Title: The Wolf Patrol - A Tale of Baden-Powell's Boy Scouts
Author: Finnemore, John, 1863-1915
Language: English
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[Frontispiece: IT WAS CHIPPY.  _Page_ 18.]



THE WOLF PATROL

A TALE OF BADEN POWELL'S BOY SCOUTS


_BY_

JOHN FINNEMORE


_Author of_

"Jack Haydon's Quest," "Two Boys in War-time," etc.



A. & C. BLACK, LTD.

4, 5, AND 6, SOHO SQUARE

LONDON, W.1

1923



_First published October_ 15, 1908

_Reprinted_ 1909, 1910, 1911, 1914 _and_ 1917

_This edition published in_ 1922; _Reprinted in_ 1922, 1923



_Printed in Great Britain by_

WARRILLOWS LTD., PRINTERS,

Birmingham and London.



DEDICATED (BY SPECIAL PERMISSION)

TO

LIEUT.-GENERAL R. S. S. BADEN-POWELL, C.B.

THE FOUNDER OF THE ADMIRABLE MOVEMENT

ON WHICH THIS STORY IS BASED



PREFACE

No movement of recent years has so swiftly and so completely won the
love of boys as the Boy-Scout movement founded by Lieutenant-General
Baden-Powell.  It has done so because it touches at once both heart and
imagination.  In its dress, its drill, its games, its objects, it jumps
perfectly with the feelings of the boy who adores Robinson Crusoe,
Chingachcook the Last of the Mohicans, Jim Hawkins, who sailed to
Treasure Island, buccaneers, trappers of the backwoods, and all who sit
about camp fires in lonely places of the earth.  It is a movement which
aims at making all boys brothers and friends, and its end is good
citizenship; it is a foe to none save the snob, the sneak, and the
toady.

Amid the general chorus of congratulation on the success of the
movement, only one dissentient whisper has been heard, and that has
gathered about the word 'militarism.'  But the Boy-Scout movement is no
friend of militarism in any shape or form, and the murmur is only heard
on the lips of people who have never looked into the matter, and never
read the Scout Law.  The movement is a peace movement pure and simple,
and its only object is to make a boy hardy and strong, honest and
brave, a better man, and a better citizen of a great Empire.

Of this story it is perhaps permissible to say that it has been read by
General Baden-Powell, who has been so kind as to express his warm
approval.  Writing to the author, the founder of the movement says:
'Wishing you all success for this so excellent a work.'



THE SCOUT LAW*

I.  A Scout's honour is to be trusted.

II.  A Scout is loyal to the King, and to his officers, and to his
country, and to his employers.

III.  A Scout's duty is to be useful and to help others.  He must do a
good turn to somebody every day.

IV.  A Scout is a friend to all, and a brother to every other Scout, no
matter to what social class the other belongs.

V.  A Scout is courteous, and he must not take any reward for being
helpful and courteous.

VI.  A Scout is a friend to animals.

VII.  A Scout obeys orders of his patrol-leader or scout-master without
question.

VIII.  A Scout smiles and whistles under all circumstances.  When he
gets an order he should obey it cheerily and readily, not in a slow,
hang-dog sort of way.

IX.  A Scout is thrifty--that is, he saves every penny he can, and puts
it into the bank, so that he may have money to keep himself when out of
work, and thus not make himself a burden to others, or that he may have
money to give away to others when they need it.



*Quoted by kind permission of General Baden-Powell from 'Scouting for
Boys.'



