"My home is out in Broadvale, Ohio, Slady. Ever hear of it? It's west of Dansburg--about fifty miles. I worked in a lumber concern out there. Can you guess the rest? Here's what did it, Slady, (and with admirable dexterity he went through the motions of shuffling cards and shooting craps). I swiped a hundred, Slady. Don't ask me why I did it--I don't know--I was crazy, that's all. So _now_ what have you got to say?" he inquired with a kind of recklessness, releasing Tom's arm. "I ain't got anything to say," said Tom. "They don't know it yet, Tommy, but they'll know it Monday. The accountants are on the job Monday. So I beat it, while the going was good. I started east, for little old New York. I intended to change my name and get a job there and lay low till I could make good. I thought they'd never find me in New York. My right name is Thornton, Slady. Red Thornton they call me out home, on account of this brick dome. Tommy, old boy, as sure as you sit there I don't know any more about the boy scouts than a pig knows about hygiene. So now you've got my number, Slady. What is it? Quits?" "If you knew anything about scouts," Tom said, with the faintest note of huskiness in his voice, "you'd know that they don't call quits. If I was a quitter, do you suppose I'd have stuck up here?" Thornton gazed about him at the three new cabins, which this queer friend of his had built there to rectify a trifling act of forgetfulness; he looked at Tom's torn shirt, through which his bruised shoulder could be seen, and at those tough scarred hands. "So now you know something about them," Tom said. "I know something about _one_ of them, anyway," Thornton replied admiringly. "If a fellow sticks in one way, he'll stick in another way," Tom said. "If he makes up his mind to a thing----" "You said it, Slady," Thornton concurred, giving Tom a rap on the shoulder. "And now you know, you won't tell? You won't tell that I've gone to New York?" he added with sudden anxiety. "Who would I tell?" Tom asked. "Nobody ever made me do anything yet that I didn't want to do." Which was only too true. Thornton crossed one knee over the other and talked with more ease and assurance. "I met Barnard on the train coming east, Slady. He has red hair like mine, so I thought I'd sit down beside him; we harmonized." Tom could not repress a smile. "He told me in a letter that he had red hair," he observed. "Red as a Temple Camp sunset, Tommy old boy. You're going to like that fellow; he's a hundred per cent, white--only for his hair. He's got scouting on the brain--clean daft about it. He told me all about you and how he and his crew of kids were going to spend August here and make things lively. Your crowd----" "Troop," Tom said.