"What?" said Tom, a little startled out of his usual stolid manner. "Oh, you know what, all right," Roy answered sneeringly. "You thought I'd never find out, didn't you? You didn't think I'd go up to the office. You thought you'd get away with it and have me lying to the troop--the fellows that used to be your friends before you met Barnyard or whatever you call him. I know who he is, all right. If you wanted to give him our cabins, him and his troop, why didn't you come and say so? Gee whiz, we would have been willing to do them a good turn. We've camped in tents before, if it comes to that." Tom stood perfectly motionless, with no more expression, either of anger or sorrow or surprise, than he usually showed. His big, tight set, resolute mouth was very conspicuous, but Roy did not notice that. The elevator came down, and the metallic sound of its door opening was emphasized in the tense silence which followed Roy's tirade. "Going up," the colored boy said. The door rolled shut and still Tom Slade stood there, stolid and without any show of emotion, looking straight at Roy. "I didn't ever tell a lie--not since I got in with the scouts," he said simply. "Well, that makes two," said Roy mercilessly; "do you mean to tell me you don't know what's-his-name--Barnard? Will you stand there and say you don't know him?" "I do know him," Tom said; "he saved my life in France." "And didn't you tell me only ten minutes ago that I could tell the fellows that you didn't know anything about--about that troop--about him and his troop? Didn't you? Do you deny that you did? You told me I could go back and lie to the fellows--you did! If you think I'll do that you've got another guess, I can tell you that much!" "I never told you you should lie," said Tom with straightforward simplicity, "and I admit I forgot about the cabins. I was away two summers. I had a lot of different things to think about. I got shell-shocked the very same night I met that fellow, and that's got something to do with it, maybe. But I wouldn't stand here, I wouldn't, and try to prove that I didn't tell a lie. If you want to think I did, go ahead and think so. And if the rest of the troop want to think so, let them do it. If anybody says I forgot about the scouts, he lies. And you can tell them they won't lose anything, either; you can tell them I said so. I ain't changed. Didn't I--didn't I ride my motorcycle all the way from Paris to the coast--through the floods--didn't I? Do you think it's going to be hard to make everything right? I--I can do anything--I can. And I didn't lie, either. You go up to Temple Camp on the first of August like you--like we--always did; that's all _I_ say." He was excited now, and his hand trembled, and Roy looked at him a bit puzzled, but he was neither softened nor convinced. "Didn't you as much as say you didn't know anything about who made that application--didn't you?" Roy demanded.