Tom Slade at Black Lake | Page 3

certain signs of merry May as the
flowers that bloom in the Spring. There was something too, in the way
that the sun moved down which bespoke Spring.
But the surest sign of all was the flood of applications for cabin
accommodations at Temple Camp; that was just as sure and reliable as
the first croaking of the frogs or the softening of the rich, thick mud in
Barrel Alley, where Tom had spent his childhood.
He moved over to where Miss Margaret Ellison sat at her machine. Mr.
Burton, manager of the Temple Camp office, had told Tom that the
only way to acquire confidence and readiness of speech was to
formulate what he wished to say and to say it, without depending on
any one else, and to this good advice, Peewee Harris, mascot of Tom's
Scout Troop had made the additional suggestion, that it was good to

say it whether you had anything to say or not, on the theory, I suppose,
that if you cannot shoot bullets, it is better to shoot blank cartridges
than nothing at all.
CHAPTER II
HE SENDS A LETTER
"Help him, but encourage him to be self-confident; let him take
responsibilities. He understands everything well enough; all he needs is
to get a grip on himself." That is what Mr. Burton had told Margaret
Ellison, and Margaret Ellison, being a girl, understood better than all
the army surgeons in the country.
You see how it was; they had made a wreck of Tom Slade's nerves as a
trifling incidental to making the world safe for democracy. He started at
every little noise, he broke down in the middle of his talk, he hesitated
to cross the street alone, he shuddered at the report of a bursting tire on
some unlucky auto. He had never been at ease in the presence of girls,
and he was now less at ease than before he had gone away.
He had fought for nearly two years and Uncle Sam liked him so much
that he could not bring himself to part company with him, until by hook
or crook, Mr. Burton and Mr. Temple managed to get him discharged
and put him in the way of finding himself at his old job in Temple
Camp office. It was a great relief to him not to have to salute
lieutenants any more. The shot and shell he did not mind, but his arm
was weary with saluting lieutenants. It was the dream of Tom Slade's
life never to see another lieutenant as long as he lived.
He leaned against the table near Miss Margaret Ellison and said, "I--I
want--I have to send a letter to a troop that's in Ohio--in a place
called--called Dansburg. Shall I dic--shall I say what I want to tell
them?"
"Surely," she said cheerily.
"Maybe if it isn't just right you can fix it up," he said.

"You say it just the way you want to," she encouraged him.
"It's to the Second Dansburg Troop and the name of the scoutmaster is
William Barnard," Tom said, "and this is what I want to say...."
"Yes, say it in your own words," she reminded him.
"We got--I mean received," he dictated hesitatingly, "your letter and we
can give you--can give you--three cabins--three cabins together and
kind of separate like you say--numbers five, six, and seven. They are on
the hill and separate, and we hope to hear from you--soon--because
there are lots of troops asking for cabins, because now the season is
beginning. Yours truly."
"Is that all right?" he asked rather doubtfully.
"Surely it is," she said; "and don't forget what Mr. Burton told you
about going home early and resting. Remember, Mr. Burton is your
superior officer now."
"Are you going home soon?" he asked her.
"Not till half-past five," she said.
He hesitated as if he would like to say something more, then retreating
rather clumsily, he got his hat and said good-night, and left the office.
The letter which he had dictated was not laid upon Mr. Burton's desk
for signature in exactly the phraseology which Tom had used, but Tom
never knew that. This is the way the letter read:
MR. WILLIAM BARNARD, Scoutmaster, Second Dansburg Troop,
Dansburg, Ohio.
DEAR SIR:
Replying to your letter asking for accommodations for your three
patrols for month of August, we can assign you three cabins (Numbers,
5,6 and 7) covering that time. These are in an isolated spot, as you

requested, being somewhat removed from the body of the camp.
Circular of rates and particulars is enclosed. Kindly answer promptly,
as applications are numerous.
Yours truly,
The letter went out that night, and as it happened, a very considerable
series of adventures resulted.
Perhaps if Margaret Ellison had looked at the map or