He had saved the message that Bobbie had written.  That night he took it from his bureau drawer.

“Every batriot,” he read aloud, “blaces his all at the sereice of his country.”  Funny there should be two b’s instead of two p’s.  He repeated the letters slowly, thoughtfully.

“B, p; b, p—­Gosh!  I’ll bet I know what happened.”

He jumped up and paced the room excitedly.  It was clear now.  Tim had sent p, and he had called p, but p and b sound almost the same and Bobbie, tense and excited, had caught the wrong sound.

“E and v are almost the same, too,” Don cried.  “I’ll tell Tim tomorrow.”

Next day he sought Tim eagerly.  Tim gave him a sarcastic sidelong glance.

“B and p do sound alike,” Don said sharply.

“I’m going to ask Mr. Wall to take me out of the Wolf patrol,” was Tim’s response.

He meant it.  He thought Don’s explanation sounded fishy.  Why should it take six days to discover that b and p sounded almost the same?  He quite forgot that he had not thought of b and p sounding the same at all.

Don did not bother him again.  Friday night he came to the troop meeting.  His resolution to ask for a transfer from the Wolves had weakened.  In the past he had never paid much attention to Mr. Wall, accepting him as a matter of course—­every troop had to have a Scoutmaster.  Now, somehow, the thought of Mr. Wall strangled his desire to complain.

The Scoutmaster had said only two weeks before, “I think we’re going to be proud of you some day.”  A queer little lump came up into Tim’s throat and made him swallow hard.  He did not think Mr. Wall would like it if he asked to be changed, and—­and he wouldn’t ask.

The entire patrol saw that he avoided Don, for he made no effort to hide his feelings.  He left the meeting as soon as it was over.  Andy Ford and Alex Davidson glanced questioningly at the patrol leader.

“He thinks I took him as a partner so that he’d be blamed if the Morse signaling went wrong,” Don explained.

“Oh, the mule!” Andy cried.  “Why doesn’t he wait until somebody blames him?”

“He says Ritter blamed him for the three mistakes.”

“Good night!” Andy breathed.

Alex walked over and stared at the score-board.  The Foxes had a scout absent and had been penalized two points.  As a result, the Wolves had recovered the ground they had lost at Lonesome Woods.  The new score read: 

PATROL POINTS

Eagle 138-1/2
Fox 146
Wolf 143-1/2

“Tim gets some crazy hunches,” Alex said, after a time, “but I don’t think he’ll lose any points for us—­not any more.”

“Let him go fish then,” Andy cried.  “We should worry.  How about it, Don?”

Don shook his head slowly.  “I’m patrol leader of the Wolves.”

“And he’s a Wolf scout,” Andy nodded thoughtfully.  “I see what you mean.  I guess you’re right.  What are you going to do?”