William Heyliger

“ There were no questions of, "Did you go to your patrol leader, Tim?" Mr.
Wall seemed to be the kind who understood without asking questions.
"Tim," he said, "I think we're going to be proud of you some day."
"I hope so," Tim said huskily. His heart beat faster as he turned back to his patrol. And then he heard Ritter's voice.
"Say, how is Tim going? Has Don got him working?"
"Stop that, Ritter," Don cried angrily. Gosh! couldn't some fellows ever learn to hold their tongues? His eyes sought Tim; one look told him enough. Tim had heard. ”

“ The Fox patrol had a box of blacking and a brush, and two scouts were polishing their shoes. The Eagles had a needle and thread, and one scout, under the watchful eye of his patrol leader, was sewing on a button.
"This is going to be a fight," Andy went on. "Those scouts are in earnest."
"That's the way for a scout to be," said Don. The prospect of a struggle sent a sparkle into his eyes. "We'll have to do that."
"Needles and thread and shoe-brushes?" Tim demanded.
Don nodded.
"Not for me," said Tim. "I'm no kid. Nobody has to tell me to clean myself." ”

“ Andy cried excitedly. "Get him by the shoulders, Tim."
It took them but a moment to lay Bobbie in the stretcher. Tim sprang to the front of the staves, Andy to the rear. They swung the stretcher from the ground.
"'Ray for the Wolves!" cried Wally's voice.
All Tim thought about was getting to Mr. Wall with his burden. He broke into a walk that was almost a run.
"Look at the Wolves!" The cry could be heard above the noise. "That's no way to carry an injured person."
Tim looked around, startled. What was wrong? He saw the Eagles and the Foxes carrying their loads slowly, with precious care. ”

“ Every scout knew at once that Tim had said something. Don shut his lips tightly.
"I guess Tim forgot," Andy suggested.
Don grasped at this straw. Not that he believed it, for he didn't; but it gave him a chance to ease the tension. He forced a smile and said that Tim might come bolting in at the last minute. The moment the roll call was completed, he turned the talk to the Scoutmaster's Cup. He didn't want to give the scouts a chance to sit there and think.
"We're in the lead now," he said, "and it's up to us to stay there. It will be easy if every fellow will do his part. ”

“ Tim shrugged his shoulders. "Come on. Let's get firewood."
The sound of the axes chased away the quiet. The firewood became a small pile, a great pile, and then a fat, clumsy pyramid.
"Hello there, Wolves," came a faint hail.
The troop had arrived. Soon the woods rang with high-pitched shouts and cries.
The problem now was to find a camp site. Scouts swung out in all directions. One group tried to advance the wagon. Now the wheels would get tangled in clumps of underbrush, and now there would be seemingly no way to squeeze through the trees. At last it could be advanced no further. ”

“ Mr. Wall demanded. "Can't the patrol leader keep order?"
"Cut it out, Tim," said Don.
"Go on!" Tim answered sullenly. "Say it louder so Mr. Wall will hear you." He slouched through what was left of the hike and did not speak a word to anyone.
"He surely can make things pleasant," said Andy. "Some day he'll go too far and Mr. Wall will bundle him out of the troop, and it will be good riddance."
Don said nothing. He wanted to be relieved of the burden of Tim's trouble-making, but not by expulsion. That, he thought, was no way for a fellow to end as a scout. ”

“ Presently Tim walked out through the gate and was gone.
Don sat beside his work and pondered. As a patrol leader, what should he do? What was expected of a patrol leader—that he strive heart and soul to bring victory to his patrol, or that he stake everything on making one boy the kind of scout he ought to be? Victory for the Wolves, he suspected, would soon be forgotten. ”

“ The patrol leader, he thought, should be a fellow who was heart and soul in scouting—a fellow who could encourage, and urge, and lend a willing hand; not a fellow who wanted to drive and show authority. If Tim, with his temper and his eagerness to come to blows, should take command—Don shook his head. Why did Phil Morris have to move away? ”

“ Ted Carter walked out between the boys, "That will be all from you, Tim. When you come out on this field, you come out to play ball. If you can't play ball, you quit."
Slowly Tim pulled off his mitt. He was the only regular catcher. Ted was trying to bluff him. And his temper was flaring because he had been rebuked in front of Don.
"Think you can get anybody to play any better for you than I play?" he asked flippantly.
"You bet I can," said Ted. "I can use a fellow who'll be in the game every minute." ”

“ His voice shook with excitement.
"We've got to get on then," cried Larkins. "Where's the other haversack? Which way? Never mind bothering with it. Spread out. No use being cautious—not until we think we're getting close."
He ran straight on. Rood sprinted off at an angle.
Behind the brush Don and Tim waited. The sounds of feet crashing through the forest grew fainter and at last ceased.
Tim jumped to his feet. "That settles the Foxes," he cried. "Now if we can duck the Eagles we're all right." ”

