“No, back to camp. You’re going to go back and beat that game just as you licked the two fellows in Jersey City. You’re going to read your little book and find out just what you have to do to win badges. Then you’re going to _do those things_. And you’re going to have that whole crowd eating out of your hand, you fresh little rascal! Here, wear the pin if you want to; I was only kidding you.” But Spiff Henshaw held the gorgeous ornament tight in his hand and would not replace it in his scarf. “I wouldn’t let anybody say I wear a call for help--geeeee, you don’t know me!” “Here, slip your sweater on,” said Tom, “You’re going to bang around into the enemy’s country, and after you’ve read your little book--handbook, they call it?--why, you’ll have them on their knees begging for an armistice.” “Shall I chuck the pin?” Spiff asked, with an air of manly independence. “Well, it’s a call for help,” laughed Tom. With a fine air of disgust the boy cast his magnificent ornament upon the floor, drew his sweater over his head and strode out into the night with Tom. Brent, left alone, leaned over without disturbing his restful posture, picked up the pin, and gazed at it amusedly. “Leave it to Tom,” he said to himself. CHAPTER XXVI—Watchful Waiting Tom was weary enough after his strenuous day, but he never did things by halves; he escorted his young acquaintance up to the Hawkeye Spoke Trail and set him upon his journey back into the land of the enemy. “You going to read your little Scout book now?” he asked before taking leave of him. “Suuuuure, if I say I do a thing, I do it.” “Bully.” “Don’t ever be a quitter or a walking call for help.” “You leave it to me.” “And you’ll go right straight back and report to your scoutmaster or camp manager or whatever he is? To the right one?” “Suuuuure.” “All right, so long. And you’re dead sure you stamped the fire out? Fires are bad things, you know. Some day I’ll show you how to roast potatoes on a stick--you need a wire.” “I bet you’re a trapper, I bet.” “So long, you little rascal. You don’t need any H-E-L-P.” Tom watched him as he trudged along the dark trail, then retraced his steps to the cabin, staggering in with a theatrical show of weariness. “Guess we’ll call it a day, huh?” he said. “I’m about all in.” “Did you look in the Ford while you were up that way?” “I did not.” “Some kid, huh?” “All he needs is to get on the track,” said Tom. “He can do anything, only he never does it according to rules. Shoots a woodchuck with a bow and arrow and wants the archery badge! Can you beat that? He’ll land on his feet yet. Just at present the cruel world is against him.” “The sign of the four got him,” said Brent. Tom laughed. “It’s the only way to get a kid like that.”