Then came the first of August, that day forever memorable in the annals of Temple Camp. In the storm and gloom of that afternoon a ’phone message came to him that the stout heart of old Auntie Sally had given away and that she would have none to attend her but the only doctor in the world. That was when the fine young fellow whose face she had so mercilessly scrubbed, went down to the lake and all unheedful of his peril started across the angry water in the camp launch. He was on his way back when the launch, careering at the mercy of the wind, struck the rocks broadside and sank with a great tear in her cedar planking. You know the rest; how these brothers who had never before seen each other met in storm and darkness in the middle of Black Lake, both stricken, and how Wandering Willie set the camp aghast with his sublime prowess and heroism. New scouts at Temple Camp often wonder why that submerged peril is called Wandering Willie’s Rock. Then at camp-fire some one asks and the whole story is told again, just as I have told it to you. It was Tom Slade who took the young doctor over to Shady Vale so that he might recover from his own shock in the home where his aged benefactress lay. And then it was that Auntie Sally, thinking she was about to die, told Tom all she knew about the little waif who had wandered onto her grounds, bewildered, and with a dirty face. She showed Tom (she seemed afraid to talk with Rosleigh about these matters) a little trinket that the lost child had worn around his neck, a thing of no value save that it had the initials R. C. engraved upon it. This little locket she had hidden away, thinking perhaps to lull her own conscience into the belief that there was no means of establishing the identity of the one little blessing which she could not bear the thought of losing. “I’d’know as I care now,” she said, “if he’s got folks as’ll care for him as I did—if you can find ’em. Leastways what he is I made him. I had him as long as I lived. Long as I ain’t goin’ to be ’bout no more....” And so Tom with the instinct of the true scout, had made inquiries which had resulted in establishing the identity of the waif. “And no one could doubt it after seeing you all together,” he said. “And Auntie Sally?” Arden asked. “Did she——” “Do you think he’d be sitting here laughing if she had?” Tom asked. “But she can’t live alone over there any more. They’re talking about getting her into a Home. I was—I was thinking if we—you and I go fishing, Arden—that we might hike over the mountain and see her. If you think you could.” “I can do _anything_,” said Arden, shaking her pretty head with pride and spirit. “It runs in the family,” said Tom.