“The Wolf patrol,” he said, “is to select a new leader.  So long as Patrol Leader Morris will not serve under his successor, the Council of Patrol Leaders feels that he should not vote in this election.  The Scout Scribe will distribute pencils and paper.  Each member of the Wolf patrol will write the name of his candidate.  When I call his name, he will deposit his ballot, folded, in my hat.  The patrol leaders will count the ballots.”

Don’s throat was dry.  When he received his paper and pencil his hand shook.  He wrote “Andy Ford” quickly, and folded the paper.  He caught a glimpse of Tim sending sharp glances from face to face.

“Assistant Patrol Leader Ford,” Mr. Wall called.

Andy went up and dropped his ballot.

“Scout Lally.”

Tim voted, came back to his stool and sat biting his lips.

Finally all the votes were in.  The patrol leaders carried the hat aside, counted the votes, and came back to Mr. Wall.

“The result is—­” The Scoutmaster paused.  “Scout Lally, three votes; Scout Strong, three votes; Assistant Patrol Leader Ford, one vote.  As no candidate has received a majority, another ballot is necessary.”

Don wondered if he had heard the Scoutmaster correctly.  Three votes for him?  He saw Tim eye him with dark suspicion.  Andy’s voice sounded in his ear: 

“Did you vote for me?”

He nodded.

“Well, cut it out.  Next time vote for yourself.”

Don shook his head slowly.  This thing of voting for himself did not appeal.

“If you vote for me,” Andy said sharply, “this will be a tie until the cows come home.  Don’t be a chump.  Tim is voting for himself.”

Still Don was undecided.  Besides, he could not get over the wonder of finding himself with three votes.

“How about a man who runs for president of the United States?” Andy insisted.  “Do you think he votes for his opponent?”

“We are ready to ballot again,” said Mr. Wall.

“Wake up,” said Andy.

Don did not know what to do.  There was no use in voting for Andy.  Alex would not take the place and Bobbie Brown was altogether too young a scout.  What should he do?

“Assistant Patrol Leader Ford,” called the Scoutmaster.

Don, in desperation, wrote his own name.

This time, when the patrol leaders brought Mr. Wall the result, they put the hat out of the way, and the troop knew that it would not be needed again.

“Scout Lally,” Mr. Wall read, “three votes; Scout Strong, four votes, Scout Strong is elected patrol leader of the Wolves.”

Five minutes later the meeting was over.  Don had been formally saluted by the Foxes and the Bears, and a patrol leader’s stripes had been pinned, temporarily, to his sleeve.  Flushed and excited, and still amazed at the turn fortune had taken, he faced about to where his own patrol was gathered.  All at once the flush died out of his cheeks.