He paused in front of the slate. What should he do? If he went to Tim and
told him plump and plain to cut it out, there might be a ruction. If he
allowed the nagging to go on, there would be tension and unrest within
the patrol. No matter which way he turned, disorder and adversity loomed.

He walked to the window where Bobbie stood. Suddenly he stiffened.

"Isn't that Tim down the road--that fellow leaning against the fence?"

Bobbie nodded nervously.

Don drew a deep breath. He knew what was happening. Tim was waiting to
continue his plaguing.

"I--I guess I'll go," said Bobbie again.

"Wait," said Don. "I'm going down that way."

There was no help for it. He had no choice. He couldn't let Bobbie go out
and get his hair pulled and his ears twisted. He'd have to see him past
the danger.

There was vast relief on Bobbie's face as they came out of troop
headquarters. But Don's face was grave.

It took but a minute to walk down the road to the fence. Bobbie's steps
unconsciously became slower. He edged out toward the curb. Tim saw him
and instantly became alert.

"Here, now," he called; "don't try to dodge past. Come over here and--"