Roy Blakeley's Adventures in Camp/Chapter XVI

I hunted for Skinny for a couple of hours, but I couldn't find him. I went all the way into Leeds for I couldn't think where else he'd be, if he wasn't around camp. But he wasn't in the village, that was sure, and I began to get kind of anxious, because I knew the crazy state he was in, and besides he was soaked from being in the lake.

It cleared up nice and sunny while I was gone and when I got back to camp, everybody was getting ready for supper. I had to change my clothes, they were so wet, and while I was doing it Mr. Ellsworth came into our cabin and asked me if I knew where Skinny was.

I said, "No, I don't; I hiked all over looking for him, but I couldn't find him. That's how I got so wet. I should think Connie would have his patrol out hunting for him."

Mr. Ellsworth and I walked over to supper together, and he seemed kind of worried. "I'm ​afraid this thing has jarred his balance a little, that's what he said.

"One reason he wants to be alone," I said, "is because he hasn't got any friends."

"I think his patrol is very proud of him," he said; "the whole camp is proud of him."

"They're proud of what he did; they couldn't help being proud of it," I said. "But they're not proud of him, Why don't they take him in and make friends with him? He's won the gold cross for them; gee, the least they can do is to show some interest in him, Are they ashamed of him? They don't even trust him, that's what I think."

Mr. Ellsworth said, "Yes, he's won the gold cross for them; no doubt of that."

"Yes," I said, "and where is he now? He's gone off so's he can be alone. One fellow around here says everybody in camp thinks he's a thief."

"Oh, I guess he didn't say just that, Roy," Mr. Ellsworth said, very nice like, "but we've got to have a little talk with Skinny about the way he talks—the things he says. He's a very queer youngster, They see he's different from the rest of us, that he's out of the slums and, well, they don't understand him, that's all."

​"He just blurts everything out," I said, "that's all."

"Well, he mustn't," Mr. Ellsworth laughed, "especially when he's out on the lake. His tirade to-day, after the rescue, sounded very strange. The boys are not used to hearing talk about picketing pockets and stealing silverware. 'They don't understand it."

"I should worry about them," I said; "Skinny's just a kind of a freak. Look at the way he wanted to go away and be alone by himself. Doesn't that prove it?"

"Well," Mr. Ellsworth said, "it will be more to the point if he comes back all right."

"It would be more to the point if the Elks were out hunting for him," I said. You can bet I wasn't afraid to say it—to Mr. Ellsworth or anybody else.

"T think we'll have to organize a search if he doesn't show up soon," Mr. Ellsworth said. Then neither of us said anything for a few seconds,

"How about the camping fellow?" I asked him.

"They tock him home in a skiff," Mr. Ellsworth said; "he wanted to go, so three of the boys rowed him across after the weather cleared."

​"I don't see how Skinny held him up—I just don't," I told Mr. Ellsworth.

Mr. Ellsworth said, "No, it was marvelous any way you look at it. I think Skinny nearly broke the poor fellow's jaw. There is wonderful power in frantic desperation."

Anyway, at supper all the fellows were shouting about Skinny. Everybody said he'd have the gold cross—even Uncle Jeb and Mr. Elting. And you never hear Mr. Elting saying much about those things till he's sure. All the Elks were shouting about the gold cross and where they'd keep it, just as if it was theirs. Hardly any of them said anything about Skinny.

At camp-fire it was just the same only more so, and I noticed across the fire that Mr. Ellsworth and a couple of the scoutmasters were talking together and I guessed they were deciding about getting a searching party started.

Pretty soon Bert Winton came over and squatted down alongside of me. Kind of hot on the other side," he said, "flame blows right in your face. These fellows all in your patrol?"

I told him, "Yes," and then I said, "mostly we hang together."

​"Good idea," he said; "any news of the little codger?"

"I couldn't find him," I said, kind of mad like.

"Guess he didn't go far," he said; "just wanted to get off by himself and think it over. Natural enough, Didn't hit his tracks, did you?"

I said, "Nope."

"Stole a march on you," he said.

"Oh, sure, he stole a couple of marches," I said; "maybe he even stole a look."

"Well, he stole away," Winton said; "he'll be back."

Cracky, I couldn't make heads or tails of that fellow. Somehow I kind of liked him—I couldn't help it.