I said to Bert--that's what I called him now--I said, "If that was true about the money, he wouldn't get the gold cross, would he?" He said, "Nope, I guess not. Bravery doesn't count for much if a fellow is crooked. A highwayman is brave if it comes to that." By that I knew that there's a lot to being a hero besides just being brave. Crinkums, I learned a lot of things from that fellow. "But as long as he didn't do it, we should worry," I told him. "That's us," he said When we got in the boat he took the oars and I sat in the stern and we just flopped around. There aren't many fellows out rowing mornings, because they're either tracking or stalking or cleaning up or maybe in for a dip. We could see the fellows busy about the cabins and hear them shouting and it made me feel awful sorry for Skinny, somehow. I didn't see him anywheres and I wondered where he was. "Well, kid," Bert said (most always he called me that), "things get worser and worser, hey?" "Do you still say he didn't do it?" I asked him; "I don't know _what_ to think--look at that money." "Ever take a good look at Skinny?" he said. "Yes, but look at the money," I said. "What do I want to look at it for?" he said; "it ought to be hung out on the clothesline from all I've heard," he said. Oh, boy, I was glad to hear him say that. "I wouldn't let any fellow in this camp except you call me 'kid,'" that's what I told him. He just rowed around a little while, making dandy feather strokes, and then he said, "Mr. Ellsworth didn't send that money over to Daniel Boone and Buffalo Bill yet, did he?" I said, "You mean the gold dust twins? No, I don't think he did." He said, "Well then, we've got to fix _that_ and We can't ask Mr. E. not to do it The tide's against us, kid; nobody's going to listen to us--not yet." Then all of a sudden he sat up, got his oars set right, and oh, bibbie, you should have seen that fellow row. Every stroke he took he almost lay down flat, and oh, Christmas, couldn't he feather! Pretty soon we were over near the shore where the campers were. You could see their tent in among the trees. "You're not going to tell _them_, are you?" I said. But he didn't answer me, only just called out, "Hey, there, you wild Indians!" One of them came through the woods and stopped and looked at us. "Aren't you fellows going to the boat races down at Catskill?" Winton shouted. "You're going to miss the time of your lives if you don't. Better get a hustle." "What time are they?" the camper shouted. "Just about now," Bert shouted; "follow the old Bowl Creek bed and you'll get there quicker." Then he rowed away again. "That'll fix 'em for to-day," he said. "More than one way to kill a cat, hey?" "There _are_ some races, aren't there?" I asked him. "Sure there are. That pair won't get back till midnight if they once hit Catskill." I said, "You think of everything, don't you?"