"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