“Now, mister, he shoots that deer in the head and kills it ter end its sufferings. He don’t know no more ’baout shootin’ than a drunken maniac but at two or three inches he killed his deer. All right, mister. Then he goes ter Barrett’s, a little settlement up our way. I d’no what he goes fer. But I’m thinkin’ he goes ter see the man that shot that deer first off. Leastways, when that man got the blame like he deserved, this kid he up and says it was _him_ killed the deer. So ’twas, the little rascal, but you see _how_ ’twas. Well, he gets arrested an’ he pays out his precious hunderd dollars and comes home and says _he_ killed a deer and gets a good tongue lashin’ and loses his gun, but he sticks fast. “Now all I come here fer now is ter let you folks in onter that stunt o’ his an’ ask you if he gets his trip to the Yallerstone that he cheated himself out of, or not. I don’t know nuthin’ ’baout kind turns ’cause I ain’t never did none, but I wanter know if this here kid gets his trip out Yallerstone way or not. Now, if I’m lyin’ he’ll tell yer so, ’cause I understand these scout fellers don’t lie. I jes wanter know if he gets his trip out Yallerstone way or not.” CHAPTER XXXII THE BOY EDWIN CARLISLE Consternation reigned. In the front row, where the First Bridgeboro Troop sat, confusion prevailed. Pee-wee, in accordance with the old precept of “Off with the old love, on with the new,” forgot for the moment Warde’s chagrin and shouted uproariously for Westy. “_It’s going to be in our troop anyway!_” he yelled. “_It’s just the same only different!_” And meanwhile, a trim-looking boy, Edwin Carlisle, was standing in the audience waiting patiently and smiling, somewhat embarrassed. Mr. Atwater turned and conferred with his colleagues on the platform. Pee-wee, restrained by his nearest neighbors, subsided into silence. Westy (probably more utterly wretched than any one in the hall) tried to silence excited questioners. “Who is he?” “Is it true?” “Is he crazy?” “Did you ever see him before?” “I bet it’s the truth!” These and similar whispered comments were showered upon him and he could only keep looking about sheepishly, as if he were ashamed to have the spectators behold this fuss. The boy, Edwin Carlisle, standing quietly among his sitting colleagues some distance off, made a rather pathetic picture. His was not an easy rôle but he bore himself with a demeanor of patience and good humor. And meanwhile, the outlandish stranger who had “shot up” the meeting remained like a statue half-way down the aisle calmly awaiting an answer to his question. Once it seemed as if he were on the point of lighting his pipe, but he did not do that. It was Mr. Atwater who put an end to this rather embarrassing interval.