Just then I heard a rustle and I could see a black form quite near. I saw it move behind a tree.

“Who’s there?” I said; but there wasn’t any answer.

I stopped for two or three seconds, because I didn’t know just what to do, then I walked up to the tree and just as I came near, the form stepped out from behind it.

Then I heard a voice say, “What do you want here?”

I said, very surprised, “Dorry? Is it you?”

He said, “What do you want here?”

“I don’t want anything,” I said; “I just saw a light and I came to see what it was. What’s the matter?”

He said, “Nothing, I’m going to bed.”

“Did you have the light?” I asked him. “Maybe you only saw it same as I did. Only you act awful funny, sort of.”

He said, “I’ve got as much right to be up as you have. Nobody can sleep on that hard ground.”

“Why didn’t you dig a hollow for your hip?” I asked him, “same as I do. Hard ground will never keep a fellow awake. It’s your hip. Gee, you’re a scout; you ought to know that.”

“Come on back,” he said.

I don’t know, but something about the way he acted made me feel sort of funny—suspicious, kind of.

I said, “Were you hunting for something with your flashlight? What’s the matter? Why don’t you tell me what you came out for?”

“There isn’t any reason, and why should I tell you anyway?” he said.

“Well,” I said, “because I’m your patrol leader for one thing. And as long as Mr. Ellsworth isn’t here, I have a right to ask you. I’m not mad. Only I wonder why you got up and came away, that’s all. Anyway, I got a splinter in my finger grabbing one of these trees, I know that.”

“You want to find out if I’ve got the flashlight?” he said.

“No, I don’t want to find out if you’ve got your flashlight,” I said, “because I know you have. I’m not that kind. First you have to say I didn’t speak about the splinter for that reason,” I said; “you have to take back what you said.”

“I never said you were sneaky,” he said; “here, take it.”

“It’s no crime to have a flashlight, I hope,” he said; “here take it.”

“I wouldn’t try to find out that way,” I told him.

“I know you wouldn’t,” he said.

So then he held his flashlight to my finger and I said, “What do you know about that? I’m carrying a lumber yard around with me. I thought I felt kind of heavy.”

“Have you got a needle?” he asked.

“A crowbar would be better,” I told him.

“Hold still,” he said, and then he just pulled it out with his fingers.

“That ought to be worth a couple of dollars, hey?” I said, “with the high cost of timber.”

So then we both laughed. Anyway, Dorry and I were always good friends, you can bet.

He was just going to turn off the flashlight, when I noticed that piece of newspaper sticking out of his jacket pocket and I pulled it out, just kind of half joking, and I said, “Here’s what I want. Gaylong said I could read it.”

Gee whiz, there wasn’t any harm in that. Oftentimes I’d do things like that with fellows, and especially Dorry, because I’d known him so long.

“You put that back,” he said, kind of mad.

“What’s the use of getting mad?” I said. “You’re grouchy because you can’t sleep. Here, let’s have your flashlight.” And I just grabbed that out of his pocket, too.

I guess he was going to grab them both away from me; anyway, it seemed that way for a couple of seconds.

Then he said, “Now you’ll go and spoil it all.”

“Spoil what?” I asked him.

“Go on, read it,” he said.

“Sure I’ll read it,” I told him; “what’s all the excitement about?”

“I hope you can keep your mouth shut,” he said.

But, believe me, I didn’t read very much of it, because all I could see was the picture. I held the flashlight on it and just stared and stared and stared.

Then I said, “Dorry!—You know—?” I was just flabbergasted and I could hardly speak.

“Sure I know,” he said; “it’s Jib Jab. I’m going to get my motorcycle after all.”