That evening Don met him on
Main Street.
"I guess I can do all right now working nights with Alex," Tim said
uneasily.
"All right," Don agreed. "Any time you want to come around, though--" He
waited, but Tim said nothing.
Don went home feeling rather blue. "I suppose he'll start scrapping with
everybody all over again," he muttered.
But he was wrong. Tim went his way moody and silent, but with no chip on
his shoulder. He came to the next troop meeting clean and tidy, and on
time. Each patrol won a perfect score. The blackboard read:
PATROL POINTS
Eagle 90-1/2
Fox 95
Wolf 92-1/2
"Still two and one-half points behind," Don sighed. Wasn't it hard to
catch up? If the Wolves could win the next contest on signaling--But he
wasn't going to think of that, now that Tim had become balky.
The other scouts spoke of it, though. Alex said earnestly that Tim was
really practicing this time. Andy grinned and said that the Eagles and
the Foxes had better watch out because they were heading straight for
trouble. Don walked with them and said not a word.
Five days later the patrol awoke to the fact that Tim no longer practiced
in Don's yard. Andy and Bobbie came around and sat on the front stoop
with the patrol leader.
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