"Getting all cleared up?" Tom asked in his usual sober but pleasant way.
Hervey Willetts was about to fly off the handle but something in Tom's
quiet, keen glance deterred him.
"You fellows going home soon?"
"Tuesday morning," volunteered the Panthers' patrol leader. "We usually
don't stick to the finish. We're a troop of quitters, you know."
"What did you quit?" asked Tom, taking his informant literally.
"Oh, never mind."
"It's all right, as long as you don't quit each other," Tom said, and
strolled on to inspect the work of the other troops.
Hervey followed him and in a kind of reckless abandonment said, "Well,
you see you were wrong after all--I don't care. You said I'd win it. So
I put one over on you, anyway," he laughed in a way of mock triumph.
"Tom Slade is wrong for once; how about that? The rotten egg put one
over on you. See? I'm the rotten egg--the rotten egg scout. I should
bother my head!"
"Go back and pick up those stones, Willetts," said Tom quietly, "and
pile them up down by the woodshed."
"You didn't even tell them I saved that little bird, did you?" Hervey
said, giving way to his feelings of recklessness and desperation. "What
do you suppose _I_ care? I don't care what anybody thinks. I do what I
do when I do it; that's me! I don't care a hang about your old
badges--I----"
"Hervey," said Tom; "go back and pile up those stones like I told you.
And don't get mad at anybody. You do just what I tell you.
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