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.