ight? They were not mind readers.
They knew that Tom Slade, big business man that he was, had much to
occupy him.

And they too, had much to occupy them. For with the coming of Spring
came preparations for the sojourn up to camp where they were wont to
spent the month of August. At Temple Camp troops were ever coming and
going and there were new faces each summer, but the Bridgeboro Troop was
an institution there. It was because of his interest in this troop, and
particularly in Tom's reformation, that Mr. John Temple of Bridgeboro,
had founded the big camp in the Catskills. There was no such thing as
favoritism there, of course, but it was natural enough that these boys,
hailing from Mr. Temple's own town, where the business office of the
camp was maintained, should enjoy a kind of prestige there. Their two
chief exhibits (A and B) that is, Roy Blakeley and Peewee Harris
strengthened this prestige somewhat, and their nonsense and banter were
among the chief features of camp entertainment.

Temple Camp without P. Harris, some one had once said, would be like
mince pie without any mince. And surely Peewee had no use for mince pie
without any mince.

"Oh, look who's here!" Roy Blakeley shouted, as Tom quietly took a seat
on the long bench, which always stood against the wall. "Tomasso, as I
live! I thought you'd be down at the Opera House to-night."

"I don't care thirty cents about the movies," Tom said, soberly.

"You should say thirty-three cents, Tomasso," Roy shot back at him:
"don't forget the three cents war tax."

"Are you going to play that geography game?" Tom asked hopefully.

"Posilutely," said Roy; "we'll start with me. Who discovered America?
Ohio. Correct."

"What?" yelled Peewee.

"Columbus is in Ohio; it's the same thing--only different," said Roy;
"you should worry. How about it, Tomasso?"

Tom was laughing already. It would have done Mr. Burton and Mr.
Ellsworth good to see him.

"We were having a hot argument about the army, before you came in,"
Connie Bennett said. "Peewee claims the infantry is composed of
infants...."

"Sure," Roy vociferated, "just the same as the quartermaster is the man
who has charge of all the twenty-five cent pieces. Am I right, Lucky
Luke? Hear what Lucky Luke says? I'm right. Correct."

"Who's going to boss the meeting to-night?" Doc Carson asked.

"How about you, Tom?" Grove Bronson inquired.

Tom smiled and shook his head. "I just like to watch you," sai