Tim wet his lips. His turn was next—his, and Bobbie's, and Andy's.
"Artificial respiration," called Mr. Wall.
Bobbie lay on the floor, face down, and stretched his arms above his head. Andy held his wrists lightly. Tim knelt astride the prone figure and placed trembling hands between the short ribs.
Mr. Wall, holding a watch, walked back and forth. Tim's heart thumped.
Would he go too fast or too slow? He wondered how the other patrols were
making out, but he dared not look. Presently the Scoutmaster called,
"That's enough," and he scrambled to his feet.
"Gosh!" Bobbie said ruefully. "You surely put some pressure on."
"Wonder how we made out," said Andy.
Tim wondered, too. When the call came for a demonstration of fireman's lift, he shut his teeth hard. He wouldn't fall down on this!
Two minutes later the lift was over.
"You were quicker than any of them," cried Andy in his ear.
"Stretchers," called Mr. Wall. "Lift the patient in and stand at attention. Patients must not help themselves. Got your staves? Ready? Go!"