A yell burst from the watchers.

“Go on, you Eagles!”

“Chew them up, Foxes; chew them!”

“Faster, Tim; faster!”

Tim’s coat was off and on the staves.  His fingers fumbled with the buttons.

“I’m ready,” came Andy’s voice.  “Ready, Tim.”

His fingers hesitated.  Were the buttons all right?  He saw the Eagle stretcher-makers begin to straighten up.  He swung around to Bobbie.

“All right, Andy, lift him.  Up!  Now down on the stretcher.  Quick!  There go the Eagles.  Lift it. Lift it!”

They lifted their burden.  Mr. Wall came down to inspect.

“Buttons out,” cried a voice from the watchers.  “Buttons out on the Wolf stretcher.”

It was true.  Tim’s coat, under Bobbie’s weight, had popped open.  Tim’s face turned fiery red.  Was he always going to be the fellow who made his patrol lose?  Why hadn’t he made sure of those buttons instead of taking a chance?

“Maybe some of the others have coats open,” Bobbie whispered.

But none of the other coats were open.

Somebody cried that the contest was over.  The scouts formed a pushing, excited ring around Mr. Wall and the stretchers.  The Scoutmaster shook his head gravely.

“I’m afraid I cannot make a decision yet.  Each patrol has excelled in some one thing and has done poorly in some other.”

The pushing and the clamor ceased.

“One more test,” Mr. Wall added.

The scouts fell back.  The big moment of the night had come.  This next event would probably seal the doom of some one patrol.

“Each team,” said Mr. Wall, “will go to the rear of the room down near the door.  At the word it will make its stretcher, lift in the patient, and bring him to me as though I were the doctor.  Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Clear the room.”

The watchers pushed back along the side wall in a straggling line.  There was no such thing now as each scout keeping with his own patrol.  Eagles, Wolves and Foxes found themselves hopelessly mixed.  Don squeezed in next to Alex Davidson.

“Look at Tim,” said Alex.

Tim’s lips were stern.  Here was the chance.  The palms of his hands began to sweat.  If they could win this—­

“Watch your buttons,” whispered Andy.

“Go!” came the word of command.

This time Tim took no chances.  His fingers were cold, and every nerve cried to him to go faster, faster, faster, but he forced himself to make sure that every button was snug.  Then he hitched forward on his knees and helped Andy.

“All right,” 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.