"We will leave the field at once, sir."

"When _I_ was a young man," said Mr. Temple, with frosty condescension, "I had something more important to do with myself than to play Wild West with a pack of boys."

"There were more open fields in those days," said the scoutmaster, pleasantly.

"And perhaps that is why my wealth grows now."

"Very likely; and the movement which these boys represent," Mr.

Ellsworth added with a suggestion of pride in his voice, "is growing quite as fast as any man's wealth."

"Indeed, sir! Do you know that this boy's father owes me money?" said Mr. Temple, coldly indicating Tom.

"Very likely."

"And that the boy is a hoodlum?"

Mr. Ellsworth bit his lip, hesitatingly. "Yes, I know that, Mr.

Temple," he said.

"And a thief and a liar?"

"Don't run, Tom," whispered Roy.

"No, I _don't_ know that. Suppose we talk apart, Mr. Temple."

"We will talk right here, and there'll be very little talking indeed.

If you think I am a public target, sir, you are quite mistaken! You clear out of this lot and keep out of it, or you'll go to jail--the whole pack of you! A man is known by the company he keeps. If you choose to cast your lot with children--and hoodlums and rowdies--I could send that boy to jail if I wanted to," he broke off. "_You know_ he's a vicious character and yet you--"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "NEITHER YOU NOR ANY OTHER MAN CAN BREAK UP THIS MOVEMENT."]

The Scoutmaster looked straight into the eyes of the enraged Temple, and there was a little prophetic ring in his voice as he answered.

"I'm afraid it would be hard to say at present just what he is, Mr.

Temple. I was thinking just a few minutes ago, as I saw him dangling his legs up there, that he was on the fence in more ways than one. I suppose we can push him down on either side we choose."

"There's a right and wrong side to every fence, young man."

"There is indeed."

"As every good citizen should know; a public side and a private side."

"He has always been on the wrong side of the fence hitherto, Mr.

Temple." Mr. Ellsworth held out his hand and instinctively Tom shuffled toward him and allowed the scoutmaster's arm to encircle his shoulder.

Roy Blakeley elbowed his way among the others as if it were appropriate that he should be at Tom's side.

"I have no wish to interfere with this 'movement' or whatever you call it," said John Temple, sarcastically, "provided you keep off my property. If you don't do that I'll put the thumb-screws on and see what the law can do, and break up your 'movement' into the bargain!"

"The law is helpless, Mr. Temple," said Mr. Ellsworth. "Oh, it has failed utterly. I wish I could make you see that. As for breaking up the movement," he continued in quite a different tone, "that is all sheer bl.u.s.ter, if you'll allow me to say so."

"What!" roared John Temple.

"Neither you nor any other man can break up this movement."

"As long as there are jails--"

"As long as there are woods and fields. But I see there is no room for discussion. We will not trespa.s.s again, sir; Mr. Blakeley's hill is ours for the asking. But you might as well try to bully the sun as to talk about breaking up this movement, Mr. John Temple. It is like a dog barking at a train of cars."

"Do you know," said the capitalist, in a towering rage, "that this boy hurled a stone at me only a week ago?"

"I do not doubt it; and what are we going to do about it?"

"Do about it?" roared John Temple.

"Yes, do about it. The difference between you and me, Mr. Temple, is that you are thinking of what this boy did a week ago, and I am thinking of what _he is going to do to-morrow_."

The boys had the last word in this affair and it was blazoned forth with a commanding emphasis which shamed "old John's" most wrathful utterance. It was Roy Blakeley's idea, and it was exactly like him.

He invited the whole troop (Tom included) up to Camp Solitaire and there, before the sun was too low, they printed in blazing red upon a good-sized board the words

TRESPa.s.sING PROHIBITED UNDER PENALTY OF THE LAW

When darkness had fallen this was erected upon two uprights projecting above the top of Temple's board fence.

"He'll be sure to see it," commented Roy, "and it's what he always needed."

When a carpenter arrived on the scene the next morning to put up such a sign, as per instructions, he went back and told John Temple that there was a very good one there already, and asked what was the use of another.

It was the kind of thing that Roy Blakeley was in the habit of doing--a good turn with a dash of pepper in it.

CHAPTER VII

"ON MY HONOR"

During the next few days a dreadful doc.u.ment appeared which had to do with Tom, though he never saw it and only heard of it indirectly.

Whence it emanated and what became of it he never knew, but he knew it was originated by the "rich guys" and that Mrs. Bennett and John Temple and the Probation Officer and the Judge had something to do with it.

It said that "Whereas one Thomas Slade, aged fourteen, son of William Slade, whereabouts unknown, and Annie Slade, deceased, was an unprotected minor, etc., etc., that said Thomas Slade should therefore be brought into court by somebody or other at a certain particular time, for commitment as a city charge," and so forth and so on. There was a good deal more to it than this, but this was the part of it which Tom heard of, and he rose in rebellion.

He had been sleeping, sometimes at Mrs. O'Connor's and sometimes up at Camp Solitaire with Roy, as the fancy took him. When the news of what was under way fell like a thunderbolt upon him, in a frenzy of apprehension he went to Mr. Ellsworth.

Mr. Ellsworth himself went to court on the fatal day. The judge asked what facilities the "Scout movement" had for handling a boy like Tom Slade and whether they had an "inst.i.tution." He thought Tom might be placed under the supervision of competent people in the Home for Wayward Boys. The Probation Officer said that was just the place for Tom for he had a "vicious proclivity." Tom thought presently he would be accused of having stolen that, whatever it was. Happily, though, in the end, he was committed to Mr. Ellsworth's care and he and Tom went forth together.

"Now Tom," said the Scoutmaster, "you and I are going to have a little pow-wow--you know what a pow-wow is? Well, then I'll tell you. When the Indians get together to chin about important matters, they call it a pow-wow. They usually hold it sitting around a camp fire, and we'll do that too when we get to Salmon River, for the Indians haven't got anything on us. But we'll have our first pow-wow right now walking along the street. What do you say?"