of one so influential. By way of giving him a cheery reminder of
certain undesirable facts and reconciling him to a life of toil, Hervey
sang as they made their way to the office.
"You gotta go to work,
You gotta go to work,
You gotta go to work--
That's true.
And the reason why you gotta go to work
_IS_
The work won't come to you
_SEE?_
"I gotta go to bed,
I gotta go to bed,
Like a good little scout--
You see.
And the reason why I gotta go to bed
_IS_
The bed won't come to me.
D'you see?
The bed won't come to me."
This ballad of toil and duty (which were Hervey's favorite themes) was
accompanied by raps on Gilbert's head with a stick, which became more
and more vigorous as they approached the office. Here the atmosphere of
officialdom did somewhat subdue the returning prodigal son and he
removed his precious hat as they entered.
This matter was in Tom Slade's hands and he was going to see it through
alone. From camp-fire his watchful eye had seen the trio passing
through the grove and he was in the office before they reached it.
The office was a dreadful place, where the mighty John Temple himself
held sway on his occasional visits, where councilmen and scoutmasters
conferred, and where there was a bronze statue of Daniel Boone. Hervey
had many times longed to decorate the sturdy face of the old pioneer
with a mustache and whiskers, using a piece of trail-sign chalk.
At present he was seized by a feeling of respectful diffidence, and
stood hat in hand, a trifle uncomfortable. Robin Hood was uncomfortable
too, but he was in for it now. He was relieved to see that the official
who confronted him was an easy-going offhand young fellow of about his
own age, dressed in extreme negligee, sleeves rolled up, shirt open,
face and throat brown like the brown of autumn. It seemed to make things
easier for the trio that Tom vaulted up onto the bookkeeper's high desk,
as if he were vaulting a fence, and sat there swinging his legs, the
very embodiment of genial companionship.
"Well, Gilbert, you got away with it, huh?"
"Here he is," said Gilbert proudly. "I found him in a kind of cave in
the woods----"
"Gilbert deserves all the credit for finding me," Hervey interrupted.
"You've got to hand it to him, I'll say that much."
"It isn't everybody who can find you, is it?" said Tom.
"Believe me, you said something," Hervey ejaculated.
"Well, I'm going to say some more," Tom laughed.
"This is my friend," said Hervey; "Robin Hood, but I don't know his real
name. He's a good friend of mine, and he can play the banjo only he
hasn't got one with him, and I want to get him a job."
"Any friend of yours----" Tom began and winked at Gilbert.
"What did I tell you?" said Hervey. "Didn't I tell you I'd fix it?"
"I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Hood," said Tom. "We're expecting to be
pretty busy here, I can say that much," he added cautiously.
"I was just roaming the woods," said the stranger. "I haven't got any
home; out of luck. The boys insisted on my coming."
"Strangers always welcome," said Tom cheerily.
It was, indeed, true that strangers were always welcome. Temple Camp was
down on the hobo's blue book as a hospitable refuge. Stranded show
people had known its sheltering kindness. Moreover, Tom was not likely
to make particular inquiry about Hervey's chance acquaintances. The
wandering minstrel had brought in laid-off farm hands, a strolling organ
grinder with a monkey, not to mention two gypsies, a peddler of rugs and
other strays.
"Well, Tyson," said Tom, clasping his hands behind his head and swinging
his legs in a way of utmost good humor, "suppose you take Mr. Hood over
to camp-fire and see if he can stand for some of those yarns. Tell Uncle
Jeb he's going to hang around till morning. You stay here, Hervey. I'd
like to hear about your adventures. Let's see, how many lives have you
got left now?"
"Believe me, I did _some stunt_," said Hervey.