"Gee!" said Tim. "Mr. Wall surely likes to stick a fellow. This is no
cinch."

"It's your own fault," Andy grunted, trying to reach a high spot.

"Aw! shut up," cried Tim; "you fellows are always preaching. You fellows
never do anything. I'm tired and I'm going to rest."

He brought out a camp stool and sat down. Don bit his lips and went on
working. The other scouts cast covert glances at the stool and its
occupant.

By and by it began to grow dark. The floor had been swept and mopped, but
the walls still had dirty sections and there were the two windows to do.

"We're not going to get this clean in time," said Andy.

Tim stirred from the chair and came over and helped. The light failed
rapidly. The lamps were in the troop "treasure chest," and Don though a
patrol leader, had not yet received a key to the locker.

"No use wasting any more time here," he said at last. "Let's do the
windows."

"Maybe we have the walls all clean," said Andy. Ritter struck a match. By
the feeble flame they looked intently, but could not be sure.

They did the windows. Tim was silent and apparently not anxious to
attract attention to himself. It was almost dark when the last window had
been finished.