1 files changed, 6370 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/old/13898.txt b/old/13898.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..64b24a2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/13898.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,6370 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Don Strong, Patrol Leader, by William Heyliger
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Don Strong, Patrol Leader
+
+Author: William Heyliger
+
+Release Date: October 31, 2004 [EBook #13898]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DON STRONG, PATROL LEADER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Audrey Longhurst, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                               DON STRONG
+
+                              PATROL LEADER
+
+                           By WILLIAM HEYLIGER
+
+                Author of "Don Strong of the Wolf Patrol"
+
+                                  1918
+
+
+
+
+FOREWORD
+
+
+Tempting boys to be what they should be--giving them in wholesome form
+what they want--that is the purpose and power of Scouting. To help
+parents and leaders of youth secure _books boys like best_ that are also
+best for boys, the Boy Scouts of America organized EVERY BOY'S LIBRARY.
+The books included, formerly sold at prices ranging from $1.50 to $2.00
+but, by special arrangement with the several publishers interested, are
+now sold in the EVERY BOY'S LIBRARY Edition at $1.00 per volume.
+
+The books of EVERY BOY'S LIBRARY were selected by the Library Commission
+of the Boy Scouts of America, consisting of George F. Bowerman,
+Librarian, Public Library of the District of Columbia; Harrison W.
+Craver, Director, Engineering Societies Library, New York City; Claude G.
+Leland, Superintendent, Bureau of Libraries, Board of Education, New
+York City; Edward F. Stevens, Librarian, Pratt Institute Free Library,
+Brooklyn, N.Y., and Franklin K, Mathiews, Chief Scout Librarian. Only
+such books were chosen by the Commission as proved to be, by _a nation
+wide canvas_, most in demand by the boys themselves. Their popularity is
+further attested by the fact that in the EVERY BOY'S LIBRARY Edition,
+more than a million and a quarter copies of these books have already been
+sold.
+
+We know so well, are reminded so often of the worth of the good book and
+great, that too often we fail to observe or understand the influence
+for good of a boy's recreational reading. Such books may influence him
+for good or ill as profoundly as his play activities, of which they are a
+vital part. The needful thing is to find stories in which the heroes have
+the characteristics boys so much admire--unquenchable courage, immense
+resourcefulness, absolute fidelity, conspicuous greatness. We believe
+the books of EVERY BOY'S LIBRARY measurably well meet this challenge.
+
+BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA,
+
+James E. West
+Chief Scout Executive.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+CHAPTER
+
+     I. THE WOLF PATROL ELECTS
+    II. THE FIRST CLASH
+   III. TIM STANDS BY
+    IV. DANGER MOUNTAIN
+     V. A PLEA ON THE ROAD
+    VI. SPROUTING SEEDS
+   VII. CROSS CURRENTS
+  VIII. DON'S CHOICE
+    IX. THE FIGHT IN THE WOODS
+     X. GOOD LUCK AND BAD
+    XI. CLOSE QUARTERS
+   XII. OUT OF THE WOODS
+
+
+
+
+DON STRONG, PATROL LEADER
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE WOLF PATROL ELECTS
+
+
+A baseball rose gracefully in the air, carried on a way, and dropped.
+Three scouts back from a hike halted under the maple tree that bordered
+the village field, and unslung their haversacks.
+
+"Gee!" cried Fred Ritter. "Did you see Ted Carter make that catch?"
+
+"And did you see Tim Lally get that one?" demanded Wally Woods.
+
+Andy Ford grinned. "Ted's the boy to keep them working. Chester will have
+a real town team this year."
+
+"You bet." Ritter unscrewed the top of his canteen. "Anyway, Ted and Tim
+are about the whole team."
+
+"Hold on there," Andy protested. "Where do you leave Don Strong?"
+
+"It's Tim's catching that makes him a pitcher," Ritter answered
+seriously.
+
+"Who says so?"
+
+"Why, Tim says so."
+
+"O--h!" Andy began to laugh. "And you swallowed that?"
+
+"Sure," said Ritter. "A catcher ought to know just how good a pitcher he
+is. Tim says--"
+
+But what Tim said was not told just then. A small, wiry boy steered his
+bicycle up on the sidewalk and pedaled toward the tree.
+
+"Hey, fellows!" he shouted. "Did you hear the latest? Mr. Wall is going
+to give a cup to the best patrol and Phil Morris is moving to Chicago."
+
+The three scouts surrounded the bicycle.
+
+"Who told you about the cup?" Andy Ford demanded.
+
+"Mr. Wall told me," Bobbie Brown answered. "It's a contest, with points
+for everything--attendance at meeting, neatness, obeying orders, all
+that. There's going to be a contest every month, and at the end of three
+months a big scout game for points. Isn't that swell?"
+
+Three heads nodded. Ritter plucked at Bobbie's sleeve.
+
+"How do you know Phil Morris is moving?"
+
+"Mr. Wall told me that, too."
+
+"Then the Wolf patrol elects a new leader," said Ritter. He glanced out
+toward where Tim Lally was catching.
+
+Andy's eyes puckered, and a swift change came over Bobbie Brown's face.
+
+The practice ended. Tim came across the grass with a big mitt under his
+arm. Ritter and Wally went forward to meet him.
+
+"Tim won't get my vote," said Bobbie. "The patrol leader ought to be a
+fellow who's up in things, like Don, or Alex Davidson, or you--"
+
+"Don and Alex have it all over me," said Andy.
+
+They watched the field. Tim was walking now with Ritter and Wally. Bobbie
+reached a foot for the nearest pedal.
+
+"Guess I'll ride along," he said. As he turned the corner he glanced back
+across his shoulder. Tim and Ritter and Wally were talking to Andy.
+
+Bobbie rode faster. Presently he came in sight of a house with a
+white-washed fence in front and a sign rising above the lawn grass:
+
+ROBERT STRONG & SON
+CARPENTERS AND JOINERS
+WINDOW SCREENS AND SCREEN DOORS
+BIRD-HOUSES
+
+A boy who whistled as he worked was tacking wire to a door frame.
+
+Bobbie opened the gate and pushed through with his bicycle. The whistling
+boy glanced up.
+
+"Hello, Bobbie."
+
+"Hello, Don. Phil Morris is moving to Chicago."
+
+"To Chi--" Don Strong paused with his tack hammer raised. "That means a
+new patrol leader, doesn't it?" The hammer fell and the work went on.
+
+"Tim Lally wants it," said Bobbie.
+
+A thoughtful expression came to Don's face. He went on tacking the wire
+until it was all tight and snug. Still thoughtful, he cut the molding and
+nailed it fast. From under one of the two wooden horses on which the door
+lay, he took a can of green paint.
+
+"Tim wouldn't make a good patrol leader, would he, Don?"
+
+"Easy, there," Don warned.
+
+Bobbie flushed. "Well, he always wants to boss things and you know it."
+
+Don said nothing.
+
+"Doesn't he?" Bobbie insisted.
+
+Don dodged the question and demanded that Bobbie show him how he was
+progressing with his semaphore. Bobbie retreated to the fence and sent
+the message that was given him.
+
+"Was that right, Don?" he asked eagerly.
+
+"Right," said Don. He was on the point of sending the boy off with
+another message when the gate clicked. Tim Lally advanced as though he
+had important business on his mind.
+
+"Hello," said Tim, and rubbed his fingers across the door. "Gee! Why
+didn't you tell me the paint was wet? Give it a rub or two; that will fix
+it up again. Did you hear about Phil Morris?"
+
+Don nodded.
+
+"I guess I'll take a crack at being patrol leader," said Tim.
+
+Bobbie looked up quickly. Don stood the door aside to dry, went down to
+his father's basement workshop and came up with another frame.
+
+"I guess I'll take a crack at being patrol leader," Tim repeated. "I have
+two votes already, Ritter and Wally Woods. My own, of course, is three.
+All I need is another. Now, how about you fellows?"
+
+"I'm going to vote for Alex Davidson," said Don.
+
+Bobbie scarcely breathed. A spot of red flamed in each of Tim's cheeks.
+
+"What's the matter with me?" he demanded. "Don't you think I'm good
+enough?" He swung around. "How about you, Bobbie?"
+
+Bobbie swallowed hard. "Why, Tim, I--I--I--"
+
+"Well, how about it?"
+
+Bobbie looked appealingly at Don. Don laid down the tack hammer.
+
+"Is that fair, Tim?" he asked quietly.
+
+"Why isn't it?" Tim bristled.
+
+And yet, after a moment, his eyes fell. He knew what Don meant. Bobbie
+was the "baby" of the troop, the smallest and the youngest scout. He
+walked out of the yard and slammed the gate defiantly.
+
+"I'll get it without you," he called over the fence.
+
+Don didn't do any more whistling that day. And after supper, as he heard
+the details of the contest for the Scoutmaster's Cup, the concerned look
+on his face deepened.
+
+The patrol leader, he thought, should be a fellow who was heart and soul
+in scouting--a fellow who could encourage, and urge, and lend a willing
+hand; not a fellow who wanted to drive and show authority. If Tim, with
+his temper and his eagerness to come to blows, should take command--Don
+shook his head. Why did Phil Morris have to move away?
+
+All next morning he built bird-houses. He had developed quite a business
+with Audubon societies and it took a lot of work to keep up with his
+orders. After dinner he trudged off to the village field. Tim greeted him
+as though nothing had happened.
+
+Don was delighted at this turn of affairs. When the work ended and he saw
+Tim following his steps he waited.
+
+"You can vote for me now," Tim said confidently. "I saw Alex today. He
+won't have time to be patrol leader. He goes to work for the Union
+grocery store next Monday."
+
+Don felt that everything had been turned upside down. So this was why the
+other boy had been so friendly! Of course, he could go home and let Tim
+think that the vote was his. But that would be cowardice. That would not
+be a scout's way of meeting the situation.
+
+"I'm going to vote for somebody else," he said uneasily.
+
+Tim's good humor vanished. "You are?"
+
+Don nodded. "You're too hot-tempered," he said. "You always get things
+stewed up. You--"
+
+"I don't see any wings on you or Alex," Tim cried wrathfully. "What kind
+of a game is this?"
+
+Don said nothing. What was the use, he thought. He walked on; and after a
+moment Tim stood still and let him go his way.
+
+Next morning a letter came from the Scout Scribe announcing the terms of
+the contest for the Scoutmaster's Cup. The competition would start at
+Friday night's meeting. For each scout present a patrol would be awarded
+a point, while for each scout absent it would lose a point. Another point
+would be lost for each scout who came to meeting with buttons off his
+uniform, or with scout pin missing, or with hair uncombed, or shoes
+muddy. Any patrol that did not live up to its orders from the Scoutmaster
+would be penalized from five to ten points. At the end of the first month
+there would be a contest in advanced first aid, and points would be
+awarded to the patrols that came in first and second.
+
+Don read the letter twice and sat on one of the wooden horses and stared
+at the ground. His sister Barbara, anxious to show a berry cake, had to
+call to him three times before he heard her.
+
+"What's the matter, Don?" she asked.
+
+"Tim Lally wants to be patrol leader," he answered.
+
+"Oh!" Barbara gave him a quick, understanding look.
+
+Tim did not have a word to say to him that afternoon. Next day he worked
+steadily helping his father on a rush order and did not get to the field
+at all. When the work was done, he went upstairs and washed, dressed in
+his scout uniform and came down to the dining-room.
+
+Barbara came in from the kitchen to set the table. "Hungry?" she asked.
+Then, after a moment: "Isn't Tim your catcher on the town team?"
+
+Don nodded.
+
+Barbara put her head close to his. "Scouting isn't all fun, is it?"
+
+"It wouldn't be worth shucks if it was," Don said stoutly. And yet, as he
+walked toward troop headquarters after supper, his steps were slow.
+
+The command "Attention," came from Mr. Wall's lips as he entered the
+meeting place. He hurriedly joined his patrol. The color guard and the
+troop bugler stepped to the front, and the brassy notes of "To the
+Colors" rose and fell. Standing stiffly at salute, the troop pledged
+allegiance to the flag, and repeated the scout oath. The bugler stepped
+back to the ranks.
+
+Slowly Mr. Wall made his tour of inspection. When it was finished, the
+scouts waited breathlessly. For the first time Don noticed a small
+blackboard nailed against the wall:
+
+PATROL   POINTS
+
+Eagle
+Fox
+Wolf
+
+"The Eagle patrol," Mr. Wall said, "has one scout absent and two scouts
+untidy--thirteen points."
+
+The Scout Scribe wrote the points upon the board.
+
+"The Fox patrol, all scouts present and two scouts-untidy--fourteen
+points. The Wolf patrol a perfect score--sixteen points."
+
+Silence in the patrols.
+
+"Break ranks," the Scoutmaster ordered.
+
+Instantly there was a babel of excited talk. Scouts who had cost their
+patrols points through untidiness were upbraided by their comrades. Andy
+caught Don's arm.
+
+"We're off in the lead," he chuckled.
+
+"It's staying in the lead that counts," said Don.
+
+The shrill of Mr. Wall's whistle brought the scouts to attention again.
+
+"Tonight we take up the theory of building a bridge with staves and
+cords," the Scoutmaster said. "The Fox patrol was to have provided two
+logs."
+
+The Fox patrol hustled outdoors and returned in a moment with their
+burden.
+
+The scouts set to work to build a bridge from one log to the other. Mr.
+Wall walked about, watching but offering no advice. After an hour the
+bridge was completed.
+
+"Scouts Lally and Davidson," said Mr. Wall, "see if it will hold you."
+
+Tim and Alex stepped out on the structure. It held. A cheer started and
+died. For the bridge was sagging. Abruptly it gave.
+
+"Ten minutes for examination to see where the fault lies." The
+Scoutmaster took out his watch. "Next meeting we'll try again."
+
+Ten minutes later the lashings were untied, the staves were back in their
+wall racks, and the logs were outdoors. Each scout was sure he knew just
+what was wrong with that bridge and no two scouts agreed.
+
+"Squat!" came the next order.
+
+There was a rush for camp stools piled in a corner. Still grouped by
+patrols, the scouts faced Mr. Wall.
+
+"The Wolf patrol," he said, "is to select a new leader. So long as Patrol
+Leader Morris will not serve under his successor, the Council of Patrol
+Leaders feels that he should not vote in this election. The Scout Scribe
+will distribute pencils and paper. Each member of the Wolf patrol will
+write the name of his candidate. When I call his name, he will deposit
+his ballot, folded, in my hat. The patrol leaders will count the
+ballots."
+
+Don's throat was dry. When he received his paper and pencil his hand
+shook. He wrote "Andy Ford" quickly, and folded the paper. He caught a
+glimpse of Tim sending sharp glances from face to face.
+
+"Assistant Patrol Leader Ford," Mr. Wall called.
+
+Andy went up and dropped his ballot.
+
+"Scout Lally."
+
+Tim voted, came back to his stool and sat biting his lips.
+
+Finally all the votes were in. The patrol leaders carried the hat aside,
+counted the votes, and came back to Mr. Wall.
+
+"The result is--" The Scoutmaster paused. "Scout Lally, three votes;
+Scout Strong, three votes; Assistant Patrol Leader Ford, one vote. As no
+candidate has received a majority, another ballot is necessary."
+
+Don wondered if he had heard the Scoutmaster correctly. Three votes for
+him? He saw Tim eye him with dark suspicion. Andy's voice sounded in his
+ear:
+
+"Did you vote for me?"
+
+He nodded.
+
+"Well, cut it out. Next time vote for yourself."
+
+Don shook his head slowly. This thing of voting for himself did not
+appeal.
+
+"If you vote for me," Andy said sharply, "this will be a tie until the
+cows come home. Don't be a chump. Tim is voting for himself."
+
+Still Don was undecided. Besides, he could not get over the wonder of
+finding himself with three votes.
+
+"How about a man who runs for president of the United States?" Andy
+insisted. "Do you think he votes for his opponent?"
+
+"We are ready to ballot again," said Mr. Wall.
+
+"Wake up," said Andy.
+
+Don did not know what to do. There was no use in voting for Andy. Alex
+would not take the place and Bobbie Brown was altogether too young a
+scout. What should he do?
+
+"Assistant Patrol Leader Ford," called the Scoutmaster.
+
+Don, in desperation, wrote his own name.
+
+This time, when the patrol leaders brought Mr. Wall the result, they put
+the hat out of the way, and the troop knew that it would not be needed
+again.
+
+"Scout Lally," Mr. Wall read, "three votes; Scout Strong, four votes,
+Scout Strong is elected patrol leader of the Wolves."
+
+Five minutes later the meeting was over. Don had been formally saluted by
+the Foxes and the Bears, and a patrol leader's stripes had been pinned,
+temporarily, to his sleeve. Flushed and excited, and still amazed at
+the turn fortune had taken, he faced about to where his own patrol was
+gathered. All at once the flush died out of his cheeks.
+
+"When I asked Bobbie for his vote," said Tim, "it wasn't fair. But you
+could ask the fellows, couldn't you?"
+
+"I didn't ask anybody," said Don.
+
+Tim laughed. "When do you think I was born--yesterday? How did you get
+the votes if you didn't ask for them? We'll see about this."
+
+He walked out of headquarters. Ritter and Wally Woods whispered together,
+looked at Don, and seemed unable to make up their minds. Finally they
+edged their way toward the door.
+
+There was work for Don to do--checking up what property the Wolf patrol
+owned and signing that he received it in good condition. But all joy was
+gone from the honor that had come to him. The Wolves were divided among
+themselves! What chance would they have for the Scoutmaster's Cup?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE FIRST CLASH
+
+
+Barbara and Mr. Strong were sitting on the porch when Don reached home.
+He reclined on the top step and fanned himself with his hat.
+
+"Was Tim elected?" Barbara asked.
+
+"No," said Don; "I was."
+
+"Don!" The girl sprang to her feet. "Isn't that fine! We must celebrate
+with a piece of berry cake--"
+
+But Don said gloomily that he did not feel like celebrating. He told
+about having won through the aid of his own ballot.
+
+Barbara, concerned, looked at her father. "Was it wrong for Don to vote
+for himself?"
+
+"Not at all," said Mr. Strong. "A candidate always votes for himself on a
+secret ballot."
+
+Don felt a load leave his heart. He decided that perhaps he would like
+some berry cake. While he ate he told himself that there was no sense in
+worrying about Tim. Tim might get over his disappointment and not make a
+bit of trouble.
+
+Next morning, while he built bird-houses, his mind was busy with eager
+plans for his patrol. The first-aid contest would really be a test of
+skill. With the exception of Bobbie Brown and Wally Woods, every member
+of the Wolves was a first-class scout. They knew the theory of their
+first aid. The thing to do was to make them freshen up in the actual work
+of doing.
+
+"We'll have to get on the job at once," Don told himself. "I'll call a
+patrol meeting for Monday night. If Bobbie comes around--"
+
+Bobbie rode up to the gate. "Hello, Don."
+
+"Hello, Bobbie. I was just hoping you'd show up. Take a scout message for
+me?"
+
+"Sure!" The boy held on to the palings of the fence and did not dismount.
+
+"Pass the word that there'll be a patrol meeting at my house Monday
+night."
+
+Bobbie rode away as though the message had to be delivered within the
+next five minutes. Don smiled, and then grew thoughtful. Wouldn't it be
+fine if all scouts were as keen and as alert as that?
+
+Tim did not come to the field that afternoon. On the way home Don met Mr.
+Wall.
+
+"Well," the Scoutmaster smiled, "how's the new patrol leader?"
+
+"All right, sir."
+
+"Think you're going to like it?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"It has its hard spots," Mr. Wall said seriously, "just like any other
+job. It isn't all milk and honey. There are lots of things you could do
+when you were a scout that you cannot do now. Not that they are exactly
+forbidden by the scout laws. They're forbidden by you, yourself. Do you
+understand?"
+
+The boy nodded soberly. "I think so. You mean that when I was a plain
+scout I could skylark and cut up a bit, but that now I must be out in
+front setting the pace. I can't ask any of the fellows to be what I
+am not myself."
+
+"Exactly. And there's another thing. Don't get discouraged when your
+plans go wrong. Get your grip and hold on. Scouts are only human. They're
+not angels."
+
+Don smiled.
+
+"I mean that. Scouting wasn't made for angels. It was made for everybody,
+fellows like you and me. And just because we're not angels, we sometimes
+kick things around and don't seem to play fair. When that happens--"
+
+"Yes, sir?" said Don.
+
+"That's the time we need scouting most," Mr. Wall said gravely.
+
+It seemed to Don that the Scoutmaster was giving him a warning. But
+though he puzzled his head and wondered, he could not fathom what Mr.
+Wall might mean.
+
+He told Barbara and his mother about Monday night's meeting and said that
+he would take the scouts up to his room out of the way. Barbara told him
+indignantly that he would do nothing of the kind. The scouts would meet,
+she announced, in the cool dining-room.
+
+Monday, as soon as supper was over, she began to prepare for the coming
+of the patrol. Don wanted to help, but she routed him from the place. He
+went out to the porch and sat there in the gathering darkness. A vague
+sense of uneasiness stole over him.
+
+Presently Bobbie Brown rode up and left his bicycle inside the gate. Soon
+he was followed by Alex Davidson and Andy Ford. Then came a long wait. At
+length two figures loomed in the dusk.
+
+"Who's there?" Don called eagerly.
+
+"Ritter and Woods," came the answer.
+
+Don suddenly knew the cause of that vague uneasiness. The meeting had
+been called for eight o'clock, and it was now five minutes after, and
+there was no sign of Tim.
+
+But none of the others seemed to think of the missing scout. Alex was
+bubbling over with the wonder of his first day in business. He told of
+how many orders he had delivered, and how much money he had collected,
+and how careful he had to be in making change. Don listened nervously. By
+and by he struck a match and glanced at his watch.
+
+"Quarter past eight," he said.
+
+"How about starting?" said Andy.
+
+Don led the patrol indoors. The dining-room lamp shed a soft glow over
+the table. Chairs were drawn up, and at each place was a sharpened pencil
+and a few sheets of paper.
+
+"I'll bet Barbara thought of that," said Andy,
+
+At any other time praise of Barbara would have brought a quick smile to
+Don's face. Now, however, he sat down soberly and gave the order to call
+the roll. Andy cleared his throat.
+
+"Patrol Leader Strong."
+
+"Here," said Don.
+
+"Assistant Patrol Leader Ford. No doubt about me being here."
+
+"Scout Davidson."
+
+"Here," said Alex.
+
+"Scout Ritter."
+
+"Here."
+
+"Scout Lally."
+
+Silence.
+
+All at once an uneasy feeling crept around the table. Alex forgot his
+business adventures of the day and glanced quickly from face to face.
+
+"Tim may come later," he said.
+
+Don looked at Bobbie. "Did you tell him?"
+
+Bobbie nodded.
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"N--nothing."
+
+Every scout knew at once that Tim had said something. Don shut his lips
+tightly.
+
+"I guess Tim forgot," Andy suggested.
+
+Don grasped at this straw. Not that he believed it, for he didn't; but it
+gave him a chance to ease the tension. He forced a smile and said that
+Tim might come bolting in at the last minute. The moment the roll call
+was completed, he turned the talk to the Scoutmaster's Cup. He didn't
+want to give the scouts a chance to sit there and think.
+
+"We're in the lead now," he said, "and it's up to us to stay there. It
+will be easy if every fellow will do his part. Attend every meeting and
+come ready for inspection. When Mr. Wall gives us a job to do as a
+patrol, let us dig in and do it right. And let us work hard so that we'll
+stand a good chance of winning the monthly contests."
+
+"The first contest is easy," said Ritter. "We all know our first aid."
+
+"We know it," said Don. "But can we do it? That's what counts."
+
+"It's like riding a bicycle," Ritter argued. "You never forget."
+
+Don had not expected anything like this. He didn't want the patrol to be
+cocksure--he wanted it to work. But there would be small chance of work
+if each scout was going to think that practice was unnecessary.
+
+"Wait until I get some bandages," he said. He ran up to his room and came
+down with a little white roll. Ritter smiled confidently.
+
+"Let's see you make a spiral reverse bandage," Don invited.
+
+Ritter took the bandage and went to work on Alex's arm. Presently, after
+having gone half way to the elbow, he flushed and pulled the bandage off.
+
+"It's sloppy," he said. "I see your point. I need practice."
+
+"We all need practice," said Don. There were no further objections to
+hard work. The talk became eager as details were planned. The patrol
+would practice Wednesday afternoon at troop headquarters. Don would work
+with Ritter on splints, and Tim and Andy and Bobbie would form a team for
+artificial respiration, fireman's lift and stretcher work. Wally and Alex
+would practice straight bandaging at night after Alex had finished his
+labors at the Union grocery store.
+
+Bobbie accepted the arrangement in silence. As the meeting broke up and
+the scouts crowded into the hall, he pulled at Don's sleeve.
+
+"Must I work with Tim?" he asked.
+
+"Tim's strong and you're light," Don explained. "You can be handled
+easily on the fireman's lift and stretcher work."
+
+Bobbie wet his lips and seemed to want to say something more. Abruptly,
+though, he turned away and followed the others out to the porch.
+
+"How about Tim?" Ritter asked. "Shall I tell him about Wednesday?"
+
+Conversation stopped. The feeling of tension came back.
+
+"I'll see him at the field tomorrow," said Don. "I'll tell him myself."
+
+Alex looked at him sharply, and the look said as plainly as words, "Going
+to make him toe the mark?"
+
+Don lingered on the porch until the last footstep had died away in the
+distance. Then he went up to his room and stared out of the window.
+Thunder! Why couldn't Tim stick to his patrol and play fair, and not
+spoil all the fun?
+
+He had an uneasy feeling about the morrow's interview. Once he had heard
+Mr. Wall say that there is something wrong when a patrol leader and his
+scouts live at loggerheads. He did not want to start wrong, he did not
+want to quarrel. But what could he do if a scout made up his mind to stay
+away from meetings and be nasty?
+
+A dozen times he tried to picture what he would say to Tim and what Tim
+would say to him. At last, with an impatient shrug of his shoulders, he
+began to undress for bed.
+
+"Tim may be as nice as pie," he muttered. "He may not say a word."
+
+Which was exactly what happened. Tim listened in silence to a report of
+what the patrol meeting had decided, nodded shortly when told of
+Wednesday's practice, and then moved off a few steps and called for the
+ball.
+
+Don found himself, all at once, wishing that this refractory scout had
+spoken his mind. As things stood now he did not know what to expect. Tim
+might come to the practice, or he might stay away.
+
+Twice, that afternoon, he walked toward the other boy, resolved to ask
+him point blank what he intended to do. Twice he paused and turned away.
+Perhaps it might be bad to let Tim see that he was worried.
+
+Wednesday he was the first scout to reach troop headquarters. Inside, on
+the wall, was the slate:
+
+PATROL   POINTS
+
+Eagle    13
+Fox      14
+Wolf     16
+
+Don stared at the sign a long time. What an honor it would be to win! Not
+the mere honor of getting a prize--he didn't mean that. But the honor of
+being the best scouts in the troop, the honor of achievement, the honor
+of something well done.
+
+He heard a noise at the door. It was Andy Ford.
+
+"Any trouble with Tim?" Andy asked at once.
+
+Don shook his head.
+
+"Did you tell him? What did he say?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+Andy puckered his eyes. "What's the matter with Tim, anyway? Is he going
+to grouch just because he wasn't elected patrol leader? He has the
+makings of a good scout."
+
+There was the sound of a step outside.
+
+"Sssh!" Don said softly.
+
+Tim put his head in through the doorway. "Are we the only fellows here?"
+he demanded. "I want to get to the field and do some ball playing."
+
+Don said that Ritter and Bobbie would be along any minute. Tim came in
+and sauntered around the room. He banged his mitt against the scout
+staves in the racks and seemed to find pleasure in the noise. Finally
+he brought up in front of the slate.
+
+"Think we can stick in the lead?" Andy asked.
+
+"Cinch!" said Tim. "What other patrol has anything on us?"
+
+"It means work," said Don. "If we practice once or twice every week--"
+
+"Once or twice?" Tim cried. "Gee! Have a heart. Isn't that rubbing it
+in?"
+
+"We've got to be perfect," Andy said quickly, "and we're depending on you
+for the big stuff."
+
+"What big stuff?" Tim asked.
+
+"Stretcher work, fireman's lift, artificial respiration. The hard stuff,
+Tim."
+
+"Oh well--" The praise seemed to have soothed Tim's feelings. "Maybe I
+could find time."
+
+Andy winked. Don walked to the door. Was that the way to handle this
+hot-tempered scout--humor him a bit, praise him a little, give him the
+important assignments?
+
+"Here come Bobbie and Ritter," said Andy.
+
+The two scouts arrived, somewhat breathless from running, and the work
+started. Don took splints and bandages from the troop's medicine chest.
+Tim and Andy fashioned a stretcher from staves and coats.
+
+"Try it again," said Tim. "Too slow."
+
+"Let Bobbie button as soon as the first coat goes on," said Andy.
+
+"Let Bobbie keep out of the way," said Tim.
+
+Don looked up quickly. However, the work seemed to be going on
+satisfactorily. He brought his attention back to the splint he was
+adjusting.
+
+After that, from time to time, he walked over to see how Tim and Andy and
+Bobbie were making out. Twice he thought that Andy frowned at him and
+gave a cautious movement with his head.
+
+"Ouch!" Bobbie cried toward the finish. "You're hurting, Tim."
+
+"You can't help hurting a fellow a little on artificial respiration," Tim
+answered gruffly.
+
+Don frowned. Had Andy been signaling to him? Had something been going on
+over there?
+
+When the work ended the staves and the splints and the bandages were put
+away. Tim mopped his face and breathed heavily. Bobbie Brown edged over
+toward the farthest window.
+
+"How about another session Friday?" Don asked.
+
+"Can't," said Tim. "Saturday we play our first game. Ted Carter wants
+everybody out for practice Friday afternoon. He told me to tell you."
+
+"Well--" For the moment Don wasn't interested in baseball. "How about
+Monday?"
+
+Monday, it appeared, would be all right. Tim put on his coat and walked
+toward the door.
+
+"You're forgetting your mitt," Don called.
+
+"I'm not going to the field," said Tim.
+
+There was something peculiar in the way he said it. Don looked
+inquiringly at Andy. The assistant patrol leader nodded toward
+the window.
+
+"Anything wrong, Bobbie?" Don asked.
+
+Bobbie gave a start, and smiled and shook his head. "Guess I'll go
+along," he said; but he made no move to leave the place.
+
+Something was wrong. Andy sauntered down to the door, peered at the
+woodwork as though examining it, scratched with his finger-nail, and then
+began to tap with his knuckle.
+
+Don wrinkled his forehead. Why did Andy tap like that--two taps, pause,
+another tap--over and over again? Suddenly he understood. Andy was
+sending him a message in Morse, and the first letter was C. He looked
+up, caught Andy's eye, and nodded. The tapping went on.
+
+".."
+
+"O," whispered Don.
+
+"- -"
+
+"M."
+
+"."
+
+"E. Come."
+
+A pause, longer than the other. The tapping began again.
+
+".. ..-- ... .. -.. ."
+
+"Come outside," Don muttered. He strolled toward the door.
+
+The moment he passed out of troop headquarters, Andy caught his arm.
+
+"Did you see Tim roughing Bobbie all afternoon?"
+
+"Hurting him?" Don asked quickly.
+
+"Not really hurting him, but pulling his hair, and twisting his ears, and
+things like that. Bobbie's frightened. It's going to spoil all our first
+aid."
+
+Don's mouth twitched. He had congratulated himself that the work had gone
+so well. And all the while trouble had been lurking at his elbow. He
+walked back into troop headquarters with his head bent. If one scout was
+going to nag another there would be no harmony, no pulling together, no
+striving toward a common goal. It would be good-by to the Wolf patrol so
+far as the Scoutmaster's Cup was concerned.
+
+He paused in front of the slate. What should he do? If he went to Tim and
+told him plump and plain to cut it out, there might be a ruction. If he
+allowed the nagging to go on, there would be tension and unrest within
+the patrol. No matter which way he turned, disorder and adversity loomed.
+
+He walked to the window where Bobbie stood. Suddenly he stiffened.
+
+"Isn't that Tim down the road--that fellow leaning against the fence?"
+
+Bobbie nodded nervously.
+
+Don drew a deep breath. He knew what was happening. Tim was waiting to
+continue his plaguing.
+
+"I--I guess I'll go," said Bobbie again.
+
+"Wait," said Don. "I'm going down that way."
+
+There was no help for it. He had no choice. He couldn't let Bobbie go out
+and get his hair pulled and his ears twisted. He'd have to see him past
+the danger.
+
+There was vast relief on Bobbie's face as they came out of troop
+headquarters. But Don's face was grave.
+
+It took but a minute to walk down the road to the fence. Bobbie's steps
+unconsciously became slower. He edged out toward the curb. Tim saw him
+and instantly became alert.
+
+"Here, now," he called; "don't try to dodge past. Come over here and--"
+
+"Hello, Tim," said Don.
+
+Tim stopped short. His eyes darkened suspiciously, as though he suspected
+that Don was acting as guardian. For a moment he seemed to be debating
+what he should do; and while he paused, Bobbie edged past.
+
+"Don't forget Monday," said Don. He wanted to shift the other boy's
+thoughts.
+
+"I may be busy Monday," Tim answered scowlingly. He took a step after
+Bobbie, but found the patrol leader in his way and stopped short.
+
+Don continued on down the road. He knew that Tim was aware why he had
+walked with Bobbie, and he knew that Tim resented it. After all, what had
+he gained? He couldn't be with Bobbie always. If Tim wanted to plague, he
+could catch the little scout alone almost any day.
+
+Abruptly Don swung around and went back. Tim, seeing him coming, set his
+feet farther apart. It was a fighting pose. Don's heart fluttered.
+
+"Look here, Tim," he said; "what's the use of stewing around this way?
+Why can't we all pull together?"
+
+"Did I do anything to you?" Tim asked.
+
+"No, but--What's the use of tormenting Bobbie?"
+
+"Gee! Are you the keeper of the whole patrol?"
+
+Don bit his lips. The talk wasn't going at all the way he wanted.
+
+"We've got to work together," he said, "or we won't have a chance for the
+cup."
+
+"Don't you worry about me," Tim said airily. "I'll do my share. Didn't I
+show up for practice today?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, what more do you want?"
+
+Don hesitated. Tim began to grin. He walked back to the fence and leaned
+there carelessly.
+
+"It--it's going to muss the practice if you tease Bobbie," Don said
+slowly. "He'll be edging away from you, not knowing what moment you'll
+twig him, and it will spoil the work. You can't give him a good fireman's
+lift if he's hanging back."
+
+"What are you doing," Tim demanded, "asking me to let up on him or
+telling me?"
+
+"I'm asking you," Don said slowly.
+
+"Oh! Well, that's all right." Tim's grin grew broader. "I won't bother
+him."
+
+All the way home Don was haunted by that grin. He knew what it meant. Tim
+thought he had started back to lay down the law and had wilted. Tim
+thought he was afraid.
+
+Don swallowed a lump in his throat. There was no use in trying to
+disguise the truth. Deep in his heart he didn't know whether he was or
+not.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+TIM STANDS BY
+
+
+It was a very quiet Don who sat down to supper that night. He had the
+uncomfortable conviction that he had blundered. Having started to see
+Bobbie past trouble, he should have seen him past with quiet firmness. It
+had been a mistake to try to bargain.
+
+Regrets, though, would do him no good. What was past was past. It was the
+future that troubled him the most.
+
+Tim, he was sure, would now carry a chip on his shoulder. And if he tried
+to make him keep step with the other scouts of the patrol, and if Tim did
+not want to keep step--
+
+"You're not eating, Don," said Barbara.
+
+He came to himself with a start, smiled sheepishly, and gave thought to
+his supper. But for the rest of the meal he could see Barbara watching
+him. There was also a concerned look in the eyes of his sister Beth.
+
+Why had he gone back that time? And having gone back, why had he not told
+Tim, bluntly and plainly, that he would have to let Bobbie alone? Had
+there been a clash of wills, it would all be over with now. Instead, the
+time of decision had been put off. It might come any day. And because he
+had hesitated to meet it once, it would be all the harder to meet it in
+the future.
+
+"I don't think Don is hungry," said Beth.
+
+He came to himself with a start and found that he was again staring
+fixedly at his plate. He was glad when the meal came to an end.
+
+He went up to his room. There were two letters he ought to write to
+Audubon societies that had ordered bird-houses. But, though he drew out
+paper and ink and envelopes, he could not concentrate his thoughts on
+what he had to say. At last he went downstairs and sat on the porch.
+
+He was discouraged. Under Phil Morris, the Wolf patrol had been strong
+and vigorous. Phil had refused to stand for any nonsense.
+
+"I guess--I guess I haven't the spunk Phil had," Don told himself.
+
+In the kitchen the sounds of dish-washing ceased. Presently Barbara came
+out on the porch. The chair in which he sat was wide. She touched his
+arm.
+
+"Push over, Don."
+
+He made room for her.
+
+"Well," she asked, "what's the scout trouble now?"
+
+He could always talk to Barbara as though she were an older brother. Now
+he told her about his meeting with Tim, and of the sorry way he had
+handled himself.
+
+"And now," he ended, "Tim will think I'm scared of him and that he can do
+just as he pleases."
+
+"Will he think that?" Barbara asked.
+
+"Well, won't he?"
+
+The girl did not answer. After a moment she asked:
+
+"How about good turns, Don? Does Tim do any?"
+
+"Of course he does. Isn't he a scout?"
+
+"What kind of good turns?"
+
+"Well--" Don thought. "Remember last winter when Mr. Blair was sick?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Tim looked after their furnace three times a day."
+
+"Don," Barbara said, "don't you think he's all right at heart if he does
+acts like that?"
+
+Don stared. This was putting things in a new light. Then he thought of
+Tim riding rough-shod, and tormenting Bobbie, and wanting his own way in
+everything.
+
+"Maybe Tim's all right at heart," he said dubiously, "but he's always
+making trouble just the same. I'm not going to let him stew up my patrol.
+I'll go to Mr. Wall--"
+
+"Don!"
+
+The sharp note of disappointment in Barbara's voice sent the blood into
+his cheeks.
+
+"Stand on your own feet," she said. "What would Mr. Wall think of you?
+Did the old-time scouts like Daniel Boone go running for help every time
+they found themselves in trouble?"
+
+The boy did not answer. There was a long silence. Barbara touched his
+arm.
+
+"Angry, Don?"
+
+"No. I--I guess I'll fight my own way," he said.
+
+Somehow, that determination seemed to lighten his worries. He went
+upstairs and wrote his letters. Afterward he picked up his Handbook and
+idly turned the pages. Presently his eyes fell on the tenth law:
+
+"He has the courage to face danger in spite of fear ... and defeat does
+not down him." Next he read the fourth law, "He is a friend to all and a
+brother to every other scout." And then he closed the book and for a long
+time stared straight ahead.
+
+Friday brought a busy day--bird-houses all morning, baseball practice in
+the afternoon, and a troop meeting at night.
+
+During the morning, as Don planed, and sawed, and hammered, he whistled a
+gay air. But after dinner, as the time for baseball practice approached,
+the whistle became subdued and at last stopped.
+
+Up to now he had pitched against high-school boys, lads of his own age.
+Tomorrow, though, he was to face a town team with its older, more
+experienced players. He wondered if he would be able to make good. And he
+wondered, just a little, how he and Tim would work together.
+
+He might have saved himself the worry of wondering about Tim, for that
+afternoon's practice gave no time for anything save work. Ted Carter
+drove the players with a high-strung, nervous vim. He seemed to find
+time for everything--first a signal drill, then fielding, then sliding
+into bases.
+
+Don was kept on the jump. As soon as his arm was warm and limber Ted
+hustled him to the mound, and for fifteen minutes he stood there and
+threw to bases as signals were flashed to him. Then Ted gave him ten
+minutes of fielding bunts. By that time the sweat was running down his
+face and his breath was coming hard.
+
+"Get into a sweater," Ted ordered. "I'll want you back here in ten
+minutes. Now, Tim, I'm going to let some of the fellows steal bases.
+Let's see you throw them out."
+
+Don was glad of the respite. He retired beyond the foul lines and
+watched. There was no doubt but that Tim knew his job. Short and stocky
+and agile, he seemed made in a catcher's mold. He could reach second base
+with a forearm throw while squatting on his heels, and a snap of the
+wrist was enough to send the ball to first or to third.
+
+"He's got an awfully strong arm," said Don to himself.
+
+"All right, Don," called Ted.
+
+He shed his sweater and went back to the mound. One by one the batters
+were called in to hit against him. He watched for Tim's signals, and
+tried to put the ball where Tim wanted it. The batters hit him freely.
+
+When the practice ended he was worried. If older players could hit him
+like that--
+
+"Forget it," said Ted. "Fielding bunts for ten minutes took a lot of your
+sap. You'll go in fresh tomorrow. Isn't that right, Tim?"
+
+"Sure," said the catcher.
+
+"And another thing," said the captain. "Toward the end there you were
+shaking your head to Tim's signals and pitching what you wanted. None of
+that tomorrow. Let Tim judge the batters. This is his second year against
+town teams; he knows their game better than you."
+
+Tim swelled out his chest and swaggered.
+
+"All right," said Don. If Ted thought nothing of the way he had been
+batted, why, everything must be all right. He walked home gayly.
+
+"Scout meeting tonight?" his father asked.
+
+"Yes, sir," said Don, and ran upstairs to dress. He wondered if the Wolf
+patrol would get another perfect score. He paused in the act of brushing
+his hair. A thought that he could not push aside popped into his brain.
+Would Tim come spick and span?
+
+Tim, Andy, Alex and Ritter were at headquarters when he arrived, and Tim
+was as clean as any.
+
+"We've been inspecting each other," Andy laughed. "Look at those fellows
+over there."
+
+The Fox patrol had a box of blacking and a brush, and two scouts were
+polishing their shoes. The Eagles had a needle and thread, and one scout,
+under the watchful eye of his patrol leader, was sewing on a button.
+
+"This is going to be a fight," Andy went on. "Those scouts are in
+earnest."
+
+"That's the way for a scout to be," said Don. The prospect of a struggle
+sent a sparkle into his eyes. "We'll have to do that."
+
+"Needles and thread and shoe-brushes?" Tim demanded.
+
+Don nodded.
+
+"Not for me," said Tim. "I'm no kid. Nobody has to tell me to clean
+myself."
+
+Don said nothing. Why, he wondered, did Tim seem to take such a delight
+in going against everybody else? He was sure now that what Barbara said
+was right. Tim was sound at heart. Look how clean he came to tonight's
+meeting. And yet--
+
+"Going to get needles and thread and things?" Andy whispered.
+
+Don nodded. Oh, yes; he'd get them. What was the use of letting the other
+patrols prepare for the unexpected and doing nothing yourself?
+
+The Scoutmaster's whistle called the patrols to attention. Don gave a
+quick glance as his patrol took its station. His heart sank. Bobbie Brown
+was not in place.
+
+Mr. Wall walked down the line of scouts. He was halfway through
+inspection when Bobbie burst into the room. He checked himself when he
+saw what was going on, came to salute, and quietly tiptoed to his
+place. But his face was flushed from running, and his hair was awry.
+
+Don hoped Bobbie might be able to make himself presentable before Mr.
+Wall got that far. Then common sense told him that that was impossible.
+The troop was at attention. Bobbie could not lift a hand even to touch
+his hair. He had to stand there stiffly as he was.
+
+The inspection came to an end, Mr. Wall faced the waiting lines. Don held
+his breath. _Would_ the Wolf patrol--
+
+"Fox patrol," Mr. Wall announced, "a perfect score. Eagle patrol, all
+present, all clean, but one scout talking in ranks, one-half point off.
+Wolf patrol, one scout untidy, one scout late, one and one-half points
+off."
+
+A moment later the lines were broken. Tim turned to the unhappy Bobbie.
+
+"See what a fine fix you got us in!" he demanded angrily.
+
+"I couldn't help it," Bobbie explained. "My mother didn't know she was
+out of sugar, and the man in the store had to open a new barrel, and he
+couldn't find his hatchet, and I had to wait."
+
+"You should have gone for the sugar this afternoon," Tim insisted. "The
+rest of us take the trouble to come here right and then you spoil
+things."
+
+"I couldn't help it," Bobbie said miserably. "I--"
+
+"It's all right, Bobbie," said Don. "Don't let it happen again." He was
+disappointed, but what was the use of jumping on a scout who was trying
+to do right?
+
+"What's the use of me slicking up," Tim scowled, "if other fellows are
+going to do as they please?"
+
+The scout scribe walked toward the slate. Instantly Bobbie and his lapse
+were forgotten. Every eye in the room watched while the scribe rubbed out
+and wrote. Soon he stepped away from the slate. There was the new
+standing:
+
+PATROL   POINTS
+Eagle    28-1/2
+Fox      30
+Wolf     30-1/2
+
+The Wolves were still in the lead, but Don did not feel the least like
+cheering. For the next hour, while the troop worked at signaling, and
+map-reading, and advanced knot-tying, he did his part and forgot to be
+despondent. He even brightened when the logs were brought in and the
+theory of bridge building was applied. But when the bridge was done--this
+time it held--he lost interest.
+
+"The Wolf patrol--" he heard Mr. Wall say.
+
+He roused himself and listened.
+
+"The Wolf patrol has the assignment of having headquarters clean for the
+next meeting," the Scoutmaster announced.
+
+The session was over. Don told his patrol not to forget Monday's practice
+and walked out alone. He had gone but a short distance when running
+footsteps sounded in his rear.
+
+"Don!" It was Bobbie. "I'm sorry--"
+
+The patrol leader forced a smile. "You only lost us a point and a half,
+Bobbie. Maybe you'll get that back in the first aid contest."
+
+Bobbie's mouth tightened. "It won't be because I'm not trying," he said;
+and Don went home telling himself that he knew one scout the Wolf patrol
+could count on through thick and thin.
+
+Next morning he tried to build bird-houses, but for once he could find no
+pleasure in the work. His thoughts were turned on the afternoon. The
+Glenrock team had a reputation as hitters, and he wondered, in spite of
+what Ted had said, whether he would be able to hold his own.
+
+When Ted had asked him to pitch for the Chester town team, he had
+protested that he was only a high school player. Ted, however, had told
+him earnestly that many town team pitchers were no better. Besides,
+wouldn't it be fine experience to pitch against stronger batters? Weeks
+ago that argument had won, but now Don made a wry face.
+
+"Fine lot of experience it will be if they knock me out of the box," he
+said.
+
+The game had been well advertised. The Chester _Chronicle_ had carried a
+story, and notices had been chalked on the bulletin board at the railroad
+station. Don was sure that there would be quite a crowd.
+
+Nor was he mistaken. Early as it was when he came to the field,
+spectators were already gathering. Ted, a seasoned veteran, was calm and
+undisturbed, but there was a noticeable tension among most of the other
+players. Don sat on the rough bench and waited for the signal to warm up.
+
+Presently the Glenrock players arrived. He looked at them closely and his
+nerves jumped. Gosh! didn't they look big! And what big black bats!
+
+"All right, Don," said Ted. "Warm up. Take it easy. These fellows can
+strike out and pop up flies just as easily as anybody else."
+
+Don tried to smile as he took his place. By this time a solid wall of
+spectators ran along the base-lines and down toward the foul flags. There
+was another gathering under the maple tree; and out in deep center a
+third group lounged on the grass and waited for the call of "Play ball!"
+
+Don began to throw. His first few pitches went wide, and Tim glanced at
+him sharply. The catcher was almost as cool as Ted, and to show his
+calmness, he began to toss the ball into the air as he caught it and then
+catch it again in his bare hand as it came down.
+
+As soon as his arm felt right, Don tried out his curves. His drop, his
+best ball, worked nicely, but his in-curve and his out-curve were only
+fair. He kept trying them, and became worried, and went back to his drop
+and found that he had lost his control of this curve, too. What was the
+matter? Was he getting stage fright?
+
+"That's enough," called Ted.
+
+He walked toward the bench. Tim hurried to his side.
+
+"Scared?" the catcher asked.
+
+Don nodded.
+
+"Gee!" said Tim. "I thought you had more nerve than that. Just go out
+there and stick it over. You don't see me getting rattled."
+
+"You don't have to serve the ball," said Don.
+
+"No," said Tim; "but I'm the fellow who has to decide what balls they
+get. I guess that's some responsibility. You pitch the way I tell you to
+and we'll be all right."
+
+Glenrock was still practicing in the field. Don sat on the bench and
+watched. They handled the ball well, but not any better than Chester. If
+their hitting had been overrated--
+
+"They're through," said Ted. "Come on, Don. Don't get excited now. Watch
+Tim's signals and give him what he signals for. We're in back of you."
+
+"That's what I've been telling him," said Tim.
+
+A minute later Don faced the first batter. Tim squatted, rose up on his
+toes, stuck his mitt between his legs, laid a finger on the mitt, and
+then spread his hands wide.
+
+"Come on, Don," he called. "Easy-picking here; easy picking. Put it right
+over."
+
+Tim had signaled for the drop. Don swallowed a lump in his throat. Would
+the ball break true? Would this broad-shouldered young man who stood so
+confidently at the plate hammer it a mile?
+
+"Come on, now," cried Tim.
+
+Don pitched. The batter swung and missed.
+
+"Easy picking," chanted Tim. "He couldn't hit it with a fence post. Come
+on, now."
+
+The second signal was for an in. Don pitched. The batter tightened his
+muscles to swing, changed his mind, and allowed his arms to grow limp.
+And the ball that looked as though it would be outside the plate,
+suddenly broke inward and crossed the corner.
+
+"Strike two!" ruled the umpire.
+
+The batter looked annoyed. And as for Don, a wave of gladness ran through
+his veins. His curves were working, and this batter didn't seem to be any
+harder to pitch to than some high school players he had faced.
+
+Tim called for pitch-outs on the next two, hoping that the batter would
+"bite." The Glenrock player, though, seemed to have become cautious. Then
+Don pitched a drop, and the batter hit a bit too high and sent a grounder
+toward third base, and was thrown out.
+
+The next batter caught the first ball pitched and hammered it to center
+field for a base.
+
+Don's lips twitched. He wondered if the runner would try to steal, and if
+he would be too green to hold him close to the bag. Ted motioned him to
+play the plate.
+
+Tim signaled for a pitch-out, or waste ball. He pitched.
+
+The catcher had shrewdly judged that Glenrock would try to steal the
+moment she got a runner on. He saw the runner break for second. He got
+the ball, drew back his arm, and shot the sphere down without rising
+from his squat.
+
+It was a beautiful throw, and the runner was out by a yard.
+
+"Try to get fresh with the kid pitcher, eh?" yelled Tim.
+
+"That's turning them back," shouted Ted Carter. "Get this fellow, Don."
+
+Don "got" him on an in-curve that was hit for a puny infield pop.
+
+Glenrock was out. She had had her first inning and had not scored. Ted
+came running in to the bench, calling instructions to Chester's first
+hitter. Don drew on a sweater and sat down.
+
+"Well," said Ted, "they aren't giant-killers, are they?"
+
+"Tim saved me that time," Don answered. His pulse was still throbbing.
+
+"Sure I did," said Tim. "That's what I'm there for."
+
+Don tried to tell himself that it was only Tim's way to be so cocksure
+and chesty; and yet, in a small corner of his brain, was the thought that
+it might have been just as well had the runner not been thrown out. In
+spite of himself, he was beginning to resent the catcher's air of
+superiority.
+
+He admitted that he was lucky to have escaped during that first inning.
+But he was not so lucky in the innings that followed. Two runs were
+scored by Glenrock in the third, one in the fifth, two in the seventh,
+and one in the eighth. Five runs was all that Chester could gather. The
+end of the game found her one run behind.
+
+Don was disheartened. He put on his sweater and started to leave the
+field. Ted called him, and he waited.
+
+"Down in the mouth?" the captain asked. "Forget it. I knew you'd have
+trouble today. You were worried, weren't you?"
+
+Don nodded.
+
+"And yet they beat you only six to five. That's all right. Next time you
+won't be so nervous and you'll do better."
+
+"Will I?" Don asked. "You're not fooling me, Ted?"
+
+"Oh, Tim." Ted called to the catcher. "What did I tell you about this
+game?"
+
+"That you'd be satisfied if Don held them to a respectable score," Tim
+answered. "You told me to hold him up and keep him going--"
+
+"All right," Ted said quickly. He turned to Don. "Does that look as
+though I'm stringing you? Next week you pitch against Springfield--and
+next week you're going to win."
+
+Don drew a deep breath. A big part of his courage had come back. Now, if
+Tim would only stop saying how important _he_ was--
+
+"I know those Springfield batters," said Tim. "I'll signal him what to
+throw."
+
+Don turned away. Was Tim going to act like that all summer?
+
+Monday the Wolf patrol had its second first-aid practice. This time there
+was no trouble. Tim appeared, and did his work, and then went shouting
+and hallooing down the street. Andy Ford laughed and shook his head.
+
+"He's a wild Indian, Don. You can't do much with him."
+
+"I--I can't do anything with him," said Don.
+
+The days that followed were busy ones. There was a rush of orders for
+window screens, and he dropped his bird-houses and helped his father.
+Twice he went to the field. Once he met Tim there, and Tim caught his
+delivery and called instructions in a breezy, high-handed way. Andy Ford
+was right, Don thought. A wild, untamed, careless, unthinking Indian!
+
+Friday, in response to Don's orders, the patrol came to headquarters to
+clean up for that night's meeting. Tim brought with him an impish,
+reckless desire for fun. While the others tried to sweep, he lined up a
+string of camp stools and played leap-frog down the length of the
+meeting-place, and got in everybody's way.
+
+"Come on, Tim," Don called. "Cut it out!"
+
+"Cut what out?" Tim asked innocently.
+
+"That jumping. You're scattering the dust. Put the stools away and get a
+broom."
+
+Tim shook his head, and sat on the nearest stool, and looked as though he
+was going to dispute the order. Andy and Ritter nudged him and told him
+to be a good sport and help. He looked at them doubtfully, and then,
+apparently convinced, he piled the stools in a corner and got a broom.
+
+Only for a short time, though, did he apply himself to the work in hand.
+Soon a voice shouted, "Behold a knight of old!" and when the scouts
+looked around there was Tim with the broom as a sword and a galvanized
+water bucket over his head. Even Don laughed.
+
+Next Tim sent the pail clattering across the floor, and Bobbie had to
+jump to avoid being hit in the shins. After that this troublesome scout
+insisted on fighting a broom duel with Wally Woods, and a collection of
+dirt that had been swept into a pile was scattered right and left.
+
+"Tim!" cried Don.
+
+Tim stopped. "What's the matter?"