CONTENTS


CHAPTER

       I.  THE 'SLUG'
      II.  THE FOUNDING OF THE WOLF PATROL
     III.  CHIPPY HEARS OF NEW THINGS
      IV.  THE NEW SCOUT
       V.  THE CHOKING-OFF OF CHIPPY
      VI.  CHIPPY CHOPS THEM UP
     VII.  THE PATROL DECIDES
    VIII.  THE PATROL LEADERS
      IX.  THE WOLVES AND THE RAVENS
       X.  THE PATROL'S SURPRISE--A THIEF
      XI.  CHIPPY MEETS A STRANGER
     XII.  DICK AND CHIPPY MEET A SERGEANT--THE
           QUEER TRAIL--A STRANGE DISCOVERY
    XIII.  ALBERT, WHO WASN'T ALBERT
     XIV.  CHIPPY AND THE SPY
      XV.  FLIGHT
     XVI.  THE SPY IS SEIZED
    XVII.  HOPPITY JACK'S STALL
   XVIII.  CHIPPY'S BAD TIME
     XIX.  A BROTHER SCOUT TO THE RESCUE
     XX.  THE OPINIONS OF AN INSTRUCTOR
     XXI.  CHIPPY GOES ON SCOUT DUTY
    XXII.  CHIPPY GOES IN CHASE
   XXIII.  THE OLD WATER-GATE
    XXIV.  ON BOARD THE 'THREE SPIRES'
     XXV.  A NARROW SHAVE
    XXVI.  CHIPPY MAKES HIS REPORT
   XXVII.  DICK'S GREAT PLAN
  XXVIII.  THE SCOUTS MARCH FORTH
    XXIX.  WINNING A SUPPER
     XXX.  THE FIRST CAMP
    XXXI.  THE BIG TROUT
   XXXII.  TERRORS OF THE NIGHT
  XXXIII.  THE MARCH RESUMED
   XXXIV.  SCOUTS TO THE RESCUE
    XXXV.  A BROTHER SCOUT--THE TWO TRAMPS
   XXXVI.  CHECKMATE
  XXXVII.  AT NEWMINSTER
 XXXVIII.  HOMEWARD BOUND----A DISH OF EELS
   XXXIX.  THE STORM--WHAT HAPPENED WHILE THEY
           DRIED THEIR CLOTHES
      XL.  THE SCOUTS' SECOND CAMP
     XLI.  THE POACHERS
    XLII.  DRAGGING THE POOL--A LITTLE SURPRISE
   XLIII.  THE BROKEN BICYCLE
    XLIV.  THE BROTHER SCOUT
     XLV.  AT THE HARDYS' FARM
    XLVI.  DICK'S ACCIDENT
   XLVII.  THE LAST CAMP
  XLVIII.  IN THE RAIN
    XLIX.  DIGGING A WELL
       L.  THE OLD HIGGLER
      LI.  THE WELCOME HOME



THE WOLF PATROL


CHAPTER I

THE 'SLUG'

'Now for the Quay Flat!' said Arthur Graydon.  'I say,
Dick Elliott, you cut ahead, and see if that crew out of
Skinner's Hole are anywhere about!  You other fellows,
get some stones and keep 'em handy!'

A dozen day-boys from Bardon Grammar School were
going home one Saturday midday after morning school.
All of them lived in a suburb which lay beyond the
shipping quarter of the river-port of Bardon, and their
way to and from school ran across a wide open space
beside the river known as Quay Flat.

Below Quay Flat, and packed closely along the edge of
the river, was a huddle of small houses and cottages, where
lived the poorer sort of riverside workers, a squalid, dirty
region known as Skinner's Hole.  It was so called because
it lay very low, and because hides from abroad were landed
there, and dealt with by three or four large tanneries.

Between the Grammar School boys who crossed Quay
Flat and the boys of Skinner's Hole there was a constant
feud.  At times this bickering took the form of pitched
battles fought out with sticks and stones.  The boys of
Bardon always called these encounters 'slugs,' and, if
the truth be told, they were, one and all, very fond of a
'slug.'  To carefully search the hedges for a handy stick,
and then cut a ferocious knob out of the root end with
your pocket-knife; above all, to cast leaden bullets and
march forth with them and a catapult--these things
were dear to the heart of a Bardon boy.

There were now threats of another 'slug' in the air,
and the boys who had to cross Quay Flat had gathered
to march home in a body.  At the head of a lane running
down to the open space, they had paused to make preparations
for any enemy that might lie in their path, and Dick
Elliott, as we have seen, was despatched ahead as a scout,
to report signs of danger.

But there was already a scout at work on behalf of the
enemy.  Half-way down the lane a narrow alley ran in
from the riverside, and in this alley one of the
'wharf-rats,' as the schoolboys called the lads of Skinner's Hole,
was on the watch.

