"That's what he meant."
"How do you know?"
"Everybody knows. That's why he won't take us there. He said you could get broken bones."
"I'm not afraid." Tim picked up the can and swung it carelessly. "I guess Mr. Wall was trying to scare little fellows like Bobbie. He didn't mean a big fellow like me."
Don knew that arguing with Tim would be useless. And yet, as the trouble-maker stepped around him, he made a last plea.
"You'll get the patrol in trouble, Tim, and we're only one point behind the Eagles."
"I knew you weren't worrying about me," said Tim.
Don followed slowly. He had pleaded for the troop thinking that that might win where all else had failed. And, as usual, Tim had misunderstood.
At the corner he paused. New thoughts were crowding through his brain. Tim's recklessness was jeopardizing not only himself—it was threatening the entire troop.
Suppose he fell and broke an arm, or a leg, or—or worse. People would say, "There; that's what comes from letting boys become scouts and go hiking." Boys would be taken from the troop. The troop might even break up. All Mr. Wall's plans for the future would be ruined.