"Get away from there," he cried. His rush caught Tim and pushed him back.
Then the red-haired boy braced, and there was a scuffle. Andy's fire was
scattered.

"What's the meaning of this?" came Mr. Wall's voice.

Instantly the boys separated. Andy hung his head as though ashamed. Tim
carried an injured air.

"Andy pitched into me," he complained.

"He was interfering with my fire," Andy answered.

"I wasn't. I was only showing him."

"Andy is a first-class scout," said Mr. Wall quietly. "If he doesn't know
how to build a fire and cook a meal I have blundered as Scoutmaster in
awarding him his first-class badge."

Tim looked away. This was putting the whole thing in a new light. He dug
the toe of one shoe into the ground, and kept twisting and turning it
nervously.

Mr. Wall's voice softened. "You go off the handle too quickly, Tim.
You've ruined Andy's fire. What do you think you should do--the square
thing?"

"I'll finish my cooking over Don's fire," Andy said quickly.

Mr. Wall never made the mistake of continuing a lecture to the point