“We got some of it as it was,” said Bob. “I felt as though some one had hit me with a plank. Can you walk, Nel? Here, we’ll give you a hand. We’ll have to get out at the corner there; the doorway’s blocked up. Where’d Tommy get to?” “He went for some more water,” said Dan. “Come on; it’s getting hot!” Outside they came on a strange sight. Tom was sitting on a log, with his face in his hands, sobbing as though his heart was breaking. Beside him lay his cap, and a small rivulet of water from the top of the cabin was spattering down onto his bare head. The three stared in bewilderment. Then Bob patted him on the back: “Come on, Tommy,” he said kindly. “You’re all right; cheer up!” But Tom only shook his head without looking up. “He’s du-du-du-du-dead!” he wailed. “Who’s dead, you idiot?” “Nu-nu-nu-Nelson,” sobbed Tommy. “No, I’m not, Tommy,” called Nelson; “here I am!” Tom raised a wet and miserable face; then he leaped to his feet, tumbled over a branch, and fell into Nelson’s arms. “I th-th-th-thought you were a gu-gu-gu-goner!” he cried. “I’m all right,” answered Nelson, cheerfully submitting to Tom’s hugs. “Get your cap and come along, or we’ll be drowned.” Tom sniffed a few times, picked up his hat, and sheepishly joined the procession that wound its way up the hill in the rain. “Poor old Tommy!” chuckled Dan. “He’s a good-hearted dub,” answered Nelson softly. Five minutes of toil brought them to the summit, and after that it was easier work. By the time they had reached the road the rain had almost ceased, and for the rest of the way they had only the mud and their chilled bodies to contend with. Twenty minutes later they straggled into camp to find Mr. Clinton in the act of leading a search party after them. Nelson was conducted to the surgery, where Dr. Smith washed and bandaged his head, and the other members of the party hied them to the dormitory and dry clothes, followed by half the fellows of the camp eager to hear the story of their adventures. And when it had been told--losing nothing in the telling by Dan--Bob suddenly exclaimed: “Well, if he didn’t do it!” “Do what?” “Who did?” “When?” were the queries fired at him. “Why, Tommy did! He said, before we started, that he was going to beat the hares home, the cheeky kid! And he did it!” “But we all came home together,” objected Dan. “Yes, but if you’ll recollect, it was Tommy who headed the procession coming into camp.” “So it was,” said Dan. “So I did,” said Tom. “Ain’t I a smarty?” Whereupon Dan tumbled him over backward onto the bed and sat on top of him a long, long time, and told him how very, very smart he was. And it was not until Nelson, appearing on the scene with a wealth of surgeon’s plaster adorning his brow, asked innocently, “Who’s going to soak?” that Dan’s attentions ceased; and then it was only because he felt obliged to stand firmly on his feet in order to put the necessary amount of withering sarcasm into his reply to Nelson.