Don's face sobered. This wasn't the Tim of passing moods. This was more like the blustering Tim who had once overawed the Wolf patrol.
"Who made a boob of you?"
"You did. Oh, don't look so innocent; you can't work it the second time. Take me for a partner. Then, if anything went wrong in the contest, everybody would say that Don Strong couldn't have made a mistake—oh, no. It must have been Tim Lally because he's always queering things. And they did say it!"
"Who did?"
"Ritter. 'Too bad you made those mistakes, Tim.' I ought to have whanged him one in the eye. How did he know whether I made any mistakes?"
Gone was Don's thought that Tim would be all right in a day or so. If this firebrand scout convinced himself that he had been tricked, and if he kept thinking so—
"You've got this wrong," Don cried. "I—"
"Sure I've got it wrong," Tim mocked. His voice changed wrathfully. "But
I didn't have the message wrong, and don't you forget it. I know my code.
I sent the message right. Do you think I'd send an e for a v?"
"Do you think I wouldn't know an e?" Don asked.
Tim was staggered. He hadn't thought of that—that an e would be as simple to Don, receiving, as it would be to him, sending.