"Who'll carry the ax?" he asked.
"I will," said a voice.
He turned. Tim Lally was waiting with outstretched hand.
"Oh!" said Don uncertainly. Tim took the tool and strapped its leather sheath to his belt. He seemed to have forgotten all about his grouch.
Everything was noise and bustle and confusion. The Eagles and the Foxes were grouped in front of their patrol lockers. There were cries of, "Hey, Jimmy! what did you bring to cook? What did you bring, Charlie?"
Suddenly the silver notes of a bugle arose above the clamor. Assembly! Lockers were banged shut. Scouts scurried outdoors and fell into their places.
"Column twos," came Mr. Wall's voice. "Forward! March!"
Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp, sounded eager feet. Down to Main Street and then to the left. Alex Davidson waved to them from the door of the grocery store.
"I wish Alex were with us," Don said wistfully.
"I guess Alex wishes he was, too," Andy answered. "But nobody'll ever catch him wearing a long face just because he must work. He isn't that kind."