him now. As long as no one but himself and
Roscoe knew about this miserable business, the mistake could be mended
and no harm come of it.

The thing was so important that the smaller evil of neglecting his
allotted task and foregoing the honors which awaited him did not press
upon him at all. He was disappointed, of course, but he acknowledged no
obligation to anybody now except to Roscoe Bent and those whom his
disgrace would affect. Wrong or right, that is the way Tom's mind
worked.

Quietly he took his hat and went out, softly closing the door behind
him. For a second or two he waited in the hall. He could still hear the
muffled sound of the typewriter machine in the office.

As he went down in the elevator he heard two gentlemen talking about the
celebration that evening and about the governor's coming. Tom listened
wistfully to their conversation.

He had already taken from his pocket (what he always carried as his
heart's dearest treasure) a dilapidated bank book. He intended to draw
ten dollars from his savings account, which would be enough to get him
to Catskill Landing, the nearest railroad point to camp, and to pay the
return fare for himself and Roscoe.

But the bank was closed and Tom was confronted by a large placard in the
big glass doors:

CLOSED IN HONOR OF OUR BOYS.

DON'T FORGET THE PATRIOTIC RALLY TO-NIGHT.
DO YOUR BIT!

YOU CAN CHEER IF YOU CAN'T REGISTER.

He had forgotten that the bank was to close early. Besides spoiling his
plan, it reminded him that the town was turning out in gala fashion, and
his thoughts turned again to the celebration in the evening.

"I gotta keep in the right trail," he said doggedly, as he turned toward
home.

He did not know what to do now, for he had less than a dollar in his
pocket, and he was stubbornly resolved to take no one into his
confidence. If he had the money, he could catch a train before noontime
and reach the mountain by the middle of the afternoon. He would make a
short cut from the railroad and not go up through Leeds or to Temple
Camp at all.

As he walked along he noticed that the street was gay with bunting. In
almost every shop window was a placard similar to the one in the bank. A
large banner suspended across the street read:

DON'T FORGET THE RALLY
IN HONOR OF OUR BOYS
TO-NIGHT!

"I ain't likely to forget it," he muttered.

He wondered how Roscoe's father felt when he saw that banner and this
thou