Honest, I’d rather run the whole Silver Fox Patrol than try to run Hervey Willetts. But as we sculled around I could see that even that other fellow was kind of getting to like him.

Hervey sat perched up on the little three-cornered seat in the bow with his legs dangling out into the water on either side and Sandwich lying on the bottom near him. He looked, I don’t know,—I just had to laugh when I looked at him.

I said, “Herve, after all this you’re not going to spoil everything, are you? We had a good time to-day and we’re going to have a whole lot more. You’ve got a medal coming to you for what you did to-night. You were called a liar and now a couple of hours after that you can have the whole camp eating out of your hand, Mr. Arnoldson and all. This fellow, you’ve captured him too, and he’ll go the limit to help you. Won’t you?” I said.

“Nobody can say I have a streak of yellow and get away with it,” the fellow said.

“For goodness’ sake don’t mix things up now when everything’s coming your way,” I said to Hervey. “They’ll wrap Temple Camp up for you and send it home prepaid. Will you let me see Mr. Arnoldson and tell him?”

He said, “Blakeley, I’m through with this outfit for good. I beat it to-night.”

“While everybody’s shouting for you?” I asked him.

“Precisely, exactly,” he said. “I might have joined a circus this summer——”

“Goodnight!” I laughed.

“Instead of hanging around here and being insulted,” he said.

“You should worry about being insulted,” I told him. “If you care as little about being insulted as you care about most things, especially risking your life, it won’t take you long to forget it. Besides when you threw an old tomato at the bulletin board so you wouldn’t be able to read one of the rules on it, wasn’t that insulting the camp? If you’d only forget insults as easy as you forget rules, gee, I’d be satisfied,” I told him.

He just said, “Insults I can never forget, Blakeley.” All the while he was trying to balance the boat hook on his nose.

“You make me tired,” I told him.

When we got to the landing he said, “Come on if you want to see the grand finale; come on, Wilkins.”

The sharpy kind of hung back. He said, “My name is Tripler.”

“I knew it would be something about tripping,” Hervey said.

“Believe me, you’re the one that’s going to trip,” I told him.

He just said, “Come on, finalehopper, if you want to see the grand finale. Absolutely nothing can happen to you. Come ahead, Blakeley, if you want to see me wind up in a blaze of glory.”

I knew he was going to do some crazy fool thing, how could I stop him? I could see that Tripler, or whatever his name was, was kind of nervous, but Hervey had him following like a little dog. That’s Hervey. He went sauntering up through Cabin Lane, swinging his stick and shouting:

I could hear sounds of scouts moving in the cabins, but a lot he cared. By the time he got to Official Bungalow there were about a dozen sleepy looking scouts with us, with their clothes all endways and their hair all rumpled—they were a wide-awake looking lot, I think not.

“What’s he up to now?” one of them gaped.

Gee williger, Hervey looked like a what-do-you-call-it, one of those knights of old standing in front of a castle.

“Search me,” I said to one of the fellows. “He reminds me of Sir Building Lot, or whatever they call him, in the tales of King Arthur.”

“Mr. Arnoldson!” Hervey shouted. “Oh, you Mr. Arnoldson, come out here and apologize to me before I start home! Wake up, you old boob!”

“Cut it out,” I said to Hervey; “you mind what I tell you now.”

He just kept shouting, “Come on out if you’re not ashamed to face me! Come on out till I put it all over you! Oh, you Arnoldson; come on out and take back what you called me! Come on out if you want me to accept your apology! Come on out if you want me to apologize your acceptance! Don’t be afraid of the dark! Come ahead out! Oh, you-u-u-u, Mr. Arnoldson, come on out; it’s nice and foggy!”

I said, “Will you keep still, Hervey.”

All of a sudden somebody wearing a bath robe came out on the porch. Then a couple of heads appeared at windows.

“All the fish in Official Bungalow wake up,” Hervey shouted. “Is that you, Mr. Arnoldson?”

“Careful what you say now,” I whispered to Hervey.