"Tim's strong and you're light," Don explained. "You can be handled
easily on the fireman's lift and stretcher work."

Bobbie wet his lips and seemed to want to say something more. Abruptly,
though, he turned away and followed the others out to the porch.

"How about Tim?" Ritter asked. "Shall I tell him about Wednesday?"

Conversation stopped. The feeling of tension came back.

"I'll see him at the field tomorrow," said Don. "I'll tell him myself."

Alex looked at him sharply, and the look said as plainly as words, "Going
to make him toe the mark?"

Don lingered on the porch until the last footstep had died away in the
distance. Then he went up to his room and stared out of the window.
Thunder! Why couldn't Tim stick to his patrol and play fair, and not
spoil all the fun?

He had an uneasy feeling about the morrow's interview. Once he had heard
Mr. Wall say that there is something wrong when a patrol leader and his
scouts live at loggerheads. He did not want to start wrong, he did not
want to quarrel. But what could he do if a scout made up his mind to stay
away from meetings and be nasty?

A dozen times he tried to picture what he would say to Tim and what Tim
would say to him. At last, with an impatient shrug of his shoulders, he
began to undress for bed.