The wharf-rat was a short, skinny boy, very ragged
and tattered, whom his friends called Chippy; and he
was their captain and leader.  At the corner of the alley
was a small greengrocer's shop, and Chippy, lying flat
along the stones on his stomach, had thrust his head round
a box full of onions which had been set outside the door.
From this cover he was keeping watch for the foe.

He saw them come into sight, saw them pause, and
knew that they scented trouble ahead; for they began to
search about for loose stones, and to kick shaky ones out
of the road.  Then he saw Dick Elliott sent ahead to
reconnoitre.

Chippy looked over his shoulder, and measured the
distance he would have to run down the alley before he
could find cover.  No go.  If he ran, the scout of the other
side would see him scuttling, and suspect something.
Besides, Chippy was well known.  He was a famous
leader in this kind of warfare.  So he curled himself up
as round as a hedgehog, and lay hidden behind the box,
with his eye at a crack.

He gave a little grunt to himself as he saw Dick Elliott
look carefully along the alley before he went on down the
lane.  Chippy was glad he hadn't run; he would
certainly have been seen.  But as soon as Dick had passed,
he was up and away down the alley at full speed.  He
made a couple of turns along side-streets, and then Quay
Flat lay before him.  He put his fingers into his mouth
and gave a long, shrill whistle.  There was no answer,
but Chippy was quite satisfied.  He knew that his
warriors would understand.  From another carefully
chosen spot he watched Dick Elliott come out on Quay
Flat and look all about.  But the braves of Skinner's
Hole had caught their chief's whistle, and were lying
hidden among piles of old cordage and rusty anchors
which were heaped in one corner of the Flat.  Dick ran
back up the lane.

'I can't see anyone about,' he reported.  'The Flat
looks as quiet as can be.'

'Come on!' said Arthur Graydon to the other boys.
'Keep together; and if the wharf-rats come out, we'll
give 'em beans!'

The band of Grammar School boys gained the Flat, and
struck out for the bridge which crossed the river and led
to the suburb in which lay their homes.

All went quietly till they were well out in the open
space, and then the wharf-rats set up a tremendous yell
and darted from their ambush.  A furious battle was
started at once on the Flat.  Stones flew like hail on
both sides, and then the combatants came to close
quarters, and the fray developed into a series of stand-up
fights, with every boy yelling like mad.

'Slug 'em! slug 'em, Skinner's 'Ole!' howled the wharf-rats.
'Out 'em!  Down 'em, Skinner's 'Ole!'

'Rally, School!' shouted Dick Elliott.

'Drive 'em into the river!' bellowed Arthur Graydon.
The latter was fighting with a couple of heavy books
buckled tightly into a long, stout strap, and he fetched a
couple of his opponents down with swinging blows.
Suddenly he was confronted with the rival chieftain, the
redoubtable Chippy.  Arthur swung his books at Chippy's
head, but the latter was far too quick for so slowly
delivered a stroke, and was inside his opponent's guard in
a flash.  Chippy's dirty fist was planted with stinging
force in Arthur's right eye, and Arthur went over like a
ninepin.

At the next instant Chippy and Dick Elliott were face
to face, and Chippy, who was very handy with his fists
found, for the first time, a foeman to be reckoned with.
They had a sharp rally; then they closed, and Dick, who
was a capital wrestler, threw his man with ease.  Down
went Chippy, and saw ten thousand and one stars, for
the back of his head was brought up hard against the
flags of the quay.

But while he was all abroad, half a dozen of his followers
swarmed over Dick Elliott, and made the latter prisoner.
The rest of the Grammar School boys had been driven off,
but Dick was a captive.

'We've copped one!' roared a big red-haired lad.  'I'll
tell yer what we'll do wi' him.  Let's roll him i' the
sludge!'

His comrades shouted joyful assent, and Dick, fighting
like a tiger, but helpless in the hands of the wharf-rats,
was dragged towards the river, where his captors intended
to roll him in the deep mud left by the ebbing tide.

The band, with their struggling victim in their midst,
were close upon the river before Chippy got to his feet,
his head still singing from that shrewd crack.

