Don turned back toward the ball field. Past the maple tree he strode. A
factory whistle sounded the noon hour. He broke into a run.

Two blocks farther on he stopped short. Tim was coming toward him
carrying an oil can.

"Are you going to Danger Mountain?" Don demanded.

Tim put down the can and cocked his cap over one eye. "Sure. Why?"

"You can't. Mr. Wall said it's a bad spot."

"He didn't say we couldn't go."

"That's what he meant."

"How do you know?"

"Everybody knows. That's why he won't take us there. He said you could
get broken bones."

"I'm not afraid." Tim picked up the can and swung it carelessly. "I guess
Mr. Wall was trying to scare little fellows like Bobbie. He didn't mean a
big fellow like me."

Don knew that arguing with Tim would be useless. And yet, as the
trouble-maker stepped around him, he made a last plea.

"You'll get the patrol in trouble, Tim, and we're only one point behind