"Got to get some salt," he said, and ran downstairs to the kitchen. Barbara called that supper was ready. He scooted upstairs, washed, and came down to the dining-room.
"Hiking tomorrow?" Mr. Strong asked.
"Don will be too excited to eat," Barbara said with a laugh as Don nodded in reply to the question.
But she was mistaken. Don ate a supper of healthy size. Afterward he went out to the porch and squinted up at the sky. Stars dotted the black heavens like so many small windows. Now, if it didn't rain—
It didn't; not during the night, anyway. Don awoke with the morning sun in his face. In a moment he was out of bed and into the bathroom. Twenty minutes later he was downstairs.
His breakfast was merely a bite and a promise. There were too many things to do and too much to think about! What should he take along to cook at noon?
"There's some lamb chops in the ice-box," said Barbara.
Two of the chops went into the haversack. Then potatoes, and six slices of bread, and some coffee wrapped in a paper, and a small can of evaporated milk. He strapped the haversack, and suddenly remembered that he had forgotten salt, after all, and unstrapped it again. Barbara stuck in two apples, and by the time the load was slung from his shoulder, whistles and calls sounded from the gate.
Andy Ford, Ritter and Bobbie Brown were waiting impatiently. Bobbie was sure that they would be late, and kept saying that everybody knew that Mr. Wall started promptly on the minute. Don winked at the others and led the way toward troop headquarters.
They were not late. Mr. Wall's watch, hanging from a screw hook in the door, told them that they still had ten minutes. Don opened the patrol locker.