Tim's eyes grew suspicious. "Who'll work with me on Morse?"
"I will," said Don.
Tim's eyes snapped. "So that's the game, is it?" he asked darkly. "What's the first order I get; practice tomorrow?"
"That's up to you," said Don. "When do you want to practice?"
Tim was taken aback. He had expected to be told, not asked; ordered, not consulted. He mumbled that tomorrow would do, and went back to practice. He could not get his thoughts back on the work. Once, when the ball was traveling around the bases, his attention wandered, and when somebody threw the sphere home, it almost struck him in the head.
"Let's call it a day," cried Ted Carter, "before Tim gets killed."
Tim smiled absently. He looked around for Don. The patrol leader was gone. He walked away slowly, turning one question over and over in his puzzled mind. What new trick was this, anyway?
Next morning he went around to Don's house. He was still sure that something had been hidden, and that at the proper moment the surprise would be sprung. He was watchful and cautious.
The practice ran its course serenely. Barbara came out, and after watching awhile, wrote a four-word message and asked Tim to send it. Don received it without a mistake.
"Isn't that splendid?" she cried. "The Wolf patrol will surely win points in the signaling, won't it?"