Tom Slade could lift any small scout at Temple Camp by the collar and hold him out straight with one arm. And the squirming youngster would always wriggle his neck afterward from that iron clutch. The hand which was accustomed to doing this now tightened on the rail against which he leaned. And the power of a resolution which Audry Ferris dreamed not of, was in that brown hand. And his eyes, inscrutable and grim, looked straight at the name _Goodfellow_, on one of the life preservers before him. Half-closed, grimly determined, they looked. And the frowning mountains on either side of the darkening river were no stronger nor more immovable than Tom Slade, scout. No maid (unless it were the _Goodfellow_) and no scout organization with all its fine program of character building and citizenship could feel the blame, or perchance take the credit, for his towering, defiant resolve. It was just Tom Slade of Barrel Alley who once upon a time had knocked a city marshal flat with a quick right-handed violation of the law, because that dignitary had set a beer can on his mother’s picture. It was that same right hand which struck the railing now. Tom Slade of Barrel Alley. “If anybody thinks,” said he, “that I’m going to squeal on a friend, _they’ve got—one—more—good—long—think_. Maybe I might give away the one that saved my life—some day—maybe I might. _But not while I’m conscious!_” Thus this good fellow came through the storm, just as the gallant little _Goodfellow_, his first love, had braved so many storms out there in the wide river, neglected and alone. CHAPTER XXXIV THE BOAT ROCKS And now a quick exhilaration seized Tom; the tempest was over. It was a pity that Audry Ferris could not be there to feel the full force of his breezy air of emancipation. To see him come swaggering up out of the valley of the shadow. To take note of that careless, independent whistling of a song, which seemed to proclaim to the world, “I should worry.” But these things would keep. His spirit seemed likely to last a day or two—oh, goodness, yes. He was just going to celebrate his emancipation by getting up and throwing those boisterous tin cans overboard when the boat lurched enough to cause him to keep his seat. Just in that moment his exhilaration was chilled by a blighting thought. If he did not tell, perhaps Audry would. The secret was between these two. Presently something happened which startled him. Simultaneously with a lurch of the boat came a sound from within the cabin, a sound as of someone falling. Then the sliding-door rolled slowly open. A can rolled across the deck, making a clanking sound as it struck an iron cable cleat.