"Well, then I'd better get busy hunting for some tracks, hadn't I? I've
got to make good to _you_ as well as to my troop, haven't I?"

"You ask a lot of questions," said Tom in his funny, sober way. "You
don't need to make good with me."

"Believe _me_, I've got you and my troop both on my mind now. Are you
going to give me a tip about some tracks?"

"Maybe--to-morrow," Tom said.

"Do you know what I think I'll do, Slady?" Hervey suddenly vociferated
as if caught by an inspiration. "I think I'll follow this ledge around a
little way and see if there are any prints. Good idea, hey?"

This was too much for Tom. "Aren't you coming back to camp with me?" he
asked. "They'll want to hear about your adventure. It's getting pretty
late, too."

"Oh, I'm a regular night owl," Hervey said. "You take Asbestos back to
camp and hang him up in a tree and I'll blow in later. I'm going on the
war path for tracks. So long."

Before Tom had recovered from his surprise, Hervey was picking his way
along the rocky ledge at the base of the mountain, apparently oblivious
to all that had happened, and intent upon a rambling quest for tracks.
It was quite characteristic of him that he based his search upon no hint
or well considered plan, but went looking for the tracks of a wild
animal as one will hunt for shells, along the beach.