.

"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 st