“ But Tim wasn't over it. A new thought had caused him to change tactics. What was the use of his spoiling his own fun? He'd get his good time regardless of what Don had up his sleeve. He'd throw himself into this treasure hunt heart and soul. He'd work as hard as any scout could work. But once they were in Lonesome Woods he'd do what he thought was best. If Don tried to interfere with him there'd be trouble.
Next day he found the whole patrol, with the exception of Alex, at Don's yard. Ritter called him a lucky stiff, and Wally looked at him with envy. ”

“ Wednesday night each patrol leader will announce the name of the scout who will accompany him into the woods. I think you're too excited to do scout work tonight. Would you prefer to talk this over?"
"Yes, sir," came a roar.
Mr. Wall laughed and waved his hands.
Instantly the room broke into riot. A night camp at Lonesome Woods, a blazed trail, a buried treasure and a threat of sudden capture! This was great!
"Will trails cross?" cried the leader of the Foxes. "Must we watch out for Eagles and Wolves even before we get to the treasure?" ”

“ Another first-baseman, Don thought, would be scolding about the throws. His heart warmed to the newcomer. He began to feel at home. His throws steadied and became sure.
"That's enough," Ted called. "Nobody'll get much of a lead on you fellows. Now for some fielding."
Don walked over to the shade of the maple tree. Intent on watching the field, he did not notice the small figure that took a place at his side.
"Hello, Don," said a voice.
"Oh! Hello, Bobbie! What's the matter, you look worried?" ”

“ Tim knelt motionless. After a while he slung the canteen on his back and slowly shook his head. "Nothing doing. What a fine mess I'd have made if I had become patrol leader of the Wolves! I can see it now."
"Just the same," said Don, "I'm going to recommend you."
Tim stared away through the trees. Patrol leader! He had always wanted that. As for Don recommending him—Gee! wasn't that a hot one?
"If I get it," he said in a low voice, "will you stand by me if I get stuck? I'm an awful bonehead sometimes."
"Every patrol leader in the troop will be glad to help," said Don. ”

“ He banged his mitt against the scout staves in the racks and seemed to find pleasure in the noise. Finally he brought up in front of the slate.
"Think we can stick in the lead?" Andy asked.
"Cinch!" said Tim. "What other patrol has anything on us?"
"It means work," said Don. "If we practice once or twice every week—"
"Once or twice?" Tim cried. "Gee! Have a heart. Isn't that rubbing it in?"
"We've got to be perfect," Andy said quickly, "and we're depending on you for the big stuff."
"What big stuff?" Tim asked.
"Stretcher work, fireman's lift, artificial respiration. ”

“ Don lingered on the porch until the last footstep had died away in the distance. Then he went up to his room and stared out of the window. Thunder! Why couldn't Tim stick to his patrol and play fair, and not spoil all the fun?
He had an uneasy feeling about the morrow's interview. Once he had heard Mr. Wall say that there is something wrong when a patrol leader and his scouts live at loggerheads. He did not want to start wrong, he did not want to quarrel. But what could he do if a scout made up his mind to stay away from meetings and be nasty? ”

“ And let us work hard so that we'll stand a good chance of winning the monthly contests."
"The first contest is easy," said Ritter. "We all know our first aid."
"We know it," said Don. "But can we do it? That's what counts."
"It's like riding a bicycle," Ritter argued. "You never forget."
Don had not expected anything like this. He didn't want the patrol to be cocksure—he wanted it to work. But there would be small chance of work if each scout was going to think that practice was unnecessary.
"Wait until I get some bandages," he said. ”

“ They fell into step.
"It was my fault the Wolves lost tonight," the boy said huskily.
"Anybody can make that mistake—once," Mr. Wall told him.
"It was my fault," Tim said stubbornly. What he wanted to say next didn't come so easily. "How—" He hesitated. "How does a fellow get to be a better scout?"
Mr. Wall's hand fell on his shoulder. "Tim, it's all in the way a fellow handles the laws and the oath. If he lives up to them, he's all right. He's a real scout."
"But if I had somebody to go to when I got stuck—"
"Go to your patrol leader, Tim. He's the one to help you." ”

“ Next morning the news was all over the village. Don heard it when he went on an errand for his father. Afterward he worked on his bird-houses and tried to brush aside the worried thoughts that plagued him. Andy Ford came to the yard, and was followed by Bobbie Brown and Wally Woods. The three boys looked at Don, and looked at each other, and looked away.
"Was Tim chased?" Andy asked at last.
Don laid down his plane. "Fellows," he said seriously, "if you hear any talk about Tim just—just keep your mouths shut. Talk always makes things worse and—and we're after the Scoutmaster's Cup." ”

“ Don stared hard at the tablecloth. He had entered joyously on his duties as patrol leader, but one disagreement after another with Tim had roughened his road. And now—now that he seemed powerless to stay this latest folly—he suddenly felt very, very tired.
"Why will Tim be so headstrong?" cried Barbara.
"It's a way some boys have," Mr. Strong explained. "Tell them not to do a thing, and immediately that is the one thing they want to do. As for Tim—Well, I fancy he's disgruntled because Ted Carter dropped him. He doesn't want to sit around and watch baseball today. ”

