CHAPTER XXIII.
PEE-WEE SETTLES IT For half a minute there was no response, and the people, somewhat bewildered, stared here and there, applauding fitfully.
"Come ahead, I know where you are," Tom pronounced grimly; "I'll give you ten seconds." The victim knew that voice; perhaps it was the only voice at camp which he would have obeyed.

There was the sound of a cracking branch, followed by a frightened cry of "Look out!" Some one called, "He'll kill himself!" Then a rustling of leaves was heard, and down out of the tree he came and scrambled to his feet, amid cries of astonishment, Hervey Willetts was running true to form and the moment of his triumph was celebrated by a new stunt.
"Never mind brushing off your clothes," said Tom grimly; "come up just the way you are." But he did not go up the steps, not he.

He vaulted up onto the platform and stood there brushing the dirt from his torn khaki suit.

The crowd, knowing but yet only half the story of his triumph, was attracted by his vagabond appearance, and his sprightly air.

The rent in his sleeve, his disheveled hair, and even the gaping hole in his stocking seemed to be a part of him, and to bespeak his happy-go-lucky nature.