them_." These words, too, rang in Roy's ears, and burned into his
heart and conscience, and he knew that Tom Slade had not deigned to
answer these charges and recriminations; _would_ not answer them, any
more than the rock of Gibraltar would deign to answer the petulant
threats and menaces of the sea. Oh, if he could only unsay those words
which he had hurled at Tom, his friend and companion! What mattered it
who bunked in the cabins, so long as he knew what he knew now? How
small and trifling seemed Tom's act of carelessness or forgetfulness, as
he loomed up now in the strong, dogged pride which would not explain to
one who had no right to doubt or disbelieve. How utterly contemptible
Roy Blakeley seemed to himself now!

He tried to speak in his customary light and bantering manner, but he
was too sick at heart to carry it off.

"He's--he's sort of like a rock," he said, by way of answering Barnard's
comments on Tom. "He doesn't say much. You don't--you can't understand
him very easy. Even--even _I_ didn't----. I don't know where he is now.
We haven't seen him for a long time. But one thing you can bet, you're
welcome to the cabins on the hill. He said we wouldn't lose anything.
Anyway, we won't lose much. We've got a tent we're going to put up down
on the tenting space. You bet we'll come up and see you often, and you
bet we'll be good friends. Our both knowing Tom, as you might say, ought
to make us good friends."

CHAPTER XXXI

ARCHER

When these two troops reached camp they found the tall scout Archer
waiting for them. How much he knew or suspected it would be difficult to
surmise.

"Uncle Jeb told me I might show you up to the hill," he said. "Some of
you fellows came from Ohio, I understand. You're all to bunk up on the
hill."

"I guess that's a mistake," Roy said.

"No, I think Uncle Jeb has things down about pat," Archer said in his
easy off-hand manner. "The old man's pretty busy himself and so he told
me to be your guide, philosopher and friend, as old somebody-or-other
said."

The two troops followed as he led the way, the Bridgeboro boys glancing
fondly at the familiar sights all about them.

"There's where we'll put up our tent," one of them said, pointing at the
area which was already crowded with the canvas domiciles. The place did
not look so attractive as Roy and his companions had tried to picture it
in their mind's eyes. They had never envied the scouts who had been
compelled to