"Two hundred feet," was the answer.
Eagles and Foxes gathered and broke into clamorous discussion. How should the wire be measured? Don gathered his patrol and took it to one side.
"Andy has a fifty-foot tape. We'll measure as we unwind. Bobbie, you stay here and hold this end. Come on, fellows."
Into the dense growth of trees they wormed their way. It was slow work passing the wire through the branches of trees. Tim climbed and shinned his way from limb to limb like a monkey. Wherever the wire was laid, it was fastened in place with rubber tape.
About one hundred and twenty-five feet were out when the Scoutmaster's whistle sounded the recall. The scouts came back to camp. There was a comparison of results. The Eagles had strung about seventy feet of wire, and the Foxes less than sixty.
"We'll have ours finished before the others know what's happening," chuckled Andy. "And then we'll get in some practice."
"Tim and I are going to get some practice after supper," said Don.
"Sure thing," said Tim.
Fires were lighted and pots and pans appeared. Somebody yelled that cocoa was ready. The Foxes dished it out, and Mr. Wall distributed bread thickly covered with molasses.
"Some feast," said Tim. He took his place in the circle of Wolves. He was one of them—at home.