He paused at the Elks cabin, the cabin of his own patrol, where most of
the members of his troop were gathered. One or two made way for him in
the doorway, but did not speak. Roy Blakeley was sitting on the edge of
Dory's couch.
"Roy," said Tom, still hesitating in the doorway of his own patrol
cabin, "can I speak to you a minute?"
Roy came out and silently followed Tom to a point out of hearing of the
others.
"I--I don't care so much what the others think," said Tom. "If they want
to think I'm a coward, all right. But I want to tell _you_ how it was so
_you_ won't think so."
"Oh, you needn't mind about me," said Roy.
"You and Garry--I----"
"I guess _he_ knows what to think, too," said Roy, coldly. "I guess he
has his opinion of the First Bridgeboro Troop's courage."
"That's why I care most," said Tom, "on account of disgrace for one
being disgrace for all--and honor, too. But there's something----"
"Well, you should have thought of that," Roy interrupted impetuously,
"when you stood there and let a strange fellow rescue one of your own
patrol. You practically asked him to do it--everybody saw."
"There's something----"
"Oh, sure, _there's something_! I suppose you'll be able to dig
something out of the Handbook, defending cowards! You're great on the
Handbook."
Again that something came up in Tom's throat and the ugly word cut him
so that he could hardly speak.
"No, there isn't anything in the Manual about it," said he, in his slow
monotone, "because I looked.
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