“You’ll see,” said the girl mysteriously, and evidently addressing Tom who was standing behind them holding the back of the seat. “You’ll see for yourself. You’ll be a martyr for living in the cottage.” “Well I don’t think I’d like that,” Tom said. “Maybe it would be better if I bunked in with the gang; maybe we’d all work better together that way. Especially as I guess most of them are older than I am. Gee, I don’t want them to think I’m a boss.” “You may be right about that,” said Ferris. “Then why don’t we all eat with them?” Audry asked. “Because we’re not in such close touch with them as Mr. Slade will be. He expects to work too.” “You bet,” said Tom. “Of course I never really bossed a job; at camp I’m a sort of a boss over the kids, I suppose you might say, and I mix up with them, eat with them and all that.” “That’s entirely different,” the girl said. “Y—yes, I suppose it is,” Tom conceded. “But I don’t know, up in lumber camps and places like that they all eat and bunk together, foremen and all—so I’ve heard.” “You see,” said Ferris, “we have to watch our step up here. Our outfit is a sort of a potpourri. They’re not regular laborers. We can’t get laborers to come up here. Some of them are pretty well educated and started out in good homes. We have to be careful. “You’re just up here to help out and tip them off about tree felling and one thing or another that scouts learn. I don’t want to use the word boss. It isn’t a case of boss and laborers. It’s more a case of scout and tenderfoots. Get me? I don’t want them walking off and leaving us flat, that’s the main thing. You’ll see,” he added cheerily. “It’s kind of different.” “I understand,” Tom said. “Lonely mountains are no places for hoity-toity distinctions,” said Ferris. “This is a camp up here. See?” “I get you,” Tom said. “You’ll use your own judgment,” said Ferris. “Well,” Tom said, “I guess I wouldn’t know how to be a boss anyway. I’m just going to pile in and help. I have a hunch I’ll bunk right in with them—friends all ’round.”
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