Just go and do that."
"Why should I do that?" he asked me. "What's that noise?"
"It's a hawk," I said; "he's after little birds in their nests. Don't you
remember how we wouldn't name our patrol the Hawks, because they sneak--
_you voted against it yourself--_you did."
"I mean that other--"
"It's just a cricket," I said. "I'm glad we're out here all alone. I'm glad
it's so quiet and dark. Maybe you can't see in the dark, but you can see
what's right or wrong better in the dark, because I'm not mad--honest I'm
not. You know what Tom Slade said about trails. Maybe he's dead now, over
in France; but anyway, you know what he said about trails."
"He wanted a motorcycle, too," Dorry said.
"Yes, but you know what he said about trails?
"How if you get thinking about doing something that isn't fair and square,
it just means you're on the wrong trail. And you know yourself how hard it
is to find the right trail if you once get started on the wrong one? Maybe
you don't think much about Tom Slade, these days, but I do. Often when
nobody knows it, I do."
"I don't see anything wrong in it," Dorry said; "_we_ were the first to see
him.
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