Part 10 (2/2)

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 scarcely heard the details. All he knew was that somebody said, ”Wednesday, then,” and the Scoutmaster's whistle shrilled, and the troop lined up by patrols.

Slowly the inspection was made--first the scouts, then the room. Don forced himself to keep his eyes level, but he felt like hanging his head.

”Every scout present,” Mr. Wall announced, ”and every scout clean. Each patrol is awarded sixteen points.”

Fleeting smiles through the ranks of the Foxes and the Eagles. Sober faces among the Wolves.

”However,” the Scoutmaster went on, ”the Wolf patrol had the detail of cleaning the meeting place. I am sorry to say that the patrol has been derelict. I am, therefore, compelled to fine the Wolf patrol five points.”

Don's heart was like lead. He knew what the slate would show; and yet, when it was changed, he stared at it miserably:

PATROL POINTS

Eagle 44-1/2 Fox 46 Wolf 41-1/2

The meeting was over at last. He ordered his patrol to wait. The other scouts, looking at the Wolves queerly, went out into the night and scattered. Mr. Wall pa.s.sed out.

”Good night, scouts,” he called.

”Good night,” they answered, and looked at Don.

”We're going to clean this place,” he said. ”Get some water.”

There was a rush for pails. Tim hesitated. He knew he was the cause of the disaster that had overtaken the patrol, but he had the mistaken idea that it would seem babyish and weak to jump in and show contrition. He had always been looked upon as a little ”hard.” This, he thought, was soft--and he didn't want anybody to regard him as a softy.

”Aw!” he said, ”what's the use? We've lost the points, haven't we?”

”Is that your idea of being a scout?” Don asked.

Tim flushed again. For a few minutes he lounged around; then, looking ill at ease, he slouched out.

”I didn't think he'd do that,” Andy said thoughtfully.

Don's lips had gone a little white. He turned toward the spattered wall and stopped all at once. For Tim was coming back through the doorway.

”I'm as good a scout as you,” Tim said pa.s.sionately. ”If you say I'm not, I'll bang you in the eye.”

Don said nothing. While Tim selected a pail and a floor cloth, Don rubbed away at the wall. Slowly a little smile spread across his face. He was quite content the way things had gone. What did five points amount to, if their loss would make Tim a better scout?

CHAPTER IV

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