# Roy Blakeley's Adventures in Camp/Chapter XXIII

CHAPTER XXIII
TELLS ABOUT HOW I DID A GOOD TURN
THAT night Mr. Ellsworth wasn't at camp-fire and nobody knew where he was. All the time I had a funny feeling and I kept looking away from the fire and up the dark path to see if he was coming. I wasn't listening to the yarns at all.
And that night I didn't sleep—I just kind of felt that something was wrong. You know what I mean—I could just feel it in the air. The next morning was nice and bright and sunny and it seemed good, because there had been such a lot of rain lately. On my way over to breakfast, I stopped outside of Council Shack to read the bulJetin board and see what was on for the day. I saw that the Elks were going stalking, and I was glad of that, because I knew Skinny liked stalking and I was glad he was with them at last. But just the same I felt kind of funny all the while I was having eats.
Afterward Artie Van Arlen (he's head of the Ravens) came and told me that Mr. Ellsworth ​wanted to see me. I felt awful shaky. When I went into Council Shack he was sitting there all alone, and on the table right in front of him were the key and a lot of money all crunched up. Oh, but didn't Mr. Ellsworth look sober and serious.
He said very low as if he was all discouraged sort of, "Roy," he said, "you said something about going home for your sister's birthday?"
I said, "Yes, sir, I'd like to go down Friday, and come back Monday. I'll go both ways by, train, because that's quicker. I won't go if it isn't all right, but Marjorie is going to have a graduation party and they're going to have cocoanut cake, but anyway, I don't care so much about that." But, oh, boy, cocoanut cake ts my middle name.
He said kind of slow, sort of, as if he was trying to make up his mind, "Well, Roy, I have an idea I'll let you take little McCord home. I don't know what else to do with him. I'm afraid he's too much for me. You see there are a good many boys who have to be considered. This isn't much of a place for a campaign of reformation," that's just what he said.
I said, "Are you mad at Skinny?"
He said, "I'm not mad, Roy, but I'm disheartened—a little hopeless, I'm afraid. I'm willing to ​believe that he isn't just right in his head, but you see I can't help him; I'm not a doctor. His heroism is just a phase of his condition—he gets excited." That's just exactly what Mr. Ellsworth said, because I remember. Then he just lifted the money and dropped it again. It was all crunched up and damp sort of. Even where I stood near him I could smell how it was damp—you know, kind of mildewed.
"Alfred went down to the house-boat and hid this in the locker," Mr. Ellsworth said. "The key he had fitted the padlock and he must have known that. It's the right sum, as nearly as our friend across the lake remembered what he had; a little over two hundred dollars—seven dollars over. It's a miserable piece of business, Roy. I've been lying awake thinking it over all night, and I guess the best thing is to send the poor little wretch home. I'll send a letter to Mr. Benton about him. He'll get him into some institution. Maybe we can help him later. He's a little young for us." Then he began whistling to himself and drumming on the table.
Gee, I just stood there watching him and I didn't know what to say. I wondered what Bert Winton would say if he were there in my place.
​Pretty soon I said, "Maybe I won't go home to my sister's birthday after all. Gee, I don't care so much about cocoanut cake anyway." He just didn't say anything, only kept drumming and whistling.
Then I said, "Did you say anything to Connie and the Elks?"
"No," he said, "but I shall; they'll have to know why I take him out of their patrol. They'll have to know what he did."
For a couple of minutes I couldn't say anything at all, and I just stood there gulping. One thing, no fellow can stand up and say that I ever talked back to Mr. Ellsworth—no, siree, no fellow can say that, But I just happened to think of something I wanted to say and so as soon as I could get started, I said it right out. This is what I said:
"Mr. Ellsworth, you always said a scout ought to stand up for a fellow through thick and thin—no matter what, because we're all brothers. And that's what Bert Winton thinks too. You know it says in the Handbook how we're all brothers. So Skinny is my brother and I should worry about my sister's racket. I've got a week's extra time due me at the camp, on account of ​twelve snapshots last season. So I've decided I'll give that to Skinny. I suppose that if the trustees say he's a thief they can send him away, no matter what. But the trustees don't have any meeting till next Wednesday. Maybe you'll be willing to tell me how I can go and register Skinny for that week of mine, because I don't know how to do it. If they want to say he's a thief let them go ahead and do it, but anyway, I should worry, they can't do it before next Wednesday and his week will be up then. And that will give me a chance to prove he didn't do it."
Mr. Ellsworth smiled, kind of, and shook his head, then he just sat looking at me. He said, "Roy, you ought to make a good lawyer when you grow up. You have put one over on your scoutmaster." I guess he wasn't mad. Anyway he said, awful nice like, "Go over to the Administration rooms in the Pavilion and see the record clerk. I won't interfere, my boy."
Gee, I was afraid I had made him sore, kind of, ​but when I was going out I could see that he was just sitting there smiling at me.
Anyway, I bet you'd have done the same thing, if you'd been me.