In every face and most of all in the faces of his own troop Tom saw contempt plainly written. He could not go away from them, for that might excite fresh comment; so he remained, trying to disregard the significant glances and swallowing hard to keep down the lump which kept rising in his throat. Soon the doctor came, relieving Doc Carson of the Ravens, and the half-drowned boy was taken to his cabin. "He--he's all right, isn't he?" Tom asked of the doctor. "Yes," said the doctor, briefly. "He's one of your own patrol, isn't he?" "Yes--sir." The doctor looked at him for a moment and then turned away. "Hello, old man," said Garry, as he passed him, hurrying to the pavilion. "Cold feet, eh? Guess you got a little rattled. Never mind." The words stabbed Tom like a knife, but at least they were friendly and showed that Garry did not entirely condemn him. He paused at the Elks cabin, the cabin of his own patrol, where most of the members of his troop were gathered. One or two made way for him in the doorway, but did not speak. Roy Blakeley was sitting on the edge of Dory's couch. "Roy," said Tom, still hesitating in the doorway of his own patrol cabin, "can I speak to you a minute?" Roy came out and silently followed Tom to a point out of hearing of the others. "I--I don't care so much what the others think," said Tom. "If they want to think I'm a coward, all right. But I want to tell _you_ how it was so _you_ won't think so." "Oh, you needn't mind about me," said Roy. "You and Garry--I----" "I guess _he_ knows what to think, too," said Roy, coldly. "I guess he has his opinion of the First Bridgeboro Troop's courage." "That's why I care most," said Tom, "on account of disgrace for one being disgrace for all--and honor, too. But there's something----" "Well, you should have thought of that," Roy interrupted impetuously, "when you stood there and let a strange fellow rescue one of your own patrol. You practically asked him to do it--everybody saw." "There's something----" "Oh, sure, _there's something_! I suppose you'll be able to dig something out of the Handbook, defending cowards! You're great on the Handbook." Again that something came up in Tom's throat and the ugly word cut him so that he could hardly speak. "No, there isn't anything in the Manual about it," said he, in his slow monotone, "because I looked." Roy sneered audibly. "But I thought there might be another law--a 13th one about----" "Oh, you make me sick with your 13th law!" Roy flared up. "Is that what you were dreaming about when you stood on the end of that board and beckoned to Garry----" "I didn't beckon, I just looked----"