eps 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 ru