Warren retorted, not unpleasantly. "I heard a boy in camp say only this
evening that that queer little duck in the Bridgeboro troop had found
some tracks near the lake and started to follow them. There is no pair
of eyes in camp better than yours, Hervey. But you know you can't expect
to find animal tracks down in the village."
"In the village?"
"Two or three of your own patrol saw you down there a week ago, Hervey;
saw you run out of a candy store to follow a runaway horse. You know,
Hervey, horses' tracks aren't the kind you're after. Those boys were
observant. They were on their way to the post office. I heard them
telling Tom Slade about it."
"What did _he_ say--Tom Slade?" Hervey queried.
"Oh, he didn't say anything; he never says much. But I think he likes
you, Hervey, and he'll be disappointed."
"You think he will?"
"You know, Hervey, Tom Slade never won his place by jumping from one
thing to another. The love of adventure and something new is good, but
responsibility to one's troop, to oneself, is more important. How will
your father feel about the bicycle he had looked forward to giving you?
You see, Hervey, you regarded the winning of the Eagle award as an
adventure, whereas the troop regarded it as a commission--a commission
entailing responsibility."
"I'm not so stuck on eagles," said Hervey, repeating Tom Slade's very
words. "There might be something better than the Eagle award, you can't
tell."
"Oh, Hervey, my boy, don't talk like that, and above all, don't let the
boys hear you talk like that.
Pages:
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65