IT WAS strange, Tom reflected as he lay in the back-yard hammock late the following afternoon, how ideas changed.

He no longer felt any animosity toward Ed Dawson. The trials through which they had passed together had erased every bit of the dislike and distrust that he had harbored for the son of Big Ed. The handclasp they had exchanged on the road near Chineewincook had been one of friendship--friendship born of a trial by fire. Tom knew courage when he saw it, and Ed Dawson had acted bravely in offering to sacrifice himself so that his father might survive.

The matter of the missing equipment Tom had pushed back into the recesses of his mind. It was no longer important. He was still convinced that Ed had rigged the whole affair so that he, Tom, might be discredited; but he had persuaded himself that the other simply had not realized the enormity of his action. Besides, he was sure in his own mind that Ed would clear the whole thing up before long. What was important was that both of them, friends now, had a mutual respect for each other.

"Tom," his mother called out, "your father just phoned. He's down at the hospital and says that Mr. Dawson wants you to come down there right away."

"Okay, Mom," Tom replied lazily. "I'll go."

When he entered the big, bright room occupied by the real estate man, Tom could hardly manage to crowd his way in. Gathered around Big Ed Dawson, who lay propped up in bed, chewing fiercely on a tattered cigar, were most of Tom's friends in Wayfield. Tolliver~ lean and straight, was sitting on the edge of a chair next to the bed; the major's face was creased in a generous smile, and he looked none the worse for the arduous twenty-four hours of work that he and the other members of the squadron had put in, assisting the state rangers in their fight against the forest fires. Nick Crynes, squirming uneasily, was standing directly behind the squadron commander and wearing a grin that gave his face a lopsided look. Mr. Carroll was seated across from Tolliver, puffing on his pipe. He wore an expression of quiet satisfaction. Lieutenant Ellis, flanked by his colleagues Hirsch and Trabue, leaned against a white wall that sharply contrasted with his flushed but happy features. Red, Ralph, and Ed were in a corner; the latter was pale and serious, the others gay. Jane, a demure look on her pretty face, sat at the foot of her father's bed.

When Tom entered, the chatter that he had heard while approaching the room subsided abruptly. Ill at ease, he paused in the doorway and looked about. Then, with a halfhearted wave to the group, he mumbled, "Uh . . . how're you feeling, Mr. Dawson?"

Big Ed Dawson coughed violently. "I may not . . . sound . . . like it," he gasped, "but I'm feeling fine."

He took a long drink of the water that Sam Tolliver passed to him. His throat cleared, he continued, "I've been talking to all these folks, telling them a little about what happened yesterday and listening to Sam--I mean Major Tolliver--tell me how the squadron took up where you left off and helped the Forestry Service get control of that fire."

"The heavy rain last night helped a little," Tolliver put in mildly.

"I don't care what the rain did," Dawson protested. "Wayfield's CAP squadron did a man-sized job for a day and a night, and the town's got a right to be mighty proud of it. Hope you're going to say that in tomorrow's paper, Carroll," he said, turning to Tom's father.

"I think the Ledger will give the story a good play," Mr. Carroll remarked with a laugh.

"Anyway, I wanted to get a few things off my chest," Dawson went on, "and I wanted all of you here to listen to them. First off, I'm going to tell everyone that it has finally dawned on me that I was all wrong about the CAP. I guess I must've been pretty sour to act the way I did when you fellows were trying to get started. But I want to say right now that any outfit that has young boys like Tom Carroll here in it is bound to be good. I'll never forget what he did for my family and me yesterday, believe me, and I don't know how I can ever thank him enough."

"I . . . uh . . . it wasn't so much," Tom murmured, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep across his face.

"It was real bravery, Son," Dawson said seriously.

"Ed was the one that was brave," Tom gulped.

"Thank you, Tom. I agree with you, for I think you both are. He also packs a wallop," Dawson said, rubbing his chin tenderly. "But I've got a few more things to say. One is that the squadron can count on me for full support from now on. That means I'm going to use whatever influence I have in this town to see that the CAP subjects are included in the high school course and to make sure that the Town Council improves the airport."

As a low hum of approval arose, Sam Tolliver cut in to say, "We'll all appreciate that, sir."

"Next," the real estate man continued, "I want to tell something to Mr. Carroll here." He looked straight at the editor. "Carroll, I'll be frank to say I was going to try and make things a little tough for you. I talked some of my friends on the council into considering the awarding of that printing contract to an out-of-town firm. I was thinking of trying to start another paper here and maybe running you out of business. Guess I must have been a little crazy, or maybe I just got too big for my britches. Whatever it was, I was wrong. You've got plenty of courage--guess it runs in the family--and I like it, though sometimes I'm too dumb to see that it's not just orneriness. Anyway, you're my kind of editor, and I'm with you. I think the town'll get a better printing job from the Ledger press than it would from any other, and I believe I can convince some of those fellows on the council, too."

"I've enjoyed our little battle, Mr. Dawson," Tom's father observed, a broad smile on his face.

"You know," Dawson said with a good-natured grin, "so did I, but I wasn't a very good loser, I'm afraid. I've learned a lesson, though. Sometimes it takes a thing like happened yesterday to make you see things right."

"Dad, can I say something," Ed spoke up.

"Just a moment, Son. I've got one more thing to say. That plane that you used yesterday, Tom, seemed to take a beating. I've been on the phone today, and the squadron will have a new one delivered in a short time."

