Ritter drew a deep breath. He hadn't exactly expected Don to tell, and yet—
"Phew!" said the Eagle patrol scout, "That was a close shave."
"Close shave nothing," cried Tim, "He's wise. Four scouts in uniform, and a patrol leader in baseball clothes and spiked shoes, and riding a bicycle. What does that look like?"
"Well, what does it look like?" Ritter demanded.
"It looks as though somebody jumped on a bicycle and rode after us, you gilly."
"Gee!" said the scout from the Eagles. "Mr. Wall will want to know—"
"Mr. Wall doesn't go snooping around," cried the scout from the Foxes.
"And Don could have told him right here, had he wanted to," said Ritter.
Tim said nothing. The march home started again. Don, embarrassed, rode far in the van. Twice, looking back over his shoulder, he saw Tim trudging with the others, but with his hands in his pockets and his head bent thoughtfully.
For the second time that day Don was late for a meal. His father, his mother and his sister Beth had gone off to a church social. Barbara gave him his supper; and while he ate, he told her how the scouts had turned back when they learned that Mr. Wall was away.