stewed up. You--"

"I don't see any wings on you or Alex," Tim cried wrathfully. "What kind
of a game is this?"

Don said nothing. What was the use, he thought. He walked on; and after a
moment Tim stood still and let him go his way.

Next morning a letter came from the Scout Scribe announcing the terms of
the contest for the Scoutmaster's Cup. The competition would start at
Friday night's meeting. For each scout present a patrol would be awarded
a point, while for each scout absent it would lose a point. Another point
would be lost for each scout who came to meeting with buttons off his
uniform, or with scout pin missing, or with hair uncombed, or shoes
muddy. Any patrol that did not live up to its orders from the Scoutmaster
would be penalized from five to ten points. At the end of the first month
there would be a contest in advanced first aid, and points would be
awarded to the patrols that came in first and second.

Don read the letter twice and sat on one of the wooden horses and stared
at the ground. His sister Barbara, anxious to show a berry cake, had to
call to him three times before he heard her.

"What's the matter, Don?" she asked.

"Tim Lally wants to be patrol leader," he answered.

"Oh!" Barbara gave him a quick, understanding look.

Tim did not have a word to say to him that afternoon. Next day he worked