The trail of Roy and his friends is short and easy to follow, and it is not the main trail of this story. It took them into the city where they bought a tent, (not a very large one, for they could not get together much money), but big enough to bunk in and enable them to spend their vacation at the beloved, familiar spot. He said that "he should worry about that fellow Barnard," and that he guessed Tom's fondness for that individual was like Peewee's fondness for mince pie--a case of love at first bite. But did he forget about Tom, and miss him at the meetings? We shall have to guess as to that. Tom was seldom mentioned, at all events. The first member of the Bridgeboro troop to outgrow his companions and turn his thoughts to new friends and associates had broken away from the hallowed circle and deserted them, and repudiated them with a lie on his lips; that was what the scouts said, or at least, thought. They had seen it coming, but it had hurt just the same. And so the days went by, and the breath of Spring grew heavier in the air, and the dandelions sprang up in the field down by the river, and tree blossoms littered the sidewalks, and the frogs began croaking in the marshes. When the frogs begin croaking it is time to think of camp. But Tom Slade, late of the scouts, was ahead of the dandelions and the blossoms and the frogs, for on that very day of his talk with Roy, and while the three patrols were off on their shopping bee in the city, he went into Mr. Burton's private office and asked if he might talk to him about an idea he had. "Surest thing you know, Tommy," said his superior cheerily. "You want to go to the North Pole now?" For Mr. Burton knew Tom of old. CHAPTER XIV THE REALLY HARD PART "Maybe you'll remember how you said this would just be a kind of an experiment, my starting to work again in the office, and maybe it would turn out to be better for me to go away in the country," said Tom. "Yes sir," said Mr. Burton, with prompt good nature intended to put Tom at his ease. "I was wondering if maybe you could keep a secret," Tom said. "Well, I could make a stab at it," Mr. Burton said, laughing. "Do you think Margaret could?" Tom asked. "Oh, I dare say, but you know how girls are. What's the trouble?" "I want to go away," Tom said; "I can't do things right and I want to go away. I'm all the time forgetting." "I think you're doing fine," said Mr. Burton. "I want to go up to Temple Camp until I feel better," Tom said. Mr. Burton scrutinized him shrewdly and pursed up his lips and said, "Don't feel first rate, eh?" "I get rattled awful easy and I don't remember things," Tom said. "I want to go up to camp and stay all alone with Uncle Jeb, like you said I could if I wanted to."