esperately to call it back. He wasn't going to be cheated out of a good
time. By and by, through dint of striving, he roused a new spirit of
anticipation.

Don walked with him as the scouts crowded toward the door. "Better come
around tomorrow, Tim, and talk over what we'll take," he said, and
wondered if Tim would offer any objection.

"Right-o!" said Tim almost cheerily. Outside Don mopped his face. When he
expected Tim to be all right, Tim was nasty; when he expected him to be
surly, he was all right.

"Well," he said in relief, "it didn't last long that time, anyway."

But Tim wasn't over it. A new thought had caused him to change tactics.
What was the use of his spoiling his own fun? He'd get his good time
regardless of what Don had up his sleeve. He'd throw himself into this
treasure hunt heart and soul. He'd work as hard as any scout could work.
But once they were in Lonesome Woods he'd do what he thought was best. If
Don tried to interfere with him there'd be trouble.

Next day he found the whole patrol, with the exception of Alex, at Don's
yard. Ritter called him a lucky stiff, and Wally looked at him with envy.
They made him feel, for the first time, that he was one of the "big"
scouts.

There wasn't going to be much cooking stuff taken along. A little coffee
and a little bacon--nothing else. Perhaps they would not have time to
cook even that much. If they reached the treasure place and found the
treasure gone, they would have to try to overtake the finders before they
got out. That would mean hustle.

They decided on pilot biscuit and the always dependable beans. A blanket
each and a poncho, a watch and a compass. Tim was for leaving the poncho
out and taking a chance on rain, but Don said no.

"Ax," said Tim. "We'll need that, anyway. I'll go home and put an edge on
mine."

He ground it until it was almost razor sharp. That night he dreamed that
he was a scout of the old days and that Indians in their war-paint were
stalking him through the forest.

Next morning he prepared his haversack, and rolled his blanket and
strapped it. Several times he cocked his eyes at the sky. Finally he did
the unheard-of thing of going down to the station and spending three
cents for a city paper. On the first page was news that was worth many
times three cents. It read: "Weather: Fair today and tomorrow;
southwesterly winds."

There was nothing to do now but wait for dinner. Twenty minutes past noon
he had his ar