"The signaling contests will be held in the woods. Break ranks."
The pent-up enthusiasm swelled up in a wild cheer. The Scoutmaster found himself pushed and jostled. A dozen boys tried to shout questions at once. He laughed and covered his ears with his hands. When he brought them away Don spoke quickly:
"How about telegraphy, sir?"
"Each patrol will bring its own wire and rig its own instruments," was the answer.
Why, this was just like war—signaling from hidden places, and running telegraph wires over tree limbs and across the ground.
Tim's adventurous blood quickened. The troop meeting seemed tame and prosaic. He went through his setting-up exercises mechanically. He could almost smell the tang of a wood fire burning.
There was work tonight in identifying leaves and barks of trees, and stems of plants. Tim twisted restlessly. The moment the meeting was over he followed Don down the room.
"How far apart will they put us in the woods?" he demanded.
Don didn't know.
"We'd better get out among some trees and practice," Tim said.