be
he had been wrong all along.

Don fell into step with him. "How about some practice in the woods this
afternoon, Tim?"

"Sure." Tim's eyes danced. "We'll be first if we win this time."

Now it was Don who felt like dancing in the road. Tim, for some reason,
had had another change of heart, and was once more eager.

Soon the whole patrol was walking with Don and Tim. And Tim,
light-hearted, irrepressible, kept the talk flying merrily. When the call
came for the Wolves to take the wagon again, he was the first to reach
the shafts.

"Come on, slaves," he called.

Andy winked at Don. Don clutched the assistant patrol leader's arm and
squeezed hard.

Tim made lively work of the next half-mile. The relief found Bobbie Brown
gasping and wilted.

"Gee!" said Tim; "you're packing too heavy a load for a runt. Here, I'll
take your blanket."

Bobbie straightened his shoulders. "I'm all right. I--"

"Aw! forget it." Tim turned him around, unstrapped the blanket, and stuck
it under his arm. "Feels better, doesn't it?"

"Y-yes," said Bobbie.

Mr. Wall, coming down the line to watch for stragglers, saw what
happened, smiled quietly, and went back to the head of the column.

After a time the jokes and the laughter stopped. They were approaching
Lonesome Woods. Of course, this was going to be all kinds of fun,
but--but--Well, Lonesome Woods was Lonesome Woods, wasn't it? A mile from
camp Mr. Wall halted the column.

"Volunteers to go forward and cut firewood," he called.

But though the scouts might draw together a bit, here was too good an
adventure to be missed. There was a rush for the Scoutmaster. Tim got
there first.

"The Wolves have it," Mr. Wall decided.

"Little more load for the Eagles and the Foxes," sang Tim, and pitched
his blanket and haversack into the trek wagon. Don and the others unslung
theirs. Two minutes later the Wolf patrol was running in advance of the
column with only their axes and canteens.

They plunged into the woods with a whoop. Presently they all drew
together and listened. The place was still--ghostly still. The air was
cooler, and heavier, and--and different.

"Gee!" said Bobbie. "It _is_ lonesome in here, isn't it?"

Tim shrugged his shoulders. "Come on. Let's get firewood."

The sound of the axes chased away the quiet. The firewood became a small
pile, a great pile, and then a fat, clumsy pyramid.

"Hello there, Wolves," came a faint hail.

The troop had arrived. Soon