Don was somewhat surprised to find that there was not. The cloud had vanished. He went home with his mind at peace. He had given Tim his own head of late, and even Mr. Wall said that Tim was coming around. He'd give him his head again, and wait for the sulks to wear off.
But it was hard to work with Tim all next day against the Ironside nine, and to find him, even in the heat of the struggle, stiff and unbending. And it was harder still to see the days of the next week pass and bring no change. For a rumor had gone through the troop that the reason Mr. Wall had announced no contest for this month was because he was going to uncover a surprise. Don could not help feeling that the Wolves would stand very little chance. Tim, at odds with his patrol leader, would surely lack the zest and the spirit necessary to cope with unexpected orders.
Over Friday night's meeting hung the promise of something to happen. Roll-call and inspection brought to light no derelicts. The score board read:
PATROL POINTS
Eagle 170 1/2
Fox 177 1/2
Wolf 175 1/2
The ranks broke. Usually there was play for a few minutes. Mr. Wall rapped for order at once.
"Next week," he said, "the contest for the Scoutmaster's Cup comes to an end. The final ordeal will start Friday. It will be a two-day test of your mettle. It will take place at Lonesome Woods. A treasure has been hidden there, and blazed trails will lead to the hiding place."
The room was still—startlingly still.
"This time," Mr. Wall went on, "we will have a real test of scouting. For that reason, I have decided to award ten points to the winning patrol. There will be no second or third points."
The troop stirred. Ten points! That gave every patrol a chance. Even the
Eagles, if they won, would be tied with the Foxes for winning honors.