"Wolves."
Don stood up. He saw Tim bite his lips and stare at the ceiling. Perhaps he was making a mistake, but it seemed to him that one true scout was worth all the prize cups in the world.
"I pick Tim Lally," he said clearly.
And then a wonderful thing happened. Andy Ford threw down the diary and gave him a wide, approving, understanding grin.
CHAPTER IX
THE FIGHT IN THE WOODS
Slowly Tim's eyes came away from the ceiling. His heart stood still. Was this a joke? Eager hands fell on him from the rear—Wally's, Ritter's, Alex Davidson's. There could be no doubt after that.
His heart began to thump. Chairs were pushed back, and patrols clamored around their teams. He found himself next to Don with one of Andy's arms around his shoulders.
"You fellows bring that treasure out," Andy threatened, "or you'll wish you had stayed there. Hear me?"
Tim's eyes were unusually bright, but his heart had begun to drop to normal. A sudden decision had come not to let this prospect run away with him. He knew the bitter taste of disappointment and he wanted no more of it. He had started for Lonesome Woods in high spirits the last time, and had come home in the dumps. There'd be an understanding before this start. There'd be an understanding tonight.