scout who could be depended on in emergencies rested on the way he
accounted for the safety of the motorboats this night.

When he found himself letting his eyes shut, even for a minute, he would
immediately try to picture the consternation that would ensue should a
fire suddenly envelope the boats that had been placed in the hands of the
scouts, and for which they would be held responsible.

He knew Ted Slavin of old, and felt that the town bully would not
hesitate at even such a thing as that.

Then there was such a thing as cutting the hawser, and letting the boats
drift down-stream, to bring up against some rocks that might stave a hole
in the delicate planking. Who could tell but what the rope had parted
under a strain? Sometimes a break may look like the work of a sharp
knife; and anyway, as darkness lay upon the scene, with a cloudy sky
overhead to hide the young moon, the identity of the vandal could never
be absolutely known.

All these things Bobolink was turning over and over in his mind as he sat
there trying to keep awake.

It is one of the hardest things to do, and especially when the subject is
only a half-grown lad, with but a dim idea of the responsibility
depending on the faithful discharge of his duty.

Hello! what was that? Bobolink thought he surely heard a sound like
muttered conversation. But then, even in steady old Stanhope, there were
a number of happy-go-lucky chaps who tarried late in the saloons; and
when they finally started homeward, used to talk to themselves along the