“All right, sir.”

“Think you’re going to like it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It has its hard spots,” Mr. Wall said seriously, “just like any other job.  It isn’t all milk and honey.  There are lots of things you could do when you were a scout that you cannot do now.  Not that they are exactly forbidden by the scout laws.  They’re forbidden by you, yourself.  Do you understand?”

The boy nodded soberly.  “I think so.  You mean that when I was a plain scout I could skylark and cut up a bit, but that now I must be out in front setting the pace.  I can’t ask any of the fellows to be what I am not myself.”

“Exactly.  And there’s another thing.  Don’t get discouraged when your plans go wrong.  Get your grip and hold on.  Scouts are only human.  They’re not angels.”

Don smiled.

“I mean that.  Scouting wasn’t made for angels.  It was made for everybody, fellows like you and me.  And just because we’re not angels, we sometimes kick things around and don’t seem to play fair.  When that happens—­”

“Yes, sir?” said Don.

“That’s the time we need scouting most,” Mr. Wall said gravely.

It seemed to Don that the Scoutmaster was giving him a warning.  But though he puzzled his head and wondered, he could not fathom what Mr. Wall might mean.

He told Barbara and his mother about Monday night’s meeting and said that he would take the scouts up to his room out of the way.  Barbara told him indignantly that he would do nothing of the kind.  The scouts would meet, she announced, in the cool dining-room.

Monday, as soon as supper was over, she began to prepare for the coming of the patrol.  Don wanted to help, but she routed him from the place.  He went out to the porch and sat there in the gathering darkness.  A vague sense of uneasiness stole over him.

Presently Bobbie Brown rode up and left his bicycle inside the gate.  Soon he was followed by Alex Davidson and Andy Ford.  Then came a long wait.  At length two figures loomed in the dusk.

“Who’s there?” Don called eagerly.

“Ritter and Woods,” came the answer.

Don suddenly knew the cause of that vague uneasiness.  The meeting had been called for eight o’clock, and it was now five minutes after, and there was no sign of Tim.

But none of the others seemed to think of the missing scout.  Alex was bubbling over with the wonder of his first day in business.  He told of how many orders he had delivered, and how much money he had collected, and how careful he had to be in making change.  Don listened nervously.  By and by he struck a match and glanced at his watch.

“Quarter past eight,” he said.

“How about starting?” said Andy.

Don led the patrol indoors.  The dining-room lamp shed a soft glow over the table.  Chairs were drawn up, and at each place was a sharpened pencil and a few sheets of paper.