"I'll tell you what I can do," he said at last, because he liked to hear somebody talking, even if it was only himself. "Maybe I can crawl back to the top of Greylock. Nobody ever would find me here and folks sometimes go up there." The Boy Scouts of Raven Patrol think that it took grit to crawl up the steep and rough mountainside, with his ankle hurting at every move so badly that it made him feel faint. It wasn't far to the top, but Bill thought he never would get there, he had to stop so many times to rest and wait for the pain to go away. An hour or more passed before he finally crawled out into the clearing, with nothing but the blue sky above him. It was then getting late in the afternoon. Skinny was at Pumpkin Hook by that time, probably surrounding the enemy. Wallie was somewhere in North Adams or beyond. I was hoeing the garden at the very foot of Greylock, little thinking that Bill was in so much trouble on top. The summit of Greylock is almost level and is not very large. On the east side Bill saw a lot of brush which somebody had cut and piled up, probably to make a big fire; then for some reason had not lighted it. He crawled over to that after the sun went down, built a little fire, and cooked a small piece of bacon for his supper, which he ate with a piece of bread and butter. It tasted good, but it made him thirsty and he didn't dare drink much water. Then, being tired out and more comfortable, he said his prayer and repeated all of the Scout laws, from being loyal to being reverent, wondering what good it was doing him to have two dollars in the bank down in the village, and went to sleep. When he awoke it was broad daylight. Benny and I were just starting on our hikes, down in Park Street, but he couldn't see us, Bob's Hill being in the way. By standing upon his one good foot, he could see the village down below, and thought he could make out the very house he lived in. He was as hungry as a bear and his ankle seemed a little better, although it was still swollen so much that he couldn't get his shoe on and he couldn't step on the foot. He had plenty of food for breakfast, but he didn't know how many meals he would need before he could get away; so he ate only a little and waited, hoping every minute that somebody would come up on the mountain and find him. When the day at last dragged around and the sun was going down again in Hudson River, Bill knew that he would have to spend another night on the mountain and he felt pretty bad. There were only a few mouthfuls of food left. One bottle of water was all gone and the other nearly so. He knew that by that time his folks would feel sure that something had happened and would begin to look for him. That was some comfort. Far down below, lights shone out from the houses, one by one. Down there was his home. One of those lights was shining out of his window, shining for him, while his mother sat and waited--waited for her boy who never would come back again.