you wouldn't, old scout!" was Don's hearty response. "Why,
I remember times when you put it all over me! I'm afraid of that
famous serve of yours still!"

"Whoop-ee!" yelled Cooper Fennimore, a scout in Don's patrol,
springing up and waving his cap around his head. "That's some
playing, I tell you! For a chap that hasn't had a racket in his
paw for three months, that's going some!"

"Talk about speed!" put in another Fox. "Gee! I'm glad I wasn't
in Walter's place!"

The boy to whom these remarks were addressed, Blake Merton, a Hawk
and one of young Osborne's staunchest friends, flushed.

"If you had been in Walter's place, you would have lasted about two
minutes!" he retorted. His naturally quick temper---usually kept
in control---often flared up and led him to say things which he
afterward regretted.

"Huh!" exclaimed the Fox, scornfully. "You seem to think Walter
Osborne can win all the time! Don did start in rusty, but he soon
warmed up---just a little!"

"Let's play a set, Coop, you and I," suggested Blake Merton, turning
his back upon Don's elated follower. "Do you feel like it?"

"Sure thing, Blake! But I guess you won't have any trouble in
putting me down and out."

"Cut out the modesty!" laughed Blake. "It was all I could do to
beat you yesterday, and you know it."

So another court was soon occupied, with Dick Bellamy scoring. Dick
belonged to the Otter patrol, and as Alec Sands, who formerly
captained the Otters, was not going to be in camp that summer,
Dick was Tom Sherwood's only rival for the leadership. Already the
Otters had held informal discussions of Dick's and Tom's
qualifications, but it was still uncertain which of the two would
be elected. Each was popular and had a good record in woodcraft,
athletics, and scout games. Another question was: Who would be chosen
for leader of the Wolf patrol, in the absence of Hugh Hardin and his
chum, Billy Worth, that summer?

"Rough or smooth?" called Blake, tossing his racket in the air.

"Rough," answered Cooper.

"Smooth it is," the other declared, with a grin. "I'll take serve."

Blake had a peculiar and difficult cut on which he prided himself in
serving. It was seldom that anyone could touch it until after he
had played with Blake for some time, and Cooper was no exception to
the rule.

"Fifteen love," announced Dick from the barrel.

They crossed the court, and Blake tried the cut once more. This
time Cooper was ready