Don Strong, Patrol Leader | Page 2

elects a new leader," said Ritter. He glanced out
toward where Tim Lally was catching.
Andy's eyes puckered, and a swift change came over Bobbie Brown's
face.
The practice ended. Tim came across the grass with a big mitt under his
arm. Ritter and Wally went forward to meet him.
"Tim won't get my vote," said Bobbie. "The patrol leader ought to be a
fellow who's up in things, like Don, or Alex Davidson, or you--"
"Don and Alex have it all over me," said Andy.
They watched the field. Tim was walking now with Ritter and Wally.
Bobbie reached a foot for the nearest pedal.
"Guess I'll ride along," he said. As he turned the corner he glanced back
across his shoulder. Tim and Ritter and Wally were talking to Andy.
Bobbie rode faster. Presently he came in sight of a house with a
white-washed fence in front and a sign rising above the lawn grass:
ROBERT STRONG & SON CARPENTERS AND JOINERS
WINDOW SCREENS AND SCREEN DOORS BIRD-HOUSES
A boy who whistled as he worked was tacking wire to a door frame.
Bobbie opened the gate and pushed through with his bicycle. The
whistling boy glanced up.
"Hello, Bobbie."
"Hello, Don. Phil Morris is moving to Chicago."
"To Chi--" Don Strong paused with his tack hammer raised. "That
means a new patrol leader, doesn't it?" The hammer fell and the work
went on.

"Tim Lally wants it," said Bobbie.
A thoughtful expression came to Don's face. He went on tacking the
wire until it was all tight and snug. Still thoughtful, he cut the molding
and nailed it fast. From under one of the two wooden horses on which
the door lay, he took a can of green paint.
"Tim wouldn't make a good patrol leader, would he, Don?"
"Easy, there," Don warned.
Bobbie flushed. "Well, he always wants to boss things and you know
it."
Don said nothing.
"Doesn't he?" Bobbie insisted.
Don dodged the question and demanded that Bobbie show him how he
was progressing with his semaphore. Bobbie retreated to the fence and
sent the message that was given him.
"Was that right, Don?" he asked eagerly.
"Right," said Don. He was on the point of sending the boy off with
another message when the gate clicked. Tim Lally advanced as though
he had important business on his mind.
"Hello," said Tim, and rubbed his fingers across the door. "Gee! Why
didn't you tell me the paint was wet? Give it a rub or two; that will fix it
up again. Did you hear about Phil Morris?"
Don nodded.
"I guess I'll take a crack at being patrol leader," said Tim.
Bobbie looked up quickly. Don stood the door aside to dry, went down
to his father's basement workshop and came up with another frame.

"I guess I'll take a crack at being patrol leader," Tim repeated. "I have
two votes already, Ritter and Wally Woods. My own, of course, is three.
All I need is another. Now, how about you fellows?"
"I'm going to vote for Alex Davidson," said Don.
Bobbie scarcely breathed. A spot of red flamed in each of Tim's cheeks.
"What's the matter with me?" he demanded. "Don't you think I'm good
enough?" He swung around. "How about you, Bobbie?"
Bobbie swallowed hard. "Why, Tim, I--I--I--"
"Well, how about it?"
Bobbie looked appealingly at Don. Don laid down the tack hammer.
"Is that fair, Tim?" he asked quietly.
"Why isn't it?" Tim bristled.
And yet, after a moment, his eyes fell. He knew what Don meant.
Bobbie was the "baby" of the troop, the smallest and the youngest scout.
He walked out of the yard and slammed the gate defiantly.
"I'll get it without you," he called over the fence.
Don didn't do any more whistling that day. And after supper, as he
heard the details of the contest for the Scoutmaster's Cup, the
concerned look on his face deepened.
The patrol leader, he thought, should be a fellow who was heart and
soul in scouting--a fellow who could encourage, and urge, and lend a
willing hand; not a fellow who wanted to drive and show authority. If
Tim, with his temper and his eagerness to come to blows, should take
command--Don shook his head. Why did Phil Morris have to move
away?
All next morning he built bird-houses. He had developed quite a

business with Audubon societies and it took a lot of work to keep up
with his orders. After dinner he trudged off to the village field. Tim
greeted him as though nothing had happened.
Don was delighted at this turn of affairs. When the work ended and he
saw Tim following his steps he waited.
"You can vote for me now," Tim said confidently. "I saw Alex today.
He won't