acts like that?"

Don stared. This was putting things in a new light. Then he thought of
Tim riding rough-shod, and tormenting Bobbie, and wanting his own way in
everything.

"Maybe Tim's all right at heart," he said dubiously, "but he's always
making trouble just the same. I'm not going to let him stew up my patrol.
I'll go to Mr. Wall--"

"Don!"

The sharp note of disappointment in Barbara's voice sent the blood into
his cheeks.

"Stand on your own feet," she said. "What would Mr. Wall think of you?
Did the old-time scouts like Daniel Boone go running for help every time
they found themselves in trouble?"

The boy did not answer. There was a long silence. Barbara touched his
arm.

"Angry, Don?"

"No. I--I guess I'll fight my own way," he said.

Somehow, that determination seemed to lighten his worries. He went
upstairs and wrote his letters. Afterward he picked up his Handbook and
idly turned the pages. Presently his eyes fell on the tenth law: