And maybe things would get to be all right after a while.

But I couldn't understand how he could come up the lawn whistling and jollying Don and feeling so good.

I don't mean because he was hurt, because I knew that wasn't so bad, but I didn't set how he could be feeling so happy.
Pretty soon he came in and Don was jumping up all around him and wagging his tail.

"I'm glad you're well enough to come out," I said.
"You should worry about me," he said; "I just have to limp a little, that's all.

I'm a swell looking Silver Fox, hey ?" And then he gave me a push and rumpled my hair all up and said, "You won't be ashamed of me on account of my honorable wounds, will you?
I was a punk scout to go and do that." Gee, I didn't know what to think, because it wasn't anything to be laughing at, that's sure.
"Do what ?" I said.
"Run right into that ditch." "Is that what you meant you did--when you told me ?" I said, kind of disappointed.
"Sure it is," he said, "I'm a swell scout, hey?
Going headlong into a ditch!" I just listened to him and I felt pretty bad, because now I saw that was what he meant.
Then he gave me another shove and he said all happy like, "But I'm the champion boy sleuth all right.