“You needn’t tell me what I said,” Mr. Arnoldson shot back at him. “Do you want me to understand that you ’phoned to camp?” Brent was sort of a little mad. He said, “I don’t care what you understand, Mr. Arnoldson, and I think it’s all right to remind you that you said if scouts were going to stay out they must ’phone. We did ’phone. And we thought that would be all right.” “At what time did you ’phone?” he asked us. “At about half-past six,” Brent said. “From where?” “From the railroad station at Greenvale.” That seemed to be a poser to him; he just drummed on the table and looked at all of us. “Which one of you ’phoned?” he asked. “Hervey ’phoned,” Brent said. “Eh huh, I thought so,” Mr. Arnoldson said, with a kind of a funny smile. “Who did you talk to, Willetts?” “A scout named Wilkins,” Hervey said. “Ask him his name?” “How do you suppose I found out?” Hervey said. “I didn’t want to ’phone, I’ll tell you that much. I didn’t care so much.” “Don’t, Hervey,” Brent said in a low tone. “I should bother,” Hervey said. “Bother about whether you tell the truth or not? That what you mean?” Mr. Arnoldson asked him. Then he said, “Any of you fellows see him ’phone?” “No, we waited outside,” Brent said. “Ah, yes,” Mr. Arnoldson said with a kind of a smile. “Well now,” he said, and he clapped his hand down on the table, “there was no ’phone message received at this camp from any of you boys this evening.” “You sure of that?” Brent asked. “_Absolutely_,” Mr. Arnoldson said. “And there is no scout or anybody else at this camp by the name of Wilkins. I’m sorry for you four boys, Harris and Blakeley and Hollister and Gaylong, you were duped. It’s all right, go to bed and forget it. Willetts, you’re a liar and we don’t want any liars at this camp. You not only try to fool the management and disobey rules, but you fool your comrades. You thought we’d call you in if you ’phoned. And you knew these boys wouldn’t stay out without ’phoning. So you put one over on them; you lied to them. I was going to give you all a good calling down and then turn in because I’m sleepy. A good calling down wouldn’t have killed you.” “Gee whiz, it wouldn’t kill me,” Pee-wee said. “Now you four turn in and forget it,” Mr. Arnoldson said. “And you, Willetts, had better go up where your troop bunks, if you know where that is, and pack up your stuff and get out of here in the morning. And don’t ever show your face in Temple Camp again. Don’t talk back, and cut out the bravado; there’s the door, get out of my sight.”