s paper was in the possession of his
chum the better.

"Dock, I hope you mean to keep your word to me," Carl said, as they
took up the line of march over the ground that had been so lately
covered.

Dock was seen to be fumbling as though reaching into an inner pocket;
and while the suspense lasted of course Carl held his very breath.
Then a hand reached back, and something in it was eagerly seized by
the widow's son. One look told him that it was the paper his mother
needed so much in order to balk the greedy designs of Amasa Culpepper.

"How is everything now, Carl?" asked a voice in his ear, and turning he
found Tom's smiling face close to his own.

"Oh! that terrible load seems to have fallen from my shoulders just as
water does from the back of a duck!" Carl exclaimed, joyously, and the
patrol leader saw that he was very happy.

"I'm so glad!" was all Tom said, but the way he grasped his chum's hand
counted for much more than mere words.

When they finally reached the end of the treacherous Great Bog there
was a halt called by the naturalist.

"We must stop here and try to clean these boys off as best we can," he
announced.

This was no easy task, but by making use of slivers of wood from a
fallen tree they finally managed to relieve Tony and his crowd of most
of the black mud, although they would be apt to carry patches of it on
their garments for some time after it dried.

"Now," said the kindly old hermit-naturalist, "I'm going to invite all
of you up to my cabin, and we'll have a feast to-night in celebration
of this rescue from the Great Bog. You four lads have had a narrow
escape, and I only hope you'll never forget what the scouts have done
for you."

Even Tony seemed affected, and certainly no one had ever before known
him to show the first sign of contrition. He went straight up to Tom
and looked him in the eye.

"We played your crowd a mighty low trick I want to say, Tom Chesney;
and while we've et up most of the grub we took, here's something you
might be glad to get back again," and with that he thrust into the hand
of the patrol leader the little note-book which Tom had mourned as lost
to him forever.

"I'm glad to have that again, Tony," the other said, offering his hand
to the contrite one; "because I mean to use my account of this hike
later on in trying for a prize. It's lucky you didn't throw it away as
you did the frying-pan and coffee-pot, which I see you failed to carry
along wi