There was no help for it. He had no choice. He couldn't let Bobbie go out and get his hair pulled and his ears twisted. He'd have to see him past the danger.
There was vast relief on Bobbie's face as they came out of troop headquarters. But Don's face was grave.
It took but a minute to walk down the road to the fence. Bobbie's steps unconsciously became slower. He edged out toward the curb. Tim saw him and instantly became alert.
"Here, now," he called; "don't try to dodge past. Come over here and—"
"Hello, Tim," said Don.
Tim stopped short. His eyes darkened suspiciously, as though he suspected that Don was acting as guardian. For a moment he seemed to be debating what he should do; and while he paused, Bobbie edged past.
"Don't forget Monday," said Don. He wanted to shift the other boy's thoughts.
"I may be busy Monday," Tim answered scowlingly. He took a step after
Bobbie, but found the patrol leader in his way and stopped short.
Don continued on down the road. He knew that Tim was aware why he had walked with Bobbie, and he knew that Tim resented it. After all, what had he gained? He couldn't be with Bobbie always. If Tim wanted to plague, he could catch the little scout alone almost any day.
Abruptly Don swung around and went back. Tim, seeing him coming, set his feet farther apart. It was a fighting pose. Don's heart fluttered.