“ Andy protested. "Where do you leave Don Strong?"
"It's Tim's catching that makes him a pitcher," Ritter answered seriously.
"Who says so?"
"Why, Tim says so."
"O—h!" Andy began to laugh. "And you swallowed that?"
"Sure," said Ritter. "A catcher ought to know just how good a pitcher he is. Tim says—"
But what Tim said was not told just then. A small, wiry boy steered his bicycle up on the sidewalk and pedaled toward the tree.
"Hey, fellows!" he shouted. "Did you hear the latest? Mr. Wall is going to give a cup to the best patrol and Phil Morris is moving to Chicago." ”

“ You mean that when I was a plain scout I could skylark and cut up a bit, but that now I must be out in front setting the pace. I can't ask any of the fellows to be what I am not myself."
"Exactly. And there's another thing. Don't get discouraged when your plans go wrong. Get your grip and hold on. Scouts are only human. They're not angels."
Don smiled.
"I mean that. Scouting wasn't made for angels. It was made for everybody, fellows like you and me. And just because we're not angels, we sometimes kick things around and don't seem to play fair. ”

“ He staggered through the fifth inning without being scored on, but it was ticklish work. Little Falls hit him hard. With the bases full and two out, Marty Smith sprang sideways, made a blind stab, scooped the ball and touched the bag for the third out.
Cries of chagrin came from the Little Falls bench. "Oh, you lucky dubs," called one of the coachers. "That was horseshoes."
Don smiled mechanically. It was his turn to go to bat; and after he was thrown out he came to the bench and fought stubbornly to keep his thoughts on the game and away from Tim. ”

“ He could ride after Tim and overtake him before he had gone very far. What sort of patrol leader would he be to let two of his scouts break faith with the Scoutmaster and not fight to the very last to bring them back? For it was breaking faith. Mr. Wall had not dreamed that they would do anything like this.
He was on fire now for the game to end. In his eagerness he began to pitch wildly. The first batter got a base on balls.
Ted walked down to him. "Steady, there; you're pitching too fast."
Don saw that if he gave bases on balls he would prolong the struggle. ”

“ Barbara came in from the kitchen to set the table. "Hungry?" she asked.
Then, after a moment: "Isn't Tim your catcher on the town team?"
Don nodded.
Barbara put her head close to his. "Scouting isn't all fun, is it?"
"It wouldn't be worth shucks if it was," Don said stoutly. And yet, as he walked toward troop headquarters after supper, his steps were slow.
The command "Attention," came from Mr. Wall's lips as he entered the meeting place. He hurriedly joined his patrol. The color guard and the troop bugler stepped to the front, and the brassy notes of "To the Colors" rose and fell. ”

“ None of that tomorrow. Let Tim judge the batters. This is his second year against town teams; he knows their game better than you."
Tim swelled out his chest and swaggered.
"All right," said Don. If Ted thought nothing of the way he had been batted, why, everything must be all right. He walked home gayly.
"Scout meeting tonight?" his father asked.
"Yes, sir," said Don, and ran upstairs to dress. He wondered if the Wolf patrol would get another perfect score. He paused in the act of brushing his hair. A thought that he could not push aside popped into his brain. Would Tim come spick and span? ”

“ Andy Ford and Alex Davidson glanced questioningly at the patrol leader.
"He thinks I took him as a partner so that he'd be blamed if the Morse signaling went wrong," Don explained.
"Oh, the mule!" Andy cried. "Why doesn't he wait until somebody blames him?"
"He says Ritter blamed him for the three mistakes."
"Good night!" Andy breathed.
Alex walked over and stared at the score-board. The Foxes had a scout absent and had been penalized two points. As a result, the Wolves had recovered the ground they had lost at Lonesome Woods. ”

“ Don nodded.
"Gee!" said Tim. "I thought you had more nerve than that. Just go out there and stick it over. You don't see me getting rattled."
"You don't have to serve the ball," said Don.
"No," said Tim; "but I'm the fellow who has to decide what balls they get. I guess that's some responsibility. You pitch the way I tell you to and we'll be all right."
Glenrock was still practicing in the field. Don sat on the bench and watched. They handled the ball well, but not any better than Chester. If their hitting had been overrated—
"They're through," said Ted. "Come on, Don. Don't get excited now. ”

“ Others around the table caught that look, too. Don's face grew hot. In an effort to keep the scouts from paying attention to Tim, he talked rapidly about the first aid contest, now two weeks off. The Eagles and the Foxes, he said, were working hard, and the Wolves would have to give more time to practice.
"We're behind," Don finished, "and we must catch up."
Somehow, what he said sounded strained, and forced, and lame. Every scout felt it—even Tim. Andy Ford's eyes snapped. He didn't look good-humored now.
"We're not getting any better on our stretcher work," he said bluntly. ”

“ Don puckered his eyes. "If the Eagles and Foxes get scouting around that will throw us right into them."
"All right," said Tim. "Maybe we'll capture some Eagles and Foxes along with the cup." He wasn't going to get scared until there was something to be scared of.
At first Don limped along with one hand on Tim's shoulder. By and by he found a tree limb that would answer as a cane, and let go the shoulder.
"You scout ahead," he told Tim. "You've got to be the eyes of this party. We can guard against surprise better if we separate. Wait for me every little while. ”