"Never mind me," Don urged. "Make a dash for it."

Tim shook his head stubbornly. "Wouldn't it be fine for a scout to leave his patrol leader in the lurch? Maybe we'll think of something. Come on; no use of standing here."

They wormed their way forward. They began to meet patches of thick brush.

All at once Tim gave a suppressed cry.

"Look at that brush, Don. If we can get them off on a false scent--Where are they?"

The sound was still off to the left.

"Give me your haversack." Tim shed his own. "Now your canteen. Now over there. Lie behind that brush. Quick."

Don hobbled over to the dense growth. Watching, he saw Tim go off a short distance and drop a haversack; going on, he dropped a canteen and disappeared.

Don expected him to come back the way he had gone. Instead, Tim made a wide swing and approached the brush from the rear. He stretched off on his stomach alongside the patrol leader.

"I laid the canteens and the haversacks in a row," he whispered, "about a hundred feet apart toward the ravine. They'll think we went that way in a hurry and dropped our things so as to travel light. It will take them time to search that underbrush. As soon as they pa.s.s we'll go off to the left. Every minute we'll be getting farther away from them."

"Why won't they think we dropped the haversacks while heading the other way?" Don asked.

"What, toward them?" Tim grinned. "That would have walked us right into their arms."

Don thought it out. Through a peephole in the brush he could see the first haversack on the ground.

"Suppose they find it out there, Tim, and don't see the canteen?"

"Well, what of it?"

"Suppose they start to search right around here?"

"Gee!" Tim gave a low whistle. "I hadn't thought of that. How's this: if we see them coming, jump up and surprise them and yell 'Capture!'"

"Suppose they yell, too?" Don asked. "Mr. Wall may say that two sound scouts would have a better chance to capture than a team with one limping scout."

That was reasonable. The situation became tense. If the searchers took the false trail and went on, all right. If they started to search--good night!

They lay behind the brush and waited. It seemed, after a while, that they had been there an hour. Don had just begun to believe that the pursuit had gone off in a new direction, when Tim's hand grasped his shoulder with a convulsive pressure.

There had been a faint sound of cracking wood.

Nearer it came, almost directly in front of them. Then another sound echoed off to one side. All at once a khaki-clad figure slipped between two trees.

Tim's hand grew rigid. Don tried to flatten himself into the earth.

They knew the boy--Larkins, patrol leader of the Foxes. On he came.

Suddenly he saw the haversack. He halted and jumped sideways behind a tree.

Don and Tim knew what that meant. Larkins thought it might be a trap. It was not going to be easy to fool him.

Would he never come out from behind the tree? They had heard, after he disappeared, a queer woody sound that somehow did not seem out of place.

Now they heard it again and recognized its source. Larkins was. .h.i.tting a stick of light wood against other wood.

At the first signal, the echoing sounds they had heard off to the side had ceased. At this new signal it began again. Larkins walked out and picked up the haversack. A moment later another khaki figure came into view. It was Rood, another Fox scout.

"It's Don's," Larkins said in excitement; "here's his name."

"Maybe they're hiding around here," said Rood.

Don's heart almost stood still.

"Maybe." Larkins stood up and walked slowly toward the brush.

Don felt Tim gather his muscles. He knew what that meant. If discovery was certain, Tim was prepared to spring out and cry "Capture!" and let Mr. Wall decide.

"Say," Rood called, "what's that?"

Larkins paused suspiciously. "What's what?"

"Down there. Looks like a canteen."

"Get it." Larkins turned quickly from the brush. Don buried his face in his arm so that the searcher would not hear his sigh of relief.

Rood brought back the canteen. "I could see another haversack, too. I bet they heard us and are making a run for it after dropping everything." His voice shook with excitement.

"We've got to get on then," cried Larkins. "Where's the other haversack?

Which way? Never mind bothering with it. Spread out. No use being cautious--not until we think we're getting close."

He ran straight on. Rood sprinted off at an angle.

Behind the brush Don and Tim waited. The sounds of feet crashing through the forest grew fainter and at last ceased.

Tim jumped to his feet. "That settles the Foxes," he cried. "Now if we can duck the Eagles we're all right."

CHAPTER XII

OUT OF THE WOODS

Joyously Don broke from cover. The Eagles might threaten later, but just now the field was clear. He took great breaths of the fresh air. It was good to breathe deeply after having been almost afraid to breathe at all.

Tim brought back the haversacks and canteens and pushed them out of sight behind the wall of brush. After a moment's thought he changed his mind and pulled out one of the canteens.

"That ankle may need another wetting," he said. "For the rest of the way we'll travel light. We should have dropped that load long ago."

"How will we find it again?" Don asked. "There's lots of brush."