+
+"Look at that dirt. We'll never get cleaned up this way."
+
+"Oh, forget it," said Tim. "Can't a fellow have a little fun? I'll sweep
+it up again," and he attacked the pile.
+
+Ten minutes later he was chasing Ritter around the room for a piece of
+cake, and a pail of water that Andy had just brought in was upset over
+the floor.
+
+"Yah!" shouted Tim. "Swim for your life." He swished his broom through
+the water and swished too hard, and the dirty water flew far and high and
+spattered the walls.
+
+"Now look what we've got to clean," cried Andy.
+
+"Gee!" said Tim. "I didn't know it was going to do that. What did you
+want to leave the pail there for?"
+
+"What did you go cat-acting for?" Don demanded.
+
+He was exasperated. He felt like telling Tim to go out and let them
+finish the job themselves. But--There was the rub. What would happen
+then? Suppose Tim got hot-headed and wouldn't go? Or suppose he went,
+glad to be relieved of his share of the job? Or suppose he walked out
+sullen and grumbling, and stayed away from the meeting or came late or
+came untidy--and the Wolves lost points?
+
+Don was bewildered. He wanted to do what was best--for Tim, for himself,
+for the patrol--but what was best? Was it best to let Tim run on in the
+hope that he'd be shamed into a better spirit by the other scouts? Phil
+Morris would have said, very quietly, "Hey, there, Tim!" and that would
+have been the end of it.
+
+Don sighed. "I wish I was as big as Phil," he muttered.
+
+For a time it seemed as though Tim had been sobered by the accident to
+the water pail. He worked with Andy trying to clean the walls. It seemed,
+though, that there were a thousand spatters.
+
+"Gee!" said Tim. "Mr. Wall surely likes to stick a fellow. This is no
+cinch."
+
+"It's your own fault," Andy grunted, trying to reach a high spot.
+
+"Aw! shut up," cried Tim; "you fellows are always preaching. You fellows
+never do anything. I'm tired and I'm going to rest."
+
+He brought out a camp stool and sat down. Don bit his lips and went on
+working. The other scouts cast covert glances at the stool and its
+occupant.
+
+By and by it began to grow dark. The floor had been swept and mopped, but
+the walls still had dirty sections and there were the two windows to do.
+
+"We're not going to get this clean in time," said Andy.
+
+Tim stirred from the chair and came over and helped. The light failed
+rapidly. The lamps were in the troop "treasure chest," and Don though a
+patrol leader, had not yet received a key to the locker.
+
+"No use wasting any more time here," he said at last. "Let's do the
+windows."
+
+"Maybe we have the walls all clean," said Andy. Ritter struck a match. By
+the feeble flame they looked intently, but could not be sure.
+
+They did the windows. Tim was silent and apparently not anxious to
+attract attention to himself. It was almost dark when the last window had
+been finished.
+
+"Could we try the walls again?" Bobbie asked.
+
+"Too late," Don answered. "They may be all right. We'll know tonight,
+anyway. Everybody on time tonight, and everybody clean."
+
+He walked off with Andy. The assistant patrol leader said after a moment:
+
+"I think Tim's sorry now."
+
+"What good does it do to be sorry now?" Don asked bitterly.
+
+As soon as his supper was over, he hurried back to headquarters. Nobody
+was there yet. Presently the patrol leader of the Foxes, a boy named
+Kearney, came along, whistling shrilly. He opened the treasure chest and
+brought out the lamps, cleaned the chimneys and lighted them.
+
+"Hello!" he said. "Wasn't it the turn of your patrol to clean house?"
+
+Don nodded miserably. One patch of wall, by a window, was a mess. The
+windows themselves, cleaned in semi-darkness, were streaked. And some of
+the floor, down by the door, had not been mopped at all.
+
+Scouts began to arrive. Bobbie brought a shoe brush and a can of
+blacking, and Ritter brought a hair brush and a comb. Andy brought
+needles and khaki-colored thread. These things were laid quietly in the
+patrol's locker. Nobody said anything about the walls.
+
+By and by Tim arrived. He looked around and his face became red. Don gave
+him a quick glance. He met it and his flush grew deeper, and all at once
+he seemed to force his shoulders back and his eyes became defiant.
+
+"He's stung, all right," thought Don, "but he doesn't want to show it."
+
+Mr. Wall called the patrol leaders forward to discuss the plans for a
+hike. Don scarcely heard the details. All he knew was that somebody said,
+"Wednesday, then," and the Scoutmaster's whistle shrilled, and the troop
+lined up by patrols.
+
+Slowly the inspection was made--first the scouts, then the room. Don
+forced himself to keep his eyes level, but he felt like hanging his head.
+
+"Every scout present," Mr. Wall announced, "and every scout clean. Each
+patrol is awarded sixteen points."
+
+Fleeting smiles through the ranks of the Foxes and the Eagles. Sober
+faces among the Wolves.
+
+"However," the Scoutmaster went on, "the Wolf patrol had the detail of
+cleaning the meeting place. I am sorry to say that the patrol has been
+derelict. I am, therefore, compelled to fine the Wolf patrol five
+points."
+
+Don's heart was like lead. He knew what the slate would show; and yet,
+when it was changed, he stared at it miserably:
+
+PATROL   POINTS
+
+Eagle    44-1/2
+Fox      46
+Wolf     41-1/2
+
+The meeting was over at last. He ordered his patrol to wait. The other
+scouts, looking at the Wolves queerly, went out into the night and
+scattered. Mr. Wall passed out.
+
+"Good night, scouts," he called.
+
+"Good night," they answered, and looked at Don.
+
+"We're going to clean this place," he said. "Get some water."
+
+There was a rush for pails. Tim hesitated. He knew he was the cause of
+the disaster that had overtaken the patrol, but he had the mistaken idea
+that it would seem babyish and weak to jump in and show contrition. He
+had always been looked upon as a little "hard." This, he thought, was
+soft--and he didn't want anybody to regard him as a softy.
+
+"Aw!" he said, "what's the use? We've lost the points, haven't we?"
+
+"Is that your idea of being a scout?" Don asked.
+
+Tim flushed again. For a few minutes he lounged around; then, looking ill
+at ease, he slouched out.
+
+"I didn't think he'd do that," Andy said thoughtfully.
+
+Don's lips had gone a little white. He turned toward the spattered wall
+and stopped all at once. For Tim was coming back through the doorway.
+
+"I'm as good a scout as you," Tim said passionately. "If you say I'm not,
+I'll bang you in the eye."
+
+Don said nothing. While Tim selected a pail and a floor cloth, Don rubbed
+away at the wall. Slowly a little smile spread across his face. He was
+quite content the way things had gone. What did five points amount to,
+if their loss would make Tim a better scout?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+DANGER MOUNTAIN
+
+
+Next day Don pitched his second game for Chester. His pulse was steady,
+his control was good, and the Springfield batters seemed unable to do
+much with his drop. When the score-keeper marked the last play and closed
+his book, Chester had won 5 runs to 3.
+
+"Didn't I tell you?" Ted Carter cried jubilantly. "Some pitching!"
+
+"Sure," said Tim. "I doped out what the batters couldn't hit, and he
+threw me what I wanted."
+
+"There's a lot of pitchers can't do that," the captain said lightly, and
+shot a quick look at the pitcher.
+
+Don pretended that he had not heard; but he could not keep the color from
+rising in his cheeks. All during the game Tim had seemed to rasp him a
+bit--not enough to spoil his work, but enough to keep him on edge.
+
+He had thought, after last night's meeting, that there would be a big
+change in Tim. Instead, it began to look as though Tim would continue to
+be the same wild, heedless, quarrelsome lad he had always been.
+
+"Today's tussle will give you confidence," said Ted in his ear. "You'll
+be able to give them all a fight now."
+
+Don flashed a smile, and then the smile was gone. So was the thrill of
+his triumph. It was hard, this thinking you had weathered a storm and
+then finding that you hadn't.
+
+At supper Barbara and his father asked him about the game. He told of his
+success, but with none of the flash and fire of a conqueror. Barbara
+caught his glance and smiled at him understandingly.
+
+"More trouble with Tim?" she asked.
+
+"N--no; not exactly trouble. You see--" And then he related what had
+happened last night, and the great hopes that had come, and how Tim had
+acted today.
+
+"Don," said Mr. Strong, "do you remember when you learned to pitch an
+outcurve?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"You used to pitch to Alex Davidson out there in the yard. One day you
+came running into the shop and shouted that you had it, and I went out to
+watch, and you couldn't throw the curve again."
+
+"But I got it again next day," Don said quickly.
+
+"And now you can pitch it any time you want to," said his father.
+
+Don frowned. This was too deep! He saw Barbara smiling and nodding as
+much as to say, "Think it out, Don." Suddenly he straightened.
+
+"You mean that because Tim played fair that once--"
+
+"Just the way you pitched your curve that once," said his father.
+
+Don sighed. It was funny how his troubles dropped away when he brought
+them home.
+
+Monday there was another patrol meeting. Tim attended, but an imp of
+perverseness seemed to rule him. It was the first time he had seen the
+patrol as a group since Friday night. At first he looked hot and
+uncomfortable. After a while he began to scrape his feet and drum on the
+table. He seemed anxious to have it understood that, regardless of what
+had happened, no one need think that he was going to be bossed.
+
+"Oh, keep your feet still!" Alex Davidson said at last.
+
+Tim rolled a page of his pad into a ball and shot it across the table.
+The missile struck Ritter on the nose. Tim giggled, and made another
+ball, and shot this one at Andy Ford.
+
+"Cut it out!" Andy said good-naturedly. "You'll get papers all over the
+floor."
+
+Tim grinned, and rolled another cartridge. Don caught his bold, sidelong
+glance--a glance that seemed to say, "Well, what are you going to do
+about it?"
+
+Others around the table caught that look, too. Don's face grew hot. In an
+effort to keep the scouts from paying attention to Tim, he talked rapidly
+about the first aid contest, now two weeks off. The Eagles and the Foxes,
+he said, were working hard, and the Wolves would have to give more time
+to practice.
+
+"We're behind," Don finished, "and we must catch up."
+
+Somehow, what he said sounded strained, and forced, and lame. Every scout
+felt it--even Tim. Andy Ford's eyes snapped. He didn't look good-humored
+now.
+
+"We're not getting any better on our stretcher work," he said bluntly.
+"We need practice there."
+
+Tim stopped rolling his pad page. "That's a crack at me, isn't it?" he
+demanded.
+
+"I'm in the stretcher work, too," said Andy.
+
+"Aw, you're too clever," Tim flared. "I know what you mean." He shot the
+ball, and it whizzed past the assistant patrol leader's ear.
+
+The meeting was spoiled. Tim glanced defiantly around the table. Alex
+Davidson tried to get the talk going again, but discussion seemed to lag.
+And then, just when Don, in his disgust, was ready to adjourn, the door
+opened and Barbara came into the room.
+
+She had glasses and cake, and a pitcher of lemonade. Soon a filled glass
+was in front of each scout.
+
+"How is that for a good turn?" she smiled. "Why so many sober faces?
+What's the matter with you, Tim?"
+
+Tim flushed, and looked down at the floor.
+
+"He won't tell me," Barbara cried gayly. "That's what I get for being a
+girl--can't learn any boy scout secrets. Have a piece of cake, Tim."
+
+"Thank you," said Tim bashfully.
+
+The plate was passed around the table. Tim's eyes were still downcast. At
+the door Barbara paused.
+
+"Don't leave those papers on the floor, boys," she said. "Next time I
+come in I want to see you all smiling."
+
+Tim ate his cake and drank his lemonade. The talk started again, a little
+brisker now, and a little more hopeful. Plans were made for two practice
+periods during the week.
+
+"Will that be all right for you, Tim?" Don asked.
+
+"Don't worry about me," the red-haired boy answered shortly. "I'll be
+there." He arose, went around to the other side of the table and stooped
+to pick a paper ball from the floor.
+
+A soft smile touched Andy's mouth.
+
+"Aw! what are you laughing at?" Tim cried.
+
+"I'm not laughing, Tim," Andy protested. "Honest."
+
+But, for all that, Tim was furious when he left the meeting. The others
+stood on the porch and chatted a moment; he strode out the gate and down
+the dark road.
+
+"Gee!" he said in disgust. "They'll think I'm a little Janie."
+
+Letting a girl make him do things! It stung his pride. Friday night he
+had said no, and had changed his mind and had scrubbed with the others.
+Tonight he had grinned when told about papers on the floor--and had ended
+by picking them up.
+
+Everything had gone wrong, Tim told himself, since Don had become patrol
+leader. He began to blame Don for all his troubles. Don had upbraided him
+when the patrol had lost points. It was at Don's house that Barbara had
+made him pick up papers. His cheeks burned.
+
+"I'll show them!" he vowed wrathfully. He would redeem himself in the
+only way he knew. He would "start something."
+
+He started it by picking at Don all during next day's practice.
+
+"What's the matter with you?" Ted Carter demanded sharply. "Are you
+sick?"
+
+"Don's pitching like a freak," Tim answered.
+
+"It's Saturday's pitching that counts," said Ted. "You fellows have had
+enough warm-up. Go out in the field, Don, and catch fungoes."
+
+Don was glad to get away. When the work was over Ted ran to the outfield
+and took him by the arm and led him toward the road.
+
+"Have you and Tim been scrapping?" the captain asked.
+
+Don shook his head.
+
+"You fellows are in the same scout troop. Do you pull?"
+
+"N--no."
+
+"What's the matter; did Tim want to be patrol leader?"
+
+Don nodded.
+
+Ted slapped his glove against his thigh and whistled thoughtfully. At the
+corner he paused. Don halted, too.
+
+"Look here," Ted said suddenly. "You know that Tim is a harum-scarum,
+don't you?"
+
+"Everybody knows that," said Don.
+
+Ted broke into a relieved laugh. "Well, if you know it, what's the use of
+paying any attention to him? Just let him beef along until he gets tired.
+He can't hurt you."
+
+Don tried to wrest some comfort from the captain's words--and failed.
+True, Tim couldn't hurt him, but he could make things mighty unpleasant,
+and that was almost as bad.
+
+At home he found a post-card from Mr. Wall:
+
+The troop will assemble tomorrow morning at 9 o'clock. Light marching
+order.
+
+Don forgot all about Tim. Light marching order meant that this would not
+be an overnight hike, and a blanket was unnecessary. Haversack, cooking
+kit and rations for one meal would constitute the load.
+
+Ordinarily, hikes were arranged in advance and discussed at troop
+meetings. But sometimes Mr. Wall did the unexpected. He had said once
+that it added spice to scouting, and the scouts had agreed. It gave them
+practice, too, in assembling at a few hours' notice. But the scouts did
+not think of that.
+
+Don hustled upstairs and overhauled his haversack. His eating things were
+in their places. Frying-pan and two sauce-pans intact, can-opener,
+matches, salt--
+
+"Got to get some salt," he said, and ran downstairs to the kitchen.
+Barbara called that supper was ready. He scooted upstairs, washed, and
+came down to the dining-room.
+
+"Hiking tomorrow?" Mr. Strong asked.
+
+"Don will be too excited to eat," Barbara said with a laugh as Don nodded
+in reply to the question.
+
+But she was mistaken. Don ate a supper of healthy size. Afterward he went
+out to the porch and squinted up at the sky. Stars dotted the black
+heavens like so many small windows. Now, if it didn't rain--
+
+It didn't; not during the night, anyway. Don awoke with the morning sun
+in his face. In a moment he was out of bed and into the bathroom. Twenty
+minutes later he was downstairs.
+
+His breakfast was merely a bite and a promise. There were too many things
+to do and too much to think about! What should he take along to cook at
+noon?
+
+"There's some lamb chops in the ice-box," said Barbara.
+
+Two of the chops went into the haversack. Then potatoes, and six slices
+of bread, and some coffee wrapped in a paper, and a small can of
+evaporated milk. He strapped the haversack, and suddenly remembered that
+he had forgotten salt, after all, and unstrapped it again. Barbara stuck
+in two apples, and by the time the load was slung from his shoulder,
+whistles and calls sounded from the gate.
+
+Andy Ford, Ritter and Bobbie Brown were waiting impatiently. Bobbie was
+sure that they would be late, and kept saying that everybody knew that
+Mr. Wall started promptly on the minute. Don winked at the others and
+led the way toward troop headquarters.
+
+They were not late. Mr. Wall's watch, hanging from a screw hook in the
+door, told them that they still had ten minutes. Don opened the patrol
+locker.
+
+"Who'll carry the ax?" he asked.
+
+"I will," said a voice.
+
+He turned. Tim Lally was waiting with outstretched hand.
+
+"Oh!" said Don uncertainly. Tim took the tool and strapped its leather
+sheath to his belt. He seemed to have forgotten all about his grouch.
+
+Everything was noise and bustle and confusion. The Eagles and the Foxes
+were grouped in front of their patrol lockers. There were cries of, "Hey,
+Jimmy! what did you bring to cook? What did you bring, Charlie?"
+
+Suddenly the silver notes of a bugle arose above the clamor. Assembly!
+Lockers were banged shut. Scouts scurried outdoors and fell into their
+places.
+
+"Column twos," came Mr. Wall's voice. "Forward! March!"
+
+Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp, sounded eager feet. Down to Main Street and
+then to the left. Alex Davidson waved to them from the door of the
+grocery store.
+
+"I wish Alex were with us," Don said wistfully.
+
+"I guess Alex wishes he was, too," Andy answered. "But nobody'll ever
+catch him wearing a long face just because he must work. He isn't that
+kind."
+
+The troop approached the turnpike.
+
+"Column left!" came the order.
+
+They knew where they were going up--up toward Gipsy Grove. The place had
+gotten its name from the fact that whenever a gipsy tribe came to the
+neighborhood it pitched its tents there. It was an ideal camping ground,
+with plenty of firewood, a clean, running stream, and just enough open
+timber to let the sunlight through.
+
+Presently they were away from the village and out in open country. The
+discipline of the march was dropped. In a straggling, merry line they
+moved along.
+
+Twice the Scoutmaster called rest halts, and each time there was a short
+talk on roadside flowers, and trees, and weeds. The morning wore away. By
+and by the sun was almost directly overhead, and Gipsy Grove was at last
+in sight.
+
+There was a race to see which patrol could get all its fires going first.
+Each scout was to cook for himself.
+
+"I'll chop," cried Tim. "Somebody get my fire going." His strong,
+muscular arms made short work of the dry dead wood that littered the
+ground under the trees.
+
+"We win," shouted the Foxes. But their last fire went out as it was
+lighted, and a flustered scout prepared to try again amid cries of, "Not
+more than two matches." This time his wood took the flame. But now the
+Eagles and the Wolves also had their fires going. Mr. Wall declared the
+race a triple tie.
+
+Haversacks were unpacked. Frying-pans and pots were dragged forth.
+Potatoes were laid among hot coals.
+
+Mr. Wall had chopped some wood and had his own fire going. Now he walked
+among the boys.
+
+"You're getting your fire too big," he warned Bobbie. "You don't need
+much of a blaze to cook."
+
+"How's mine?" said Tim.
+
+"Fine!" said the Scoutmaster. "Keep it that way."
+
+"Sure," said Tim. "I'll show some of these other fellows how to do
+theirs."
+
+Andy Ford gave a low groan. "Good night; now we're in for it."
+
+Tim wasted no time. He approached Ritter. That scout eyed him
+suspiciously.
+
+"You let my fire alone," he warned.
+
+"Go chase yourself. Mr. Wall told me to show you fellows--"
+
+"Tim!" Don chided.
+
+Tim flashed the patrol leader an angry glance. "I said I was going to
+show the fellows, didn't I? He didn't tell me not to. Anyway, Ritter's
+fire sprawls out too much. Wait until I get a stick. Now, all you have
+to do is to pull out these pieces, and--"
+
+"You're raking out my potatoes," cried Ritter.
+
+"It won't kill you to put them back," said Tim. He tossed the stick away
+and turned toward Bobbie.
+
+"Your fire's all right now, Bobbie," Don said distinctly.
+
+Tim turned up his nose and faced in Wally Woods's direction. But Wally's
+fire, small and compact, gave him no excuse to tinker. He advanced to
+where Andy Ford was preparing to fry his meat.
+
+"Gee!" he said. "That sure is one sick-looking fire."
+
+"Suits me," said Andy. He laid the meat in the pan.
+
+Tim began to prod the fire with his foot. The flame, which had been low
+and even, began to flare and smoke. Andy dropped his frying-pan and
+sprang forward.
+
+"Get away from there," he cried. His rush caught Tim and pushed him back.
+Then the red-haired boy braced, and there was a scuffle. Andy's fire was
+scattered.
+
+"What's the meaning of this?" came Mr. Wall's voice.
+
+Instantly the boys separated. Andy hung his head as though ashamed. Tim
+carried an injured air.
+
+"Andy pitched into me," he complained.
+
+"He was interfering with my fire," Andy answered.
+
+"I wasn't. I was only showing him."
+
+"Andy is a first-class scout," said Mr. Wall quietly. "If he doesn't know
+how to build a fire and cook a meal I have blundered as Scoutmaster in
+awarding him his first-class badge."
+
+Tim looked away. This was putting the whole thing in a new light. He dug
+the toe of one shoe into the ground, and kept twisting and turning it
+nervously.
+
+Mr. Wall's voice softened. "You go off the handle too quickly, Tim.
+You've ruined Andy's fire. What do you think you should do--the square
+thing?"
+
+"I'll finish my cooking over Don's fire," Andy said quickly.
+
+Mr. Wall never made the mistake of continuing a lecture to the point
+where it lost its force. He knew when to stop. This flurry was over.
+
+"All right, scouts," he said, and went back to his own cooking. Tim
+shuffled off and squatted down beside his own blaze.
+
+Andy rounded up his potatoes. They were cold and discouraged looking.
+
+"I've enough potatoes for us both," said Don. "What kind of meat have
+you?"
+
+"Sausage."
+
+"Gosh! That ought to be fine. Let's go whack--half my lamb chops for half
+your sausage."
+
+Soon eager nostrils were sniffing the glorious odor of sizzling meat
+touched with the tang of wood smoke. Don and Andy finished their cooking
+in silence. They began to eat. All over the camp scouts drew together and
+pooled their rations. Tim Lally sat by his fire, alone.
+
+"He's beginning to look good and sore," Andy said in a low voice.
+
+Don glanced toward the red-haired scout. Tim caught his eye and made a
+derisive face, and then turned his back and began to whistle as though he
+was having a gloriously good time.
+
+But Don was not fooled. Tim was lonesome. He felt that he was frozen out.
+But what could Tim expect if he was going to antagonize everybody?
+
+By and by cooking utensils were cleaned and put away. The fires were
+smothered. Haversacks were slung across strong young shoulders. The troop
+marched away.
+
+Up a winding road the scouts went, sometimes singing, sometimes shouting
+boisterously, sometimes silent. Suddenly they came out in a clearing.
+
+To the right was Danger Mountain; to the left was Lonesome Woods.
+
+The scouts spoke in subdued voices. Danger Mountain! They all knew how it
+had come by its name. A man had tried to climb one of its high, rocky
+walls and had fallen to his death.
+
+And Lonesome Woods. There was another name to make scouts edge closer to
+one another. Three miles wide it was, and about seven miles long, and
+dark and dense with thick growth. The gipsy caravans kept away from it.
+Passing tramps gave it a wide berth. From time to time boys dipped into
+its edges, but soon came out. Lonesome Woods, indeed!
+
+"We'll have to explore that some day," said Mr. Wall.
+
+"The mountain?" Tim asked eagerly.
+
+"The woods," the Scoutmaster answered.
+
+A shout broke from the troop. With Mr. Wall along there would be nothing
+to fear. When would they go? Next week?
+
+"We'll take it up at Friday night's meeting," the Scoutmaster promised.
+
+"Why can't we do the mountain?" Tim demanded.
+
+"Because Danger Mountain is a bad spot. Broken bones are a heavy price to
+pay for foolish daring."
+
+Tim stared off at the mountain. "It doesn't seem so hard," he said, and
+his eyes lighted with eagerness. Mr. Wall's face became grave.
+
+The hike home was all downhill. The scouts swung along gayly. The
+prospect of penetrating Lonesome Woods shortened the miles. What would
+they find? What strange adventures would befall them?
+
+"Adventure? Piffle!" said Tim. "Give me Danger Mountain."
+
+"Sssh!" warned Ritter. "Mr. Wall will hear you."
+
+"Gee! Can't I even say what I'd like?" Off in the distance a dog barked.
+Tim barked in reply. The dog answered. It became a duel of sound.
+
+Tim was in his glory. Weird, nerve-racking screeches came from his
+throat. Presently the uproar became unbearable.
+
+Mr. Wall's whistle shrilled. The noise stopped.
+
+"What's the matter back there?" Mr. Wall demanded. "Can't the patrol
+leader keep order?"
+
+"Cut it out, Tim," said Don.
+
+"Go on!" Tim answered sullenly. "Say it louder so Mr. Wall will hear
+you." He slouched through what was left of the hike and did not speak a
+word to anyone.
+
+"He surely can make things pleasant," said Andy. "Some day he'll go too
+far and Mr. Wall will bundle him out of the troop, and it will be good
+riddance."
+
+Don said nothing. He wanted to be relieved of the burden of Tim's
+trouble-making, but not by expulsion. That, he thought, was no way for a
+fellow to end as a scout. If Tim would only be a little bit more like the
+other fellows in the patrol!
+
+But the chances of Tim doing that seemed remote. He had his good
+moments--times when it seemed that he had struck the right road and was
+on his way to better things. Always, though, something happened to turn
+him aside.
+
+Next day there was baseball practice. Don came to the field eager for a
+warm-up. He nodded hopefully to Tim, and took his place, and noticed that
+Ted Carter was loitering near by.
+
+"Come on," cried Tim. "Let's see if you can do a little better pitching
+today."
+
+Don bit his lips. Evidently, Tim was in one of his sour, irritating
+moods. He served the ball and resolved to pay no attention to the
+catcher. By and by he threw his first curve.
+
+"They'd kill that," said Tim.
+
+Don pitched again.
+
+"Oh, come on! _Come on!_"
+
+Ted Carter walked out between the boys, "That will be all from you, Tim.
+When you come out on this field, you come out to play ball. If you can't
+play ball, you quit."
+
+Slowly Tim pulled off his mitt. He was the only regular catcher. Ted was
+trying to bluff him. And his temper was flaring because he had been
+rebuked in front of Don.
+
+"Think you can get anybody to play any better for you than I play?" he
+asked flippantly.
+
+"You bet I can," said Ted. "I can use a fellow who'll be in the game
+every minute."
+
+"Get him," Tim said indifferently.
+
+"I will," said Ted. "You're through. Get off the field."
+
+Tim was jarred. He hadn't expected anything like this. He looked at Ted.
+There could be no escaping what he saw--the captain meant it.
+
+"Where--where are you going to get another catcher?" he asked weakly.
+
+"Is it worrying you?" Ted asked. "I'll go behind the bat myself. I guess
+I can get somebody to play first base. Now get off the field; you're in
+the way."
+
+Tim walked over to the maple tree and stood there in its shade. He was
+raging. Chased from the field! Routed out as though he didn't amount to a
+rap, and he the best catcher in the village!
+
+"I'll play with some of the other teams," he vowed. "I'll offer to catch
+for them. I'll come here and make these fellows feel sick. I'll--"
+
+But he knew that he'd do nothing of the sort. Breaking into teams out of
+your own town was almost impossible. He was out of it, on the shelf,
+discarded.
