Mr. Ellsworth did not respond to the call for supper that evening andArtie, who was cookee for the week, did not go to his tent a secondtime. The two patrols ate at the long board under a big elm tree; Tom'svacant place was conspicuous, but very little was said about theaffair. It was noticeable that the Ravens made no mention of it out ofrespect to the other patrol.
After supper Roy went alone to Mr. Ellsworth's tent. There was acertain freedom of intimacy between these two, partly, no doubt,because Roy's father was on the Local Council. The scoutmaster had nofavorites and the close relation between himself and Roy was notgenerally apparent in the troop. It was simply that Roy indulged in acertain privilege of intercourse which Mr. Ellsworth's cordialrelations at the Blakeley home seemed to encourage, and I dare sayRoy's own buoyant and charmingly aggressive nature had a good deal todo with it. He also (though in quite another way than Tom) seemed a lawunto himself.
Arranging himself with drawn up knees upon the scoutmaster's cot, hebegan without any introduction.
"Did you notice, Chief" (he often called the scoutmaster chief) "how hekept saying, 'I am a scout'?"
"Yes, I did," said Mr. Ellsworth, wearily. "It's the one ray of hope."
"Did you notice how he said he was obeying the law?"
"Yes, he did; I had forgotten that."
"His wanting the Handbook, too," said Mr. Ellsworth, quietly, "had acertain ring to it."
"Did you ever take a squint at that Handbook of his, Chief?"
"No," said Mr. Ellsworth, smiling wanly; "I'm not as observant as you,Roy."
"He has simply worn it out--it's a sight."
"His mind is not complex," said Mr. Ellsworth, half-heartedly, "yethe's a mystery."
"Everything is literal to Tom, Chief; he sees only two colors, blackand white."
There was another pause.
"Why don't you eat a little something, Chief?"
"No, not to-night, Roy. I can't. If that thing is true--if there's noexplanation, why, then my whole structure falls down; and John Templeis right." His voice almost broke. "Tom is either no scout at all orelse----"
"Or else he's about the best scout that lives," interrupted Roy. "Willyou ever forget how he looked as he stood there? Hanged if I can! I'veseen pictures enough of scouts--waving flags and doing good turns andholding staves and looking like trim little soldiers----"
"Like you, Roy," smiled Mr. Ellsworth.
"But I never saw anything like that! Did you notice his mouth? His----"
"I know," said Mr. Ellsworth, "he looked like a martyr."
"Whenever you see a picture of a scout," said Roy, "it always showswhat a scout can do with his hands and feet; he's tracking orsignalling or something like that. _There_ was a picture thatshows the other side of it. You never see those pictures in the books.Cracky, but I'd like to have gotten a snap-shot of him just as he stoodthere with his mouth set like the jaws of a trap, his eyes ten milesaway and his hand clutching that battered old Handbook."
"I'm glad you dropped in, Roy, it cheers me up."
"Oh, I'm a good scout," laughed Roy. "I'm not thinking about you; I'mselfish. I'm the one that hauled Tom across, you know, and I've got_my_ reputation to look after. That's all _I_ care about."
Mr. Ellsworth smiled.
"I'm going to dig out the truth about this between now and to-morrowmorning. I may have to trespass even, but _I_ should worry. Whatare _you_ going to do?"
"Nothing to-night. In the morning I'll see Mr. Temple and also Tom, andsee if I can't get him to talk. What else _can_ I do? What are yougoing to do?"
"I decline to be interviewed," Roy laughed.
"Well, don't you get into any trouble, Roy."
After the boy had gone, Mr. Ellsworth picked up his own copy of the_Handbook for Boys_, and looked with a wistful smile at thepicturesque, natty youngster on the cover, holding the red flags. Italways reminded him of Roy.
Roy was satisfied that the only hope of learning anything was to visitthe scene of Tom's suspicious, or at least unexplained, departure fromthe Temple house. About this he knew no more than what the constablehad said, but he firmly believed that whatever Tom had done andwherever he had gone, it had been for a purpose. He did not believethat Tom had taken the pin, but he felt certain that if he _had_been tempted to, he (Roy) would have seen him do so. For a scout is notonly loyal, he is watchful. His confidence in Tom, no less than hisconfidence in himself, made him morally certain that his friend wasinnocent; and Tom's own demeanor at the time of his arrest made himdoubly certain.
A little before dark, Roy put on his Indian moccasins, took his pocketflashlight and a good stock of matches, and started for Five Oaks.Reaching there, he made sure the veranda was deserted (for which facthe had to thank the chill air) and found it easy to trace Tom'sfootprints around to the back of the house through the almost bareearth of the new lawn.
In the little recess by the pantry window he felt more secure. The playof his flashlight quickly discovered the painty smear on the windowsilland he examined it closely, as Tom had recently done, but Roy'smental alertness saved him time and trouble. Instead of trying to pickout footprints across the back lawn, he hurried across it, ran along tothe end of the fence, and then back again, closely watching the upperrail by the aid of his light. Sure enough, there was a faint smootch ofpaint and by this easy discovery he had saved himself several hundredfeet of difficult tracking. Better still, his own suspicions and theservants' original story were confirmed.
Tom might have gone around the house, but _someone else had climbedthrough the pantry window_.
For a while Roy and his trusty ally, the pocket flashlight, had apretty rough tussle of it with the secretive floor of pine-needles inthe woods beyond the fence; but Tom's own uncertain pauses and turningsand kneelings helped him, and he was thankful that his predecessor hadleft these signs of his own movements to guide him. For he now feltcertain that Tom had passed here in the wake of someone else.
It was a long time before he found himself in the beaten path, havingcovered a distance of perhaps an eighth of a mile where his trackinghad been, as he later said himself, like hunting for a pin on a carpetin the dark. He had been on his hands and knees most of the time,shooting his light this way and that, moving the pine-needles carefullyaway from some fancied indentation, with almost a watchmaker's delicacyof touch. It was not so much tracking as it was the working out of apuzzle, but it brought him at last into the path and then he foundsomething which rendered further tracking unnecessary. This was theflask which had lain beside Tom's father.
And now Roy, with no human presence to distract him as Tom had had,noticed something lying near the flask which Tom had not seen. This wasa little scrap of pasteboard which had evidently been the corner of aticket, and holding his flashlight to it he examined it carefully.There was the termination of a sentence, "...ers' Union," and the lastletters of a name, "...ade," which had been written with ink on aprinted line.
It meant nothing to him except as the slightest thing means somethingto a scout, but he began searching diligently for more of the tornfragments of this card. The breeze had been there before him and he hadcrept on hands and knees many feet in every direction before his searchwas rewarded by enough of these scattered scraps to enlighten him. Butthe light which they shed was like a searchlight!
Using his membership card for a background and some pine gum to stickthe fragments to it, he succeeded in restoring enough of the card tolearn that it was a membership card of the Bricklayers' Union belongingto one William Slade.
Then, all of a sudden, he caught the whole truth and understood whathad happened.
CHAPTER XIV
ROY TO THE RESCUE
Tom Slade : Boy Scout of the Moving Pictures Page 13