rking on the lawn, said: "Hello, Tim. Wait until I tack on this
screening, will you?"

But the patrol leader's heart was beating fast. If Tim was ready to smile
and dig in, the Wolves' chances were improved 50 per cent.

But though Tim was ready to work, he was far from being in a friendly
state of mind. His flag wig-wagged short three-and four-word messages
that Don could carry in his head without resorting to pad and pencil. At
four o'clock the work was over.

"Want to go to the woods tomorrow?" Tim asked gruffly.

Don nodded eagerly.

"All right; I'll be around at one o'clock." He turned on his heel and was
gone.

Don went indoors dejectedly. Barbara was mixing biscuit batter in the
kitchen. He stood in the doorway and blurted out the doings of the past
few days.

"Nothing there to worry about," Barbara said brightly. "Be honest, now.
How did Tim act a couple of months ago whenever anything displeased him?"

"He kicked things around."

"And now he comes here and works."

"Gosh!" said Don in a relieved voice, "that's so. I didn't think of it
like that." He went back to his screens for another hour of work before
supper, and as he measured and cut molding, his whistle was cheery and
good to hear.

Even Tim's crabbiness on the next day's trip did not dampen his spirits.
There was a thicket a mile from town. They selected this spot for their
work.

The light was different from the open. Somehow everything seemed changed.
Messages were harder to read. It was fine practice.

"I'm glad you thought of that," Don said on the way home.

Tim's stiffness melted a little. It was hard to be stand-offish with a
boy who kept praising your judgment.

As though by instinct, that night saw a gathering of the patrols at troop
head-quarters. Telegraph instruments, and dry batteries, and coils of
wire, were laid together for the morrow's hike. The trek wagon was hauled
from the old barn in back of Mr. Wall's house. The tents were carried
from the same place and laid in the wagon. The lanterns, swinging
underneath, were cleaned and filled and put back on their hooks.

At first Tim had hung on the outskirts of the crowd. But it was
impossible to resist for long the glamour of these preparations. The trek
wagon, the tents, the night lanterns, all helped to stir his quick blood.
They whispered of evening, and night fires springing to light, and white
tent walls showing ghostly through the dusk.

"Say!" called a voice, "h