"Everybody knows that," said Don.

Ted broke into a relieved laugh. "Well, if you know it, what's the use of
paying any attention to him? Just let him beef along until he gets tired.
He can't hurt you."

Don tried to wrest some comfort from the captain's words--and failed.
True, Tim couldn't hurt him, but he could make things mighty unpleasant,
and that was almost as bad.

At home he found a post-card from Mr. Wall:

The troop will assemble tomorrow morning at 9 o'clock. Light marching
order.

Don forgot all about Tim. Light marching order meant that this would not
be an overnight hike, and a blanket was unnecessary. Haversack, cooking
kit and rations for one meal would constitute the load.

Ordinarily, hikes were arranged in advance and discussed at troop
meetings. But sometimes Mr. Wall did the unexpected. He had said once
that it added spice to scouting, and the scouts had agreed. It gave them
practice, too, in assembling at a few hours' notice. But the scouts did
not think of that.

Don hustled upstairs and overhauled his haversack. His eating things were
in their places. Frying-pan and two sauce-pans intact, can-opener,
matches, salt--

"Got to get some salt," he said, and ran downstairs to the kitchen.