CHAPTER XXIII

PEE-WEE SETTLES IT


For half a minute there was no response, and the people, somewhat
bewildered, stared here and there, applauding fitfully.

"Come ahead, I know where you are," Tom pronounced grimly; "I'll give
you ten seconds."

The victim knew that voice; perhaps it was the only voice at camp which
he would have obeyed. There was the sound of a cracking branch, followed
by a frightened cry of "Look out!" Some one called, "He'll kill
himself!" Then a rustling of leaves was heard, and down out of the tree
he came and scrambled to his feet, amid cries of astonishment, Hervey
Willetts was running true to form and the moment of his triumph was
celebrated by a new stunt.

"Never mind brushing off your clothes," said Tom grimly; "come up just
the way you are."

But he did not go up the steps, not he. He vaulted up onto the platform
and stood there brushing the dirt from his torn khaki suit. The crowd,
knowing but yet only half the story of his triumph, was attracted by his
vagabond appearance, and his sprightly air. The rent in his sleeve, his
disheveled hair, and even the gaping hole in his stocking seemed to be a
part of him, and to bespeak his happy-go-lucky nature. As he stood there