"He's a queer little duck," Hunt said. "That isn't any reason why you shouldn't take him in. I'm not saying you haven't--_now_. And I'm glad if you have, that's sure. You ought to read him the Handbook and teach him some of the other stuff--the laws and all that. Gee, that's the least you could do, now he's won the cross for you." "Grandpa Foxy," he said, and then he went along toward the Elk cabin. I was just going to start off to our own cabin when I heard footsteps. It seemed as if someone might be stealing along, and first I thought it might be Skinny. I was glad it wasn't, because I wanted him to stay in with his own fellows now and not bother with me. It was Bert Winton. "H'lo, Blakeley," he said, in that quiet kind of a way he has; "I thought everybody was in bed." "I see _you're_ not in bed," I told him, kind of grouchy. He said, "Me? Oh, no, I always prowl around after fox trails and things. I got on one fox trail, didn't I? Bet the kid won't sleep to-night, hey?" "I bet I won't sleep either," I said; "and that's why I'm here." "Kind of like the kid, don't you?" he said. I said, "Yes, and that's more than _you_ can say." He just looked at me a minute and then he sat down on the stone alongside of me, and he broke a stick off a bush and began marking on the ground with it. Then he said, kind of as if he didn't take much interest--he said, "Actions speak louder than words; did you ever hear that?" "Sure," I said, "but I'd like to know what that has to do with Skinny." He just kept pushing the stick around, then he said, "If you're such a good friend of his, instead of trotting all around and sticking your face into every cabin like an old maid hunting for a thimble, why didn't you find his trail and follow it?" I said, "I don't know why I didn't" "If you thought he just went off to be by himself, why didn't you trail him and make sure?" he asked me, all the while very friendly and quiet like. "Well, if he wanted to be by himself," I said, "why should I track him?" "Why should you hunt for him at all, then?" he said. "Just because I choose to," I told him. "That's a good reason," he said. "It's all the reason you'll get," I blurted out. "All right," he said, very nice and polite, "only then don't go around thinking you're a better friend to him than I am. I know this camp and I know those fellows across the lake and I know page fifty-one of the Handbook, and I've seen the kid once or twice." "I suppose you think I don't know what's on page fifty-one of the Handbook," I said, getting mad; "it's the tracking badge--pathfinding-- so there. And I see you have it on your sleeve, too." "That's where it belongs," he said. "Well, then, if you think it was so important to track him, why didn't you track him?" I blurted at him, for I was good and mad. "I did," he said. CHAPTER XIX TELLS ABOUT A VISIT FROM ACROSS THE LAKE