n turn out to be something different, can't it? I
can prove it by the movies."

Warde Hollister stepped up to him and slapped his shoulder. "You're one
bully little scout, Kid," he said. Warde seemed almost converted by
Pee-wee's inspiring, unreasoning loyalty.

"Sometimes I agree with you, Kid," he said. "And then again--"

"I agree with myself all the time," Pee-wee said; "and I don't care who
agrees with me."

"One thing I'm glad of," Westy said, "and that is that somebody else
gets the money; let them have all the credit, too. We had our fun while
it lasted," he added wistfully. "And I'm glad Warde didn't count that
trip for his first class badge. I'm glad we don't have anything to do
with the bad side of it. It seems now just as if a friend had died,
that's all."

"I kind of hope he does die," Grove Bronson said.

"Just after being a hero," Connie added.

This was too much for Roy. It brought poor Blythe's heroism and his own
rescue home to him with vivid force, his eyes filled and everything
about the old familiar scene glistened.

"Come on, let's get ready," he finally said. "Let's get away from here."

They could not share Pee-wee's staunch conviction; they doubted whether
Pee-wee really did agree with himself in this matter. But they admired
him none the less for that.

Disconsolately they set about clearing up and gathering their
belongings. It seemed strange that one so quiet and unobtrusive as poor
Blythe could be so keenly missed. Now that he was gone they could see
nothing but pathetic reminders of him, the old grocery box he sat on at
camp-fire, the box in which he put old nails; above all, the windmill
where he had suffered that inexplicable brainstorm in the night. As for
Roy, who owed his life to their strange friend, he could not regain any
measure of his former spirits, nor even put a brave front to the
disappointment as the others did. He limped about, silent and
crestfallen.

In the mid-afternoon they started on their hike back to Bridgeboro, a
cheerless group. Before going out between the old gateposts they turned
for a last glimpse of the scene of their pleasant camping and working
adventure. Only a few uprights of one shack remained. The accident had
done the work of a day in ten seconds. There was the charred area where
their mighty fire had been. And further off was the gaunt tower of the
windmill, its big fan revolving slowly, the only remaining thing
suggestive of life in the d