+
+"I ought to go out there," he muttered fiercely, "and whack Don one in
+the eye." He saw the pitcher begin to throw to Ted. The sight was too
+much for him. He swung around and plunged down the road, the big mitt
+under his arm, and did not once look back.
+
+Had he stayed, he would have seen that Ted Carter called the pitching to
+a halt in a very few minutes. The captain was no fool. The first six
+balls Don threw him proved to him that the pitcher was upset.
+
+"Don't let this bother you," he said. "Tim had it coming to him. It
+wasn't your fault. Go home and forget it, and tomorrow you and I'll work
+out and get acquainted."
+
+Don went home, but he did not forget. He was sure that this latest twist
+would only pile up trouble for him as patrol leader.
+
+Next morning the news was all over the village. Don heard it when he went
+on an errand for his father. Afterward he worked on his bird-houses and
+tried to brush aside the worried thoughts that plagued him. Andy Ford
+came to the yard, and was followed by Bobbie Brown and Wally Woods. The
+three boys looked at Don, and looked at each other, and looked away.
+
+"Was Tim chased?" Andy asked at last.
+
+Don laid down his plane. "Fellows," he said seriously, "if you hear any
+talk about Tim just--just keep your mouths shut. Talk always makes things
+worse and--and we're after the Scoutmaster's Cup."
+
+The three boys nodded that they understood. There wasn't much to say
+after that. One by one they went their way and left Don alone.
+
+Late in the afternoon he went to the field. He did not see Tim, and at
+once a weight seemed taken from his heart. He pitched to Ted. His control
+was better now, and presently he found himself enjoying the work. His
+curves broke well, and Ted kept calling, "That' a boy, Don; that' a boy!"
+and he felt a thrilling desire to give Ted the best he had. Tim never
+made him feel like that.
+
+Next night came the troop meeting. He wondered if Tim would carry his bad
+temper so far as to come carelessly dressed. Evidently others shared his
+anxiety, for as soon as he reached headquarters Andy asked him anxiously
+if Tim would be "all right."
+
+Tim came to the meeting as clean as any scout in the troop. The patrol
+leader of the Foxes had left the key of his locker at home, and Fox
+patrol scouts who had expected to brush their shoes before the meeting
+was called found themselves face to face with a difficulty.
+
+The "fall in" signal came all too soon for the flustered Foxes. Quietly
+Mr. Wall walked down the line of stiff-backed, silent boys.
+
+"A perfect score for the Wolves," he said. "Four points off the Foxes for
+untidiness. Two points from the Eagles for a scout absent."
+
+Up went the new standing:
+
+PATROL   POINTS
+
+Eagle    58-1/2
+Fox      58
+Wolf     57-1/2
+
+"Gosh!" breathed Andy. "We're close now, aren't we?"
+
+"It's all in sticking together," said Don. In spite of himself his voice
+trembled. He looked at Tim. The trouble-making scout was staring at the
+board with puckered eyes. Don would have given much to know of
+what he was thinking.
+
+There was a lot of work that night--knot-tying, drowning grips and how to
+break them, identifying leaves from trees and bushes, and map reading.
+Finally that part of the meeting was over. A voice cried, "How about
+Lonesome Woods?" There were cheers and shouts.
+
+There wasn't much debate about the trip. There was, however, a hot
+wrangle about the day. Finally it went to a vote, and Thursday was
+selected.
+
+"Gee!" said Tim. "I bet that will be a great hike."
+
+The meeting adjourned. A scout of the Eagle patrol caught Don's arm.
+
+"What team do you pitch against tomorrow?" he asked.
+
+"Little Falls," said Don.
+
+Tim's face lost its animation and grew dark. He walked toward the door.
+And Don, watching him, wondered why it was that fellows were always asked
+questions at the wrong time.
+
+By this time Don knew that Tim, whenever anything peeved him, could be
+counted on to display a reckless streak. For a moment this worried him;
+then he brushed the thought aside. He was always fretting about Tim,
+and nothing serious was ever happening.
+
+He had planned to mow the lawn and spade the flower beds next morning. It
+was well that he went early to his task, for at ten o'clock Ted Carter
+came for him.
+
+"You had better come to the field," the captain said. "No pitching--just
+a little throwing to bases. I've dug up a fellow named Marty Smith to
+cover first. I want you to get used to each other."
+
+Don evened off the flower beds, carried the raked-up grass around to the
+chickens, and put the gardening tools away.
+
+"Dinner at twelve sharp," Barbara called after him.
+
+At first he felt odd, throwing to the bag and not finding Ted there. He
+made some crazy tosses. But Marty's long reach always saved him, and
+Marty's cheery voice kept calling, "That's the stuff; that's what will
+get them."
+
+Another first-baseman, Don thought, would be scolding about the throws.
+His heart warmed to the newcomer. He began to feel at home. His throws
+steadied and became sure.
+
+"That's enough," Ted called. "Nobody'll get much of a lead on you
+fellows. Now for some fielding."
+
+Don walked over to the shade of the maple tree. Intent on watching the
+field, he did not notice the small figure that took a place at his side.
+
+"Hello, Don," said a voice.
+
+"Oh! Hello, Bobbie! What's the matter, you look worried?"
+
+"I'm all right," Bobbie said hastily.
+
+Don turned his eyes to the field. Even though his interest was completely
+absorbed, he thought, subconsciously, that the boy at his elbow was very
+restless.
+
+By and by the dwindling tree shadows warned him that it was time he
+started for home. He walked out to the road. Bobbie walked with him.
+
+"Going my way?" he asked.
+
+"Y-yes," said Bobbie. They passed one corner, then another.
+
+"I--I want to ask you something," Bobbie said haltingly. "If a scout
+knows that some other scout is going to do something--something
+dangerous, maybe--is it blabbing if he tells?"
+
+Don stopped short. "Who's doing something dangerous?"
+
+"Is it carrying tales?" Bobbie insisted.
+
+Don thought a moment. "I don't think so, Bobbie."
+
+"But when a fellow tells about other things--"
+
+"Could you stop this scout from doing something dangerous if you told?"
+Don asked.
+
+"I--I think so."
+
+"Does he know it's dangerous?"
+
+Bobbie nodded slowly.
+
+"Then you ought to tell," said Don.
+
+Bobbie looked at the ground. "Tim Lally is getting up a party to go to
+Danger Mountain today," he said.
+
+A shiver ran through Don's nerves. "Where's Tim now?" he asked.
+
+"Home, getting ready."
+
+Don turned back toward the ball field. Past the maple tree he strode. A
+factory whistle sounded the noon hour. He broke into a run.
+
+Two blocks farther on he stopped short. Tim was coming toward him
+carrying an oil can.
+
+"Are you going to Danger Mountain?" Don demanded.
+
+Tim put down the can and cocked his cap over one eye. "Sure. Why?"
+
+"You can't. Mr. Wall said it's a bad spot."
+
+"He didn't say we couldn't go."
+
+"That's what he meant."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"Everybody knows. That's why he won't take us there. He said you could
+get broken bones."
+
+"I'm not afraid." Tim picked up the can and swung it carelessly. "I guess
+Mr. Wall was trying to scare little fellows like Bobbie. He didn't mean a
+big fellow like me."
+
+Don knew that arguing with Tim would be useless. And yet, as the
+trouble-maker stepped around him, he made a last plea.
+
+"You'll get the patrol in trouble, Tim, and we're only one point behind
+the Eagles."
+
+"I knew you weren't worrying about _me_," said Tim.
+
+Don followed slowly. He had pleaded for the troop thinking that that
+might win where all else had failed. And, as usual, Tim had
+misunderstood.
+
+At the corner he paused. New thoughts were crowding through his brain.
+Tim's recklessness was jeopardizing not only himself--it was threatening
+the entire troop.
+
+Suppose he fell and broke an arm, or a leg, or--or worse. People would
+say, "There; that's what comes from letting boys become scouts and go
+hiking." Boys would be taken from the troop. The troop might even break
+up. All Mr. Wall's plans for the future would be ruined.
+
+"It isn't fair," Don told himself bitterly. "If there was somebody who
+could make him stay home--"
+
+His eyes puckered and his mouth grew tight. He had told Bobbie that this
+wasn't carrying tales. It wasn't. Suddenly he turned to his left and went
+up a side street.
+
+A few minute's later he rang the doorbell of a plain, pleasant-looking
+house. The screen door opened.
+
+"Good afternoon, Donald," said a woman's voice. "Are you looking for Mr.
+Wall?"
+
+"Yes, Mrs. Wall." Don's cap was in his hand. "Is he home? Could I see him
+right away?"
+
+Mrs. Wall shook her head. "He went to the city this morning. I do not
+expect him until evening. Is there anything I can do for you?"
+
+"N-no," said Don. He went down the stoop, stumbling on the last step, and
+walked slowly toward home.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+A PLEA ON THE ROAD
+
+
+Dinner was almost over when Don reached home. Barbara brought his food
+from the kitchen where she had kept it warm.
+
+"Didn't you hear me say twelve sharp?" she scolded.
+
+Don told of Bobbie's message, of his interview with Tim, and of his
+fruitless trip to Mr. Wall's house. Barbara, engrossed in the tale,
+dropped into her own seat and listened intently. Mr. Strong shook his
+head soberly.
+
+"Going to Danger Mountain will be a foolhardy trick," he said.
+
+"I wish Mr. Wall were home," said Don. He had lost appetite for his
+dinner and pushed his plate away. "I did right to go to him, didn't I,
+dad?"
+
+"You'd have been foolish not to go," said his father.
+
+Don stared hard at the tablecloth. He had entered joyously on his duties
+as patrol leader, but one disagreement after another with Tim had
+roughened his road. And now--now that he seemed powerless to stay this
+latest folly--he suddenly felt very, very tired.
+
+"Why will Tim be so headstrong?" cried Barbara.
+
+"It's a way some boys have," Mr. Strong explained. "Tell them not to do a
+thing, and immediately that is the one thing they want to do. As for
+Tim--Well, I fancy he's disgruntled because Ted Carter dropped him. He
+doesn't want to sit around and watch baseball today. He probably figured
+that the best way was to go off and pretend he didn't care. If he could
+add spice to the going off, it would make it seem all the more as though
+he was really having a good time."
+
+"And won't he have a good time?" Barbara asked.
+
+"No boy really enjoys himself, when he knows he's doing wrong," Mr.
+Strong answered.
+
+Don roused himself from his dull, discouraged mood. "Is there anything I
+could try, dad, to stop him? Just one more trial?"
+
+"You might take him by the back of the neck and tell him you're boss."
+
+"I would," Don said slowly, "if I were able."
+
+He went upstairs and got into uniform--all except his spiked shoes. He
+would put those on on the porch where there was no carpet to rip and
+tear. He went over to the window and looked down at the yard. Nothing was
+there but grass, and hedge, and a small bed of flowers. And yet he saw a
+steep side of Danger Mountain, and khaki-clad boys climbing that steep
+side and missing their steps.
+
+"Twenty minutes of two, Don," Barbara called.
+
+He carried the spiked shoes down to the porch. He was angry now. Why
+should he worry when he had done the best he could? He _wouldn't_ worry.
+He'd pitch his game and have a good time. If Tim wanted to get hurt, that
+was his funeral.
+
+In this mood he walked to the field. The practice had already started. He
+gave the Little Falls players a casual glance. Visiting teams no longer
+worried him--not before the umpire's cry of "Play ball!" anyway. He had
+had his baptism of fire. He was a veteran.
+
+"I was just going to send somebody to look you up," said Ted. "Everything
+all right? Good! Shoot away."
+
+Thoughts of Tim came, but Don thrust them aside and shook his head
+stubbornly. What had happened was no fault of his. He had done his best.
+Now he was going to enjoy himself.
+
+"Great stuff," said Ted when the warm-up was over. "Sting them in like
+that during the game and there'll be nothing to it."
+
+Don laughed and walked toward the bench. His eyes scanned the spectators.
+It was just possible that Tim had changed his mind--
+
+"I don't care whether he did or not," the pitcher muttered hotly. He drew
+on a sweater and took a seat on the bench, and stared out toward center
+field.
+
+By and by it was time to start the game. Ted cried, "Come on, now;
+everybody get into this." Don dropped his sweater on the bench and walked
+out toward the mound.
+
+The Little Falls coachers began a sharp rattle of talk. Don glared at
+them coldly. Up went his arm--and down.
+
+"Strike one!"
+
+Don pitched again. The batter hit a twisting, difficult fly, but Marty
+Smith ran back and caught it deftly.
+
+"Yah!" cried Ted. "That's getting them."
+
+It was clever fielding. Don seemed to catch the contagion of its worth.
+Why, with support like that a pitcher ought to do wonders. He pitched
+again.
+
+"Strike!" ruled the umpire.
+
+"Wow!" Ted said softly. "He surely has stuff on the ball today."
+
+Two more pitches, and the batter was out on strikes. The next player
+fouled to Ted. Little Falls' first turn at bat had been a sorry failure.
+
+Cheers came from the spectators as Don walked to the bench. Somebody
+yelled, "Take off your hat, kid." He flushed, and doffed his cap, and sat
+down with crimson face.
+
+"Come on," cried Ted. "Give Don a run and this game will be sewed up."
+
+But it wasn't until the third inning that Chester tallied. Then she
+scored three runs in a rush. Ted led off with a three-bagger. After
+that came a single, an out, a base on balls, another out, and a long
+two-bagger. Marty Smith, with the crowd imploring him to keep up the good
+work, struck out on three pitched balls, and not one of them was worth
+offering at.
+
+"Too bad," said Ted. "If that fellow could only hit he'd be a star."
+
+Meanwhile, Little Falls had not yet scored. Nor did she tally in the
+fourth. Don, today, was master of the situation.
+
+He came to the bench. Up to this point, the touch and go of battle had
+held him at a tension. Now, with the game comparatively safe, he relaxed.
+He paid attention to things he had been too busy to notice before--the
+afternoon shadows, for instance.
+
+The shadows told his practiced scout eyes that it was about four o'clock.
+Unconsciously he began to figure. If Tim had started at one o'clock, he
+should have reached Danger Mountain an hour ago--
+
+"Here!" Don told himself abruptly. "I must stop thinking of this."
+
+Chester scored two more runs. He went out, jauntily, to pitch the fifth
+inning. Before he had hurled three balls he knew that something was
+wrong. He had lost the razor edge of pitching perfection.
+
+He staggered through the fifth inning without being scored on, but it was
+ticklish work. Little Falls hit him hard. With the bases full and two
+out, Marty Smith sprang sideways, made a blind stab, scooped the ball and
+touched the bag for the third out.
+
+Cries of chagrin came from the Little Falls bench. "Oh, you lucky dubs,"
+called one of the coachers. "That was horseshoes."
+
+Don smiled mechanically. It was his turn to go to bat; and after he was
+thrown out he came to the bench and fought stubbornly to keep his
+thoughts on the game and away from Tim.
+
+Grimly he stuck to his task. When it came time to start the seventh
+inning, he was almost master of himself. He found his drop ball working
+again.
+
+"Yah!" cried Ted. "Here's where we get in the game again."
+
+Little Falls, following that turbulent sixth inning, expected to go right
+on with her hitting. Instead, her batters found themselves once more
+helpless. Three players stepped to the plate and were thrown out in
+order.
+
+Don's spirits had risen. He walked toward the bench with a springy
+stride. The spectators in back of third base began to cheer. He glanced
+at them with a smile--and then his face sobered.
+
+Bobbie Brown was pushing his bicycle hurriedly along in the rear of the
+watchers. His attitude said plainly that he had come with a message.
+
+Don walked past the bench and waited. Bobbie came directly to him.
+
+"Tim just started," he said. "He had to do chores for his mother and
+couldn't get away earlier."
+
+"It will be almost dark when he gets there," Don cried.
+
+"Tim went just the same," Bobbie answered. "He told the fellows they
+could hurry and get there before sunset, and then start back after taking
+a little look around."
+
+Don could understand harum-scarum Tim refusing to give up a plan. But as
+for his companions--
+
+"What fellows are with him?" he asked. "Not scouts?"
+
+Bobbie nodded,
+
+"Any from our patrol?"
+
+"Ritter."
+
+Don caught his breath.
+
+"There's a scout from the Foxes and one from the Eagles, too," said
+Bobbie.
+
+But Don could find no consolation in the fact that other than Wolf patrol
+scouts were derelict.
+
+"I think they wanted to quit," Bobbie went on, "but Tim jawed them--you
+know--and they went along."
+
+Don could find no comfort in that, either. The inning was over. It was
+Little Falls' turn to go to bat. He took a few steps toward the diamond,
+and paused.
+
+"Come on, Don," called Ted.
+
+He turned back. "Wait here with your bike," he said quickly. "Have you a
+wrench? Raise the seat."
+
+There was no use pretending that he did not care. And his duty, he
+thought, was clear. He could ride after Tim and overtake him before he
+had gone very far. What sort of patrol leader would he be to let two of
+his scouts break faith with the Scoutmaster and not fight to the very
+last to bring them back? For it was breaking faith. Mr. Wall had not
+dreamed that they would do anything like this.
+
+He was on fire now for the game to end. In his eagerness he began to
+pitch wildly. The first batter got a base on balls.
+
+Ted walked down to him. "Steady, there; you're pitching too fast."
+
+Don saw that if he gave bases on balls he would prolong the struggle.
+Though it was torture for him to go slow, he fought his desire to hurry.
+But it was impossible to lose himself in the game. The edges of his skill
+were blunted. Little Falls began to hit freely again.
+
+Two runs came over the plate before the third player was out. The score
+was now 5 to 2.
+
+"Arm tired?" asked Ted.
+
+Don shook his head. Why wouldn't the batters hurry? When the third
+Chester boy was thrown out he sprang to his feet and strode to the mound.
+
+Desperately he worked, trying to retire Little Falls' batters in order.
+But Little Falls, in that last inning, had tasted blood. Now she would
+not be denied. Three runs were scored. The game was a tie.
+
+Ted came to the bench with puckered eyes. Here was something he couldn't
+understand. It was a common thing to see pitchers gradually weaken, but
+Don had lost his effectiveness all in a moment. He dropped down on the
+bench and motioned for Don to sit beside him.
+
+"What's wrong?" he demanded.
+
+"Nothing," said Don. What was the use of worrying Ted, he thought.
+
+He had not deceived the captain in the least. Ted leaned back and sighed.
+He knew that here was a ball game that was lost.
+
+The ninth inning was a slaughter. Little Falls scored four times. Each
+hit, each run, made the game last that much longer. Don labored grimly to
+reach the end.
+
+Ted asked him no questions when he came in from the mound. In fact, the
+captain only half-heartedly urged his players to make a rally. The
+leaderless, dispirited team fell easy victims to the rival pitcher's
+curves.
+
+The moment the last player was out, Don hurried to where Bobbie waited
+with the wheel. He threw one leg over the frame. His foot found the
+toe-clip.
+
+"Got your scout whistle?" he asked.
+
+Bobbie handed it over. Don thrust it in his pocket and was off.
+
+Shading his eyes, Bobbie watched wheel and rider fly down the road. A
+hand touched his shoulder.
+
+"What's Don rushing off for?" Ted asked.
+
+Bobbie told about Tim's journey to Danger Mountain. Ted's eyes snapped.
+
+"Think Don'll catch him?" he asked.
+
+"Sure he will."
+
+"I hope," said the captain, "I hope he gives him a beating to remember."
+
+But Don, as he pedaled down the road, was not thinking of fight. Into the
+Turnpike he raced at an angle of forty-five degrees. The dry dust sifted
+up from under the spinning tires. It powdered his legs, and burned his
+eyes, and parched his throat.
+
+Half an hour later he came to where Christie's Brook crossed the Pike. It
+was clean water, and safe. He threw himself on his stomach and reached
+down with his lips. His whole body cried out to him to drink, drink,
+drink. But he was too wise a scout not to know the dangers of such a
+course. He rinsed his mouth and throat, and swallowed a few drops,
+mounted again and rode off.
+
+Another twenty minutes, and he came slowly to the top of a ridge. Down
+below dark forms moved along the road. He gripped the handle-bars hard
+and coasted.
+
+A few minutes later he had almost reached them. They heard the whir of
+his chain and looked back. Then they stopped.
+
+"It's only Don," Tim said carelessly.
+
+Ritter shrank back as though he wanted to hide.
+
+Up to this point Don had thought only of overtaking the hikers. Now he
+was face to face with the problem of what he should say to them. He laid
+his bicycle at the side of the road and advanced with fast-beating
+heart.
+
+"How many of you scouts told Mr. Wall you were going on this trip?" he
+demanded.
+
+"Wasn't necessary," Tim answered promptly. "Mr. Wall didn't say we
+couldn't go."
+
+"Mr. Wall didn't expect that any scout would go."
+
+"How do you know what Mr. Wall expected? Did he tell you?"
+
+It was a losing argument. Don could see the other scouts looking at Tim
+and nodding their heads as though agreeing with his logic--all except
+Ritter, who was looking at the ground.
+
+Don's mind worked feverishly. They were scouts. They were breaking the
+scout law that said that a scout was trustworthy. He tried to grasp words
+that would make them feel what he felt, but the words would not come.
+
+"We can't stay here all day," Tim hinted.
+
+The sound of a locomotive came faintly. Perhaps it was the train bringing
+Mr. Wall back from the city. All at once Don's mind, groping, searching,
+caught the first vague outline of an idea.
+
+"Wait a minute, fellows." His eyes were on fire. "If you thought Mr. Wall
+would have no objection to a Danger Mountain hike, why did you wait until
+you got him out of the village?"
+
+"What do you mean by that?" Tim asked suspiciously.
+
+"Why did you wait until he went away for the day and then sneak off on
+this hike?"
+
+Indignant cries broke from Tim and from the scouts. They had not known
+that Mr. Wall had gone to the city. Ritter caught Don's arm.
+
+"Is Mr. Wall away today, Don? Honest?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"How do you know?" Tim asked.
+
+"I went to his house at noon to tell him about this hike."
+
+Silence fell over the group. The scout from the Eagle patrol took off his
+hat and fanned his face.
+
+"Mr. Wall won't think we sneaked off just because he was away," he said
+uneasily.
+
+"Why shouldn't he think it?" cried Don. One of the party was weakening,
+anyway. He pressed his advantage. "You fellows know what he said on the
+last hike--that Danger Mountain was a bad place. And the moment he leaves
+town, a bunch of scouts start for the mountain. How does that look?"
+
+It looked distinctly bad. Tim's carelessness vanished.
+
+"Well," he demanded of Ritter angrily, "what are you looking at me for?
+_I_ didn't know he had gone to the city."
+
+The hikers were demoralized and leaderless. The right word now--
+
+"Fellows," said Don, "let us show Mr. Wall that he can leave the village
+as often as he pleases and not have to worry about a single scout of
+Chester troop."
+
+Ritter took a step toward him. But the others were still just a bit
+uncertain.
+
+Don almost held his breath. There was nothing more for him to say. He ran
+a nervous hand into the pocket of his sweater. His fingers closed on some
+cord, and something round and hard. Bobbie's whistle!
+
+He put it to his lips and blew a long, shrill blast.
+
+It was the voice of authority--the scout signal for attention.
+Instinctively the boys straightened and looked alive.
+
+"We're going home," said Don. "We're going to show that a scout is
+trustworthy. Forward!"
+
+An air of suspense seemed to come down over them there in the road. Don's
+pulse throbbed. Would they obey?
+
+"March!" he ordered. The die was cast.
+
+Three of the boys swung forward. Tim stood with his feet spread apart,
+frowning and glum. Presently, when the others had gone several hundred
+yards, he hunched his shoulders sheepishly and slowly followed after.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+SPROUTING SEEDS
+
+
+Don had pitched a full game that day. He was tired. Yet, as he slowly
+rode the bicycle, he scarcely felt the weary complaint of his muscles.
+
+A great peace lay over the road. The air was soft with summer's glory.
+Faces that had been turned toward Danger Mountain were now turned toward
+Chester, and that made all the difference in the world.
+
+At first the journey back was something like a funeral. Tim shuffled
+along in the rear. Ritter and the two other scouts had nothing to say.
+Then by degrees the tension wore off. Tim still clung to the rear, but
+the others began to laugh and to talk.
+
+Half way back to town they saw a man in the distance riding toward them.
+
+"Isn't that Mr. Wall?" Ritter asked anxiously.
+
+It was Mr. Wall. Tim hurried up from the rear. He wanted to be where he
+could hear what was said when scouts and Scoutmaster met.
+
+Mr. Wall seemed to be riding hard. Suddenly, as he saw them, his pace
+slackened.
+
+"He's going to dismount," said Ritter.
+
+"He's waiting for us," said the Eagle patrol scout.
+
+Their steps unconsciously became slower, Don jumped from the bicycle and
+walked with them. He studied Mr. Wall's face. Did Mr. Wall know?
+
+He had gone to the Scoutmaster's house that morning ready to tell. Now,
+though, he thought he faced a different situation. He was sure that the
+Danger Mountain hike had been blocked--not for today alone, but for all
+the days of the future. To bring it up again would be like trying to
+re-heat a stale pie.
+
+He had faced the situation alone. By luck--he called the use he had made
+of Mr. Wall's absence a lucky stroke--he had conquered. What had happened
+had been among scouts. They had settled it among themselves. He felt,
+dimly, that a great lesson had been learned. Maybe it would be better to
+leave things as they were.
+
+The Scoutmaster's greeting was cheery. "Hello there, hikers! How did you
+find the going?"
+
+Ritter and the others glanced at one another sideways.
+
+"Pretty dusty," Don said promptly.
+
+"That's how I found it. How far did you go?"
+
+"About a mile past Christie's Brook."
+
+"Who was the star cook?"
+
+"We didn't cook anything today."
+
+"Cooking ought to be a part of every hike," the Scoutmaster said
+pleasantly. He felt his tires. "I guess I've worked up an appetite for
+supper. I'm going back. Want to ride in with me, Don?"
+
+The patrol leader of the Wolves hesitated. Did Mr. Wall suspect something
+and intend to question him?
+
+"I--I guess I'll stick with the fellows," he said.
+
+Mr. Wall called a good-by and rode off. A few minutes later his
+retreating figure was outlined against a patch of bronze evening sky.
+
+Ritter drew a deep breath. He hadn't exactly expected Don to tell, and
+yet--
+
+"Phew!" said the Eagle patrol scout, "That was a close shave."
+
+"Close shave nothing," cried Tim, "He's wise. Four scouts in uniform, and
+a patrol leader in baseball clothes and spiked shoes, and riding a
+bicycle. What does that look like?"
+
+"Well, what does it look like?" Ritter demanded.
+
+"It looks as though somebody jumped on a bicycle and rode after us, you
+gilly."
+
+"Gee!" said the scout from the Eagles. "Mr. Wall will want to know--"
+
+"Mr. Wall doesn't go snooping around," cried the scout from the Foxes.
+
+"And Don could have told him right here, had he wanted to," said Ritter.
+
+Tim said nothing. The march home started again. Don, embarrassed, rode
+far in the van. Twice, looking back over his shoulder, he saw Tim
+trudging with the others, but with his hands in his pockets and his head
+bent thoughtfully.
+
+For the second time that day Don was late for a meal. His father, his
+mother and his sister Beth had gone off to a church social. Barbara gave
+him his supper; and while he ate, he told her how the scouts had turned
+back when they learned that Mr. Wall was away.
+
+"They must be all right at heart, Don," said Barbara.
