“Yes, that’s it,” added Ham; “we must be as solemn as we can and say to him that we didn’t see or hear a bear, lion, or any other animal; then add, that if he had just been with us on the job, climbing up canyons, hunting birds, and doing his share, instead of just loafing, he wouldn’t have gotten scared.  But, rats! he must know that we have played a joke on him.”

They finally agreed on a plan, then started back to camp.  Ham was to do the talking.  As they entered the cabin they found Sleepy sitting on a block of wood, looking meditatively into the fire.

“Well, you’re a dandy,” commenced Ham.  “We heard you hollering ‘Help’ and ‘Murder.’  We came tearing through the trees to where we left you, and you were gone.  Please explain.  Who did you think was going to catch those birds?  You got tired working so hard, I suppose?  Come, now, was there too much real work in it?”

Then Fat began in his most disgusted tone:  “You might make sure if there was any real work to be done, Sleepy would get out of it someway.  He always does.  Work isn’t in his vocabulary.”

“Go easy,” said Mr. Allen in a quiet tone.  “Sleepy has made lots of mistakes, and he hasn’t begun to do his share of the work here yet, but he’s going to do different from now on, I’m sure.  Why did you leave your post, Sleepy?” He came forward and laid his hand on Sleepy’s shoulder.  Sleepy shaded his face with his hand, for the tears were trickling down his cheeks, and he spoke with real effort.

“They frightened me terribly,” he said.  “I’m sorry.”  Then he rose from his seat, took his cap from the table, and went into the night.  The fellows crowded up to the fire to warm their cold feet and talk it over.  Mr. Allen was firm in his belief that Sleepy had good stuff in him, and he believed they were going to get it out at last.

“He knows he hasn’t played fair, fellows, and he’s out there now, squaring up with himself.  To-night our friend, Sleepy, wins or loses a great fight in his life.  If he loses, let’s not be too hard on him.  If he wins, let’s help him.  Remember, it’s the ‘Other Fellow First’ in this bunch.”  They sat quietly looking into the fire for some minutes, then Ham broke the silence.

“Fellows, I believe I understand for the first time in my life an expression that always used to bother me.  When my father invited me into the woodshed when I was a kid, he always prefaced each performance with this remark, ’Son, it hurts me a great deal more than it’s going to hurt you.’  After the performance I used to ponder that statement over and over and wonder how it could possibly be true.  In fact, I didn’t believe it then, but now I do.  Sleepy needed a good punishment; but, O my, I feel mean, now that it’s over!”

“We are often called on to do unpleasant things for the welfare of others,” remarked Mr. Dean; “but if Sleepy finds himself to-night, and I believe he will, we will all be glad we did it, himself included.”  After a little time Sleepy came in.  His step was steady and his manner easy.  Ham shot a curious glance at him from the corner of his eye.  He saw that Sleepy was smiling, and he felt a strange thrill, for he knew Sleepy had won.  Sleepy came to the fire, and in a clear voice addressed the crowd: