At camp or elsewhere, Skinny was
always alone, but he seemed more lonely than ever in that still wood,
with the night coming on. Nature was so big and Skinny was so little.
"Hello, Skinny, old top!" Hervey said cheerily. "What do you think
you're doing here? Lost, strayed, or stolen?"
Skinny's eyes were bright with a strange light; he seemed not to hear
his questioner. But Hervey, knowing the little fellow's queerness, was
not surprised.
"You look kind of frightened. Are you lost?" Hervey inquired.
For just a moment Skinny stared at him with a look so intense that
Hervey was startled. The little fellow's fingers which clutched a branch
of the log, trembled visibly. He seemed like one possessed.
"Don't get rattled, Skinny," Hervey said; "I'll take you back to camp.
We'll find the way, all right-o."
"I'm a second-class scout," Skinny said.
"Bully for you, Skinny."
"I--I just did it. I'm going to do more so as to be sure. Will you stay
with me so you can tell them? Because maybe they won't believe me."
"They'll believe you, Skinny, or I'll break their heads, one after
another. What did you do, Alf, old boy?"
"Maybe they'll say I'm lying."
"Not while I'm around," Hervey said. "What's on your mind, Skinny?"
"I ain't through yet," Skinny said. "I know your name and I like you. I
like you because you can dive fancy."
"Yes, and what are you doing here, Alf?" Hervey asked, sitting down
beside the little fellow.
"I'm a second-class scout," Skinny said; "I found the tracks and I
tracked them.
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