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?

All next morning he built bird-houses.  He had developed quite a business with Audubon societies and it took a lot of work to keep up with his orders.  After dinner he trudged off to the village field.  Tim greeted him as though nothing had happened.

Don was delighted at this turn of affairs.  When the work ended and he saw Tim following his steps he waited.

“You can vote for me now,” Tim said confidently.  “I saw Alex today.  He won’t have time to be patrol leader.  He goes to work for the Union grocery store next Monday.”

Don felt that everything had been turned upside down.  So this was why the other boy had been so friendly!  Of course, he could go home and let Tim think that the vote was his.  But that would be cowardice.  That would not be a scout’s way of meeting the situation.

“I’m going to vote for somebody else,” he said uneasily.

Tim’s good humor vanished.  “You are?”

Don nodded.  “You’re too hot-tempered,” he said.  “You always get things stewed up.  You—­”

“I don’t see any wings on you or Alex,” Tim cried wrathfully.  “What kind of a game is this?”

Don said nothing.  What was the use, he thought.  He walked on; and after a moment Tim stood still and let him go his way.

Next morning a letter came from the Scout Scribe announcing the terms of the contest for the Scoutmaster’s Cup.  The competition would start at Friday night’s meeting.  For each scout present a patrol would be awarded a point, while for each scout absent it would lose a point.  Another point would be lost for each scout who came to meeting with buttons off his uniform, or with scout pin missing, or with hair uncombed, or shoes muddy.  Any patrol that did not live up to its orders from the Scoutmaster would be penalized from five to ten points.  At the end of the first month there would be a contest in advanced first aid, and points would be awarded to the patrols that came in first and second.

Don read the letter twice and sat on one of the wooden horses and stared at the ground.  His sister Barbara, anxious to show a berry cake, had to call to him three times before he heard her.

“What’s the matter, Don?” she asked.

“Tim Lally wants to be patrol leader,” he answered.

“Oh!” Barbara gave him a quick, understanding look.

Tim did not have a word to say to him that afternoon.  Next day he worked steadily helping his father on a rush order and did not get to the field at all.  When the work was done, he went upstairs and washed, dressed in his scout uniform and came down to the dining-room.