“But I had to laugh how he wanted to know about getting tattooed,” Wyne said finally. He was thinking about Hervey. It was not just that he wanted to help him either. “I’ve often noticed him on the street; he never seems to be in a hurry. He’s always kind of fooling around as he goes along.” “Oh, he has no idea of time at all,” said Mr. Talbot. “That’s where military school’s going to do him good. He wanted to bet me he’d escape!” “Well, I bet he will,” said Wyne. “No siree!” “I don’t know, I kind of think he’d do anything he tries to do.” “Hmph, well he usually tries to do the wrong things,” said Mr. Talbot. “But he’s going to do the things that other people want him to do for a while now,” he added with a chuckle. “Just the same I bet they liked him up there--at that camp.” Mr. Talbot laughed, it was so palpable that Wyne Corson was under Hervey’s spell. “What’s the matter?” Wyne asked, with just a suggestion of testiness. “Nothing. I don’t think they saw a great deal of him up there, if that’s what you’re asking.” “Honest, do you think he’ll go up there next summer?” “He will if you dare him to.” “No, honest, do you?” “Of course he will,” Mr. Talbot smiled, then added more seriously. “What else can he do?” “Jiminies!” said Wyne with a kind of sorrowful shake of his head. “Some fix he’s in; I bet he’s worrying.” “Yes, that’s the trouble with him,” said Mr. Talbot. “He just wore himself to skin and bone last year worrying about the national debt. I don’t think I’d lose any sleep over him,” he added seriously; “he isn’t worrying at all.” “But what’s he going to do?” “I don’t know, I’m sure; stand on his head I suppose. Well, here we are; come in a minute and I’ll show you some scout pictures.” They lingered for a few minutes in front of Mr. Talbot’s house. “Wait a second, I’ll see if I’ve got a booklet about Temple Camp,” he said. “Maybe you’d like to glance it over. I wish you’d come in.” “No, I’d better scoot, I think it’s going to rain,” said Wyne. “Was that thunder?” Mr. Talbot asked. “All right, just wait here a second.” As Wyne waited, the rumbling of distant thunder could be heard in the sky. He held out his hand, but felt no drop of rain. Presently a flash of zigzag lightning lit the sky and one of the blinds of the Talbot house blew shut, then open again. Soon he was hurrying home to South Farrelton with the Temple Camp booklet stuffed in his pocket and was scarcely indoors when the storm which had been threatening broke in full fury. Wyne’s parents and sister had retired, but his mother called to him to know if he had got wet, and asked him to go up and shut the attic window for the rain seemed to be blowing from the north.