As a man and a
lover, and a rejected lover at that, he could not think of anything
else. Struggling between love and duty the scout basely decided to leave
the momentous question to chance. In the front tire of his bicycle was a
puncture, temporarily effaced by a plug. Laying the bicycle on the
ground, Lathrop spun the front wheel swiftly.
"If," he decided, "the wheel stops with the puncture pointing at Carver
Centre, I'll advance upon Carver Centre. Should it point to either of
the two other villages, I'll stop here."
"It's a two to one shot against me, any way," he growled.
Kneeling in the road he spun the wheel, and as intently as at Monte
Carlo and Palm Beach he had waited for other wheels to determine his
fortune, he watched it come to rest. It stopped with the plug pointing
back to Middleboro.
The scout told himself he was entitled to another trial. Again he spun
the wheel. Again the spokes flashed in the sun. Again the puncture
rested on the road to Middleboro.
"If it does that once more," thought the scout, "it's a warning that
there is trouble ahead for me at Carver, and all the little Carvers.
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