at last upon the lake shore.

Thus ended the work of that fretful night, a night ever memorable at
Temple Camp, a night of death and devastation. The mighty wind which
smote the forest and drove the ruinous waters before it, died in the
moment of its triumph. The sodden, sullen heaven which had cast its
gloom and poured its unceasing rain, rain, rain, upon the camp for two
full weeks, cleared and the edges of the departing clouds were bathed in
the silver moonlight. And the next morning the bright, merry sun arose
and smiled down upon Temple Camp and particularly on Goliath who sat
swinging his legs from the springboard.

CHAPTER XVI

THE WANDERING MINSTREL

He was defying, single handed, half a dozen or more scouts who were
flopping about in rowboats under and about the springboard. They had
just rowed across after an inspection of the washed-out cove, and were
resting on their oars, jollying the little fellow whose legs dangled
above them.

"Where did that big feller go?" he asked.

"To the village."

"He found a dead man last night, didn't he?"

"That's what he did."

"I know his name, it's Slade."

"Right the first time. You're a smart fellow."

"I like that big feller. He says Gilbert Tyson is all right; I asked
him. I bet Gilbert Tyson can beat any of you fellers. He's in my troop,
he is. I bet you were never in a hospital."

"I bet you were never in prison," a scout ventured.

"I bet you never got hanged," Goliath piped up.

"I bet I did," another scout said.

"When?"

"To-morrow afternoon."

"To-morrow afternoon isn't here yet," Goliath said, triumphantly.

"Sure it is, _this_ is to-morrow afternoon. Somebody told me yesterday.
If it was to-morrow afternoon yesterday it must be to-day."

"Posolutely," said Roy Blakeley. "What was true yesterday is true
to-day, because the truth is always the same--only different."

"Sure," concurred another scout, "to-morrow, to-day will be yesterday.
It's as clear as mud."

Goliath thought for a few moments and then made a flank attack.

"Gilbert Tyson is a hero," he said; "he saved the lives of everybody in
that bus--he did."

"That's where he was wrong," said Roy Blakeley; "a scout is supposed to
be generous. He mustn't be all the time saving."

"Isn't it good to save lives?" Goliath demanded.

"Sure, but not too many. A scout that's all the time saving gets to be
stingy."

Goliath pondered a moment.

"Gilly is all right but he's n