The applause that greeted this announcement brought a flush of satisfaction to Big Ed's face. He held up his hand and said, "It's not nearly enough to repay the CAP for what it did for the Dawsons, believe me. Now Ed has something he wants to get off his chest. He has told me all about it, and I . . . well, I'll let him say it . . . "

Ed looked directly at Tom as he started to speak. "I guess it's no secret that you and I didn't get along very well, Tom. Something went wrong right from the start, and I think I was pretty dumb. But I learned a lot yesterday. Like Dad, I want to set everybody straight about a few things."

"I feel pretty ashamed of the way I've acted. I really wanted to join the CAP, and I'm glad I did. But I was so sore at Tom, I did some stupid things. Like those compasses on our first mission. Tom had them boxed and tagged, ready for any emergency. I took them out of the box and put all except the one I slipped in my pocket back on the shelf. I thought it would make him look bad and me good. But I didn't want to do anything more than show him up, and all the time he was doing a swell job on supplies.

"Then on the equipment, I really pulled a dirty trick. I never intended for people to think he'd stolen it or anything like that. In fact, I never even thought that he'd get in as much trouble as he did over the stuff. I just thought I'd made him look bad. So I hid it in the woodbin, wrote him a note telling him it was there, and then got Lieutenant Ellis to drive back to the headquarters. I figured he had read the note and was staying on to return the equipment. It worked too well. It was a low-down trick, and I was crazy to do it. The moment it happened I knew I shouldn't have . . . well, I wasn't going to let it go on, anyway. I phoned Major Tolliver from the lodge Friday night and told him I wanted to see him Monday about it . . . "

"That's right," the major said, a serious look on his face. "Ed told me he could clear up the whole thing when he returned to town."

"Tom," Ed said, "I can't explain why I did those crazy things and I hope you'll . . . well, forget them and shake hands."

"We shook hands yesterday, Ed. Let's do it again, just so's to make it official," Tom declared, sticking out his hand and grasping Ed's.

"That's about all, I guess," Ed stated in a subdued voice, "except to say I'm sorry to have to leave the squadron. I think it's a swell outfit."

"If you're thinking of quitting over what you've just told us," Sam Tolliver said in an easy way, "you're all wrong. The squadron needs fellows like you, and the only ones that know anything about all these things you've talked about are right here in this room. I'll leave it up to them. What do you say?"

There was such a genuine chorus of protests against Ed's suggestion that he leave that he hung his head to hide the tears that stung behind his eyes. Looking up a moment later he murmured, "Thanks . . . I . . . well, thanks . . . "

There was a bustle near the doorway, and all heads turned in that direction. Nathaniel Corwin, wheeled by the impassive Louis, was framed there with a belligerent look on his lined face.

"What's going on here?" he bellowed. "What're you trying to pull now, Ed Dawson?"

"Come in, Nat," Big Ed Dawson cried out jovially. "I've been eating crow, and I might as well eat some more for your benefit."

"Hmmm . . . what're you trying to do? More of your shennanigans?" the old man asked suspiciously.

"No, I'm just trying to square myself with Carroll and the rest of these folks. I've told them I was wrong about the CAP and wrong about the Ledger. Now I'll tell you and the rest that I was wrong about you, too. You knew what was right for the town, and I didn't. I was on the other side, but I'm glad you fellows had your way. I owe my life and the lives of my family to you all. From now on I'm sticking to my own business, except to help folks like yourselves."

"Well, blow me down? Mr. Corwin gasped. "If this CAP outfit has made that change in you, it must be good."

"Come over here, you old reprobate," Dawson said with a chuckle. "I want to talk over some business with you . . .

As Big Ed Dawson and Nathaniel Corwin shook hands, the others bade them farewell and filed from the room.

They gathered outside the hospital, standing in the shade of the tall elms that sheltered them from the warm summer sun. It was a quiet, peaceful sort of a day, seemingly especially designed for the mood of the little group that milled about the shady street, talking to each other in low but happy tones.

"I seem to remember saying something about everything coming out all right in the end," Nick remarked.

"Me, too," Red chimed in. "I was never worried at all."

"What we didn't know," Nick chuckled, "was that Tom would settle everything the hard way."

"Ed was the one that settled things," Tom said seriously.

"You both worked it out, just the way I always hoped you would," Ralph Cross declared, a look of satisfaction on his face.

"Ralph used to give me more lectures than I thought I'd ever take from anyone," Ed commented, winking at Tom. "He was always telling me to give you a chance to show the kind of a fellow you really are, but I wouldn't listen to him."

"Don't forget the lectures I gave you," Jane piped up.

Ed groaned. "How could I forget them! You were worse than Ralph. And you don't know how lucky you were that I didn't put you over my knee."

"Hah! You didn't know you had a knockout punch in those days," Jane shot back, throwing her brother an affectionate look.

"I didn't, either, or I wouldn't have been so ready to talk about scrapping with you," Tom said with a friendly grin.

Major Tolliver joined the cadets as the other officers and Tom's father started down the street. "I'm going to try and get back some of that sleep I lost last night," he said, "but I wanted to tell all of you something first. I knew when we formed the squadron here in Wayfield that we'd have a good outfit. What I didn't know was that we'd be able to move so far so fast. You've all done a grand job, and I'm proud of you. Flying is lots of fun, but that's only half the game. The rest is character, and each one of you has shown that you've got the stuff that character is made of. As they say in the Navy, 'Well Done.' I'll see you at the next meeting."

Silence fell over the group as they watched the officer, deep emotion showing in his face, turn about and walk away with long, loping strides.

"There," Ed Dawson murmured, "goes a real man."

"Commanding Officer of the best squadron . . ." Red started.

". . . of the best organization . . ." Ralph added.

". . . in the best country . . ." Ed continued.

". . . in the world," Jane finished.

Tom looked up at the skies, blue and cloudless--the skies where he was at home now--and smiled his perfect agreement.