"Not for me," said Tim. "I'm no kid. Nobody has to tell me to clean myself."
Don said nothing. Why, he wondered, did Tim seem to take such a delight in going against everybody else? He was sure now that what Barbara said was right. Tim was sound at heart. Look how clean he came to tonight's meeting. And yet—
"Going to get needles and thread and things?" Andy whispered.
Don nodded. Oh, yes; he'd get them. What was the use of letting the other patrols prepare for the unexpected and doing nothing yourself?
The Scoutmaster's whistle called the patrols to attention. Don gave a quick glance as his patrol took its station. His heart sank. Bobbie Brown was not in place.
Mr. Wall walked down the line of scouts. He was halfway through inspection when Bobbie burst into the room. He checked himself when he saw what was going on, came to salute, and quietly tiptoed to his place. But his face was flushed from running, and his hair was awry.
Don hoped Bobbie might be able to make himself presentable before Mr.
Wall got that far. Then common sense told him that that was impossible.
The troop was at attention. Bobbie could not lift a hand even to touch
his hair. He had to stand there stiffly as he was.
The inspection came to an end, Mr. Wall faced the waiting lines. Don held his breath. Would the Wolf patrol—
"Fox patrol," Mr. Wall announced, "a perfect score. Eagle patrol, all present, all clean, but one scout talking in ranks, one-half point off. Wolf patrol, one scout untidy, one scout late, one and one-half points off."
A moment later the lines were broken. Tim turned to the unhappy Bobbie.