CHAPTER XIV

HERVEY'S TRIUMPH


As soon as Hervey's dismay subsided he approached the log, and as he did
so the figure appeared familiar to him. There was something especially
familiar in the scout hat which came down over the ears of the little
fellow who was underneath it, and in the hair which straggled out under
the brim. The belt, drawn absurdly tight around the thin little waist,
was a quite sufficient mark of identification. It was Skinny McCord, the
latest find, and official mascot of the Bridgeboro troop, one of the
crack troop of the camp. Alfred was his Christian name.

The queer little fellow's usually pale face looked ghastly white in the
late dusk, and the strange brightness of his eyes, and his spindle legs
and diminutive body, crowned by the hat at least two sizes too large,
made him seem a very elf of the woods. At camp or elsewhere, Skinny was
always alone, but he seemed more lonely than ever in that still wood,
with the night coming on. Nature was so big and Skinny was so little.

"Hello, Skinny, old top!" Hervey said cheerily. "What do you think
you're doing here? Lost, strayed, or stolen?"

Skinny's eyes were bright with a strange light; he seemed not to hear
his questioner. But Hervey, knowing the little fellow's queerness, was