The sensation did not persist long. The more serious among the scouts accepted the belief that Wilfred had been “rattled” and that the leader of the Gray Wolves had been too quick for him. The silly epitaph of “traitor” and the cruel nickname of “Wilfrayed Coward” were not often heard. But the loss of the Emblem of the Single Eye was a bitter dose for the Ravens to swallow. Allison Berry, though he was strong for Wilfred, did not spare the Ravens nor let them forget his bizarre exploit.

In the days immediately following, Wilfred spent much time with Tom and he was a familiar figure standing around watching his strenuous friend and helping in such tasks as did not require much exertion. It was remarkable (considering his all-around good health) how consistently he kept the promises he had made it home. It rather gave him the appearance of being aimless and indolent, and his easy-going habit seemed the more emphasized by the boisterous life all around him.

So serious was his unenlightened thought about “heart trouble” and so implicit his faith in the magic of doctors, that he actually believed the arbitrary date set by Doctor Brent would mark a sudden turning-point in his condition. Before the first of August he might drop dead; after the first of August he could not. No one knew it, but in the back of Wilfred’s mind was the thought that he might drop dead.

Boyishly he looked forward to August first as the day on which he would be liberated, not only from his promise but from this ghastly possibility. He thought of that casually determined date as most boys think about Christmas. Meanwhile, his heart beat strong and steady; the last rear guard of the old enemy had slunk away and he did not know it.

But he had lost out with the Ravens. His former glory as the rescuer of Allison Berry did not compensate them for the loss of their flaunting emblem. They thought it was a strange coincidence, to say the least, that the boy who had (they had to believe he had) saved Allison Berry from drowning should be the one to watch his former neighbor steal silently through the night with the treasure.

“Gee whiz, I wanted Mary Temple to see it when she comes up,” said Grove Bronson. “She said we couldn’t keep it through the summer.”

“Well, she was right,” said Doc Carson.

“Yes, she’s right, because we had a lemon wished upon us,” said Elmer Sawyer.

“Suppose we had Archie Dennison wished on us?” said Wig.

“Oh, yes, things might be worse,” Artie agreed. “We don’t see much of Wandering Willie anyway; I don’t know why he calls himself a member at all.”

Of course, things could not go on in this way, and Tom Slade went up the hill and breezed up to the Ravens’ cabin where he encountered Artie alone.

“What’s the matter with you fellows anyway?” he demanded. “A lot of fuss because a new Scout doesn’t start running just when he ought to! I want you to cut out the silent treatment. Here’s a fellow who’s a crackerjack swimmer——”

“We’ve never seen him in the water,” said Artie.

“Well,” said Tom, somewhat embarrassed by this sally, “you heard what he did.”

“Yes, and we heard what he didn’t do. If he’s for the patrol why didn’t he chase after Berry? If he such a wonderful swimmer why doesn’t he go in swimming?”

“You’ll know it when he does,” said Tom, fully conscious of the weakness of his reply.

“Well, I can’t make these fellows like him,” said Artie. “I’ve done all I could. We treat him decent enough when he’s around, only he’s always wandering about. I should think he’d leave of his own accord.”

“Oh, that’s it, is it?” said Tom crisply. “Well then, if that’s the way you fellows feel I’ll take care of that for you. I was going to suggest that you put up with him till the first of the month—kind of a good turn—and then.”

“And then?” said Artie.

“Oh, nothing, just and then,” said Tom. “But I’ll take him off your hands right away quick; don’t worry.”

This was the inglorious end of Wilfred Cowell’s membership in the Raven Patrol. There was something pathetic in the lack of interest shown, even among the Ravens. He was not dismissed, no brazen infraction of camp rules was charged against him; he was just let out, and this thing happened without attracting any attention. No one in the patrol seemed to take any interest in him, even Wig was silent (he could not raise his voice against him) and the place he had occupied in the patrol did not seem vacant, for he had not stamped his impress on the patrol life.

Tom Slade, unwilling that his protÉgÉ should go home, waylaid Connie Bennett, patrol leader of the Elks, and used the big stick.

“You’ve got a vacancy, Connie,” he said; “I want you to do me a favor and take Wilfred Cowell into your bunch. Now there’s no use talking about him, just say will you or won’t you do me the favor. I started the Elks myself before you were out the tenderfoot class and in a way it’s my patrol. Also Wilfred Cowell is my friend—I brought him here. He flopped in the Ravens and got in bad with them and now he’s going to make a fresh start. Everybody has three strikes at the bat, you know.”

“I hear he can swim some,” said Connie; “I never noticed him.”

“You tell ’em he can,” said Tom. Then, drawing somewhat on his imagination, he put his arm fraternally around Connie’s shoulder and added, “Why, look here, Connie, they’ve been keeping it quiet, you know, because they expected to enter him for the Mary Temple contest—why, sure!” he supplemented aloud. “No doubt about it. Nobody’s seen him in—but you know what he did—over there in Connecticut. Take a tip from me, Connie, and enter him up for the contest on the tenth.”

“We’ll do that little thing,” said Connie.

“He’s a queer duck,” Tom added, “now don’t go and ask him to jump right in the water; sort of keep it under your hat. If he accepts, leave it to him—swimming’s a thing you never forget. Leave it to him. Don’t mind if he’s kind of slow and easy-going. Why, you know Abraham Lincoln never hurried; always took his time—easy-going. But he got there, didn’t he?”

“I’ll say so,” said Connie.

“The Ravens made a bull of things because they didn’t understand him—see? His folks are coming up for the tenth—mother and sister.”

“How old is his sister?” Connie asked.

“Oh, she’s too old for you.”