Every step now increased their chances of encountering the other patrols.

They pa.s.sed the fourth blaze since leaving camp, and then the fifth. The trees became thicker, the foliage denser. The sun was almost shut out.

Even the sounds of the birds were hushed.

Don halted. "We must be getting near the end of the trail. We've come about a mile."

Tim's voice trembled. "Let's make a rush for it."

Don shook his head. "Too dangerous. We'll go ahead, stop and listen, and go ahead again."

"Gee!" said Tim. "Like stalking an Indian in Colonial days."

Now listening breathlessly, now darting forward, now creeping, they slowly forged ahead. Two more blazes were pa.s.sed. They found the next. It was marked:

-O-

"The end of the trail," said Don in a whisper.

"Maybe we're here first," said Tim.

But they dared not take the chance of haste. Rival scouts might be waiting, hidden, to pounce on them. They listened, while their hearts beat heavily.

"I'm going forward," said Tim at last, and edged out. Soon they knew that neither the Eagles nor the Foxes had yet reached the goal.

Then began a frantic search. They wanted to find the treasure and away.

Not a sound broke the stillness but bird calls and their own footsteps.

Yet they knew that, from some place among the trees, scouts were stealing toward them. They went out in a wide circle, worked in, and found nothing.

"Mr. Wall wouldn't make this too hard," said Tim. "He's left some sign.

How could he hide it?"

"Among tree branches," said Don, "or in a tree hollow, or in the ground--"

"That's it," cried Tim. "Burying would leave a sign--freshly turned earth. Come on."

They searched again in nervous hurry, and kept looking over their shoulders as though trying to peer through the veil of trees. Don saw no earth that looked fresh, but he did see a suspicious mound near a tree.

He put his feet on the spot. His heel sank softly.

"Tim!" he called.

Tim came running. "That's it. Why didn't we bring a trowel?" He dug at the earth with his ax. Don unslung his haversack, pulled out the frying-pan, and scooped with the pan handle.

The sweat rolled into their eyes. They worked feverishly. All at once Tim's ax hit something softer and more yielding than the earth.

"She's here, Don! Gee! she's here!" He dropped the axe and worked with his hands; by degrees the top of a pasteboard box appeared. They loosened the earth around the sides, found grips for their fingers, and pulled.

The box came out. It was tied with string and could have been in the ground only a few days.

The prize was theirs. In their excitement they hugged each other joyously.

"You did it, Tim!" cried Don. "You get the credit."

"You found it," Tim said huskily. "You'd have found it without me.

You--" Something he had kept bottled all morning, something he had never expected to say, tumbled from his lips. "You should have knocked my block off last night."

"Forget it," Don muttered lamely, but his eyes flamed with a new light.

He knew now that he had made no mistake in bringing Tim into the woods.

They stood with that queer awkwardness that moves boys when they bare their hearts. Tim fingered the string around the box.

"Say, if we could open this--"

The spell was broken. They cut the string and lifted the cover. Inside, packed in a soft bed of cotton, was a prize that shone out at them with a soft splendor--the Scoutmaster's Cup!

"One little beauty," breathed Tim. "Who ever thought Mr. Wall would hide it like that. If we lost it!"

"Let's get out of here," Don cried in fright. He ran for his haversack.

They took the back trail.

"We had better go easy," Tim said in a low voice, "until we're sure there's no chance of meeting the Eagles or the Foxes--"

"Sssh!" Don caught his arm.

Was that a noise? After a time it came again--the dry swish of dead leaves and the sharp crackle of dead wood under a weight.

Tim put his lips to Don's ears. "Over there--to the right."

Another silence. Then the noise again, farther off.

"They're at the last blaze," Tim whispered. "This is too close for comfort."

They made off with stealthy caution. Whenever they found clear ground they hurried, but for the most part it was slow work. All at once came a faint cry.

"They've found the empty hole," cried Tim. "Now they'll be after us."

"How will they know which way we went?" Don asked. Nevertheless, he hurried.

Ten minutes later they paused to listen. Far back of them they heard something which made them look at each other anxiously.

"Can't waste time here," said Tim.

At first, when they paused again, there was silence. Then came that which told them of pursuit. Don's pulse quickened.

"They've got our trail, Tim."

"They're following our blazes," said Tim. "We'll fool them. Let's strike off here to the east."

They swung off at a right angle. The blazed trail they knew, but necessity counseled that they face the unknown. Tim pulled out his compa.s.s.

When next they listened the sounds of pursuit were gone.