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?”

“I’m all right,” Bobbie said hastily.

Don turned his eyes to the field.  Even though his interest was completely absorbed, he thought, subconsciously, that the boy at his elbow was very restless.

By and by the dwindling tree shadows warned him that it was time he started for home.  He walked out to the road.  Bobbie walked with him.

“Going my way?” he asked.

“Y-yes,” said Bobbie.  They passed one corner, then another.

“I—­I want to ask you something,” Bobbie said haltingly.  “If a scout knows that some other scout is going to do something—­something dangerous, maybe—­is it blabbing if he tells?”

Don stopped short.  “Who’s doing something dangerous?”

“Is it carrying tales?” Bobbie insisted.

Don thought a moment.  “I don’t think so, Bobbie.”

“But when a fellow tells about other things—­”

“Could you stop this scout from doing something dangerous if you told?”
Don asked.

“I—­I think so.”

“Does he know it’s dangerous?”

Bobbie nodded slowly.

“Then you ought to tell,” said Don.

Bobbie looked at the ground.  “Tim Lally is getting up a party to go to Danger Mountain today,” he said.

A shiver ran through Don’s nerves.  “Where’s Tim now?” he asked.

“Home, getting ready.”

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 the Eagles.”