+
+"Of course they're all right," said Don.
+
+Barbara went out to the kitchen for a piece of cake. He sighed, and
+relaxed in his chair, and waited. It seemed that she was gone a long
+time. Suddenly he gave a start, and jerked open his eyes, and looked up
+to find her shaking his shoulder.
+
+"Better eat your cake tomorrow, Don. You're falling asleep."
+
+He stumbled upstairs and went to bed. As he lay there, on the borderland
+of sleep, his thoughts drifted back to Tim walking with the others with
+his hands in his pockets--the way no scout who was alert and alive should
+walk.
+
+"Wonder what Tim was thinking about," he muttered sleepily.
+
+Tim had been thinking about a boy who could have made it hot for him--and
+who hadn't. He had expected Don to tell. He had hurried forward ready to
+argue heatedly in his own defense. And instead, Don had plainly tried to
+shield him.
+
+He slouched his shoulders with an air of hard toughness, but deep inside
+he felt small and cheap. He was used to wrangling and boisterous striving
+for what he wanted. Yet, for all of his roughness, a finer streak of his
+nature could, on occasion, respond to fair dealing. Squareness--being
+white--was something he could understand. Don had been white.
+
+He found himself wishing, as he walked along, that he had never started
+the hike. He had seen Mr. Wall's eyes travel in his direction as though
+picking him out as the ringleader in whatever mischief had been afoot. He
+wondered what the Scoutmaster thought of him.
+
+"Aw!" he told himself uncomfortably, "I'm a mutt."
+
+For the time being, at least, his hot blood was chastened. He had gone
+off that afternoon and had left several chores undone. When he reached
+home his mother scolded and his father threatened. It was no new
+experience. Nevertheless, he finished the neglected work in silence, and
+in silence he ate his supper.
+
+It had begun to dawn on him that he was spoiling things for himself. He
+wasn't getting any fun out of scouting. He had been banished from
+baseball. If Ted Carter stayed behind the bat, and if he didn't get
+another chance to play--
+
+"It's coming to me," he said, and his eyes blinked.
+
+The time he had ruined Andy's fire Mr. Wall had said, "What do you think
+a scout should do--the square thing?" He was confronted with the same
+question now. What should he do--the square thing?
+
+All of Sunday he wrestled with the problem. Monday afternoon he went to
+the field early. He was the first boy there. He sat under the tree; and
+when he saw Ted coming, he stood up slowly and went forward to meet the
+captain.
+
+"Say, Ted, any chance for me to get back?"
+
+Ted glanced at him sharply. "Get back for what?"
+
+"To play ball."
+
+The captain tossed him the mitt. "Sure. Here comes Don. Catch him. No
+curves--he worked nine innings Saturday. Just a little warm-up."
+
+It was an awkward moment for Tim. He was not used to knuckling under. He
+swallowed a lump in his throat; but Don acted as though there had never
+been a change in the team. Slowly his restraint wore away. The other
+players took him back without question; nobody mentioned Saturday's
+disastrous game.
+
+Tim went home from the practice whistling shrilly. There was a patrol
+meeting at Don's house that night. He arrived on time. The others talked
+eagerly of the first aid contest that was scheduled for Friday night. For
+once he listened without trying to break into the conversation and
+monopolize it, and gradually a little frown of worry wrinkled his
+forehead.
+
+The dining-room table was pushed up against the wall.
+
+"No fooling tonight, fellows," said Don. "Let's see how much work we can
+do."
+
+Tim worked as faithfully as any of the others. In a corner Don and Ritter
+practiced with splints, and over by the bay window Wally and Alex did
+their bandaging. He and Andy and Bobbie had the center of the floor for
+artificial respiration, stretcher work, and fireman's lift.
+
+He worked feverishly. Something whispered to him, "Why didn't you work
+hard before? You're too late now." Presently it was nine o'clock and the
+work was over.
+
+"How does it look?" Don asked eagerly.
+
+"All right here," said Wally.
+
+Tim and Andy were silent. Don's eyes clouded.
+
+The meeting broke up. The boys passed out through the hall calling back
+good night. Andy stayed behind.
+
+"Tim's going to fall down," he said bluntly, "and fall down hard."
+
+Don slowly returned the bandages to the first aid kit. "He was trying
+tonight."
+
+"Sure he was--tonight. Why didn't he try at the other meetings and cut
+out his fooling?"
+
+Don closed the kit and pushed it aside. "If he practiced a couple of
+times this week--"
+
+"How are you going to get him to practice?" Andy demanded.
+
+"Ask him."
+
+"Mackerel! Ask _him_ to do extra work? Can't you imagine what he'll tell
+you?"
+
+Don could imagine it without much trouble. But he remembered how his last
+appeal, when everything seemed lost, had stopped the Danger Mountain
+hike. It cost nothing to try. He had no love for the job of intimating to
+Tim that his work was not satisfactory. And yet was it fair for him to
+keep silent? Was it fair to those scouts who had labored with a will?
+
+He went out to the porch and lifted his voice. "Tim! O Tim!"
+
+An answering cry came faintly.
+
+"Now for the fireworks," said Andy.
+
+Tim came through the gate and advanced as far as the porch steps.
+
+"How about you and Andy and Bobbie practicing a couple of times before
+Friday?" Don asked.
+
+There was a long interval of silence.
+
+"All right," said Tim at last. He swung around and walked out the gate.
+
+"Mackerel!" said Andy. "I thought he'd go up in the air."
+
+Wednesday morning Tim practiced at troop headquarters. Thursday
+afternoon, as soon as the baseball drill was over, he practiced again.
+Friday morning he was even ready for more; but that morning Bobbie had to
+weed the vegetable garden in back of his house and could not come around.
+Tim went home vaguely disappointed.
+
+That afternoon, at the baseball field, he played a butter-fingered game.
+He could not hold the ball, and his throws to bases were atrocious.
+
+"Hi, there!" called Ted. "Go take a walk around the block."
+
+Tim was frightened. "Don't you want me to play tomorrow?"
+
+"Sure I do. Tomorrow you'll be all right. This is your bad day. Go off by
+yourself and get the air."
+
+Tim went off to the maple tree and sat down. And by and by he found
+himself wondering, not what kind of baseball he would play on the morrow,
+but whether he would be good or bad in first aid that night.
+
+He came to troop headquarters after supper with a queer, nervous feeling
+in the pit of his stomach. Outside, the Eagles were making one last
+hurried practice of the business of making a coat stretcher. Tim wished
+he could do a little practicing, too; but when he went inside and joined
+his patrol, he shrank from asking Andy and Bobbie to work with him.
+
+The hands of the clock crept around to the hour of eight. The Eagles came
+inside. Mr. Wall called the patrol leaders.
+
+"We don't want any lagging or fooling," he announced. "Have your scouts
+move lively."
+
+"Yes, sir." The leaders went back to their patrols and repeated what the
+Scoutmaster had said.
+
+Mr. Wall's whistle shrilled. The bugle sounded "To the Colors." Fifteen
+minutes later the inspection was over. Each patrol had a perfect score.
+The result was marked on the board:
+
+PATROL   POINTS
+
+Eagle    74-1/2
+Fox      74
+Wolf     73-1/2
+
+It was now time for the contest. An air of tension ran through the troop.
+Each patrol kept to itself. There was a deal of husky excited whispering.
+Of all the Wolf patrol, Tim alone was silent. The muscles of his mouth
+twitched. How he wished he could have back those afternoons he had
+wasted!
+
+"Scouts!" called Mr. Wall.
+
+The room became silent.
+
+"First in each division of work," he said, "will count five points,
+second three points, and third one point. The patrol having the greatest
+number of points at the finish will have five credits to its blackboard
+score; the second patrol, three points; the third patrol nothing. Two
+things will count, speed and neatness--and, oh yes, care. I say speed,
+but I also warn you to use your heads."
+
+Use their heads? What did that mean? But before the scouts had much time
+to think about it, the first event was called.
+
+This was bandaging. Two scouts from each patrol stepped forward, ready.
+Wally and Alex represented the Wolves.
+
+"Arm sling," called Mr. Wall.
+
+Quickly, deftly, the slings were made. There was little to choose, it
+seemed to the watching scouts.
+
+"Head bandage," called the Scoutmaster.
+
+Again there was quick work. But this time the Fox boys slipped a moment.
+Warning calls came from their patrol. Bobbie yelled a "Go it, Wally." The
+Fox scouts finished only a second behind the others.
+
+"Broken collar bone," was the next command.
+
+This time one of the Eagles dropped a bandage. There was a shout from the
+scouts. The shouting increased as the Fox bandager fumbled the binding
+knots. Wally worked coolly and rapidly. He was the first to finish in
+this particular test.
+
+"We're going to get bandaging points sure," cried Andy. "Bully work,
+Wally; bully work."
+
+"Foot bandage," said Mr. Wall.
+
+The three teams finished only seconds apart.
+
+The triangular bandage was now discarded.
+
+"Spiral bandage," ordered Mr. Wall.
+
+Here, for the first time, Wally ran into trouble. The bandage became
+flabby. Quickly he pulled it apart and began again. The Fox and Eagle
+patrols jumped to their feet and pleaded for their respective teams to
+hurry. Wally calmly ran the bandage up the calf of Alex's leg.
+
+"Finished," cried the Foxes and the Eagles.
+
+"Finished," cried Wally.
+
+"Gosh!" whispered Bobby. "His bandage looks neater than theirs."
+
+Then came a spiral reverse, and after that a complete spiral for all the
+fingers. When this last job was finished, Mr. Wall smiled, as though well
+pleased.
+
+"Pretty work," he said. "That will be all." The contestants walked back
+to their troops, and he figured on a pad.
+
+"Wonder if he'll tell us now," whispered Bobbie.
+
+"Of course he will," Andy answered. "That's what makes things exciting,
+knowing that you are behind or ahead--"
+
+"Sssh!" Don cautioned.
+
+"I'll award the points now," said Mr. Wall. "Later you can look over my
+scoring pad and see how I scored each individual test. Wolf patrol five
+points--"
+
+"Wow!" yelled Bobbie.
+
+Andy dug him in the ribs. "Shut up, you shrimp. Want Mr. Wall to put us
+out?"
+
+But Mr. Wall only smiled at the excited scout. "--Eagles," he went on,
+"three points, and Foxes, one point."
+
+The Foxes seemed glum. The Eagles clamored about their patrol leader. Don
+felt like dancing.
+
+"Fine start," he said to Tim; and Tim nodded and swallowed a lump in his
+throat.
+
+He was used to having his pulse throb during the heat of a baseball game.
+He was used to the wild urge to win that stirred him on the diamond. But
+the breathless anxiety that ran through him now was something new. He
+ached to get in and do something for his patrol.
+
+Splints came next. This time Don and Ritter represented the Wolves. Mr.
+Wall's first order was for a broken thigh.
+
+The watching scouts were silent. All three teams worked rapidly. There
+was a hush as the Scoutmaster examined the patients.
+
+"Too tight," he said when he examined Ritter's thigh.
+
+Tim squirmed in his seat. Don took off the splints and looked down at the
+floor.
+
+Broken leg splints came next, then broken arm splints, and then applying
+a tourniquet. On this the Eagle scouts failed dismally. Don and Ritter
+came back to the patrol.
+
+"How does it look?" Andy demanded.
+
+Don shook his head. He was afraid of that first tight splint. It was no
+surprise to him when Mr. Wall gave first place to the Foxes. But his
+heart leaped as he heard the Wolves rated second.
+
+"We're ahead," Alex cried jubilantly. He pushed a paper in front of Don's
+eyes.
+
+Wolf      8
+Fox       6
+Eagle     4
+
+Tim wet his lips. His turn was next--his, and Bobbie's, and Andy's.
+
+"Artificial respiration," called Mr. Wall.
+
+Bobbie lay on the floor, face down, and stretched his arms above his
+head. Andy held his wrists lightly. Tim knelt astride the prone figure
+and placed trembling hands between the short ribs.
+
+Mr. Wall, holding a watch, walked back and forth. Tim's heart thumped.
+Would he go too fast or too slow? He wondered how the other patrols were
+making out, but he dared not look. Presently the Scoutmaster called,
+"That's enough," and he scrambled to his feet.
+
+"Gosh!" Bobbie said ruefully. "You surely put some pressure on."
+
+"Wonder how we made out," said Andy.
+
+Tim wondered, too. When the call came for a demonstration of fireman's
+lift, he shut his teeth hard. He wouldn't fall down on this!
+
+Two minutes later the lift was over.
+
+"You were quicker than any of them," cried Andy in his ear.
+
+"Stretchers," called Mr. Wall. "Lift the patient in and stand at
+attention. Patients must not help themselves. Got your staves? Ready?
+Go!"
+
+A yell burst from the watchers.
+
+"Go on, you Eagles!"
+
+"Chew them up, Foxes; chew them!"
+
+"Faster, Tim; faster!"
+
+Tim's coat was off and on the staves. His fingers fumbled with the
+buttons.
+
+"I'm ready," came Andy's voice. "Ready, Tim."
+
+His fingers hesitated. Were the buttons all right? He saw the Eagle
+stretcher-makers begin to straighten up. He swung around to Bobbie.
+
+"All right, Andy, lift him. Up! Now down on the stretcher. Quick! There
+go the Eagles. Lift it. _Lift it!_"
+
+They lifted their burden. Mr. Wall came down to inspect.
+
+"Buttons out," cried a voice from the watchers. "Buttons out on the Wolf
+stretcher."
+
+It was true. Tim's coat, under Bobbie's weight, had popped open. Tim's
+face turned fiery red. Was he always going to be the fellow who made his
+patrol lose? Why hadn't he made sure of those buttons instead of taking a
+chance?
+
+"Maybe some of the others have coats open," Bobbie whispered.
+
+But none of the other coats were open.
+
+Somebody cried that the contest was over. The scouts formed a pushing,
+excited ring around Mr. Wall and the stretchers. The Scoutmaster shook
+his head gravely.
+
+"I'm afraid I cannot make a decision yet. Each patrol has excelled in
+some one thing and has done poorly in some other."
+
+The pushing and the clamor ceased.
+
+"One more test," Mr. Wall added.
+
+The scouts fell back. The big moment of the night had come. This next
+event would probably seal the doom of some one patrol.
+
+"Each team," said Mr. Wall, "will go to the rear of the room down near
+the door. At the word it will make its stretcher, lift in the patient,
+and bring him to me as though I were the doctor. Understand?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Clear the room."
+
+The watchers pushed back along the side wall in a straggling line. There
+was no such thing now as each scout keeping with his own patrol. Eagles,
+Wolves and Foxes found themselves hopelessly mixed. Don squeezed in next
+to Alex Davidson.
+
+"Look at Tim," said Alex.
+
+Tim's lips were stern. Here was _the_ chance. The palms of his hands
+began to sweat. If they could win this--
+
+"Watch your buttons," whispered Andy.
+
+"Go!" came the word of command.
+
+This time Tim took no chances. His fingers were cold, and every nerve
+cried to him to go faster, faster, faster, but he forced himself to make
+sure that every button was snug. Then he hitched forward on his knees
+and helped Andy.
+
+"All right," Andy cried excitedly. "Get him by the shoulders, Tim."
+
+It took them but a moment to lay Bobbie in the stretcher. Tim sprang to
+the front of the staves, Andy to the rear. They swung the stretcher from
+the ground.
+
+"'Ray for the Wolves!" cried Wally's voice.
+
+All Tim thought about was getting to Mr. Wall with his burden. He broke
+into a walk that was almost a run.
+
+"Look at the Wolves!" The cry could be heard above the noise. "That's no
+way to carry an injured person."
+
+Tim looked around, startled. What was wrong? He saw the Eagles and the
+Foxes carrying their loads slowly, with precious care. All at once he
+understood. Oh, what a blunder he had made!
+
+He slowed up abruptly. He could hear tense voices shouting that the
+Wolves were out of it. He came to a stop in front of Mr. Wall.
+
+The scouts rushed forward from the wall. Somebody's hot breath was on his
+neck and a squirming elbow was poked in his side. He did not look around.
+Mr. Wall's whistle shrilled, and the gathering became quiet.
+
+"I am glad this happened," the Scoutmaster said. "I do not mean I am glad
+because a patrol has failed, but glad because now the lesson will be
+driven home. An injured person must always be carried carefully. That's
+what I had in mind when I said speed would count, but that I wanted
+you to think."
+
+Tim's cheeks burned. There was more to what Mr. Wall said, but he
+scarcely heard. The points were awarded--Fox patrol, first; Eagles,
+second; Wolves, last. Bobbie slipped out of the stretcher and Tim turned
+away forlornly.
+
+Don gripped his arm. "That gives us second place, anyway, Tim. The Foxes
+have 11 points, and we have 9, and the Eagles have 7."
+
+But Tim could take no comfort. He had fallen down again. Bonehead! That's
+what he was--a bonehead!
+
+The blackboard was changed:
+
+PATROL   POINTS
+
+Eagle    74-1/2
+Fox      79
+Wolf     76-1/2
+
+"Gosh!" cried Bobbie. "Before inspection we were third, and only one
+point behind first place. Now we're second and two and a half points
+behind. Funny, isn't it?"
+
+Tim didn't think it was funny at all. His scout honor, not yet fully
+awake, throbbed with a sense of guilt. Every other fellow in the troop
+had worked hard. Even Alex, after finishing in the grocery store, had
+worked at night. And yet in spite of how hard they had tried, his lapse
+had blackened every one of them, just as though they had been skulkers
+and shirkers.
+
+Just staying around where the others were made him hot and uncomfortable.
+While the room rang with cheers for the victorious Foxes he slipped out
+of the door and melted away in the darkness.
+
+Suddenly the fact that he was sneaking away struck him like a blow.
+Sneaking away! He stopped. With a careless, cocky swagger he had always,
+before this, stood up to his troubles.
+
+"I'll go back," he said defiantly. "I'm not afraid."
+
+He wasn't afraid. That was true. If any fellow there had threatened to
+punch his head he would have peeled off his coat in an instant. He was
+not scared of physical force; but he was afraid of what every scout in
+the room might be thinking--that Tim Lally had spoiled things again.
+
+He leaned against a tree, pulled a tender twig, and chewed it
+thoughtfully. He could see the glowing windows of troop headquarters,
+and a bright light streamed out through the open door. Shouts, and
+cheers, and laughter, came faintly to his ears. The whole troop seemed to
+be having a good time congratulating the victor without envy. He was the
+only boy who had slipped away.
+
+All at once, as he watched, a great longing arose in his heart to be like
+other scouts. He was tired of being picked on, and blamed for everything,
+and spoken of with a doubtful shake of the head. Once he had not minded
+these things. Now he hungered wistfully for his share of what scouting
+had to offer: fun, and whole-hearted work, and--and respect.
+
+The noise became subdued. The scouts began to leave. One group, talking
+excitedly, passed him and he drew back behind the tree.
+
+Then a man stepped out through the doorway and came his way. Tim drew a
+quick breath and walked out into the roadway.
+
+"Hello, Mr. Wall."
+
+"Hello, Tim. Coming my way?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+They fell into step.
+
+"It was my fault the Wolves lost tonight," the boy said huskily.
+
+"Anybody can make that mistake--once," Mr. Wall told him.
+
+"It was my fault," Tim said stubbornly. What he wanted to say next didn't
+come so easily. "How--" He hesitated. "How does a fellow get to be a
+better scout?"
+
+Mr. Wall's hand fell on his shoulder. "Tim, it's all in the way a fellow
+handles the laws and the oath. If he lives up to them, he's all right.
+He's a real scout."
+
+"But if I had somebody to go to when I got stuck--"
+
+"Go to your patrol leader, Tim. He's the one to help you."
+
+That night, long after going to bed, Tim lay awake. Well, if speaking to
+Don was the right way, he'd do it.
+
+But it wasn't easy. When he reached Don's yard next morning, he sat on
+the grass and tried to scare up courage to say what was in his mind.
+
+"Signaling contest next month," Don told him, "Were you there when Mr.
+Wall made the announcement?"
+
+Tim shook his head.
+
+"Three kinds," Don explained; "telegraph, semaphore, and Morse. Which can
+you do best, Tim?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Andy and Wally are down for telegraphy. How about you and Alex Davidson
+taking Morse?"
+
+Morse was harder than semaphore. Tim didn't want to fail again. Neither
+did he want to dodge something just because it was hard.
+
+"Alex works," he said hesitatingly. "If I had somebody to practice with
+in the daytime--"
+
+Don's heart leaped. Could this be rough-and-tumble Tim?
+
+"I'll practice with you now," he cried. "Wait until I get flags."
+
+A minute later he was out of the house. Tim went down near the gate. They
+began to wig-wag.
+
+At first the work was rusty. By degrees, though, as they corrected each
+other's mistakes, smoothness came and a measure of speed.
+
+Tim's eyes danced. Gee! but wasn't this fun? He wig-wagged, "Don't give
+up the ship," and was delighted when he found that his sending had been
+so sure that Don had caught every letter.
+
+By and by Bobbie appeared and leaned over the gate.
+
+"Hello, Tim," he called.
+
+Tim nodded shortly. He was too much engrossed in what he was doing to
+have thought for anything else. Don sent him, "Give me liberty or give me
+death." He stumbled and slipped through the words, threw his cap on the
+grass and yelled to Don to send it again.
+
+Factory whistles sounded, and Barbara called that dinner was ready. Tim
+put down the flag regretfully and mopped the sweat from his face. It was
+Saturday, and this afternoon the nine had a game. But as he turned toward
+the gate, baseball was very, very far from his thoughts.
+
+Bobbie joined him on the sidewalk. Tim strode off briskly, and Bobbie,
+shorter of leg, almost had to run.
+
+"Getting ready for the signal contest, Tim?"
+
+Tim nodded.
+
+"I bet you won't make any mistakes next time."
+
+Poor Bobbie meant no harm, but it was about the worst thing he could have
+said. From Andy, or Alex, or any of the bigger scouts, Tim would not have
+minded so much. But to have little Bobbie hold up his shortcomings was
+like drawing a match across sandpaper.
+
+"Gee!" Bobbie rattled on; "aren't you glad Don is going to show you how
+to do things?"
+
+"Say," Tim said ominously, "you shut up and run along or I'll twist your
+ears around your head. Go on, now." He gave the astonished boy a push.
+Then, scowling blackly, he passed him and went down the street with steps
+that had lost their lightness and their spring.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+CROSS CURRENTS
+
+
+In the days that followed, Tim became as restless as a caged animal. He
+had had a taste of the fun of being a real scout. He knew the
+dissatisfied emptiness of not pulling with his patrol. He wanted to play
+fair, but his high-strung nature could not shake off the dread of having
+anybody think that Tim Lally could be led around by the nose.
+
+That morning's signal drill with Don had opened the door to a strange,
+delightful country. He tried to find the same zest when they practiced
+again. It was gone. Suspicious thoughts sneaked through his brain,
+whispering, "Maybe Don likes this because it gives him a chance to be a
+big fellow."
+
+He had spells of moody silence during which he was dissatisfied with
+himself and his whole small world in general. The news of what he was
+doing had spread through the patrol. The third time he worked with Don,
+Andy, Ritter and Bobbie all watched from the fence.
+
+After he was gone there was a hubbub of excited talk. Gee! Tim was
+getting to be a peachy scout, wasn't he! Don took the signal flags and
+walked thoughtfully toward the cellar. He had begun to notice a change.
+
+Two days later Tim came back by appointment. His work was listless and
+dead. The next time he did not come at all. That evening Don met him on
+Main Street.
+
+"I guess I can do all right now working nights with Alex," Tim said
+uneasily.
+
+"All right," Don agreed. "Any time you want to come around, though--" He
+waited, but Tim said nothing.
+
+Don went home feeling rather blue. "I suppose he'll start scrapping with
+everybody all over again," he muttered.
+
+But he was wrong. Tim went his way moody and silent, but with no chip on
+his shoulder. He came to the next troop meeting clean and tidy, and on
+time. Each patrol won a perfect score. The blackboard read:
+
+PATROL   POINTS
+
+Eagle    90-1/2
+Fox      95
+Wolf     92-1/2
+
+"Still two and one-half points behind," Don sighed. Wasn't it hard to
+catch up? If the Wolves could win the next contest on signaling--But he
+wasn't going to think of that, now that Tim had become balky.
+
+The other scouts spoke of it, though. Alex said earnestly that Tim was
+really practicing this time. Andy grinned and said that the Eagles and
+the Foxes had better watch out because they were heading straight for
+trouble. Don walked with them and said not a word.
+
+Five days later the patrol awoke to the fact that Tim no longer practiced
+in Don's yard. Andy and Bobbie came around and sat on the front stoop
+with the patrol leader.
+
+"Mackerel!" said Andy, "but he's a queer fish. Was there any scrap?"
+
+Don shook his head.
+
+"Didn't he say anything?"
+
+Another shake.
+
+"Just quit, eh?"
+
+Don nodded.
+
+Andy whistled softly, took a scout whistle from his pocket and examined
+it. "How is that going to hit our signaling chances?" he asked.
+
+"Alex says Tim works all right with him," Don answered.
+
+"That's all right, but--" Even Bobbie knew what he meant, that the
+right kind of stick-together was better than all kinds of practice.
+"Something must have bit him," Andy went on. "If he liked practicing
+here at first--He did like it, didn't he?"
+
+"You bet," said Bobbie. "Even if he did push me and tell me to run
+along."
+
+Andy sat up straight. "When was that?"
+
+"The first day he practiced here. I asked him wasn't it fine to have Don
+showing him--"
+
+"Oh!" Andy said softly.
+
+"He liked it all right," said Bobbie.
+
+Neither of the other boys made any comment. By and by Bobbie went off.
+Don looked at his assistant patrol leader.
+
+"Think that could be it?" he asked.
+
+"Maybe." Andy puckered his eyes. "How is he on the ball field; all
+right?"
+
+"Fine. His hitting won last Saturday's game."
+
+"Maybe it isn't that," Andy said doubtfully. He was so used to Tim being
+grouchy when anything displeased him that he could not grasp the thought
+that perhaps there had been some little change.
+
+By this time the troop contest had every scout on his toes. Friday
+night's meeting saw each patrol win another perfect score. Don decided
+gloomily that there wasn't much chance to get ahead by being clean and on
+time for roll call--every scout in the troop was clean and on time. It
+was the monthly contests that would decide the winner of the
+Scoutmaster's Cup.
+
+Before going home he studied the changed figures on the blackboard:
+
+PATROL   POINTS
+
+Eagle    106-1/2
+Fox      111
+Wolf     108-1/2
+
+"Tim's doing fine on signaling," said Alex in his ear.
+
+Don drew a deep breath. Well, maybe everything would be all right, after
+all.
+
+Next day the Chester nine played St. Lawrence. It was touch and go from
+the start. Now Chester led; now the visitors led. The eighth inning found
+Chester in front by a 6 to 5 score.
+
+All during the game Don had felt the strength of Tim's support. Not once
+had the catcher's playing faltered. Don, waiting on the bench, allowed
+his thoughts to wander. If Tim would plunge into scouting like that--
+
+"Come on, Don," called Ted Carter. "Ninth inning."
+
+The first Chester batter doubled. Instantly all stray thoughts were swept
+from Don's mind. The next player fouled out. Then came a long fly to the
+right-fielder and the runner ran to third after the catch. Any kind of a
+dinky hit would score the tying run.
+
+Don pitched to the batter. Without shifting his position, Tim snapped the
+ball to third base. The runner, caught asleep, scrambled frantically for
+the bag.
