“I’ll beat them all to it, all right,” said Hervey vaguely. “They arrested that wonder--even of two continents he’s a wonder--but I gave them a good run. I nearly bit that feller’s hand off when he grabbed me. Do you dare me that I won’t get away from military school?” “Oh goodness no, but listen, Herve.” He became soft and serious. “You can listen, can’t you? You haven’t got anything else to do--now. You know that boy who put the jigamerig around your leg?” “Carter--something like that?” “You don’t remember his name, Herve? Wyne Corson. That fellow is in the troop they’ve got down in the south end; they’ve got quite an outfit. One of them--he’s just a kid--wants to have a hat like yours. When you jumped, you jumped right into the hearts of the Raccoon Patrol; you didn’t hit the tank at all. Well, that fellow was--now listen, here’s a knockout for you. Do you know how those fellows happened to be at the carnival last night?” “Do you think I bother ringing canes?” said Hervey. “Well, it’s good he won a kewpie doll, now isn’t it? But that’s not the knockout. He won a prize yesterday and he was giving his patrol a kind of a blowout last night at the carnival. I think there’s going to be a shortage of pop-corn for the next forty-’leven years.” “Well, yesterday morning he was up the river with that scout--that little stocky fellow; did you notice him?” “No.” “Well, he noticed you. They were up on Blackberry Cliff; as near as I can make out they’re always out for eats. There was a girl in a canoe down below; she belongs in that white house right across from the cliff. What I’m telling you is in this afternoon’s paper--you can see it. Well sir, the canoe upset, and this Wyne, he dived from the Cliff--that’s pretty high, you know, Herve, and he got her and swam to shore with her--_now wait_. Here’s the punch. He gets the Ellen C. Bentley reward for this year. You remember nobody got it last year. He goes on a trip to California next summer--six weeks. Naturally he was feeling pretty good last night. And he never told you a word about it! Think of those two things that scout did yesterday! Dived from a cliff and saved a life, won a trip across the continent, then put a what-d’ye-call-it around your leg when you might have bled to death after making a crazy dive that didn’t get you anything--not one blessed thing.” “Do you think I didn’t have any fun?” “Hervey, boy, why did you do it? Why--_why_ did you do it? A crazy fool thing like that!” Hervey was silent, a trifle abashed by the seriousness and vehemence of his visitor. “Why did you do it?” “I--I couldn’t help it.” Young Ebin Talbot just looked at him as a wrestler might look, trying to decide where to take his adversary. “I guess so,” he said low and resignedly. But he was not to be beaten so easily. “Hervey, there are only two boys in this town who could do what Wyne Corson did, and he is one of them and you’re the other one. Why are you never in the right place at the right time?”