The scouts were all around the camp-fire when Gilbert Tyson returned with his captives. As they crossed the road and came upon the camp grounds, the stranger seemed apprehensive and ill at ease, but Hervey with an air of sweeping authority informed him that everything was all right, that he would fix it for him.

"Don't you worry," he said; "I know all the high mucks here. You leave it to me." He was singularly confident for one in disgrace. "I'll get you a job, all right. When you see Slady or Uncle Jeb you just tell them you're a friend of mine." Robin Hood seemed somewhat reassured by the words of one so influential. By way of giving him a cheery reminder of certain undesirable facts and reconciling him to a life of toil, Hervey sang as they made their way to the office.

"You gotta go to work,
You gotta go to work,
You gotta go to work—
That's true.
And the reason why you gotta go to work
IS
The work won't come to you
SEE?
"I gotta go to bed,
I gotta go to bed,
Like a good little scout—
You see.
And the reason why I gotta go to bed
IS
The bed won't come to me.
D'you see?
The bed won't come to me."

This ballad of toil and duty (which were Hervey's favorite themes) was accompanied by raps on Gilbert's head with a stick, which became more and more vigorous as they approached the office. Here the atmosphere of officialdom did somewhat subdue the returning prodigal son and he removed his precious hat as they entered.

This matter was in Tom Slade's hands and he was going to see it through alone. From camp-fire his watchful eye had seen the trio passing through the grove and he was in the office before they reached it.

The office was a dreadful place, where the mighty John Temple himself held sway on his occasional visits, where councilmen and scoutmasters conferred, and where there was a bronze statue of Daniel Boone. Hervey had many times longed to decorate the sturdy face of the old pioneer with a mustache and whiskers, using a piece of trail-sign chalk.

At present he was seized by a feeling of respectful diffidence, and stood hat in hand, a trifle uncomfortable. Robin Hood was uncomfortable too, but he was in for it now. He was relieved to see that the official who confronted him was an easy-going offhand young fellow of about his own age, dressed in extreme negligÉe, sleeves rolled up, shirt open, face and throat brown like the brown of autumn. It seemed to make things easier for the trio that Tom vaulted up onto the bookkeeper's high desk, as if he were vaulting a fence, and sat there swinging his legs, the very embodiment of genial companionship.

"Well, Gilbert, you got away with it, huh?"

"Here he is," said Gilbert proudly. "I found him in a kind of cave in the woods——"

"Gilbert deserves all the credit for finding me," Hervey interrupted. "You've got to hand it to him, I'll say that much."

"It isn't everybody who can find you, is it?" said Tom.

"Believe me, you said something," Hervey ejaculated.

"Well, I'm going to say some more," Tom laughed.

"This is my friend," said Hervey; "Robin Hood, but I don't know his real name. He's a good friend of mine, and he can play the banjo only he hasn't got one with him, and I want to get him a job."

"Any friend of yours——" Tom began and winked at Gilbert.

"What did I tell you?" said Hervey. "Didn't I tell you I'd fix it?"

"I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Hood," said Tom. "We're expecting to be pretty busy here, I can say that much," he added cautiously.

"I was just roaming the woods," said the stranger. "I haven't got any home; out of luck. The boys insisted on my coming."

"Strangers always welcome," said Tom cheerily.

It was, indeed, true that strangers were always welcome. Temple Camp was down on the hobo's blue book as a hospitable refuge. Stranded show people had known its sheltering kindness. Moreover, Tom was not likely to make particular inquiry about Hervey's chance acquaintances. The wandering minstrel had brought in laid-off farm hands, a strolling organ grinder with a monkey, not to mention two gypsies, a peddler of rugs and other strays.

"Well, Tyson," said Tom, clasping his hands behind his head and swinging his legs in a way of utmost good humor, "suppose you take Mr. Hood over to camp-fire and see if he can stand for some of those yarns. Tell Uncle Jeb he's going to hang around till morning. You stay here, Hervey. I'd like to hear about your adventures. Let's see, how many lives have you got left now?"

"Believe me, I did some stunt," said Hervey.