Tim pulled the cup from the box and held it up for them to see. At that the wild run became a desperate sprint.
"Ours, ours, ours!" cried Andy. The other scouts, Ritter and Wally Woods, caught Tim's arms and poured out a stream of questions. What had become of the haversacks and blankets? Had they been afraid in the woods? Had they seen the Foxes? Where had they found the cup?
Another scout came over the knoll—Bobbie Brown. After that came a rush of Fox scouts and Eagle scouts, and finally Mr. Wall. Scout whistles began to blow a salute and a welcome. Cheers came in ringing waves. Tim, his eyes bright with excitement, stood close to Don. Oh, but this was great!
Mr. Wall shook hands. His grip was hard and strong and gloriously friendly, and his smile made their blood run warmly. He stepped back and looked at them, and his gaze seemed to rest on Don's puffed lip. Tim caught his breath.
"How do you like it?" the Scoutmaster asked.
"Great!" said Don. "Wasn't it, Tim?"
Tim nodded.
"Who found the cup?"
"Tim did."
"I didn't," cried Tim. "You found the place."