the line made
him realize that his efforts to put the tenderfoot in his place had been
more or less of a failure. At any rate, when staves were distributed and
the drill commenced, he at once renewed his nagging, critical attacks of
the week before.

For a time Dale tried not to notice it, trusting that his careful,
accurate execution of the manoeuvers would in itself be enough to
still the unjust criticism. But presently he began to realize that
Phelps was deliberately blind to his improvement, and a touch of angry
color crept into his face. In the next figure he made a minor slip,
and a snicker from Wilks increased Dale's irritation.

"Take your time, Tompkins, by all means," urged Phelps, sarcastically,
when Becker ordered a repetition of the movement. "Maybe by the end of
the evening you'll be able to do one of the figures half-way right."

Dale's lips parted impulsively, but closed again without a sound
issuing forth. A dull, smoldering anger began to glow within him, and one
hand gripped his staff tightly. What right had Ranny Phelps to shame
and humiliate him before the whole troop? He was doing his best, and he
felt that the showing wasn't such a bad one for a fellow who had been
in the troop little more than a week. Any decent chap would have
understood this and made allowances, would even have helped him along
instead of trying by every means in his power to make him fail. Dale's
chin went up a trifle, and his teeth clenched. By a great effort he
managed to hold himself in for the remainder of the drill, but the
anger and irritation bubbling up inside resulted in several more
errors. When the drill was over and the fellows stood at ease for a
few minutes before starting some signal-work, Phelps strode over to
the new recruit.

"What's the matter with you, Tompkins?" he said with cold sarcasm. "At
this rate, you're likely to spend the whole winter getting a few simple
stunts into your head."

Dale's eyes flashed. "It might not be a bad idea to learn a few of the
scout laws yourself," he snapped back impulsively.

"What's that?"

Ranny's voice was cool and level, but his eyes had narrowed and a spot
of color glowed on each cheek. The fellows near them suddenly pricked up
their ears and turned curiously in their direction.

"I said it wouldn't be a bad idea for you to learn some of the scout
laws," repeated Dale, heedless of everything save the anger and
indignation surging up within him. "There's one