I guess the fellows must have thought I was crazy, but they hollered
for all they were worth. But it was no use, for nobody answered. I
guess the wind must have been blowing our way or something--anyway, they
didn't pay any attention. Then pretty soon I couldn't hear the chugging
any more at all.

Oh, jiminies, but I felt bad. Maybe you think that as long as I escaped
and would get home all right I ought to be satisfied. But that's because
you don't know anything about my mother. When my brother died I saw how
she acted and the doctor said she had to stay in bed two or three days
on account of her heart being not just right. Maybe he thought it would
stop, I guess. And gee, I didn't want her to hear any bad news, even if
it wasn't true. 'Cause I knew just how she'd act--I could just see her,
sort of. I guess I was kind of thinking about it and how it would be
when Jake Holden went to the house, and how she'd have to wait five or
six hours, maybe till morning, before she saw me, when all of a sudden
I heard Will Dawson of my patrol say, "What's the matter, Blakey?"--he
always calls me Blakey. But I didn't pay any attention to him, because I
couldn't speak--exactly. I didn't seem to see any of the troop, I only
just saw my mother standing, maybe kind of unsteady like, and listening
to Jake Holden.

Then all of a sudden I walked straight over to where the Ravens were all
sitting on the cabin roof. And I spoke to Wigley Wig-wag Weigand.

I said--this is just what I said--I said, "Wig, I always claimed Ralph
Warner was the best signaler in the troop and maybe you'll remember I
was mad when you got the badge. But now I ain't mad, and I ain't
jealous, only I don't want those men to go and tell my mother I'm