Mr. Wall laughed and waved his hands.
Instantly the room broke into riot. A night camp at Lonesome Woods, a blazed trail, a buried treasure and a threat of sudden capture! This was great!
"Will trails cross?" cried the leader of the Foxes. "Must we watch out for Eagles and Wolves even before we get to the treasure?"
"Perhaps," the Scoutmaster answered.
Here was uncertainty—and uncertainty made the game all the more fascinating.
Tim's breath came fast. If he could get into a thing like that—
"Aw!" he told himself hopelessly, "Don would never take me." He stood around listening to every word, but saying little. His heart ached with an empty longing. Once he caught Don's eye, and flushed and turned away his head quickly. And Don, who had been as high-strung as any of the others, suddenly became sober and grave.
Next day, between innings, he sat on the bench and studied his catcher. If they should go into the woods together—He sighed, and shook his head, and thought of Andy Ford. Andy would pull with him. Perhaps Andy would expect the place.
Over Sunday Wally and Ritter brought around written consents, and Bobbie announced gloomily that his father would not let him go. Monday morning Andy brought his paper.
"Seen Tim yet?" he asked. "No?" He fell to whistling softly.