On one of their morning rambles, Mrs. Temple and Mary wandered to an unusual distance from home, and as the sun mounted higher Mrs. Temple felt greatly fatigued. Mary looked about for a spot where her mother might sit down and rest, but was startled by a slight sound and ran back just as Mrs. Temple sank fainting against a tree.

Greatly frightened, the girl looked wildly around for assistance, but there was no house nor sign of life in sight. Not knowing what to do she ran along the road a little way, calling aloud, when suddenly she heard a sound. Pausing to listen she distinctly heard again what sounded like a bugle call, and turning in the direction from which it seemed to come she ran through the woods until she came, breathless, to the camp of the Bridgeboro Scouts.

It happened that the Silver Foxes were that morning practising in first aid, and as soon as Mr. Ellsworth could gather from the frightened girl that her mother was in real need, he rushed “Doc” Carson, the first-aid boy, and Roy off to the rescue, instructing the other members of the patrol to follow scout pace.

Water was brought and Mrs. Temple quickly revived. Her head had been slightly cut as she fell, and this Carson bandaged skilfully. She was still too weak to walk, however, and the boys improvised a litter in which she was carefully borne back to camp, Mary walking at her side.

The Ravens, meanwhile, under Mr. Ellsworth’s direction, had prepared a sort of couch of fir boughs. Onto this they helped Mrs. Temple and the scoutmaster sat down beside her.

Perhaps it was not entirely by chance that he had instructed the two patrols to go through their signalling maneuvers at a little distance, so that they should not disturb the invalid, but yet in full view and near enough so that she might follow the course of the proceedings if she cared to. Mary had a thousand questions to ask as to the meaning of the various signals, and the kind scoutmaster answered them all patiently, finally summoning Eddie Ingram to show her about the camp and explain all its mysteries. Then, seeing that Mrs. Temple showed some interest in the maneuvers, the guileful Mr. Ellsworth proceeded to explain their practical value and the good uses to which the scout “stunts” were often put, tactfully pointing out the change that had taken place in Tom Slade, who at this moment was bashfully showing Mary how to blow whistle signals on a small bottle.

Mrs. Temple, however, showed but a courteous interest, and feeling that her husband would be alarmed at her long absence she called to Mary and insisted upon returning home immediately, despite Mr. Ellsworth’s urgent invitation that she stay and share the scouts’ luncheon.

The Silver Fox patrol was ordered to escort the ladies home, and with this ample bodyguard they returned to Five Oaks, the boys laughingly contesting for the honor of walking with Miss Mary—­all save Tom, who lingered somewhat shamefacedly in the rear.

As they walked up the gravel path through the spacious lawn, it was evident that something was wrong. One of the servants was in the portecochere, wringing her hands, and the stoical Japanese valet stood near her, calm and unsmiling.

The unusual sight of the uniformed scouts did not seem to ruffle him at all.

Carl, the gardener, was craning his neck to look up and down the road from the window of the library, a room which he would never have dared to enter save on a very urgent matter.

“Where is Mr. Temple?” Mrs. Temple asked. “I have had quite an adventure.”

“Yes’m—­he went after you, ma’am—­with the runabout. He thought you was lost and he took on so—­not knowing which way to go at all—­and he sent James the other way to look for you—­an’ there was burglars—­”

“What?”

“There was someone entered the house an’ has gone away an’ all Miss Mary’s things out of her bureau is all over the bed—­”

The story of the afternoon’s events was quickly extracted from the excited servant, prompted by Carl and the Jap. Mr. Temple, having grown anxious about the prolonged absence of his wife and daughter, had started out in the runabout in quest of them. The butler had been sent in another direction and shortly thereafter one of the maids had heard footsteps on the floor above. Thinking that Mrs. Temple must have returned, she went upstairs when, to her terror, a frightful-looking man brushed past her and went down the back stairs. She had screamed, and Carl and Kio had both come to her, but a search of the house and grounds had not discovered the burglar. The screen in the pantry window was ripped away, and Kio volunteered the suggestion that the “honorable burglar gentleman” had made his exit through it.

A systematic search of all the rooms by Mrs. Temple and the patrol revealed no loss or evidence of ransacking except that in Mary’s room the contents of the top bureau drawer were disheveled and some trinkets and an upset box lay upon the bed.

