"This one was writ, wrot, wrote for the Camp-fire Girls around the blazing oil stove.

"If I had nine lives like an old tom cat, I'd chuck eight of them away.

For the more the weight, the less the speed, And scouts don't carry any more than they need; And I'd keep just one for a rainy day.

"Good? Want to hear more? Second verse by special request. They're off:

"If I could turn like an old windmill, I'd do good turns all day; With n.o.ble deeds the day I'd fill.

But you see I'm _not_ an old windmill.

And I ain't just built that way, I ain't."

Gilbert decided that however unusual were these ballads of scouting, they did not emanate from thief or hobo; and he climbed resolutely over the log. Even the comparative mildness of the savage gorilla to this new kind of scout did not deter him.

The scout anthem continued.

"If I was a roaring old camp-fire, You bet that I'd go out; Oh, I'd go out and far and near, For a camp-fire has the right idea; And knows what it's about!"

Gilbert crept along the farther side of the log till he came to an opening among the tangled roots. It was a very small but cozy little cave that he found himself looking into. In a general way, it suggested a wicker basket or a cage, except that it was black and damp. Within was a little fire of twigs. Tending it was a young fellow of perhaps twenty years of age, wearing a plaid cap. He was stooping over the little fire. Nearby, in a sort of swing made by binding two hanging tentacles of root, sat the wandering minstrel, swinging his legs to keep his makeshift hammock in motion.

Gilbert Tyson contemplated him in speechless consternation. There he was, the ideal ragged vagabond, and he did not cease swinging even when he discovered the visitor.

"H'lo," he said; "gimme my hat, that's just what I wanted; glad to see you."

Dumbfounded, Gilbert tossed the hat over to him.

"I wouldn't sell that hat," said Hervey, putting it on, "not for a couple of cups of cup custard. Sit down. Here's the chorus.

"Then hurrah for the cat with its nine little lives, And the good turn windmill, too.

And hurrah for the fire that likes to go out, When the hour is late like a regular scout; For that's what I like to do, _I do._ You bet your life I do!"

CHAPTER XXVI

LOVE ME, LOVE MY DOG

"Where did you find the hat?" Hervey inquired. "I bet you can't sit on this without holding on. Were you in the swamp? This is my friend, Mr.

Hood--Robin Hood--sometimes I call him _Lid_ instead of _Hood_. Call him _cap_ if you want to, he doesn't care," he added, still swinging.

Mr. Robin Hood did not seem as much at ease as his young companion. He seemed rather troubled and glanced sideways at Gilbert.

"We should worry about his name if he doesn't want to give it, hey?"

Hervey said, winking at Gilbert. "What's in a name?"

Gilbert was shrewd enough not to mention Tom but to give his visit the dignity of highest authority.

"Well, this is a big surprise to me," he said, "and I'm mighty glad it's this way," he added with a deep note of sincerity and relief in his voice. "I was sent from the office to find you and give you this note. I tracked you to the pond and I thought--golly, I'm glad it isn't so--but I thought you went down in the quicksand. I near got into it myself."

"Me?"

"Yes, how did you----"

"Easiest thing in the world. I knew if I could get to the log--did you see the log?"

"It isn't there now."

"I knew if I could get to that I could jump from it to the pond."

"And did you?"

"Surest thing. I kept chucking the suit-case ahead and stepping on it. I had an old board, too. I guess they're both gone down by now."

"Yes."

"When I got to the log I was all hunk--for half a minute. 'One to get ready,' that's what I said. Oh, boy, going down. Toys and stationery in the bas.e.m.e.nt."

Just in that moment Gilbert thought of the bird.

"Yes?" he urged, "and then?"

"One to get ready, One to jump high, One to light in the pond or die."

"And you did it? I heard you were reckless. Here, read the note,"

Gilbert said with unconcealed admiration. The wandering minstrel had made another capture.

He was, however, a little sobered as he opened the envelope. He had never been the subject of an official missive before. He had never been honored by a courier. He had won badges and had an unique reputation for stunts. But when the momentary sting had pa.s.sed it cannot be said that he left camp with any fond regrets. On the other hand, he bore the camp and his scoutmaster no malice now. He who forgets orders may also forget grievances. In Hervey's blithe nature there was no room for abiding malice.

"What are they trying to hand me now?" he asked, reading the notice.

"I don't know anything about it," said Gilbert; "I think you have to come back, don't you?"

"Sure, I've got the Gold Cross wished on me."

"The cross?" said Gilbert in admiring surprise. "What for?"

"Search me. They're going to test some money or something--testimony, that's it. Something big is going to happen in my young life."

"You'll go back?" Gilbert asked anxiously.

"Sure, if Robin Hood can go with me. Love me, love my dog."

"I don't want to go there," said the young fellow; "you kids better go."

"Then that's the end of the red cross," said Hervey, still swinging. "I mean the Gold Cross or the double cross or whatever you call it.

What'd'you say, Hoody? They have good eats there. Will you come and see me cop the cross?"

"He just happened to blow in here," said the stranger, by way of explaining Hervey's presence to Gilbert. "I was knocking around in the woods and bunking in here."