When they returned Dave went away alone for his bath. Tom Reade,
as the cook for the day, lifted the lid of the soup pot to examine
the contents.
"I wish one of you fellows would go out into the woods and bring
in some of that flowering savory herb for the soup," called Tom.
"I know the kind you mean," nodded Prescott. "I'll go and get it."
He strolled off in the opposite direction from the pool. Yet,
truth to tell, his mind was very little on the herb he was seeking.
His mind dwelt almost completely on the thought of Tag Mosher,
once more at large, and most likely roaming about somewhere in
this vast expanse of woods.
"I don't believe it's so much badness in Tag, as it is that he's
just a plain, simple savage, with the instincts and the passions
of the savage," Dick reflected. "I wonder if Tag ever did really
have a chance to be decent? Poor fellow! If he must be caught
and returned to jail, and by and by pay the penalty of his attack
upon Farmer Leigh, then I don't believe he ever will have a real
chance to try to be decent again. I wonder if I'm wrong and the
other fellows are right? Perhaps Tag would scorn a chance to
be an all-around decent fellow. I wonder. I wonder!"
His musings led Prescott rather far afield.
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