+
+"Out!" ruled the umpire.
+
+The game was over. Don ran to the bench.
+
+"Pretty work, Tim," he cried.
+
+"I guess I don't need anybody to show me how to play baseball," said Tim.
+
+Don paused in the act of reaching for his sweater. Tim's eyes met his, a
+bit uncertain, a bit defiant. Ted Carter, laughing and happy, romped in
+between them.
+
+"You fellows are one sweet battery," he cried joyously. Other members of
+the team crowded around the bench. Tim, with his mitt under his arm,
+walked away.
+
+Slowly Don buttoned his sweater. Tim's change of heart was a mystery no
+longer.
+
+At the edge of the field he found Andy Ford waiting.
+
+"Mackerel!" cried the assistant patrol leader; "wasn't that a corking
+game? When Tim made that throw--Hello! What's the matter?"
+
+"Tim's sore because of what Bobbie said."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+Don related what had happened at the bench.
+
+"Well, the big boob!" Andy gave a snort of anger. "Doesn't he know any
+better than to pay attention to a kid like Bobbie?"
+
+"Tim's always been that way," said Don. "He's sensitive."
+
+"Sure; but he isn't sensitive about his patrol, is he?"
+
+Don sighed. No; Tim wasn't very sensitive about that.
+
+After supper he came out of the house and walked down to the fence. He
+had an idea that Andy would be around; and when presently the assistant
+patrol leader came down the dark street, he held open the gate. They sat
+on the grass and talked in low tones.
+
+"I've doped it out," said Andy. "Why don't you shift--you and Tim do the
+Morse instead of Tim and Alex?"
+
+Don shook his head--slowly.
+
+"Why not?" Andy demanded. "If you worked with him and let him do things
+his own way wouldn't he get over his grouch?"
+
+"I don't know. Would he?"
+
+"Sure he would. Suppose some day when we were all hanging around you
+asked him to show you how to do something."
+
+"Gee!" cried Don. "That would get him, wouldn't it?"
+
+Andy grinned. "I guess we'll tame that roughneck, what?"
+
+Don always rested his arm after a game. He had not planned to go to the
+baseball field until Tuesday. But his business with Tim was too important
+to wait. Monday afternoon he put away his tools and his bird-houses, and
+went off to the village green.
+
+"Hello!" called Ted Carter. "What are you doing around here on a Monday?"
+
+"I want to see Tim," Don answered. He took the catcher off to one side.
+"We're making some changes," he said. "Alex will work with Ritter on
+semaphore signaling."
+
+Tim's eyes grew suspicious. "Who'll work with me on Morse?"
+
+"I will," said Don.
+
+Tim's eyes snapped. "So that's the game, is it?" he asked darkly. "What's
+the first order I get; practice tomorrow?"
+
+"That's up to you," said Don. "When do you want to practice?"
+
+Tim was taken aback. He had expected to be told, not asked; ordered, not
+consulted. He mumbled that tomorrow would do, and went back to practice.
+He could not get his thoughts back on the work. Once, when the ball was
+traveling around the bases, his attention wandered, and when somebody
+threw the sphere home, it almost struck him in the head.
+
+"Let's call it a day," cried Ted Carter, "before Tim gets killed."
+
+Tim smiled absently. He looked around for Don. The patrol leader was
+gone. He walked away slowly, turning one question over and over in his
+puzzled mind. What new trick was this, anyway?
+
+Next morning he went around to Don's house. He was still sure that
+something had been hidden, and that at the proper moment the surprise
+would be sprung. He was watchful and cautious.
+
+The practice ran its course serenely. Barbara came out, and after
+watching awhile, wrote a four-word message and asked Tim to send it. Don
+received it without a mistake.
+
+"Isn't that splendid?" she cried. "The Wolf patrol will surely win points
+in the signaling, won't it?"
+
+"We'll give them a fight," said Don.
+
+Tim said nothing. But the fire to be something more than the Wolf patrol
+failure began to burn again. When the last message had flashed back and
+forth, he handed Don his flag.
+
+"We'll get down to real work after this," said the patrol leader.
+
+Ah! So here was the trick. Tim waited.
+
+"Sending messages back and forth," Don went on, "is all right while we're
+brushing up the code. We know the code now. It's time to begin to
+specialize for the contest. One of us will have to do nothing but send,
+and the other nothing but receive."
+
+Still Tim waited.
+
+"Which do you want to do, send or receive?"
+
+"I--I'll send," said Tim. He felt like a boy who had squeezed his fingers
+in his ears and had waited for a gun to go off, and had then found that
+the gun was not loaded. He was bewildered, lost, confused.
+
+Wednesday he came again. And still there was no bossing, no giving
+orders, no high hand of authority. Perhaps there was no trick.
+
+"Ah!" Tim told himself, "there must be. Why did he shift me here? Why
+didn't he let me stay with Alex? There's a reason, all right."
+
+And so, whenever he and Don were together, on the baseball field or in
+Don's yard, he found himself weighing every word and act.
+
+Friday night's meeting brought no change in the score. Each troop, eager
+and keen, reported faultlessly. The blackboard read:
+
+PATROL   POINTS
+
+Eagle    122-1/2
+Fox      127
+Wolf     124-1/2
+
+Tonight there was silence when the scores were posted. The contest had
+grown too tight for mere noise and bluster. A false step now by any
+patrol might drop it hopelessly to the rear. When Mr. Wall's commands
+still held the scouts in ranks, the faces they turned to him were
+boyishly sober.
+
+"I am going to keep a promise," the Scoutmaster said, "that I made some
+time ago. Next week's meeting will be held in Lonesome Woods."
+
+The sober faces were suddenly aglow.
+
+"Attention!" came the low voices of the patrol leaders. The ranks stood
+firm.
+
+"It will be part of an overnight hike. We will leave here Thursday
+afternoon at one o'clock."
+
+A quick murmur--then silence.
+
+"The signaling contests will be held in the woods. Break ranks."
+
+The pent-up enthusiasm swelled up in a wild cheer. The Scoutmaster found
+himself pushed and jostled. A dozen boys tried to shout questions at
+once. He laughed and covered his ears with his hands. When he brought
+them away Don spoke quickly:
+
+"How about telegraphy, sir?"
+
+"Each patrol will bring its own wire and rig its own instruments," was
+the answer.
+
+Why, this was just like war--signaling from hidden places, and running
+telegraph wires over tree limbs and across the ground.
+
+Tim's adventurous blood quickened. The troop meeting seemed tame and
+prosaic. He went through his setting-up exercises mechanically. He could
+almost smell the tang of a wood fire burning.
+
+There was work tonight in identifying leaves and barks of trees, and
+stems of plants. Tim twisted restlessly. The moment the meeting was over
+he followed Don down the room.
+
+"How far apart will they put us in the woods?" he demanded.
+
+Don didn't know.
+
+"We'd better get out among some trees and practice," Tim said.
+
+The suggestion was good. Don said so. Tim's face flushed.
+
+Patrols were clamoring around their patrol leaders. How much wire would
+be needed? Tim went back to where he had left his hat. And there, on his
+way out, Mr. Wall paused a moment.
+
+"How's everything, Tim?"
+
+"All right, sir."
+
+"Good!" The Scoutmaster's hand ran gently over his head. Their eyes met.
+There were no questions of, "Did you go to your patrol leader, Tim?" Mr.
+Wall seemed to be the kind who understood without asking questions.
+
+"Tim," he said, "I think we're going to be proud of you some day."
+
+"I hope so," Tim said huskily. His heart beat faster as he turned back to
+his patrol. And then he heard Ritter's voice.
+
+"Say, how is Tim going? Has Don got him working?"
+
+"Stop that, Ritter," Don cried angrily. Gosh! couldn't some fellows ever
+learn to hold their tongues? His eyes sought Tim; one look told him
+enough. Tim had heard.
+
+Here was another mess, and right on the eve of the big overnight hike.
+Don made up his mind that he'd square things with Tim tomorrow when they
+reported at the field for the regular Saturday game. A mix-up like this
+couldn't be neglected.
+
+But there was a heavy fall of rain that night, and more rain the next
+morning. By noon the village field was flooded. Ted Carter sent word that
+the game had been called off.
+
+At two o'clock the sun broke through the clouds. From the porch Don had
+watched the weather restlessly. The moment the sun appeared he hurried
+off toward the field. There was just a possibility that Tim might come
+around. He had to speak to him.
+
+Tim came at last, but without his catcher's mitt. He stood around with
+his hands in his pockets and had very little to say. His mouth was a
+trifle tight, and his eyes rather hard.
+
+"When shall we go into the woods for that signaling?" Don asked.
+
+Tim shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Monday or Tuesday?"
+
+But Tim was still indifferent. Don came nearer.
+
+"If you're sore about what Ritter said--"
+
+"Me sore? Why should I get sore? I'm used to it."
+
+"Now, Tim--"
+
+Tim walked away. He told himself that he was through. Not through with
+the scouts, but through with going down to Don's yard as though he were a
+poodle dog being taught new tricks.
+
+He would not stop practicing. Nobody was going to get a chance to say
+that _he_ was to blame if anything happened this time. All next morning
+he wig-wagged in his yard. After dinner he went at it again. The work
+was cruelly monotonous.
+
+"There," he said grimly, when at last he quit; "I bet Don didn't practice
+that much today."
+
+All at once a voice whispered to him, "How could Don practice? He
+receives. He must have somebody to send to him."
+
+"Aw!" Tim growled, "let him go get somebody to send to him."
+
+Somehow, that didn't seem to answer. Next afternoon, when he began his
+self-imposed task of signaling, the flag seemed like lead in his hands.
+He sat on the chopping block outside the kitchen door and stared ahead. A
+long time later he sighed and walked around to the front gate.
+
+"I'm a boob for doing it," he said, and stopped short. In a minute he
+went on again, slowly, doubtfully--but on.
+
+All the way to Don's house the old questions pricked him sharply. Why
+_had_ he been shifted? Just to be watched? What would Don say to him now?
+
+Don, working on the lawn, said: "Hello, Tim. Wait until I tack on this
+screening, will you?"
+
+But the patrol leader's heart was beating fast. If Tim was ready to smile
+and dig in, the Wolves' chances were improved 50 per cent.
+
+But though Tim was ready to work, he was far from being in a friendly
+state of mind. His flag wig-wagged short three-and four-word messages
+that Don could carry in his head without resorting to pad and pencil. At
+four o'clock the work was over.
+
+"Want to go to the woods tomorrow?" Tim asked gruffly.
+
+Don nodded eagerly.
+
+"All right; I'll be around at one o'clock." He turned on his heel and was
+gone.
+
+Don went indoors dejectedly. Barbara was mixing biscuit batter in the
+kitchen. He stood in the doorway and blurted out the doings of the past
+few days.
+
+"Nothing there to worry about," Barbara said brightly. "Be honest, now.
+How did Tim act a couple of months ago whenever anything displeased him?"
+
+"He kicked things around."
+
+"And now he comes here and works."
+
+"Gosh!" said Don in a relieved voice, "that's so. I didn't think of it
+like that." He went back to his screens for another hour of work before
+supper, and as he measured and cut molding, his whistle was cheery and
+good to hear.
+
+Even Tim's crabbiness on the next day's trip did not dampen his spirits.
+There was a thicket a mile from town. They selected this spot for their
+work.
+
+The light was different from the open. Somehow everything seemed changed.
+Messages were harder to read. It was fine practice.
+
+"I'm glad you thought of that," Don said on the way home.
+
+Tim's stiffness melted a little. It was hard to be stand-offish with a
+boy who kept praising your judgment.
+
+As though by instinct, that night saw a gathering of the patrols at troop
+head-quarters. Telegraph instruments, and dry batteries, and coils of
+wire, were laid together for the morrow's hike. The trek wagon was hauled
+from the old barn in back of Mr. Wall's house. The tents were carried
+from the same place and laid in the wagon. The lanterns, swinging
+underneath, were cleaned and filled and put back on their hooks.
+
+At first Tim had hung on the outskirts of the crowd. But it was
+impossible to resist for long the glamour of these preparations. The trek
+wagon, the tents, the night lanterns, all helped to stir his quick blood.
+They whispered of evening, and night fires springing to light, and white
+tent walls showing ghostly through the dusk.
+
+"Say!" called a voice, "how are you Wolves going to manage about Alex
+Davidson? He works in the store. Is he going on the hike?"
+
+"No," said Don.
+
+"Well, how about the signaling?"
+
+"He has half a day off Friday. He'll come out Friday afternoon."
+
+The nine o'clock fire bell sent the scouts scurrying for home. The trek
+wagon was left against the wall of troop headquarters.
+
+Next morning the patrols assembled early. Mr. Wall dispatched a scout to
+the baker's for two dozen loaves of bread. Another boy hurried off to the
+grocer's shop for molasses, cocoa, and evaporated milk. When these had
+been put safely in place, the last strap was adjusted. The trek wagon was
+ready for the journey.
+
+"You fellows get home," Mr. Wall ordered, "and get back here on time.
+Remember, the same rule as always--individual cooking. Two or three
+scouts or a whole patrol can team up, but each scout must bring enough
+food to feed himself for three meals--supper tonight, and breakfast and
+dinner tomorrow. The troop treasury furnishes the bread, molasses and
+cocoa. Everybody understand?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"All right. We leave here at one o'clock sharp."
+
+The Scoutmaster could have saved himself the warning. At 12:30 o'clock
+the last scout was there, haversack and blanket on his back, ax and
+canteen on his hip.
+
+At 12:55 the bugle blew. The scouts fell into line.
+
+"Each patrol," said Mr. Wall, "will take its turn hauling the trek wagon.
+The Wolves first."
+
+Don's patrol dropped back.
+
+At one o'clock the bugle sounded again.
+
+"Forward!" cried Mr. Wall. "March!"
+
+"Forward!" echoed the patrol leaders. "March!"
+
+Chester troop was off. Small boys followed along the sidewalk and on past
+the village limits. After that, one by one, they dropped back, and at
+last the troop swung on through the early afternoon alone.
+
+Tim threw himself joyously into the work of hauling the wagon. When Mr.
+Wall ordered route step, and the discipline of the hike gave way to
+laughter and song, Tim's voice rose above all the rest.
+
+He felt like dancing in the road. The first hill found him impatient to
+run the wagon to the top. His zeal caused a quickened pace. Oh! there was
+no loafing or shirking today.
+
+At the end of a half-mile the Foxes took the load. Tim strode on with a
+swinging step. His doubts were vanishing. Not once had Don tried to force
+him to do what he did not want to do. If there was some hidden reason for
+switching him from Alex, it should show itself now, shouldn't it? Maybe
+he had been wrong all along.
+
+Don fell into step with him. "How about some practice in the woods this
+afternoon, Tim?"
+
+"Sure." Tim's eyes danced. "We'll be first if we win this time."
+
+Now it was Don who felt like dancing in the road. Tim, for some reason,
+had had another change of heart, and was once more eager.
+
+Soon the whole patrol was walking with Don and Tim. And Tim,
+light-hearted, irrepressible, kept the talk flying merrily. When the call
+came for the Wolves to take the wagon again, he was the first to reach
+the shafts.
+
+"Come on, slaves," he called.
+
+Andy winked at Don. Don clutched the assistant patrol leader's arm and
+squeezed hard.
+
+Tim made lively work of the next half-mile. The relief found Bobbie Brown
+gasping and wilted.
+
+"Gee!" said Tim; "you're packing too heavy a load for a runt. Here, I'll
+take your blanket."
+
+Bobbie straightened his shoulders. "I'm all right. I--"
+
+"Aw! forget it." Tim turned him around, unstrapped the blanket, and stuck
+it under his arm. "Feels better, doesn't it?"
+
+"Y-yes," said Bobbie.
+
+Mr. Wall, coming down the line to watch for stragglers, saw what
+happened, smiled quietly, and went back to the head of the column.
+
+After a time the jokes and the laughter stopped. They were approaching
+Lonesome Woods. Of course, this was going to be all kinds of fun,
+but--but--Well, Lonesome Woods was Lonesome Woods, wasn't it? A mile from
+camp Mr. Wall halted the column.
+
+"Volunteers to go forward and cut firewood," he called.
+
+But though the scouts might draw together a bit, here was too good an
+adventure to be missed. There was a rush for the Scoutmaster. Tim got
+there first.
+
+"The Wolves have it," Mr. Wall decided.
+
+"Little more load for the Eagles and the Foxes," sang Tim, and pitched
+his blanket and haversack into the trek wagon. Don and the others unslung
+theirs. Two minutes later the Wolf patrol was running in advance of the
+column with only their axes and canteens.
+
+They plunged into the woods with a whoop. Presently they all drew
+together and listened. The place was still--ghostly still. The air was
+cooler, and heavier, and--and different.
+
+"Gee!" said Bobbie. "It _is_ lonesome in here, isn't it?"
+
+Tim shrugged his shoulders. "Come on. Let's get firewood."
+
+The sound of the axes chased away the quiet. The firewood became a small
+pile, a great pile, and then a fat, clumsy pyramid.
+
+"Hello there, Wolves," came a faint hail.
+
+The troop had arrived. Soon the woods rang with high-pitched shouts and
+cries.
+
+The problem now was to find a camp site. Scouts swung out in all
+directions. One group tried to advance the wagon. Now the wheels would
+get tangled in clumps of underbrush, and now there would be seemingly
+no way to squeeze through the trees. At last it could be advanced no
+further.
+
+The Foxes had found a clearing on sloping ground. A brook ran at one end.
+The ground slope insured good drainage in case of rain.
+
+The Wolves went back to bring in their firewood, and the Eagles and the
+Foxes carted tents and equipment from the trek wagon.
+
+Tim's blood ran riot in his veins. As he carried in the last of the
+kindling, the second tent arose against the background of trees.
+
+"Say," he called eagerly, "let's help there."
+
+The tent squad made a place for him.
+
+He seemed tireless. By and by, with the last tent up and the last rope
+guyed, he wiped the sweat from his face and grinned.
+
+"Doesn't look like Lonesome Woods now, does it?"
+
+Mr. Wall's watch showed four o'clock. Supper cooking would start at five.
+There was an hour in which to string telegraph wires.
+
+"The messages," Mr. Wall said, "will be received here. Do not get too
+close to each other with your instruments."
+
+Scouts hustled out to the trek wagon for batteries, wire and instruments.
+Tim staked a claim for the Wolves' receiving station.
+
+"How much wire must each patrol have out?" Andy Ford asked.
+
+"Two hundred feet," was the answer.
+
+Eagles and Foxes gathered and broke into clamorous discussion. How should
+the wire be measured? Don gathered his patrol and took it to one side.
+
+"Andy has a fifty-foot tape. We'll measure as we unwind. Bobbie, you stay
+here and hold this end. Come on, fellows."
+
+Into the dense growth of trees they wormed their way. It was slow work
+passing the wire through the branches of trees. Tim climbed and shinned
+his way from limb to limb like a monkey. Wherever the wire was laid, it
+was fastened in place with rubber tape.
+
+About one hundred and twenty-five feet were out when the Scoutmaster's
+whistle sounded the recall. The scouts came back to camp. There was a
+comparison of results. The Eagles had strung about seventy feet of wire,
+and the Foxes less than sixty.
+
+"We'll have ours finished before the others know what's happening,"
+chuckled Andy. "And then we'll get in some practice."
+
+"Tim and I are going to get some practice after supper," said Don.
+
+"Sure thing," said Tim.
+
+Fires were lighted and pots and pans appeared. Somebody yelled that cocoa
+was ready. The Foxes dished it out, and Mr. Wall distributed bread
+thickly covered with molasses.
+
+"Some feast," said Tim. He took his place in the circle of Wolves. He was
+one of them--at home.
+
+There was still some daylight left after dishes had been washed and put
+away, and the supper refuse burned. Tim and Don walked off a way with
+their flags. Teams from the other patrols scrambled for their flags,
+too, and practiced until the last light began to go.
+
+The night-fire grew brighter in the darkness. A hush fell over the camp.
+The boys formed a circle about the blaze. Where they sat there was light
+and warmth, but ten feet back were the trees, and darkness, and the
+melancholy whispering of the breeze through stirring branches.
+
+There was sober discussion of the morrow's contest. No voice lifted
+itself loudly. Mr. Wall told an Indian story. The scouts drew closer to
+the fire, and Bobbie glanced back over his shoulder. After a time heads
+began to nod.
+
+"Time to turn in," said the Scoutmaster. "Better fill your canteens. You
+may want a drink during the night."
+
+The brook was a hundred yards away, out in the darkness--and this was
+Lonesome Woods. Bobbie said he never took a drink during the night.
+
+"Aw!" cried Tim. "Let's go down there and fill them up."
+
+He led the way. Bobbie decided that he might need a drink after all.
+
+Twenty minutes later they were all in the tents. Out at the dying
+camp-fire the bugler sounded "taps." As the mournful notes echoed, more
+than one scout, under his blanket, felt goose-flesh.
+
+Ordinarily, in camp, the first night is one of restlessness. But Chester
+troop was tired. For a while voices sounded faintly. They grew fitful and
+yawny. Finally they ceased. The camp was asleep under the stars.
+
+And then the bugle blew again. Reveille! The scouts tumbled out to a new
+world. The darkness was gone. Lonesome Woods was no longer spooky. The
+whole world smelled clean, and green, and damp, and sweet.
+
+Breakfast was rushed. The Foxes were the first to get away from camp. The
+Wolves were next. They finished stringing their wire, adjusted a sender,
+and came back to install the receiver. As soon as everything was ready,
+Wally went off to the end of the line to send to Andy Ford.
+
+The Foxes were the next to get rigged. The Eagles rushed in almost on
+their heels. Morse and semaphore teams practiced frantically. Over
+everything lay a fever of preparation.
+
+At ten o'clock Mr. Wall sent a squad to take down the tents and pack them
+away in the trek wagon. Another squad brought wood and water. The camp
+prepared for dinner.
+
+It was a happy, noisy, high-strung meal.
+
+"Clean camp for the contests," Mr. Wall ordered next.
+
+Empty cans and refuse went flying into the fire, to be raked out later
+and buried. Presently the last sign of litter was gone. The scouts waited
+expectantly.
+
+"Telegraphy first," said the Scoutmaster. He handed a sealed envelope to
+each sender. "There's your message. Read it when you get to your
+instrument. Off you go. A bugle blast will be the signal to start. Speed
+and accuracy will count."
+
+Wally Woods ran off with Andy yelling after him to take his time and not
+get rattled. Then came a wait. Mr. Wall nodded to the bugler. The woods
+echoed to a sharp blast.
+
+Almost at once telegraph instruments began to click. Andy, with puckered
+eyes, bent down and wrote slowly. The scout at the Fox receiver was
+supremely confident, but the Eagle scout seemed worried and harassed.
+
+To the watching boys it was impossible to tell who was ahead. The minutes
+passed, the excitement grew. All at once the Fox scout sprang to his feet
+and came running to Mr. Wall with his paper.
+
+"Shucks!" said Tim. "He may have it all mixed up. Look at Andy."
+
+The assistant patrol leader of the Wolves was now running toward the
+Scoutmaster. Two minutes later the Eagle scout came forward reluctantly.
+
+"It's fierce," he said in disgust. "It doesn't make sense nohow."
+
+The message had been, "A hundred men searched the hills for the Indian."
+The Fox scout had made but one error. Andy had made four, and the Eagle
+scout had twisted the message into a knot.
+
+"Well," said Tim, "that gives us three points for second place. Now, if
+Alex gets here--"
+
+The calling cry of the Wolves sounded faintly.
+
+"That's him," said Tim, and shrieked an answer. Andy and Bobbie went out
+to meet the newcomer and show him the way. Presently they led him into
+camp. He had ridden to Lonesome Woods on his bicycle, and had ridden
+hard. He was hot, dusty and thirsty.
+
+After half an hour's rest on the grass he was ready. The semaphore
+signaling started.
+
+All three patrols scored perfect messages, but the Foxes finished first,
+the Wolves second, and the distracted Eagles last.
+
+"That gives the Foxes 10 points and us 6," said Bobbie. "The Eagles have
+2."
+
+Don shook his head uneasily. The Foxes had been in the lead ever since
+the last contest. If they won again, they would be out so far in front
+that it would be almost impossible to catch them.
+
+It was time for the Morse. Tim put his flag under his arm and went out to
+his station. Ritter went along to read the message to him, word for word,
+so that there would be no loss of time. Bobbie, at the receiving end, was
+to write the message as Don called him the letters.
+
+Ritter tore open the envelope and took out the paper.
+
+"How long?" Tim demanded.
+
+"Eleven words." Tim reached out his hand and Ritter drew back. "Never
+mind reading it. Just send what I give you. You won't get twisted
+thinking about the next word, because you won't know what it is."
+
+Tim did not argue. He could see Bobbie lying on the ground with pad and
+pencil, and Don crouched on one knee above him. Gee! when would the bugle
+blow?
+
+"Don't go too fast," Ritter said huskily.
+
+Tim scarcely heard. He and Don had made no mistakes the last time they
+practiced. How would it be now on the day of the real thing?
+
+"T-a-a-a-a, ta, ta," sounded the bugle.
+
+"Every--" cried Ritter.
+
+Tim sent the word. His hands gripped the flag staff with a nervous,
+straining strength.
+
+"--patriot--"
+
+This word followed the first.
+
+"--places--his--all--"
+
+Tim was breathing hard.
+
+"--at--the--service--"
+
+His throat was dry.
+
+"--of--his--"
+
+Tim's arms trembled. Was there much more?
+
+"--country," said Ritter, as though he couldn't get the word out fast
+enough. "End of message."
+
+Tim fronted his flag three times. He saw Bobbie hand the message to Don,
+and Don race over to Mr. Wall.
+
+"We're first in," cried Ritter. "Come on, Tim."
+
+But Tim was suddenly afraid. He dropped the flag and pretended that his
+shoe-laces were loose. Ritter ran ahead. Tim fussed with the laces a long
+time--was still fussing, in fact, when cries of "O you Foxes! What's the
+matter with the Foxes?" brought him to his feet.
+
+This time he walked in hurriedly. Ritter met him.
+
+"You had three mistakes, Tim," he said sadly.
+
+"_I_ had three mistakes?" Tim cried angrily.
+
+"Well, we had three mistakes. The Foxes were perfect again. They're
+sharks on signaling. The Eagles were last."
+
+Tim went over to Don. "Let's see that message." He read it under his
+breath. "Every batriot blaces his all at the sereice of his country."
+
+The Foxes were still skylarking when he handed back what Bobbie had
+written. He looked around at the members of his own patrol. Bobbie
+shifted his eyes. Wally tried to smile that it wasn't a bad showing at
+all. Tim turned away slowly, went over to his equipment, and began to
+roll his blanket for the homeward march. All the sunshine, and the
+frolic, and the outdoor freshness was gone from the day.
+
+He was sure that he had sent the message right. He couldn't send an e for
+a v, because e was the simplest letter in the Morse alphabet--just a
+single dot. And as for sending two b's where he should have sent two
+p's--
+
+"I didn't," he muttered wrathfully. "They think I did because--"
+
+His face clouded with swift suspicion, and the blanket dropped from his
+hands. He had been telling himself for two days that there had been no
+hidden reason for Don taking him as a partner, but now that was all swept
+aside. Don had wanted him as the goat. If any mistakes were made he would
+be the one to be blamed--just as he was being blamed. Wasn't he Tim
+Lally, the fellow who always spoiled things? Oh, what a woodenhead he had
+been not to see it all before!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+DON'S CHOICE
+
+
+The jubilant Foxes found enough flour to make a paste, and enough paper
+to stick on a blanket and make a sign. The sign read:
+
+Eagles   122-1/2
+Foxes    132
+Wolves   127-1/2
+
+They carried it, spread out like a banner, all the way home.
