His voice was low and soft, as of one who has lived long in the woods by himself. There was a humorous twinkle in his eye which the boys liked. He was long and lanky and wore khaki trousers and a coarse gray flannel shirt. His arms, which were bare, were very sinewy. Altogether, the impression which he made on the boys was that he was perfectly self-possessed and at ease, so absolutely sure of himself that nothing in all the wide world could frighten him or disconcert him. The President of the United States, kings, emperors, millionaires--including John Temple--might want to be rowed across and this man would come leisurely over and get them, but he would not hurry and he would be no more embarrassed or flustered at meeting them than a tree would be. Nature, the woods and mountains and prairies, had put their stamp upon him, had whispered their secrets to him, and civilization could not phase him. That was the way he struck the boys, who from being scouts had learned to be observant and discerning. "Are you Mr. Rushmore?" Tom asked, and as the man nodded assent he continued, "My name is Tom Slade; we're members of the Bridgeboro Troop and I'm the one selected to help you. I don't know if you expected me yet, but my scoutmaster and Mr. Temple thought I better come ahead of the other fellows so's to help you and get acquainted--like. These fellows came with me just for fun, but, of course, they want to help get things ready. The rest are coming up in July." This was a good deal for Tom to say at a stretch, and it fell to the voluble Pee-wee later to edify Mr. Rushmore with all the details of their trip, winding up with a glowing peroration on Roy's greatness. "Waal, I reck'n I'm glad ye've come--the hull three on ye," Jeb Rushmore drawled. "That's some trail over that hill," said Roy, as they rowed across. "We lost it about a dozen times." "Thet? Thet ain't no trail," said Jeb. "Thet's a street--a thurafare. I'm a-goin' t' test you youngsters out follerin' thet on a dark night." "Have a heart!" said Roy. "I could never pick that out with a flashlight." "A what? Ye won't hev no light o' no sort, not ef _I_ know it." The boys laughed. "Well, I see we're up against the real thing," said Roy, "but if that's a thoroughfare, I'd like to see a trail--that's all." "Ye don' need ter see it," drawled Jeb. "Ye jest _feel_ it." "You must have a pretty good sense of touch," said Roy. "Ye don' feel it with your hands, youngster, ye jest _sense_ it." "_Good night!_" said Roy. Tom said nothing. He had been watching Mr. Rushmore and hanging with rapt attention on his every word.