'Wot's the game?' said Chippy in a husky whisper to
himself.  'I see.  I heerd Carrots say it 'ud be a good
game to roll one on 'em in the sludge.  But that's seven
on 'em to one.  That ain't good enough!'  And he began
to hurry after them.

'Wot cheer, mates!' he shouted in his hoarse tones.
''Old 'ard a bit!  Lemme come up!'

But the victorious band were deaf to the calls of their
leader, and at this instant they disappeared at a point
where a sloping wharf ran from the quay edge into the
river.

'Bring 'im along to the other end o' the wharf!'
commanded the red-haired boy; 'then we'll chuck 'im bang
into the mud, an' see 'im scrabble 'is way out!'

'Lemme go, you fellows!' yelled Dick, fighting with
tooth and nail to wrench himself free; but there were
too many for him, and Chippy, who loved fair play, and
practised it, was too far behind.  But, luckily for Dick,
other help was at hand, or he would assuredly have
been pitched straight into eighteen inches of foul black
mud.

A boat had been pulled from a ship in mid-stream to
the wharf, and a tall gentleman landed from it as Dick
was dragged past the spot.

'What! you, Dick?' shouted the new-comer.  'What
does this mean?' and, followed by the boatman, he made
a dash at the group.

The wharf-rats threw down their captive and fled, and
the gentleman picked Dick up.

'Thanks, Uncle Jim,' said Dick, puffing like a grampus.
'If you hadn't lent a hand, those wharf-rats would have
tipped me over into the mud.'

'How did you fall into their hands?' asked his uncle.

'They've been a-sluggin', I shouldn't wonder,'
remarked the boatman.

'That was it,' said Dick.  'There was a slug between
our fellows and the wharf-rats out of Skinner's Hole, and
they bagged me.'

His uncle nodded.  He had been a Bardon boy in his
time, and knew all about it.  He paid the boatman, and
away he and Dick went together, for his house was in the
same road as Dick's home.

'They're a jolly sly lot, those wharf-rats,' said Dick,
as they walked along.  'Our fellows sent me ahead as a
scout, but I never saw a sign of them, and yet they were
waiting for us on the Flat all the time.'

'Seems to me you weren't much of a success as a scout,
Dick,' said his uncle, smiling.

'You're right there, Uncle Jim,' replied Dick, a broad
grin on his honest, open face.  'I muffed it that time, and
no mistake.  Hallo, here's the bobby!'

The constable who had the Quay beat came hurrying
along, looking red and angry.

'You 'ain't seen any o' them young varmints wot have
been a-sluggin', have ye, Mr. Elliott?' he cried to Dick's
uncle.

'Yes; I've seen some of them, Cooper, but I'm afraid
they're out of your reach by now,' replied the latter.

'I just wish I could get hold of 'em,' cried the indignant
constable.  'I'd give 'em what for.  Two windows 'ave
they broke wi' their stones and their sluggin', an' one of
'em in the shop o' poor old Mrs. Dean.  The old woman
has hard enow work to make a livin' without rowdy young
nippers a-smashin' her windows.'

'You're right, Cooper,' agreed Mr. Elliott.

'But I'll put a stop to it,' said the constable.  'I'll be
on the spot here at such times as them Grammar School
boys are crossin' the Flat.  Then if any game gets started
betwixt them and that lot out o' Skinner's Hole, I'll be
ready for 'em.'

Mr. Elliott and Dick walked on, and the latter burst
out impulsively:

'That's too bad, uncle, about the poor old woman.
I'll send the hat round and make our fellows fork out, and
we'll square it up to her for her broken window.'

'Good idea, old chap!' said Mr. Elliott.  'Here's half
a crown for a start.'

Dick thanked his uncle, and pocketed the coin.

'Well, we were talking about your scouting,' went on
Mr. Elliott.

'Oh!' grinned Dick.  'Don't rot me about that.  I
give it up.  I missed my kick that time.'

'That's all right,' said his uncle; 'I don't want to poke
fun at you.  I was only going to suggest this.  Why
don't you go in for real scouting?  Learn to play the
game properly.  It's a wonderful game if you tackle it
seriously--splendid sport, and a thousand times more
useful, and better fun, than this foolish slugging business.'

