Tim guarded the match. "Want more?" he demanded.
"Drop it, or I'll fight you again."
"And I'll lick you again," said Tim. He touched the flame to the dry leaves.
Don sprang forward and scattered the fire with a kick. Tim leaped to his feet. He was furious. This time he'd see that he wasn't bothered again.
The scattered fire was burning fitfully in two or three clumps. There was just light enough to see things hazily. Tim, his fist drawn back, caught a glimpse of Don's white face. He stared, relaxed, and continued to stare, and his hands fell to his sides.
He was not afraid—and yet the fire went out of his blood. He felt suddenly uncomfortable, and small, and beaten. The fitful blazes dwindled and went out. The woods were in darkness.
After a time Tim turned away. He dropped down on his poncho and sat with his face in his hands. Gee! What wouldn't he give to have the last hour back again.
CHAPTER X
GOOD LUCK AND BAD
There was not much sleep that night. The beds were too uncomfortable. Tim, lying awake, had lots of time to think, and as he tossed in the darkness, the voice of his conscience reproached him sternly. He wondered what would happen in the morning. So great was his concern that he forgot that his was a forest bed and that all around him were strange noises of the night.