"What's the matter with you?" Ted Carter demanded sharply. "Are you
sick?"

"Don's pitching like a freak," Tim answered.

"It's Saturday's pitching that counts," said Ted. "You fellows have had
enough warm-up. Go out in the field, Don, and catch fungoes."

Don was glad to get away. When the work was over Ted ran to the outfield
and took him by the arm and led him toward the road.

"Have you and Tim been scrapping?" the captain asked.

Don shook his head.

"You fellows are in the same scout troop. Do you pull?"

"N--no."

"What's the matter; did Tim want to be patrol leader?"

Don nodded.

Ted slapped his glove against his thigh and whistled thoughtfully. At the
corner he paused. Don halted, too.

"Look here," Ted said suddenly. "You know that Tim is a harum-scarum,
don't you?"