"It looks bad for me, but I didn't do it. I came
here to accompany Mr. Cameron home, and found everything just
as you see it now."
A smile of disbelief flitted over the other's face, but he did
not speak.
"I hadn't been in here half a minute when you came in," Fremont
went on. "I had just switched on the lights when I heard a noise
in here and there Mr. Cameron lay. I was going to the 'phone
when you entered."
"Tell it to the judge," the other said, grimly.
Fremont dropped into a chair and put a hand to his head. Of
course. There would be a judge, and a jury, and a crowded
court room, and columns in the newspapers. He had read of such
cases, and knew how reporters convicted the accused in advance of
action by the courts.
"Where did you get that badge?" the intruder demanded, stepping
forward as Fremont lifted his arm. "The arrow-head badge with
the lettered scroll, I mean."
"I earned it," replied Fremont, covering the scroll with one hand.
"Can you tell me," he continued, "what the letters on the scroll say?"
"Be prepared," was the reply.
"Be prepared for what?"
"To do your duty, and to face danger in order to help others."
"What is the name of your patrol?"
"The Wolf. And your's is the Black Bear. I've heard a lot
about the boys of that patrol, a lot that was good."
"And never anything that was bad?"
"Not a thing."
"Well then" said Fremont, extending his hand, which the other
hastened to take, "you've got to help me now.
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