+
+The hike back to Chester was a bit one-sided. The Foxes enjoyed
+themselves hugely, but every other scout was sober with his own thoughts.
+The Eagles were convinced that they were out of the race. Don and Andy
+Ford were trying to take some comfort from the fact that they had four
+weeks yet in which to overtake the Foxes. Nobody noticed that Tim, a
+bubbling source of energy yesterday, was now sour and glum.
+
+It was not until next day that Don noticed any change. In the regular
+weekly game on the village field Tim backed him up faultlessly; but
+on the bench the catcher edged away and sat at the end with the
+score-keeper.
+
+"Good night!" Don murmured. "What is it this time?" He was becoming used
+to Tim's blowing hot one minute and cold the next. He didn't worry so
+much over Tim's moods. By tomorrow, he reflected, this rather uncertain
+scout would probably be running around again like a loose cyclone.
+
+Besides, Don had something to worry about just then, something so acute
+that it could not be shared with another worry. His pitching was
+undergoing violent assault. He was sure he had plenty of stuff on the
+ball. Nevertheless, the rival team was lacing his best efforts to all
+parts of the field.
+
+The end of the game returned him a loser.
+
+"Can't win them all," Ted Carter said philosophically. "They seemed to
+hit everything today, Tim, didn't they?"
+
+"Everything," said Tim. He took his sweater from the bench and started
+for home.
+
+Don had a notion to follow. Instead, after a moment, he walked off with
+several of the players. So long as Tim was losing his scrappiness, what
+was the use of fussing over him? Probably by tomorrow, or Monday,
+whatever was biting him would have stopped, and he would come around to
+discuss the ifs of the contest, and the what-might-have-happened. It
+occurred to Don, vaguely, that he had not yet heard Tim say a word about
+what had happened at Lonesome Woods.
+
+Tim did not come around--neither on Monday nor Tuesday. Wednesday Don met
+him at the field for the regular mid-week practice.
+
+"Where have you been keeping yourself, Tim?"
+
+"No place."
+
+"You haven't been around since--"
+
+"No," Tim broke in bitterly, "and I'm not coming around. Nobody can make
+a booby out of me twice."
+
+Don's face sobered. This wasn't the Tim of passing moods. This was more
+like the blustering Tim who had once overawed the Wolf patrol.
+
+"Who made a boob of you?"
+
+"You did. Oh, don't look so innocent; you can't work it the second time.
+Take me for a partner. Then, if anything went wrong in the contest,
+everybody would say that Don Strong couldn't have made a mistake--oh,
+no. It must have been Tim Lally because he's always queering things. And
+they did say it!"
+
+"Who did?"
+
+"Ritter. 'Too bad you made those mistakes, Tim.' I ought to have whanged
+him one in the eye. How did he know whether I made any mistakes?"
+
+Gone was Don's thought that Tim would be all right in a day or so. If
+this firebrand scout convinced himself that he had been tricked, and if
+he kept thinking so--
+
+"You've got this wrong," Don cried. "I--"
+
+"Sure I've got it wrong," Tim mocked. His voice changed wrathfully. "But
+I didn't have the message wrong, and don't you forget it. I know my code.
+I sent the message right. Do you think I'd send an e for a v?"
+
+"Do you think I wouldn't know an e?" Don asked.
+
+Tim was staggered. He hadn't thought of that--that an e would be as
+simple to Don, receiving, as it would be to him, sending.
+
+"Aw!" he said recklessly, "it's a trick. You can't fool me again. If
+you're going to pitch, get busy, else I'll go home."
+
+Don pitched. He decided that there was no use in arguing with Tim now.
+Besides, he wanted time to think.
+
+He had saved the message that Bobbie had written. That night he took it
+from his bureau drawer.
+
+"Every batriot," he read aloud, "blaces his all at the sereice of his
+country." Funny there should be two b's instead of two p's. He repeated
+the letters slowly, thoughtfully.
+
+"B, p; b, p--Gosh! I'll bet I know what happened."
+
+He jumped up and paced the room excitedly. It was clear now. Tim had sent
+p, and he had called p, but p and b sound almost the same and Bobbie,
+tense and excited, had caught the wrong sound.
+
+"E and v are almost the same, too," Don cried. "I'll tell Tim tomorrow."
+
+Next day he sought Tim eagerly. Tim gave him a sarcastic sidelong glance.
+
+"B and p do sound alike," Don said sharply.
+
+"I'm going to ask Mr. Wall to take me out of the Wolf patrol," was Tim's
+response.
+
+He meant it. He thought Don's explanation sounded fishy. Why should it
+take six days to discover that b and p sounded almost the same? He quite
+forgot that he had not thought of b and p sounding the same at all.
+
+Don did not bother him again. Friday night he came to the troop meeting.
+His resolution to ask for a transfer from the Wolves had weakened. In the
+past he had never paid much attention to Mr. Wall, accepting him as a
+matter of course--every troop had to have a Scoutmaster. Now, somehow,
+the thought of Mr. Wall strangled his desire to complain.
+
+The Scoutmaster had said only two weeks before, "I think we're going to
+be proud of you some day." A queer little lump came up into Tim's throat
+and made him swallow hard. He did not think Mr. Wall would like it if he
+asked to be changed, and--and he wouldn't ask.
+
+The entire patrol saw that he avoided Don, for he made no effort to hide
+his feelings. He left the meeting as soon as it was over. Andy Ford and
+Alex Davidson glanced questioningly at the patrol leader.
+
+"He thinks I took him as a partner so that he'd be blamed if the Morse
+signaling went wrong," Don explained.
+
+"Oh, the mule!" Andy cried. "Why doesn't he wait until somebody blames
+him?"
+
+"He says Ritter blamed him for the three mistakes."
+
+"Good night!" Andy breathed.
+
+Alex walked over and stared at the score-board. The Foxes had a scout
+absent and had been penalized two points. As a result, the Wolves had
+recovered the ground they had lost at Lonesome Woods. The new score read:
+
+PATROL   POINTS
+
+Eagle    138-1/2
+Fox      146
+Wolf     143-1/2
+
+"Tim gets some crazy hunches," Alex said, after a time, "but I don't
+think he'll lose any points for us--not any more."
+
+"Let him go fish then," Andy cried. "We should worry. How about it, Don?"
+
+Don shook his head slowly. "I'm patrol leader of the Wolves."
+
+"And he's a Wolf scout," Andy nodded thoughtfully. "I see what you mean.
+I guess you're right. What are you going to do?"
+
+"Nothing. Maybe by next Friday he'll be over it."
+
+But next Friday found Tim unchanged. He mingled with the other scouts,
+but from his patrol leader he held aloof.
+
+A Fox scout reported late, and the Foxes lost a half-point. The score
+read:
+
+PATROL   POINTS
+
+Eagle    154-1/2
+Fox      161-1/2
+Wolf     159-1/2
+
+"Wow!" cried Bobbie. "Only two points behind now."
+
+A gain by the Wolves meant little to Don just now. A belief was slowly
+growing in his mind that Tim had the makings of one of the best scouts in
+the troop. The right kind of patrol leader, he thought, would have had
+Tim where he belonged before this. He felt that he had been a failure.
+
+He longed for advice and the wisdom of an older head. Barbara or his
+father would not do tonight; he wanted somebody who knew scouting. When
+the meeting was over he went slowly to Mr. Wall with his troubles.
+
+"The little blue bugs surely have you tonight," the Scoutmaster said
+cheerily. "Let's reason this out. A month or so ago a frightened scout
+told me that some of my boys were off for Danger Mountain. Remember?"
+
+Oh, yes, Don remembered.
+
+"Tim led that expedition. Do you think he'd do a stunt like that now?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Nor I," the Scoutmaster said gravely. "He's swinging around, probably
+because he's tied up with fellows who want to be real scouts. Would you
+call that failure?"
+
+The boy was silent several minutes. "No, sir," he said at last.
+
+Mr. Wall clapped his shoulder. "Then there's nothing left to worry about,
+is there?"
+
+Don was somewhat surprised to find that there was not. The cloud had
+vanished. He went home with his mind at peace. He had given Tim his own
+head of late, and even Mr. Wall said that Tim was coming around. He'd
+give him his head again, and wait for the sulks to wear off.
+
+But it was hard to work with Tim all next day against the Ironside nine,
+and to find him, even in the heat of the struggle, stiff and unbending.
+And it was harder still to see the days of the next week pass and bring
+no change. For a rumor had gone through the troop that the reason Mr.
+Wall had announced no contest for this month was because he was going to
+uncover a surprise. Don could not help feeling that the Wolves would
+stand very little chance. Tim, at odds with his patrol leader, would
+surely lack the zest and the spirit necessary to cope with unexpected
+orders.
+
+Over Friday night's meeting hung the promise of something to happen.
+Roll-call and inspection brought to light no derelicts. The score board
+read:
+
+PATROL   POINTS
+
+Eagle    170 1/2
+Fox      177 1/2
+Wolf     175 1/2
+
+The ranks broke. Usually there was play for a few minutes. Mr. Wall
+rapped for order at once.
+
+"Next week," he said, "the contest for the Scoutmaster's Cup comes to an
+end. The final ordeal will start Friday. It will be a two-day test of
+your mettle. It will take place at Lonesome Woods. A treasure has been
+hidden there, and blazed trails will lead to the hiding place."
+
+The room was still--startlingly still.
+
+"This time," Mr. Wall went on, "we will have a real test of scouting. For
+that reason, I have decided to award ten points to the winning patrol.
+There will be no second or third points."
+
+The troop stirred. Ten points! That gave every patrol a chance. Even the
+Eagles, if they won, would be tied with the Foxes for winning honors.
+
+"Each patrol leader will select a scout to accompany him into the woods.
+They will enter Friday afternoon at 3:30 o'clock. Each patrol will start
+from a different part of the woods. They will find trees blazed with
+whitewash. They will follow this blaze. When night comes they will camp."
+
+"Each two scouts by themselves?" asked a voice breathlessly.
+
+"By themselves," the Scoutmaster answered, "unless they desire to risk
+capture."
+
+The patrols murmured softly. Gosh! This was a real stunt.
+
+"Each of the three trails leads toward the treasure; it has been hidden.
+When a patrol comes to a blaze mark that has a circle around it, they
+will know that that is the last blaze, and that the treasure is near. Two
+things they must then do--search for the treasure, and avoid capture by
+another patrol. Any patrol surprised by another patrol will be considered
+captured and out of the contest."
+
+"But suppose a patrol finds the treasure, what then?" called another
+voice.
+
+"Then that patrol must make its way safely from the woods and avoid
+capture. If it is captured, it surrenders the treasure to the captors."
+
+"Why," cried Don, "that's just like old-fashioned Indian warfare."
+
+Mr. Wall smiled. "I think you'll like it. There will be another meeting
+Wednesday night. I want every scout to notify his patrol leader in
+writing whether he will be allowed to make the trip if he is chosen.
+Wednesday night each patrol leader will announce the name of the scout
+who will accompany him into the woods. I think you're too excited to do
+scout work tonight. Would you prefer to talk this over?"
+
+"Yes, sir," came a roar.
+
+Mr. Wall laughed and waved his hands.
+
+Instantly the room broke into riot. A night camp at Lonesome Woods, a
+blazed trail, a buried treasure and a threat of sudden capture! This was
+great!
+
+"Will trails cross?" cried the leader of the Foxes. "Must we watch out
+for Eagles and Wolves even before we get to the treasure?"
+
+"Perhaps," the Scoutmaster answered.
+
+Here was uncertainty--and uncertainty made the game all the more
+fascinating.
+
+Tim's breath came fast. If he could get into a thing like that--
+
+"Aw!" he told himself hopelessly, "Don would never take me." He stood
+around listening to every word, but saying little. His heart ached with
+an empty longing. Once he caught Don's eye, and flushed and turned away
+his head quickly. And Don, who had been as high-strung as any of the
+others, suddenly became sober and grave.
+
+Next day, between innings, he sat on the bench and studied his catcher.
+If they should go into the woods together--He sighed, and shook his head,
+and thought of Andy Ford. Andy would pull with him. Perhaps Andy would
+expect the place.
+
+Over Sunday Wally and Ritter brought around written consents, and Bobbie
+announced gloomily that his father would not let him go. Monday morning
+Andy brought his paper.
+
+"Seen Tim yet?" he asked. "No?" He fell to whistling softly.
+
+Late that afternoon Tim appeared. "There's mine," he said defiantly.
+There was an awkward silence. Presently Tim walked out through the gate
+and was gone.
+
+Don sat beside his work and pondered. As a patrol leader, what should he
+do? What was expected of a patrol leader--that he strive heart and soul
+to bring victory to his patrol, or that he stake everything on making
+one boy the kind of scout he ought to be? Victory for the Wolves, he
+suspected, would soon be forgotten. That was how it was with baseball
+victories.
+
+Suppose he took Tim into the woods and nothing came of it. But suppose
+something did come of it--something big.
+
+"I wonder," Don mused, "I wonder what Andy thinks."
+
+Tuesday passed. Wednesday came drearily with rain and chill.
+
+That night Don purposely delayed his arrival at the troop meeting. He did
+not want scouts looking at him and almost asking for the chance. Mr. Wall
+was calling the gathering to order as he entered. He slid into a seat and
+stole a look around. Andy was calmly making notes in a diary. Tim was
+plainly trying hard to keep his shoulders back and to appear unconcerned.
+
+"I call on the Eagles," said Mr. Wall, "to announce their team."
+
+The Eagle patrol leader chose his assistant.
+
+"Foxes."
+
+The leader of the Foxes picked the oldest boy in his patrol.
+
+"Wolves."
+
+Don stood up. He saw Tim bite his lips and stare at the ceiling. Perhaps
+he was making a mistake, but it seemed to him that one true scout was
+worth all the prize cups in the world.
+
+"I pick Tim Lally," he said clearly.
+
+And then a wonderful thing happened. Andy Ford threw down the diary and
+gave him a wide, approving, understanding grin.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE FIGHT IN THE WOODS
+
+
+Slowly Tim's eyes came away from the ceiling. His heart stood still. Was
+this a joke? Eager hands fell on him from the rear--Wally's, Ritter's,
+Alex Davidson's. There could be no doubt after that.
+
+His heart began to thump. Chairs were pushed back, and patrols clamored
+around their teams. He found himself next to Don with one of Andy's arms
+around his shoulders.
+
+"You fellows bring that treasure out," Andy threatened, "or you'll wish
+you had stayed there. Hear me?"
+
+Tim's eyes were unusually bright, but his heart had begun to drop to
+normal. A sudden decision had come not to let this prospect run away with
+him. He knew the bitter taste of disappointment and he wanted no more of
+it. He had started for Lonesome Woods in high spirits the last time, and
+had come home in the dumps. There'd be an understanding before this
+start. There'd be an understanding tonight.
+
+He stuck close to Don, waiting for the moment when they could be alone.
+It came.
+
+"Look here," he said sharply; "why did you pick me?"
+
+Don was startled. "Why--why--" How could he tell the real reason without
+setting a new spark to the gunpowder in Tim's nature. "I thought you were
+the fellow to go," he ended.
+
+It sounded lame even to Don. It sounded like an evasion to Tim. Why
+couldn't he be told the truth? What was there that had to be hidden?
+
+He went back to the patrol. The thrill had begun to weaken. He tried
+desperately to call it back. He wasn't going to be cheated out of a good
+time. By and by, through dint of striving, he roused a new spirit of
+anticipation.
+
+Don walked with him as the scouts crowded toward the door. "Better come
+around tomorrow, Tim, and talk over what we'll take," he said, and
+wondered if Tim would offer any objection.
+
+"Right-o!" said Tim almost cheerily. Outside Don mopped his face. When he
+expected Tim to be all right, Tim was nasty; when he expected him to be
+surly, he was all right.
+
+"Well," he said in relief, "it didn't last long that time, anyway."
+
+But Tim wasn't over it. A new thought had caused him to change tactics.
+What was the use of his spoiling his own fun? He'd get his good time
+regardless of what Don had up his sleeve. He'd throw himself into this
+treasure hunt heart and soul. He'd work as hard as any scout could work.
+But once they were in Lonesome Woods he'd do what he thought was best. If
+Don tried to interfere with him there'd be trouble.
+
+Next day he found the whole patrol, with the exception of Alex, at Don's
+yard. Ritter called him a lucky stiff, and Wally looked at him with envy.
+They made him feel, for the first time, that he was one of the "big"
+scouts.
+
+There wasn't going to be much cooking stuff taken along. A little coffee
+and a little bacon--nothing else. Perhaps they would not have time to
+cook even that much. If they reached the treasure place and found the
+treasure gone, they would have to try to overtake the finders before they
+got out. That would mean hustle.
+
+They decided on pilot biscuit and the always dependable beans. A blanket
+each and a poncho, a watch and a compass. Tim was for leaving the poncho
+out and taking a chance on rain, but Don said no.
+
+"Ax," said Tim. "We'll need that, anyway. I'll go home and put an edge on
+mine."
+
+He ground it until it was almost razor sharp. That night he dreamed that
+he was a scout of the old days and that Indians in their war-paint were
+stalking him through the forest.
+
+Next morning he prepared his haversack, and rolled his blanket and
+strapped it. Several times he cocked his eyes at the sky. Finally he did
+the unheard-of thing of going down to the station and spending three
+cents for a city paper. On the first page was news that was worth many
+times three cents. It read: "Weather: Fair today and tomorrow;
+southwesterly winds."
+
+There was nothing to do now but wait for dinner. Twenty minutes past noon
+he had his arms through the straps of the haversack and was on his way to
+headquarters.
+
+The troop had already assembled. The scouts were feverish. It still
+lacked fifteen minutes of one o'clock when Mr. Wall appeared.
+
+"All here?" the Scoutmaster asked. "Care to start now?"
+
+The patrol leaders jumped to line up their patrols.
+
+The treasure-hunting teams were treated as something precious on the way
+out. Scouts took turns carrying their packs so as to have them fresh when
+they entered the woods. Just as on their first trip, Tim wanted to leap
+and run. But he knew that would be folly. Besides, Mr. Wall held them
+down to a steady, even pace that ate up distance but did not tire.
+
+In the general excitement the miles slipped away unnoticed. All at once
+the woods were ahead. Mr. Wall halted the column and called the teams.
+
+"I want you to compare your watches with mine." The Scoutmaster's
+timepiece said ten minutes of three. Don and the others set their
+watches.
+
+"At 3:30," Mr. Wall continued, "each team will enter the woods. Some
+place near where it enters it will find the first blaze. At 3:30. Is that
+clear?"
+
+They said it was. He led them to a point a quarter of a mile on.
+
+"Here's where the Wolves go in. Foxes and Eagles, follow me."
+
+The other patrols went on, nervous, high-strung. The Wolves were left
+alone.
+
+Tim tried to stretch off on the ground and lie there quietly. With his
+head pillowed on his arm he could see the group that followed Mr. Wall.
+On they went, on, on--and then a turn hid them. Everything from now on
+would be mysterious, unknown.
+
+Lying there quietly became impossible. He jumped to his feet and walked
+up and down. Every few minutes he looked at his watch. Ten after,
+fifteen, twenty.
+
+"Better get on our haversacks," said Don.
+
+They waited. Twenty-five after. Tim felt the throb of his pulse.
+
+"Another minute," said Ritter.
+
+Don stood with his watch in his hand. All at once he put it away.
+
+"Three-thirty, Tim." They walked toward the woods.
+
+The patrol followed them to the edge and stopped. There were cries of
+good luck. They waved their hands and stepped among the trees. Twice they
+looked back; the first time the scouts were visible, the second time
+they were gone. The cries of good luck grew fainter and ceased. They were
+alone.
+
+"There's one of two things to do," said Don, in a voice that trembled
+with excitement. "We do not know whether our trail crosses the others. We
+must either go cautiously, or go fast in the hope that they don't cross.
+If we go fast we may get to the treasure first."
+
+"All right," said Tim; "fast. Let's find that blaze. If you get it, give
+a low whistle."
+
+They separated and worked among the trees. A long time later, it seemed,
+Tim found the blaze. It pointed north. He whistled softly, cautiously. A
+whistle answered him. Don's footsteps sounded frightfully loud in the
+stillness.
+
+They started north as fast as they could go. Three hundred feet on they
+found the second blaze. They lost the third and had to retrace their
+steps before finding it. The fourth was easy, but on the way after that
+they encountered a patch of dense undergrowth and a section of fallen
+trees. Here they had to separate and search once more. This time it was
+Don who found the mark. Their watches said ten minutes of five.
+
+"Let's go on until almost dark," Tim whispered. There was a sound off on
+their right. He clutched Don's arm, and they stood like statues and
+listened, scarcely daring to breathe. By and by they relaxed.
+
+"Must have been a squirrel or something," said Tim. They advanced
+cautiously.
+
+The fright had thrown them out of their reckoning. They did not remember
+in which specific direction they had been heading. After a while they had
+the uncomfortable feeling that they had gone on farther than the ordinary
+distance between blazes.
+
+"Have to search," said Don.
+
+So they began again. They worked at a tension, running when they could.
+It did not take long to get out of sight of each other.
+
+This time it was Tim who finally found the blaze. He whistled--no answer.
+He whistled again--still no answer. He'd have to make a louder sound. It
+was growing dusky, and he did not want to become separated from Don for
+the night. He put his fingers between his lips.
+
+He did not mean to whistle loudly but, in the quiet woods, his summons
+echoed shrilly. His heart gave a frightened leap. Gee! Suppose anybody
+was near?
+
+Don came crashing through the woods. "For the love of Mike, Tim, why did
+you do that?" he asked sharply.
+
+Tim bristled. It was one thing for him to blame himself; it was another
+for Don to find fault. "I wanted you to hear me," he answered shortly.
+
+"I did hear you!"
+
+"Well, why didn't you answer?"
+
+"I thought I heard something else. You'll have every Eagle and Fox around
+us."
+
+"_I'll_ have every Eagle and Fox around us," Tim thought. "See! _I'm_ the
+one who's spoiling things."
+
+They started again. Don was sorry he had spoken so hastily. So far Tim
+had been a real partner. He made up his mind that he'd think twice before
+he spoke sharply again. You had to handle a fellow like Tim with gloves.
+
+As for Tim, the hot, angry blood was still in his cheeks. What did Don
+mean by jumping on him? He wouldn't stand for it. He was to blame! How
+about Don being to blame for not answering the signal?
+
+"Tim!" Don called from the rear. "How about making camp? It's getting
+late."
+
+"Nothing doing," said Tim. "We're between blazes. In the morning we
+wouldn't know which way to start."
+
+"We have compasses," said Don.
+
+Tim was just stubborn enough to refuse to listen to reason. Besides, he
+felt that his judgment was questioned.
+
+"We'll camp at the next blaze," he said. "Then we'll know where we are."
+
+After a moment of hesitation Don followed. The easiest way was best.
+
+They soon reached the blaze. Tim began to gather leaves and young twigs
+for his bed. Before long he knew that he had blundered again. It took
+time to make a camp bed properly, and the failing light would not give
+him the time. He had made camp too late.
+
+The knowledge of his second mistake increased his ill humor. He spread
+his poncho and sat on the bed. Don still gathered leaves.
+
+"Trying to rub it in," Tim reflected. "Just like telling me, 'See, why
+didn't you camp when I said so?'"
+
+Don turned from his bed, dived into his pack and brought out a can.
+
+"How about eats, Tim?"
+
+Tim was disgusted with the whole adventure. In this black mood he did not
+relish the thought of cold food in the dark. He wanted light, and a hot
+drink--something to chase away the gloom.
+
+He kicked together some wood. He found small twigs, broke them and made a
+pile. Then he drew out matches.
+
+Don was opening a can. "What's wrong, Tim?"
+
+"I'm going to have a fire."
+
+"Fire?" Don dropped the can. "Good night! do you want the Eagles and
+Foxes coming down and gobbling us?"
+
+"Piffle!" said Tim. "Do you think _they'll_ sit around in the dark?
+Anyway, I want a cup of coffee."
+
+Don drew a deep breath. Why hadn't he brought Andy Ford! However, it was
+too late for regrets. Once Mr. Wall had said that sometimes a fellow had
+to brace his legs and stand firm. One of those times had come.
+
+"There'll be no fire," he said in a voice he did not recognize as his
+own.
+
+"There will be a fire," Tim retorted. "I worked as hard as you today. You
+can't say I didn't. But I'm not going to put up with crazy notions. Who
+ever heard of a night camp and no fire?"
+
+Don's fingers twitched. He was the leader here and he had said no fire.
+The scout law read obedience. And yet, if Tim insisted, what was he to
+do? Oh, it wasn't fair for a fellow to get bull-headed and smash the
+rules.
+
+Tim scraped the match. It burst into a tiny flame.
+
+Don took a step forward. "Tim--"
+
+"Oh, forget it," said Tim. He was going to light that fire, even if he
+put it out a moment afterward. He shielded the match with his hands and
+bent over the wood.
+
+There was no other way--not if Tim was twice as big. Don's heart was in
+his throat. He was afraid. Nevertheless, without hesitation, he knocked
+Tim's hands apart and the match went out.
+
+"You will, will you?" cried Tim. He scrambled to his feet and rushed.
+
+There was not much light. What there was aided Don, for Tim could not
+make full use of his superior weight and strength. One rush followed
+another. Don kept striking out and stepping aside. Sometimes a fist came
+through his guard and stung him and made him wince. Always, ever since
+becoming patrol leader, he had feared that he and Tim would some day
+clash. Now the fight was on.
+
+Slowly, as blows stung him, his blood quickened. The boy in front of him
+had spoiled so much scouting. If he could only give him the thrashing he
+deserved! If he only could! He set his teeth. He would thrash him. He
+swung, and felt a sharp pain in his knuckles.
+
+"I'll get you for that," roared Tim.
+
+Don, aroused now, scarcely felt the blows. A hard knock caught him off
+his balance and sent him sprawling.
+
+"Got enough?" Tim demanded, breathing heavily.
+
+Don, battle mad, sprang to his feet and rushed.
+
+That rush was a mistake. Tim's fist caught him as he came in and
+staggered him. Another blow shook him up. And then a third blow sent him
+to the ground again. He was beaten, winded, and all but sobbing.
+
+"I guess you've got enough now," said Tim. There was no answer. He turned
+away and found his matches.
+
+The sound of the match box being opened brought Don to his knees. Tim,
+muttering, scraped the tip.
+
+Don struggled to his feet. The tiny flame seemed to fill him with a new
+strength. If necessary he would fight again, and again, and again. An
+iron doggedness was in his blood--the same doggedness that nerves men
+to sacrifice everything for principle. The lot had fallen to him to face
+Tim on a matter of scout discipline. Tim might thrash him again--_but he
+could not light that fire!_
+
+"Drop it!" he cried.
+
+Tim guarded the match. "Want more?" he demanded.
+
+"Drop it, or I'll fight you again."
+
+"And I'll lick you again," said Tim. He touched the flame to the dry
+leaves.
+
+Don sprang forward and scattered the fire with a kick. Tim leaped to his
+feet. He was furious. This time he'd see that he wasn't bothered again.
+
+The scattered fire was burning fitfully in two or three clumps. There was
+just light enough to see things hazily. Tim, his fist drawn back, caught
+a glimpse of Don's white face. He stared, relaxed, and continued to
+stare, and his hands fell to his sides.
