THE THREE OF US
I said, “I don’t understand. What do you mean? What are you going to do?
I didn’t call you a liar, Herve. You admit I didn’t, and I’m blamed glad
I didn’t. You did ’phone then—did you? Just say you did—just say it so I
can say I believe you. Tell me more—I—I believe every blamed word that
you say. I admit I’m a punk scout—now are you satisfied?”
He said, sort of more pleasant, “You’re not so bad, it’s Arnoldson and
that crowd—the keepers.”
I said, “Go on and tell me.”
“Didn’t you notice a light away across the lake when you came out of
Administration Shack?” he asked me.
I said, “I thought it was the reflection of the light.”
“Somebody is out there,” he said. “You can’t see the light now on
account of the mist. But somebody is out there. I can see a little
glimmer now and then.”
“I can’t see anything now,” I said.
“That’s because nobody called you a liar,” he told me. “It means more to
me than it does to you.”
I just gulped, I could hardly speak. I put my hand on his bare arm, it
was all tattooed by some old sailor that he met once, and I said,
“You’re—you’re not going to get away with that, Hervey—not with me. It
means just as much to me—it does—as—as it does to you. It’s just like as
if he called me a liar. That’s the way I feel now. I can’t see any light
out there, but whatever you’re going to do I’m with you. If that crazy
fool came to camp and sneaked into Administration Shack hunting for the
chart he had heard about, he’s a bigger fool than I thought he was. Do
you suppose his name is Wilkins?” I asked Hervey.
“No, he just gave that name,” Hervey said. “If he’d had any sense he’d
have stood the receiver off when the ’phone rang. I suppose he got
rattled. It’s just a crazy fool enterprise all through. He’s out there
now, fishing around, I suppose.”
“I’m glad you admit it’s a fool enterprise,” I said. “Brent was afraid
you’d want to go fishing for it yourself.”
“All I’m interested in is fixing Arnoldson,” Hervey said. “I’ll make him
look like two cents before I go. Come on, Sandwich, if you’re going.”
I said, “What are you going to do, Herve?”
“I’m going to swim over there,” he said. “If it’s that dancing monkey
out there, he’s coming back here to admit he answered the ’phone. I
don’t care anything about his sneaking into Administration Shack or
anything else, that’s his business. But he’s coming back here to say he
answered that ’phone call. Or else he’s going to the bottom of the lake.
That’s me.”
He started sliding off the board, but I held him back. I said, “Hervey,
you’re crazy, you’re not going to swim over there.”
“The boats are locked,” he said.
“Well,” I said, “I’ve got the key for them.” Gee, I never felt more
sorry for Hervey than I did then. Because all the scouts at camp had
keys for the boats. They were only kept locked at night on account of
strange fellows coming there and using them for eel bobbing. It seemed
that Hervey was the only fellow that didn’t have a key.
I said, “Hervey, I can’t swim that far, even if you and Sandwich can.
But I’m going with you, so you’ll have to use a boat; remember you’ve
got a punk scout with you, Herve. You have to make allowance for me.
Will you wait just a minute?”
I groped my way back to my patrol cabin and got a padlock key out of my
duffel bag. Hervey was still waiting, swinging his legs from the board.
Sandwich was right close beside him.
“Come on,” I said, “we’ll row over. If he’s there we’ll find him and if
he’s the one why then he’ll sit out the next dance and have a free ride
back to camp; that ought to appeal to him.”
“You’re breaking the rule to use a boat after nine o’clock,” Hervey
said.
“You’re doing well,” I laughed. “Where did _you_ ever learn the rule? I
always thought that you wouldn’t even know a foot rule unless you were
introduced to it.”
“I don’t want to get you in Dutch,” he said.
I said, “I’m not thinking about rules at all. I’m thinking about you.
Come ahead.”