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