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Fitzhugh, Percy Keese, 1876-1950

"Tom Slade at Temple Camp"

They only laughed. I'm going to
report it to J. R."
"They on the camp land?"
"If they were they'd have been off before this."
They strolled out to the edge of the cut and looked off across the
country beyond where the waning sunlight fell upon the dense woods,
touching the higher trees with its lurid glow. Over that way smoke arose
and curled away in the first twilight.
"There's some good timber gone to kindling wood over there," said Garry.
"It's going to blow up to-night," said Tom; "look at the flag."
They watched the banner as it fluttered and spread in the freshening
breeze.
"Looks pretty, don't it?" said Tom. "Shall we haul it down?"
"No, let the kid do it."
Garry called and the little fellow came over for the task he loved.
"Sunset," said Garry. "Now just look at his muscle," he added, winking
at Tom. "By the time this precious three weeks is up, he'll be a regular
Samson."
Garry walked a few paces down the hill with Tom. "I wish I could have
had a chance to thank Mr. Temple when he was here," he said, "for this
bully camp and that extra time arrangement."
"He deserves thanks," said Tom.
They walked on for a few moments in silence.
"You--_you_ don't think I'm a coward, do you?" said Tom, suddenly. "I
wouldn't speak about it to anyone but you. But I can't help thinking
about it sometimes. I wouldn't speak about it even to Roy--now."
"Of course, I don't. I think you were a little rattled, that's all. I've
been the same myself.


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