"Cut it out!" Andy said good-naturedly. "You'll get papers all over the
floor."

Tim grinned, and rolled another cartridge. Don caught his bold, sidelong
glance--a glance that seemed to say, "Well, what are you going to do
about it?"

Others around the table caught that look, too. Don's face grew hot. In an
effort to keep the scouts from paying attention to Tim, he talked rapidly
about the first aid contest, now two weeks off. The Eagles and the Foxes,
he said, were working hard, and the Wolves would have to give more time
to practice.

"We're behind," Don finished, "and we must catch up."

Somehow, what he said sounded strained, and forced, and lame. Every scout
felt it--even Tim. Andy Ford's eyes snapped. He didn't look good-humored
now.

"We're not getting any better on our stretcher work," he said bluntly.
"We need practice there."

Tim stopped rolling his pad page. "That's a crack at me, isn't it?" he
demanded.

"I'm in the stretcher work, too," said Andy.

"Aw, you're too clever," Tim flared. "I know what you mean." He shot the
ball, and it whizzed past the assistant patrol leader's ear.