false step now by any
patrol might drop it hopelessly to the rear. When Mr. Wall's commands
still held the scouts in ranks, the faces they turned to him were
boyishly sober.

"I am going to keep a promise," the Scoutmaster said, "that I made some
time ago. Next week's meeting will be held in Lonesome Woods."

The sober faces were suddenly aglow.

"Attention!" came the low voices of the patrol leaders. The ranks stood
firm.

"It will be part of an overnight hike. We will leave here Thursday
afternoon at one o'clock."

A quick murmur--then silence.

"The signaling contests will be held in the woods. Break ranks."

The pent-up enthusiasm swelled up in a wild cheer. The Scoutmaster found
himself pushed and jostled. A dozen boys tried to shout questions at
once. He laughed and covered his ears with his hands. When he brought
them away Don spoke quickly:

"How about telegraphy, sir?"

"Each patrol will bring its own wire and rig its own instruments," was
the answer.

Why, this was just like war--signaling from hidden places, and running
telegraph wires over tree limbs and across the ground.

Tim's adventurous blood quickened. The troop meeting seemed tame and
prosaic. He went through his setting-up exercises mechanically. He could
almost smell the tang of a wood fire burning.

There was work tonight in identifying leaves and barks of trees, and
stems of plants. Tim twisted restlessly. The moment the meeting was over
he followed Don down the room.

"How far apart will they put us in the woods?" he demanded.

Don didn't know.

"We'd better get out among some trees and practice," Tim said.

The suggestion was good. Don said so. Tim's face flushed.

Patrols were clamoring around their patrol leaders. How much wire would
be needed? Tim went back to where he had left his hat. And there, on his
way out, Mr. Wall paused a moment.

"How's everything, Tim?"

"All right, sir."

"Good!" The Scoutmaster's hand ran gently over his head. Their eyes met.
There were no questions of, "Did you go to your patrol leader, Tim?" Mr.
Wall seemed to be the kind who understood without asking questions.

"Tim," he said, "I think we're going to be proud of you some day."

"I hope so," Tim said huskily. His heart beat faster as he turned back to
his patrol. And then he heard Ritter's voice.

"Say, how is Tim going? Has Don got him working?"

"Stop that, Ritter," Don cried angrily. Gosh! couldn't some fellows ever
learn to