Don’s heart was like lead.  He knew what the slate would show; and yet, when it was changed, he stared at it miserably: 

PATROL POINTS

Eagle 44-1/2
Fox 46
Wolf 41-1/2

The meeting was over at last.  He ordered his patrol to wait.  The other scouts, looking at the Wolves queerly, went out into the night and scattered.  Mr. Wall passed out.

“Good night, scouts,” he called.

“Good night,” they answered, and looked at Don.

“We’re going to clean this place,” he said.  “Get some water.”

There was a rush for pails.  Tim hesitated.  He knew he was the cause of the disaster that had overtaken the patrol, but he had the mistaken idea that it would seem babyish and weak to jump in and show contrition.  He had always been looked upon as a little “hard.”  This, he thought, was soft—­and he didn’t want anybody to regard him as a softy.

“Aw!” he said, “what’s the use?  We’ve lost the points, haven’t we?”

“Is that your idea of being a scout?” Don asked.

Tim flushed again.  For a few minutes he lounged around; then, looking ill at ease, he slouched out.

“I didn’t think he’d do that,” Andy said thoughtfully.

Don’s lips had gone a little white.  He turned toward the spattered wall and stopped all at once.  For Tim was coming back through the doorway.

“I’m as good a scout as you,” Tim said passionately.  “If you say I’m not, I’ll bang you in the eye.”

Don said nothing.  While Tim selected a pail and a floor cloth, Don rubbed away at the wall.  Slowly a little smile spread across his face.  He was quite content the way things had gone.  What did five points amount to, if their loss would make Tim a better scout?

CHAPTER IV

DANGER MOUNTAIN

Next day Don pitched his second game for Chester.  His pulse was steady, his control was good, and the Springfield batters seemed unable to do much with his drop.  When the score-keeper marked the last play and closed his book, Chester had won 5 runs to 3.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Ted Carter cried jubilantly.  “Some pitching!”

“Sure,” said Tim.  “I doped out what the batters couldn’t hit, and he threw me what I wanted.”

“There’s a lot of pitchers can’t do that,” the captain said lightly, and shot a quick look at the pitcher.

Don pretended that he had not heard; but he could not keep the color from rising in his cheeks.  All during the game Tim had seemed to rasp him a bit—­not enough to spoil his work, but enough to keep him on edge.

He had thought, after last night’s meeting, that there would be a big change in Tim.  Instead, it began to look as though Tim would continue to be the same wild, heedless, quarrelsome lad he had always been.

“Today’s tussle will give you confidence,” said Ted in his ear.  “You’ll be able to give them all a fight now.”