+
+He was not afraid--and yet the fire went out of his blood. He felt
+suddenly uncomfortable, and small, and beaten. The fitful blazes dwindled
+and went out. The woods were in darkness.
+
+After a time Tim turned away. He dropped down on his poncho and sat with
+his face in his hands. Gee! What wouldn't he give to have the last hour
+back again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+GOOD LUCK AND BAD
+
+
+There was not much sleep that night. The beds were too uncomfortable.
+Tim, lying awake, had lots of time to think, and as he tossed in the
+darkness, the voice of his conscience reproached him sternly. He wondered
+what would happen in the morning. So great was his concern that he forgot
+that his was a forest bed and that all around him were strange noises of
+the night.
+
+At the first gray light he was out of bed. Last evening the trail had
+crossed running water. He went back, filled his canteen and washed. The
+water was like ice. The early morning air had a biting edge. Shivering,
+he rolled down his sleeves, buttoned his collar snug and wished that the
+sun was up.
+
+Don was about when he got back to camp. One of the patrol leader's lips
+was puffed. Tim looked away quickly. A cup of hot coffee would have put
+the early morning chill to route, but not for anything would he have
+suggested a fire. He pretended to poke through his things, trying to kill
+time, trying not to look at his companion, trying to figure out how they
+were going to get through breakfast. That Don was sore on him for keeps
+he did not doubt.
+
+Don pulled a towel from his haversack. "How's the water?" he asked. His
+voice was forced, as though he had strained himself to speak.
+
+Tim's mouth dropped. Gee! was this--was this real? He caught Don's eyes.
+
+"Cold," he gulped.
+
+"Look for dry pine. Pine doesn't make much smoke."
+
+Tim gathered wood, and his face burned. He saw what the patrol leader
+meant--a fire stood a good chance of passing unnoticed now. Flame would
+not reflect and smoke would mingle with the rising mist. Last night a
+fire would have been madness. He could see it all now and he could see,
+too, the sorry part he had played.
+
+"I always was a bonehead," he told himself bitterly. The feeling that he
+had been brought into the woods for some selfish purpose dwindled and
+died. Perhaps what had happened in the signaling test had been an honest
+mistake, just as Don said. He began to sense dimly that in all the
+troubled weeks of the contest the patrol leader had been working for
+something big, something clean.
+
+He had everything ready for the match long before Don came back from the
+brook. They made a small, cautious fire. The water came to a boil. They
+hastened to fry bacon before the fire died out. There was still some heat
+when the bacon was done and they dumped their beans into the hot pan.
+
+Then, quickly, they killed the fire with dirt and water, and the
+discovery from that source was over. The hot coffee routed the morning
+chill. Not once were last night's happenings mentioned. Tim breathed with
+relief as the minutes passed. They took the trail. Before they had gone
+far the sun broke over the horizon and faintly touched the tops of the
+trees.
+
+There was still some restraint between them. The scars of last night's
+fight could not heal in a moment. But as they hurried among the trees,
+Don gave thanks that he had forced himself to speak and had broken the
+ice. For Tim was almost pathetically eager to show good will--picking the
+hardest tasks and the roughest paths, and squirming unbidden into
+doubtful corners to sound them out.
+
+Every step now increased their chances of encountering the other patrols.
+They passed the fourth blaze since leaving camp, and then the fifth. The
+trees became thicker, the foliage denser. The sun was almost shut out.
+Even the sounds of the birds were hushed.
+
+Don halted. "We must be getting near the end of the trail. We've come
+about a mile."
+
+Tim's voice trembled. "Let's make a rush for it."
+
+Don shook his head. "Too dangerous. We'll go ahead, stop and listen, and
+go ahead again."
+
+"Gee!" said Tim. "Like stalking an Indian in Colonial days."
+
+Now listening breathlessly, now darting forward, now creeping, they
+slowly forged ahead. Two more blazes were passed. They found the next. It
+was marked:
+
+-O-
+
+"The end of the trail," said Don in a whisper.
+
+"Maybe we're here first," said Tim.
+
+But they dared not take the chance of haste. Rival scouts might be
+waiting, hidden, to pounce on them. They listened, while their hearts
+beat heavily.
+
+"I'm going forward," said Tim at last, and edged out. Soon they knew that
+neither the Eagles nor the Foxes had yet reached the goal.
+
+Then began a frantic search. They wanted to find the treasure and away.
+Not a sound broke the stillness but bird calls and their own footsteps.
+Yet they knew that, from some place among the trees, scouts were stealing
+toward them. They went out in a wide circle, worked in, and found
+nothing.
+
+"Mr. Wall wouldn't make this too hard," said Tim. "He's left some sign.
+How could he hide it?"
+
+"Among tree branches," said Don, "or in a tree hollow, or in the
+ground--"
+
+"That's it," cried Tim. "Burying would leave a sign--freshly turned
+earth. Come on."
+
+They searched again in nervous hurry, and kept looking over their
+shoulders as though trying to peer through the veil of trees. Don saw no
+earth that looked fresh, but he did see a suspicious mound near a tree.
+He put his feet on the spot. His heel sank softly.
+
+"Tim!" he called.
+
+Tim came running. "That's it. Why didn't we bring a trowel?" He dug
+at the earth with his ax. Don unslung his haversack, pulled out the
+frying-pan, and scooped with the pan handle.
+
+The sweat rolled into their eyes. They worked feverishly. All at once
+Tim's ax hit something softer and more yielding than the earth.
+
+"She's here, Don! Gee! she's here!" He dropped the axe and worked with
+his hands; by degrees the top of a pasteboard box appeared. They loosened
+the earth around the sides, found grips for their fingers, and pulled.
+The box came out. It was tied with string and could have been in the
+ground only a few days.
+
+The prize was theirs. In their excitement they hugged each other
+joyously.
+
+"You did it, Tim!" cried Don. "You get the credit."
+
+"You found it," Tim said huskily. "You'd have found it without me.
+You--" Something he had kept bottled all morning, something he had never
+expected to say, tumbled from his lips. "You should have knocked my block
+off last night."
+
+"Forget it," Don muttered lamely, but his eyes flamed with a new light.
+He knew now that he had made no mistake in bringing Tim into the woods.
+
+They stood with that queer awkwardness that moves boys when they bare
+their hearts. Tim fingered the string around the box.
+
+"Say, if we could open this--"
+
+The spell was broken. They cut the string and lifted the cover. Inside,
+packed in a soft bed of cotton, was a prize that shone out at them with a
+soft splendor--the Scoutmaster's Cup!
+
+"One little beauty," breathed Tim. "Who ever thought Mr. Wall would hide
+it like that. If we lost it!"
+
+"Let's get out of here," Don cried in fright. He ran for his haversack.
+They took the back trail.
+
+"We had better go easy," Tim said in a low voice, "until we're sure
+there's no chance of meeting the Eagles or the Foxes--"
+
+"Sssh!" Don caught his arm.
+
+Was that a noise? After a time it came again--the dry swish of dead
+leaves and the sharp crackle of dead wood under a weight.
+
+Tim put his lips to Don's ears. "Over there--to the right."
+
+Another silence. Then the noise again, farther off.
+
+"They're at the last blaze," Tim whispered. "This is too close for
+comfort."
+
+They made off with stealthy caution. Whenever they found clear ground
+they hurried, but for the most part it was slow work. All at once came a
+faint cry.
+
+"They've found the empty hole," cried Tim. "Now they'll be after us."
+
+"How will they know which way we went?" Don asked. Nevertheless, he
+hurried.
+
+Ten minutes later they paused to listen. Far back of them they heard
+something which made them look at each other anxiously.
+
+"Can't waste time here," said Tim.
+
+At first, when they paused again, there was silence. Then came that which
+told them of pursuit. Don's pulse quickened.
+
+"They've got our trail, Tim."
+
+"They're following our blazes," said Tim. "We'll fool them. Let's strike
+off here to the east."
+
+They swung off at a right angle. The blazed trail they knew, but
+necessity counseled that they face the unknown. Tim pulled out his
+compass.
+
+When next they listened the sounds of pursuit were gone.
+
+"We've shaken them," said Don, and drew a long breath of relief.
+
+An hour later they came to a slight ravine with a brook flowing along the
+bottom. They squatted on the bank and opened their beans, but beans and
+pilot biscuit made dry eating, and soon the canteens were empty.
+
+"I'll fill them," said Don, and scrambled down the bank. A stone slipped
+under his foot; he fell, cried out sharply, and rolled to the bottom.
+
+When Tim reached him he was sitting up and unlacing one shoe. It did not
+take them long to know the truth. The ankle was sprained.
+
+Tim dipped his scarf in the water and wrapped it around the hurt. Of
+course, it might be a slight sprain, or it might be severe. Don kept
+staring at the foot and frowning. Tim, whistling softly under his breath,
+changed the compress twice.
+
+"It hasn't swollen much," said Don. "Maybe I could walk on it."
+
+"Here," said Tim; "lean on my arm."
+
+Don hobbled. The pain was slight. He could walk on the foot if he favored
+it carefully, but speed was out of the question. He let go of the
+supporting arm and sank to the ground.
+
+He was a hindrance--just so much dead weight. Sooner or later the
+pursuing scouts would find that they were on a false scent, and would
+begin to scour the woods. Mr. Wall had said that the treasure had to be
+brought out safely, but he did not say that two scouts had to bring it
+out.
+
+Don bent over the ankle. "You'd better make a run for it, Tim."
+
+"What's that?" Tim's eyes opened wide. "How about you?"
+
+"Bring the fellows back for me after you get out. Hurry."
+
+But instead of hurrying, Tim stood still. "Nothing doing," he said.
+"You'd stick to me if I were in a fix. I'd be a fine scout to run away,
+wouldn't I?"
+
+Don bent lower over the ankle. Once Tim would have gone off promptly and
+have taken glory out of individual achievement. Now he stuck. Oh, but
+scouting was a great game when fellows played it right!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+CLOSE QUARTERS
+
+
+After a while they bandaged the ankle tightly with wet cloths. Don put on
+his shoe but did not lace it. He tried to climb the ravine bank, but that
+was a bit too rough. Tim picked him up with a fireman's lift and surged
+with him to the top.
+
+That experience set Tim to shaking his head. He could carry the patrol
+leader easily enough on the level, but climbing was a vastly harder job.
+
+"Wait here," he said. "I'll see how the ground looks ahead." In ten
+minutes he was back. "Two or three ravines. You couldn't make them on
+that foot. We'll strike north and follow the brook."
+
+Don puckered his eyes. "If the Eagles and Foxes get scouting around that
+will throw us right into them."
+
+"All right," said Tim. "Maybe we'll capture some Eagles and Foxes along
+with the cup." He wasn't going to get scared until there was something to
+be scared of.
+
+At first Don limped along with one hand on Tim's shoulder. By and by he
+found a tree limb that would answer as a cane, and let go the shoulder.
+
+"You scout ahead," he told Tim. "You've got to be the eyes of this party.
+We can guard against surprise better if we separate. Wait for me every
+little while. Whistle twice if anything goes wrong."
+
+"How about one whistle if everything's all right?" Tim asked. "Then
+you'll know where I am if I change direction."
+
+"All right," Don agreed, and Tim slipped away among the trees.
+
+After that Don followed the sound of soft, guarded whistles. The
+combination of a cane and a bad foot made it slow work. Once he tried to
+hurry, and the ankle stabbed him cruelly. He was all right so long as he
+used the foot carefully, and he sighed and resigned himself to a snail's
+pace. Every now and then he would come upon Tim, standing like a
+statue--waiting and listening. Once Tim took off the bandages, wet them,
+and put them back.
+
+When the job was finished, Tim gave him a hand and helped him up. They
+stood looking at each other. Each boy read something in the other boy's
+eye. An embarrassed grin twisted Tim's mouth.
+
+"You're all right," Don said suddenly.
+
+"Well--" Tim looked away. "I'm going to be."
+
+The flight with the treasure was resumed. Tim disappeared ahead. Almost
+immediately he was back.
+
+"We've got to swing out," he said. "There's a lot of tangled underbrush
+near the brook. We'll go more to the west."
+
+"That will carry us over toward our old trail," said Don.
+
+Tim nodded. They both knew what that meant. Either Eagles or Foxes had
+been following the blaze. The dangers of a meeting were increased.
+
+They had completely lost track of distance. They did not know how far
+they were from the edge of Lonesome Woods. They did not even know where
+they were.
+
+The flight slowed down to a cautious advance. So slow did they go that
+Don's tender foot scarcely impeded them. Tim would go out in front and
+come back, and then go off to the sides. He ranged about tirelessly. And
+always his whistle, low, soft, kept guiding.
+
+There came a time when for a quarter of an hour the whistle did not
+sound. Don became alarmed. Which way to continue he did not know. In
+doubt he stopped. He heard a stirring off to his right, and quickly
+faced that way. Tim stole toward him.
+
+"I think I heard something," he whispered.
+
+They listened, but heard only forest noises.
+
+"Careful," warned Tim, and slipped away once more.
+
+Don watched him until he disappeared. Following, he made sure not to
+stray from the direction Tim had taken. He limped around trees, and tried
+to avoid places where there were deep leaves and dead branches, because
+leaves and branches made noise.
+
+Suddenly a sound halted him abruptly--two low, short whistles--the signal
+of danger.
+
+Tim came back with concern on his face. "They're over there, Don. Quick!
+this way."
+
+They changed their course to the east again. After a while they halted.
+For a moment they heard nothing. Then, to the left, came unmistakably the
+faint sound of voice.
+
+Again they changed their course. Each step now was made with caution. By
+and by, when they thought they were safe, they stood still and strained
+their ears.
+
+This time the sound was even nearer.
+
+"We can't go back deeper into the woods," Tim argued breathlessly.
+"Your ankle won't stand it. We've got to get out. We can't go to our
+right--there's the ravine and the underbrush. If we keep going ahead
+they'll overtake us. If we try to get off to the left, we're sure to
+cross them on an angle."
+
+"Never mind me," Don urged. "Make a dash for it."
+
+Tim shook his head stubbornly. "Wouldn't it be fine for a scout to leave
+his patrol leader in the lurch? Maybe we'll think of something. Come on;
+no use of standing here."
+
+They wormed their way forward. They began to meet patches of thick brush.
+All at once Tim gave a suppressed cry.
+
+"Look at that brush, Don. If we can get them off on a false scent--Where
+are they?"
+
+The sound was still off to the left.
+
+"Give me your haversack." Tim shed his own. "Now your canteen. Now over
+there. Lie behind that brush. Quick."
+
+Don hobbled over to the dense growth. Watching, he saw Tim go off a short
+distance and drop a haversack; going on, he dropped a canteen and
+disappeared.
+
+Don expected him to come back the way he had gone. Instead, Tim made a
+wide swing and approached the brush from the rear. He stretched off on
+his stomach alongside the patrol leader.
+
+"I laid the canteens and the haversacks in a row," he whispered, "about a
+hundred feet apart toward the ravine. They'll think we went that way in a
+hurry and dropped our things so as to travel light. It will take them
+time to search that underbrush. As soon as they pass we'll go off to the
+left. Every minute we'll be getting farther away from them."
+
+"Why won't they think we dropped the haversacks while heading the other
+way?" Don asked.
+
+"What, toward them?" Tim grinned. "That would have walked us right into
+their arms."
+
+Don thought it out. Through a peephole in the brush he could see the
+first haversack on the ground.
+
+"Suppose they find it out there, Tim, and don't see the canteen?"
+
+"Well, what of it?"
+
+"Suppose they start to search right around here?"
+
+"Gee!" Tim gave a low whistle. "I hadn't thought of that. How's this: if
+we see them coming, jump up and surprise them and yell 'Capture!'"
+
+"Suppose they yell, too?" Don asked. "Mr. Wall may say that two sound
+scouts would have a better chance to capture than a team with one limping
+scout."
+
+That was reasonable. The situation became tense. If the searchers took
+the false trail and went on, all right. If they started to search--good
+night!
+
+They lay behind the brush and waited. It seemed, after a while, that they
+had been there an hour. Don had just begun to believe that the pursuit
+had gone off in a new direction, when Tim's hand grasped his shoulder
+with a convulsive pressure.
+
+There had been a faint sound of cracking wood.
+
+Nearer it came, almost directly in front of them. Then another sound
+echoed off to one side. All at once a khaki-clad figure slipped between
+two trees.
+
+Tim's hand grew rigid. Don tried to flatten himself into the earth.
+
+They knew the boy--Larkins, patrol leader of the Foxes. On he came.
+Suddenly he saw the haversack. He halted and jumped sideways behind a
+tree.
+
+Don and Tim knew what that meant. Larkins thought it might be a trap. It
+was not going to be easy to fool him.
+
+Would he never come out from behind the tree? They had heard, after he
+disappeared, a queer woody sound that somehow did not seem out of place.
+Now they heard it again and recognized its source. Larkins was hitting a
+stick of light wood against other wood.
+
+At the first signal, the echoing sounds they had heard off to the side
+had ceased. At this new signal it began again. Larkins walked out and
+picked up the haversack. A moment later another khaki figure came into
+view. It was Rood, another Fox scout.
+
+"It's Don's," Larkins said in excitement; "here's his name."
+
+"Maybe they're hiding around here," said Rood.
+
+Don's heart almost stood still.
+
+"Maybe." Larkins stood up and walked slowly toward the brush.
+
+Don felt Tim gather his muscles. He knew what that meant. If discovery
+was certain, Tim was prepared to spring out and cry "Capture!" and let
+Mr. Wall decide.
+
+"Say," Rood called, "what's that?"
+
+Larkins paused suspiciously. "What's what?"
+
+"Down there. Looks like a canteen."
+
+"Get it." Larkins turned quickly from the brush. Don buried his face in
+his arm so that the searcher would not hear his sigh of relief.
+
+Rood brought back the canteen. "I could see another haversack, too. I bet
+they heard us and are making a run for it after dropping everything." His
+voice shook with excitement.
+
+"We've got to get on then," cried Larkins. "Where's the other haversack?
+Which way? Never mind bothering with it. Spread out. No use being
+cautious--not until we think we're getting close."
+
+He ran straight on. Rood sprinted off at an angle.
+
+Behind the brush Don and Tim waited. The sounds of feet crashing through
+the forest grew fainter and at last ceased.
+
+Tim jumped to his feet. "That settles the Foxes," he cried. "Now if we
+can duck the Eagles we're all right."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+OUT OF THE WOODS
+
+
+Joyously Don broke from cover. The Eagles might threaten later, but just
+now the field was clear. He took great breaths of the fresh air. It was
+good to breathe deeply after having been almost afraid to breathe at all.
+
+Tim brought back the haversacks and canteens and pushed them out of sight
+behind the wall of brush. After a moment's thought he changed his mind
+and pulled out one of the canteens.
+
+"That ankle may need another wetting," he said. "For the rest of the way
+we'll travel light. We should have dropped that load long ago."
+
+"How will we find it again?" Don asked. "There's lots of brush."
+
+Tim took out a handkerchief and tied it where it could be plainly seen.
+
+"Believe me," he said, "we're some team. What one forgets the other
+thinks about."
+
+Some team! Don smiled. He had never thought to hear Tim say a thing like
+that. All at once the troubles that Tim had given him in the past seemed
+as nothing. That was what a patrol leader was for--to stand up under
+thoughtless knocks from wayward scouts and to bring them back.
+
+They struck off north. Tim had decided that the Eagles could not be in
+this neck of the woods, else they would have run into the Foxes and
+somebody would have been captured. He led the way more boldly, with a
+swing to his shoulders. Don, watching him, smiled again, this time
+wistfully. What a dandy patrol leader Tim would make--now.
+
+At the first rest, while the red-haired boy poured water over the ankle
+bandages, Don said:
+
+"You've heard about the new patrol, haven't you?"
+
+Tim shook his head.
+
+"It came up in the last patrol leader's meeting. We've had six fellows on
+the waiting list for a long time. Mr. Wall's going to organize a fourth
+patrol and take them in. There's a big chance for you."
+
+Tim looked up quickly. "For patrol leader?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Tim knelt motionless. After a while he slung the canteen on his back and
+slowly shook his head. "Nothing doing. What a fine mess I'd have made if
+I had become patrol leader of the Wolves! I can see it now."
+
+"Just the same," said Don, "I'm going to recommend you."
+
+Tim stared away through the trees. Patrol leader! He had always wanted
+that. As for Don recommending him--Gee! wasn't that a hot one?
+
+"If I get it," he said in a low voice, "will you stand by me if I get
+stuck? I'm an awful bonehead sometimes."
+
+"Every patrol leader in the troop will be glad to help," said Don.
+
+"I know." Tim nodded. "But I'd sooner go to you."
+
+Their course still carried them north. By degrees, as they advanced,
+Tim's boldness became tinged with caution. They had gone quite some
+distance from their hiding place; there might be Eagles around.
+
+The old whistling signals were resumed. Tim would slip off through the
+trees and whistle after a while, and Don would go forward and join him.
+There seemed to be no end to the trees. Were they never going to get out?
+
+The third time Don went forward, Tim was frowning and biting his lips.
+
+"I thought I heard something again," he said nervously. "It can't be that
+the Foxes swung down and around and headed us off. Wait here; I'll sneak
+closer."
+
+When the whistle sounded, several minutes later, Don limped forward
+eagerly.
+
+"I knew I heard something," Tim warned. "Listen, now."
+
+They held their breaths. Voices! No doubt of it. And then, faintly from a
+distance, a call of:
+
+"Bobbie! O Bobbie! Bob--bie!"
+
+Don forgot that he was a woods fugitive. "That's Andy's voice," he
+shouted. "We're almost out. Come on, Tim. Rush for it."
+
+They gave no care now to what noise they made. Don felt Tim take his arm
+to help him. He hobbled and hopped and squirmed, and only paused when the
+tender ankle brought him up wincing and shivering.
+
+"Easy," said Tim. "No hurry. See that opening? We're almost out. Easy
+now."
+
+But Don found it agony to go slow. Suppose they were gobbled here within
+sight of victory! He took another chance on a hobbling run. Around a
+clump of trees, straight ahead, another turn--and there was the wide,
+free outside in front of them.
+
+"Safe!" gasped Don. No need to hurry now. He sank to the ground and
+rested his injured ankle. The Scoutmaster's Cup was theirs!
+
+Three scouts, walking together, were disappearing over a knoll of ground
+in the distance.
+
+"Andy!" Tim bellowed. "Andy Ford!"
+
+One of the scouts looked around and pointed. He shouted to someone in the
+distance. Then he and his companions came forward on a wild run.
+
+Tim pulled the cup from the box and held it up for them to see. At that
+the wild run became a desperate sprint.
+
+"Ours, ours, ours!" cried Andy. The other scouts, Ritter and Wally Woods,
+caught Tim's arms and poured out a stream of questions. What had become
+of the haversacks and blankets? Had they been afraid in the woods? Had
+they seen the Foxes? Where had they found the cup?
+
+Another scout came over the knoll--Bobbie Brown. After that came a rush
+of Fox scouts and Eagle scouts, and finally Mr. Wall. Scout whistles
+began to blow a salute and a welcome. Cheers came in ringing waves. Tim,
+his eyes bright with excitement, stood close to Don. Oh, but this was
+great!
+
+Mr. Wall shook hands. His grip was hard and strong and gloriously
+friendly, and his smile made their blood run warmly. He stepped back and
+looked at them, and his gaze seemed to rest on Don's puffed lip. Tim
+caught his breath.
+
+"How do you like it?" the Scoutmaster asked.
+
+"Great!" said Don. "Wasn't it, Tim?"
+
+Tim nodded.
+
+"Who found the cup?"
+
+"Tim did."
+
+"I didn't," cried Tim. "You found the place."
+
+"But you said it had probably been buried and to look for freshly turned
+dirt. And if you hadn't stuck to me when I hurt my ankle we'd been
+captured sure. And when the Eagles were trailing us you threw them off
+the scent--"
+
+"Aw!" said Tim, "you deserve all the credit for limping along on that bum
+foot."
+
+A light of satisfaction leaped into Mr. Wall's eyes. There was little
+that went on in Chester troop of which he was in ignorance. He had known
+what that trip into the woods meant, and he had wondered many times that
+morning what would come of it. From the look of Don's lip and from a
+lumpy look above one of Tim's eyes, he would say there had been a fight.
+He proposed, though, to ask no questions. Whatever had happened, the
+atmosphere was clear. The Tim who had come out was a vastly different boy
+from the Tim who had gone in, and that was all that mattered.
+
+He slipped off Don's shoe and examined the foot. "Nothing much," he said.
+"A couple of days' rest and you'll be as good as new." As he stood up his
+hand rested in the old familiar way on Tim's shoulder.
+
+"I told you it would happen some day, Tim."
+
+Tim looked up timidly. "What, sir?"
+
+"That we'd be proud of you."
+
+Tim's eyes dropped. A thrill ran through his veins. Not because he had
+been praised--paugh! that didn't mean so much--but because Mr. Wall
+seemed to speak to him as man scout to boy scout. He was accepted without
+question as worthy. He could see it in the eyes of Andy Ford and of every
+scout there. Gee! what a difference it made.
+
+The scouts had been shrilling a succession of short, sharp blasts, the
+rallying signal. Now Larkins and Rood burst out of the woods. When they
+saw Don and Tim their faces lengthened, but they came forward and offered
+their congratulations.
+
+The whole story had to be told. Don related how they had followed the
+trail, he told of finding the treasure, of getting away and learning of
+pursuit, of cutting away from their trail, and of his tumble at the
+ravine, and of how Tim had refused to leave him.
+
+"Good boy," cried Andy.
+
+Next Don described their journey with Tim ranging around as scout. When
+he told of laying out the haversacks Larkins' face went red.
+
+"Were you fellows hiding behind that brush?" he demanded.
+
+"You bet," said Don. "We hid the haversacks there after you went on.
+You'll find Tim's handkerchief tied there now."
+
+A grudging look of admiration came into the Fox leader's eyes. "It was
+some plan," he admitted, "and it surely fooled us. That's one we owe you,
+Tim."
+
+Tim laughed.
+
+The story was over at last, and the position of the sun warned the troop
+that it was time to start for home. At Mr. Wall's orders a coat stretcher
+was made and Don was lifted in. Just before the start he thought of
+something.
+
+"What became of the Eagles?" he demanded.
+
+"Shucks!" said Larkins. "They built a fire the first night, and we
+sneaked up and bagged them."
+
+Tim looked at Don miserably, and Don flashed a glance that told him to
+forget it. It was their secret. Nobody would ever know.
+
+Tim walked a step behind the stretcher, with his head bent thoughtfully.
+What a good scout Don was--fair, and square, and willing to be white
+where another fellow would hold a grudge! Tim sighed. He wasn't built
+like that. He scrapped and got himself in Dutch, and let himself think
+things that he shouldn't think.
+
+Well, he was going to stop that. He had thought of the laws and the oath
+back there in the woods and they had begun to mean something serious.
+Fellows like Andy, and Alex Davidson, and Don showed what the laws and
+the oath were. Some day--The muscles in Tim's jaw hardened. Some day he
+would be that kind of scout, too.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Don Strong, Patrol Leader, by William Heyliger
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DON STRONG, PATROL LEADER ***
+
+***** This file should be named 13898.txt or 13898.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/8/9/13898/
+
+Produced by Audrey Longhurst, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+https://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     https://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
+*** END: FULL LICENSE ***
+