Temple speaks to you, do you?"
"Not so you'd notice it."
"I bet he's got as much as a hundred dollars, hasn't he?"
"You said it."
"Maybe if I wasn't a-scared I'd ask him to look at the tracks too, hey?
First off I was a-scared to ask _you?_"
"Tracks are my middle name, Alf."
"Now I can prove I'm a second-class scout by my badge, can't I?"
"That's what you can. But you've got it pinned on the wrong side, Alf.
Here, let me fix it for you."
"Everybody'll be sure to see it, won't they?"
"That's what they will."
"Hervey Willetts, he's a hero, isn't he?"
"You bet."
"I'd like to be like him, I would."
"He's kind of reckless, Alf. It's bad to be too reckless."
"I wouldn't let you talk against him--I wouldn't."
Tom smiled. "That's right, Alf, you stand up for him."
"Maybe you don't know what kind of an animal made these tracks, maybe,
hey?"
Indeed Tom did not know. But one thing he knew which amused him greatly.
They were following the path of glory the wrong way. Not that it made
any particular difference, but it seemed so like Skinny. He had not
actually tracked an animal at all, since the animal had come toward the
lake. He had followed tracks, to be sure, but he had not tracked an
animal. Hervey must have known this but he had not mentioned it. The
thought thrilled even stolid Tom with fresh admiration for that young
adventurer. Hervey Willetts was no handbook scout, but Tom would not
have him different than he was--no, not by a hair.
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