back to the patrol.

"How does it look?" Andy demanded.

Don shook his head. He was afraid of that first tight splint. It was no
surprise to him when Mr. Wall gave first place to the Foxes. But his
heart leaped as he heard the Wolves rated second.

"We're ahead," Alex cried jubilantly. He pushed a paper in front of Don's
eyes.

Wolf 8
Fox 6
Eagle 4

Tim wet his lips. His turn was next--his, and Bobbie's, and Andy's.

"Artificial respiration," called Mr. Wall.

Bobbie lay on the floor, face down, and stretched his arms above his
head. Andy held his wrists lightly. Tim knelt astride the prone figure
and placed trembling hands between the short ribs.

Mr. Wall, holding a watch, walked back and forth. Tim's heart thumped.
Would he go too fast or too slow? He wondered how the other patrols were
making out, but he dared not look. Presently the Scoutmaster called,
"That's enough," and he scrambled to his feet.

"Gosh!" Bobbie said ruefully. "You surely put some pressure on."

"Wonder how we made out," said Andy.

Tim wondered, too. When the call came for a demonstration of fireman's
lift, he shut his teeth hard. He wouldn't fall down on this!

Two minutes later the lift was over.

"You were quicker than any of them," cried Andy in his ear.

"Stretchers," called Mr. Wall. "Lift the patient in and stand at
attention. Patients must not help themselves. Got your staves? Ready?
Go!"

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 fo