"I thought you were going to," Tom said soberly.

"So I am," Hervey shot back at him; "trails up in the air don't count.
Never mind, I'll find a trail to-morrow. It's my troop I'm thinking of.
I'll land it, all right. When I get my mind on a thing.... Hey, Slady,
what in the dickens is that streak of red in the nest? Is it a trade
mark or something like that? You're a naturalist."

"It's an oriole's nest," Tom said, with just a note of good-humored
impatience in his voice. "I thought you'd know that."

"You see my head is full of the Eagle badge just now," Hervey pleaded,
"but I'm going to look up orioles."

Tom smiled.

"I'm going to look up orioles, and I'm going to get Doc to put some
iodine on my leg, and I'm going to do that tracking stunt to-morrow.
There's three things I'm going to do."

Tom paused, seemingly irresolute, as if not knowing whether to say what
was in his mind or not. And presently they started toward the camp,
Hervey limping along and carrying the branch.

"An oriole picks up everything he can find and weaves it into his nest,"
Tom said; "string, ribbon, bits of straw, any old thing. He likes things
that are bright colored."

"He's got the right idea, there," Hervey said.