Midway up the aisle he paused at the sight of Wanda, standing beside Fritz near a tree. She always seemed so different out of uniform. Today she had on a street frock and a little hat with a veil and she was wearing gloves. Leo hadn’t spoken with her since the morning Tiger died.
A group of Virtue cadets was standing nearby. “It’s all Wacko’s fault,” one of them was saying, “him and his spider-”
“Don’t say that, it’s not so,” Fritz said quickly. “You boys oughtn’t to repeat untrue stories. Now, run along.” Leo ducked his head as the group broke up and moved away. “It’s all right,” Fritz said, giving his shoulder an encouraging pat, “don’t pay any attention to that kind of talk.” The gesture, meant to be comforting, somehow only made Leo feel worse.
As he came onto the line-path, he saw the Abernathys talking with Pa Starbuck and the Hartsigs. Mrs Abernathy was holding a sheaf of gladioli and staring at the black box, its foot protruding eloquently through the open doors of the hearse. Leo flushed with embarrassment as she turned her eyes on him, then quickly looked away again. He desperately wanted to say something to her, to explain about the music and why he hadn’t been at the funeral, though something in her expression said she already understood, a little.
Instead, to his surprise, he found himself going up to her and holding out the sheathed Bowie knife. Misunderstanding his gesture, she shied and turned her face into her husband’s shoulder.
“Isn’t that Tiger’s knife?” Pat Abernathy asked.
Leo nodded. “He gave it to me,” he said. “I think you should have it.”
Mrs Abernathy’s voice quavered. “I’m sure that if Tiger gave it to you, he wanted you to have it. Keep it and remember him always. I know he thought a lot of you.”
Then, as Leo watched her from under his brows, she seemed to give out all of a sudden. The flowers slipped from her grasp and, with Rolfe’s assistance, her husband led her toward their car, parked just behind the hearse.
Leo went on, holding the knife in one hand, his violin case in the other. Across the line-path a grim-faced Phil was waiting on the porch of Jeremiah. Leo veered off toward the Dewdrop Inn; he wasn’t up to a confrontation right now. But Phil quickly intercepted him, hustling him into the cabin, where seven or eight boys were sitting around silently in the bunks.
“Okay, Wackeem, let’s hear it,” Phil began with an angry scowl. “Suppose you tell us what that dumb stunt was that you just pulled with your fiddle?”
Leo shrugged. “Nothing. Tiger liked that song, is all.”
“Liked it? That dumb thing? You sure have a lousy sense of the fitness of things. You’re holding every camper here up to ridicule. Isn’t that right, fellows?”
Leo glanced about at the funeral-solemn, resentful faces: Dump, Monkey, Eddie, Ogden, and Klaus, faces that had shown no friendliness in some time, and others – Dusty, Emerson – who since Tiger’s death had kept their distance. It fell to the Bomber to take Leo’s part.
“Cripes, leave him alone, Phil, why don’t you?” he protested. Phil whirled on him belligerently.
“Listen, toad-face, you better button up if you know what’s good for you. And what are you looking so bug-eyed at?” he demanded of Wally, who had been standing by the door.
“Nothing,” Wally murmured and climbed into his bunk.
Phil was staring at Leo’s hand. “Cripes – look!” he exclaimed, pointing. “He’s got Tiger’s knife! Where’d you get it?”
“Tiger gave it to me. He wanted me to have it.”
“Liar! You stole it!”
“The heck I did!”
“Why would Tiger give you his knife?” Phil stuck out his hand. “Give it to me,” he demanded.
When Leo refused, a scuffle began as Phil tried to wrest the knife from him. Failing in his attempt, he called for assistance. Dump jumped up and pulled at Leo, who, turning quickly, got an elbow in the mouth. In another moment a figure had appeared behind them, an arm reached out, a hand seized Phil by the scruff and pulled him away.
“All right, boys,” said Fritz Auerbach brusquely, “that’s enough of these strong-arm tactics. We don’t want any fighting today.”
Phil struggled in Fritz’s grip. “Let me go.”
“I’ll be happy to – after you return Leo’s property to him.”
“It’s not his! It’s Tiger’s!”
Coming in behind Fritz at the doorway, Wanda spoke up. “It was Tiger’s. Now it’s Leo’s. That’s how Tiger wanted it.”
“Who asked you?” Phil said, rudely. Fritz was about to take him to task when Reece came into view on the path. “All right, what’s all the racket about?” he demanded, joining the group. “Don’t you guys know we just had a funeral service around here?”
“Phil is bent on keeping Tiger’s knife,” Fritz explained. “But Tiger wanted Leo to have it.”
Reece eyed him. “How do you know? Did Tiger say so?”
“No, but Leo told me-”
“Oh? So you’ll take his word, then?”
“He’s not a liar. I believe him.”
“It’s true!” Leo cried. “We talked about it the night before he – he said – since he was going home – he -he-”
“Be quiet,” Reece ordered. “Phil, give him back the knife.”
Phil drew back in outrage. “No, I won’t! He can’t have it.”
Reece repeated the order in stronger terms. Cowed, Phil grudgingly handed over the knife, which Leo took and held behind him. Turning, Phil deliberately jabbed him in the ribs. “You really are a crummy little spud, you know that?”
“All right, you guys hop it over to the lodge and wait for me,” Reece said. “I want to talk to you.”
Obediently the boys trooped out of the cabin, all but the Bomber, who lingered in the doorway, waiting for a word with Leo.
“Hey, that means you, too, Jerome!” Phil snapped from outdoors. Reece fixed his eye on the Bomber, who nodded, then turned to Leo.
“I gotta go. I’ll see you after, huh?”
He left the cabin, bringing up the rear as the others followed behind Phil and disappeared along the path to the lodge. Reece turned his attention to Fritz, who was examining Leo’s bruised lip.
“They just won’t stop, will they?” Fritz said.
“They would if they weren’t given provocation. And while we’re on the subject, what are you doing around here anyway? I thought I told you to keep out of my campers’ business.”
“They were ganging up on Leo again.”
“Sure, I know, everyone’s always ganging up on ‘poor Leo.’ ”
“But they were,” Wanda insisted. “Look what they did to him.”
Reece waved an impatient hand. “Yes, take a good look at him. If it weren’t for him and his damnable spider Tiger Abernathy wouldn’t be being carried out of here in a box. He – he-”
He broke off, then turned and marched out. The others watched him go. Wanda turned to Leo. “You’d better come with me, while I put something on that lip of yours.” She was halfway out the door when she encountered the Hartsigs. There was an awkward shuffling of positions as Wanda stepped aside for Joy, who stood in the doorway, her eyes sparkling with fresh tears.
“What is it? Why was Reece weeping? What did somebody say to him to upset him like that? Fritz, did you say something?”
“Nothing that mattered, Mrs Hartsig. I was thinking, however.”
“Thinking what?” She teetered on her high heels. “Exactly what do you mean?”
“I was thinking that Reece will soon be going into the air force.”
“Yes? We know this.”
“And I was thinking how fortunate Camp Friend-Indeed will be when he has gone. I myself will be very glad to see the last of your son.”
“What? What are you saying?” She clutched fiercely at his sleeve. “How can you say such a thing? Especially after all his father has done for the camp? After all Reece has done?” Fritz looked her in the eye. “What has he dorie, Mrs Hartsig?” he asked quietly.