"You let my fire alone," he warned.

"Go chase yourself. Mr. Wall told me to show you fellows--"

"Tim!" Don chided.

Tim flashed the patrol leader an angry glance. "I said I was going to
show the fellows, didn't I? He didn't tell me not to. Anyway, Ritter's
fire sprawls out too much. Wait until I get a stick. Now, all you have
to do is to pull out these pieces, and--"

"You're raking out my potatoes," cried Ritter.

"It won't kill you to put them back," said Tim. He tossed the stick away
and turned toward Bobbie.

"Your fire's all right now, Bobbie," Don said distinctly.

Tim turned up his nose and faced in Wally Woods's direction. But Wally's
fire, small and compact, gave him no excuse to tinker. He advanced to
where Andy Ford was preparing to fry his meat.

"Gee!" he said. "That sure is one sick-looking fire."

"Suits me," said Andy. He laid the meat in the pan.

Tim began to prod the fire with his foot. The flame, which had been low
and even, began to flare and smoke. Andy dropped his frying-pan and
sprang forward.