“It looked as if they were interrupted,” said Roy.

“They took my class pin,” said Mary, running over the things. “Oh, isn’t that a shame! I don’t care what else they took—­that’s the only thing I care about! Oh, I think they were too mean for anything! It was my class pin!” She was crying a little.

“It wasn’t worth very much, dear,” said her mother.

“It isn’t that,” said the girl; “you don’t understand. I thought as much of it as you boys do of those badges.”

“I understand,” said Westy.

“Sure, we understand—­don’t we, Tom?” said Roy.

Tom said nothing his eyes were fixed on the girlish trinkets which lay in confusion on the bed.

“I think it was too mean of them,” Mary said.

“I’d ask papa to give them my ruby out of his safe if they’d only bring that back!”

“Where did Tom go?” asked Westy, noticing that Tom had left the room.

“I guess maybe he’s afraid he might meet Mr. Temple,” whispered Dorry Benton. “I don’t believe he wants to see him, and I don’t blame him.”

Tom had gone downstairs and around the house to the pantry window. Nothing was farther from his thoughts than John Temple, but in those few minutes upstairs something had been said which recalled to his mind something else which had been said in the same half-doubtful, half-trustful voice, many weeks before. “Will you promise to toss it back?” And out of the past he heard a rough, sneering voice answer, “Sure, didn’ I tell yer?” The words, “If they’d only bring that back,” seemed almost to counter-felt that haunting voice out of the past, and they stung Tom Slade like a white-hot coal.

The rubber ball, which had been the subject of the half-pleading question, had gone the way of most rubber balls, and the memory of the episode would have gone the way of all such memories in the hoodlum mind, except that something had happened to Tom Slade since then. He was familiar now with Paragraph I, Scout Law, and was presently to show that he had pondered on other paragraphs of that law as well.

Outside the pantry window was a nail keg and on this Tom sat down. It was in a jog formed by an angle in the back of the house, and there was not much danger of being seen from any of the rear ground floor windows, for these were all of heavy cathedral glass. The ground beneath them was littered with nails and shavings; a scrap or two of colored glass and some little bars of lead lay strewn about where the men had been working.

Presently he heard voices and guessed that his companions were leaving. Then he heard the honk of an auto horn and caught a fleeting glimpse of a gray car rolling up the private way toward the porte-cochere. He heard other voices, the excited greetings of Mrs. Temple and Mary, and the sonorous and authoritative tones of John Temple.

For a moment he forgot what he had come out here for, as he realized that it would be difficult to leave without being seen. His hatred of John Temple had modified somewhat since he had become a scout, and had now given place to a feeling of awe for the man who could own a place of such magnificence as Five Oaks. Never before had Tom been in such a house. He had supposed that Roy’s beautiful home was about the most luxurious abode imaginable. He realized now that he was stranded in this despotic kingdom with “No Trespassing” signs all about glaring at him like sentinels.

Tom had acquired many of the scout virtues and his progress in the arts (save in one or two which he could not master) had been exceptional. But he had still to acquire that self-confidence and self-possession which are the invariable result of good breeding. He had not felt at home in the house and though his conscience was perfectly clear, he was ill at ease now.

Presently he heard voices again; he saw the car leave with the chauffeur alone, and heard the smothered ringing of the telephone bell in the house.

These evidences of the power of wealth hit his boyish imagination hard, and for a minute John Temple seemed like a hero. He could despatch a car to Bridgeboro, another to Keensburgh; he could call up every police station in the state and offer rewards which would cause sheriffs and constables to sit up and take notice. He could pay ten thousand dollars for the capture of the man who had stolen that little class pin. John Temple might be an old grouch, but he was a wonderful man!

Then the words came rushing into Tom’s head again, Will you promise to toss it back? and those other words, If they would only bring it back!

Then he remembered what he had come out here for, and it seemed very silly and futile alongside the approved methods which were being followed within. While he knew the Scout Handbook did not lie, just the same he hesitated to give this deducing and tracking business a practical test. Then, suddenly, there came to his mind the words Mr. Ellsworth was so fond of repeating to the troop, He who has eyes to see, let him see.

Chapter X