“Well, Hervey,” said Mr. Wainwright, “being one of the _keepers_, as you call us----” “I’ve got nothing against _you_,” said Hervey. “Thank you. Now, Hervey, we’ve been talking over your case for some time and it was lately decided that since the end of the season was close at hand there was no need of putting on you the stigma of dismissal. Tom Slade was responsible for that decision; he seems to like you.” “He knows I wouldn’t take a dare from anybody,” said Hervey; “I don’t care what it is.” “Hmph; well, he seems to like you. So you’re going home Saturday just like all the other boys. You will have finished the season. No disgrace. I don’t know whether you have any regrets or not. You have been a great trial to the management. We who have the camp in charge feel that we can’t again take the responsibility which your presence here entails. If you were with a troop and scoutmaster perhaps it would be different; perhaps you would have made a better showing under such influence. But you are a born free lance, if you know what that is, and this camp is no place for free lances, however picturesque they may be.” “I have a lot of fun by myself,” said Hervey. “I stood on my hands on a merry-go-round horse in a carnival in Crowndale. I bet you couldn’t do that.” Councilor Wainwright looked at him with an expression of humorous despair. “No, I don’t suppose I could,” he said. “Isn’t that a scout stunt?” Hervey demanded. “Why no, it isn’t, Hervey. Not when you follow a traveling carnival all the way to Crowndale and stay away for two days and identify yourself with wandering acrobats and such. Of course, there’s no use talking about those things now. But if you’re asking me, that isn’t a scout stunt at all.” “Gee williger!” Hervey ejaculated in comment on the unreasonableness of all councilors and camp regulations. “That’s just it, you don’t understand,” said Mr. Wainwright. “Scouting doesn’t consist merely in doing things that are hard to do. If that were so, I suppose every lawless gangster could call himself a scout.” “I know a gangster that’s a pretty nice fellow,” said Hervey. “He did me a good turn; that’s scouting, isn’t it?” The camp councilor looked serious. “Well, you’d better keep away from gangsters, my boy.” “You say a good turn isn’t scouting?” “We won’t talk about that now, because you and I don’t see things the same way. The point is--and this is why I sent for you--you must never again at any time return to Temple Camp. You are leaving as the season closes and you are not openly disgraced. But you must tell your father----” “It’s my stepfather,” said Hervey. Mr. Wainwright paused just a second. “Well, your stepfather then,” he said. “You must tell him that your leaving camp this season has all the effects of a dismissal. Councilor Borden wanted to write to your father--your stepfather--and tell him just how it is. But for your sake we have overruled him in that. You may tell your stepfather in your own way----”