"This is Mr. Bent," said Mr. Brown, "Roscoe's father. Roscoe hasn't been seen since last night, and his father is rather concerned about him." "You haven't seen him--to-day?" Mr. Bent asked anxiously. "No, sir," said Tom. The two men looked soberly at each other, and Tom went over to the door of the private office, which stood ajar, and quietly closed it. "Mr. Burton is busy," he said. "We might ask him," Mr. Brown suggested. For the space of a few seconds Tom stood uneasily trying to muster the courage to speak. "It--it wouldn't be any good to let a lot of people know," he said hesitatingly, but looking straight at Roscoe's father. "Mr. Burton only got here a few minutes ago, and he couldn't tell anything.--If you spoke to him, Miss Ellison would know about it too." He spoke with great difficulty and not without a tremor in his voice, but his meaning reached the troubled father, who nodded as if he understood. "It's early yet," Tom ventured; "maybe he'll think it over, kind of, and--and----" "Thank you, my boy," said Mr. Bent soberly. The two men stood a moment, as if not knowing what to do next. Then they left, and Tom remained standing just where he was. Of course, he was not surprised, only shocked. "I knew it all the time," he said to himself, "only I wouldn't admit it." He had been too generous to face the ugly fact. To him, who wished to go to war, the very thought of slacking and cowardice seemed preposterous--impossible. "I was just kidding myself," he said, with his usual blunt honesty, but with a wistful note of disappointment. "There's no use trying to kid yourself--there ain't." Mr. Burton came out with his usual smiling briskness and greeted Tom pleasantly. "Congratulations, Tommy," said he. "I suppose I'll see you among the big guns to-night. You leaving soon?" "Y-yes, sir, in a few minutes." "Miss Ellison and I are so unpatriotic that we're going to work till the parade begins this afternoon." "I don't suppose he'll even _notice_ us to-morrow," teased the girl, "he'll be so proud." Tom smiled uncomfortably and wandered over to the window where, but a few minutes before, he had looked out with such pride and happiness. He did not feel very happy now. Close by him was a table on which were strewn photographs of Temple Camp and the adjacent lake, a few birch bark ornaments, carved canes, and other specimens of handiwork which scouts had made there. There was also a large portfolio with plans of the cabins and pavilion and rough charts and diagrams of the locality. Tom had shown this portfolio to many callers--scoutmasters and parents of scouts--who had come to make inquiries about the woodland community. He had shown it to Roscoe Bent only the day before and, as we know, he had been greatly pleased at the lively interest which that worldly young gentleman had shown.