'Some of the fellows at school have been talking about
scouting,' said Dick.  'They've got hold of
Baden-Powell's book, and they were awfully interested when I
told them that you were in Mafeking with B.-P.'

'Yes, and a fine tenderfoot I was at the start!' laughed
his uncle.  'When B.-P. told the townsmen they'd got
to lend a hand, I was like a good few more.  I thought I'd
pick up what was wanted in no time.  But I found that
a useful man in the firing-line isn't made in a hurry.  What
a time he had with some of us fellows, who scarcely knew
which end of a rifle to put to the shoulder!'  And
Mr. Elliott chuckled at the recollection.

'Have you read the first part of B.-P.'s book, Dick?'
he asked in a moment.

'No,' replied Dick.  'I should like to uncommonly.'

'Here's a copy,' said Mr. Elliott, drawing the small
paper-covered volume from his pocket.  'I bought it in
London yesterday.  Look it through, and if you and
your chums like the idea of it, remember that I shall
always be ready to lend you a hand if you wish to make
a start.'



CHAPTER II

THE FOUNDING OF THE WOLF PATROL

On the next Monday evening Dick burst into his uncle's house like a
whirlwind.  Mr. Elliott was in his 'den,' reading the paper, and he
looked up with a smile as the boy entered.

'Oh, uncle,' cried out Dick, 'can't we begin scouting at once?  It's
the jolliest thing I ever heard of, and all my chums think the same.
We'd like to make up a patrol at once.  And you said you'd lend us a
hand, didn't you?'

'I did, Dick,' said his uncle, laying aside his paper.  'When is your
next half-holiday?'

'We get Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays half-holidays in the week,'
said Dick.

'All right,' said his uncle.  'I'll give you Thursday afternoons till
you're on your own legs.  Bring your men up here on Thursday afternoon
at three.'

At the time named eight boys turned up, each with an eager look on his
face, and a copy of the first part of 'Scouting for Boys,' which he had
thumbed from end to end.

'Well, you're not scouts yet,' said Mr. Elliott to them, 'for you have
to pass the tests, you know.'

'We've been at work on them already, uncle,' replied Dick.  'We can
most of us do the first test--the knot-tying--and the last three are
easy enough.'

'Very good,' said Mr. Elliott.  'Then I'll try you here on Tests 1, 4,
and 6--the knots, the laws and signs of scouts, and the Union Jack
test.'

He took them in turn, and put everyone through his facings, and all
came through in good shape.

'Now for Test 2,' said Mr. Elliott--'to "track a deer's spoor, or
describe a shop window."  Which will you have?'

'The spoor! the spoor!' cried the boys.

'Then we'll go on to the heath,' said he.

Twenty minutes' walk brought them clear of the houses, and the road ran
on through a great heath which stretched for several miles and was
quite unenclosed.  The party struck into a side-path, and soon gained a
quiet spot.  Here Mr. Elliott produced a pair of tracking-irons, which
the boys examined with the most eager interest, and prepared to test
the band one after another.

It was a capital place for the purpose, for clumps of gorse and holly
were thickly scattered over the heath, affording excellent cover, and
through these clumps the trainer would lay a track which each boy must
follow for a quarter of a mile, and make the journey within fifteen
minutes.

Five boys were successful, among these being Arthur Graydon and Dick
Elliott.  Three boys failed, not because their eyesight was poorer than
that of the rest, but simply because they were unobservant, and did not
pick up the trail quickly at one or two points where Mr. Elliott laid
little traps for them, for he did not believe in making the test too
easy.

'Well,' said Dick's uncle, 'five of you rank as second-class scouts
now, and can make a beginning with a patrol; the other three will
qualify next time, I expect.'  And he took the failures in hand and
showed them where they had slipped up in tracking his spoor.  Mixed
with instruction, he told them stories of the wonderful tracking he had
seen performed in South Africa by both white men and natives, and the
afternoon passed all too quickly for the deeply interested boys.

'What shall we call our patrol?' asked George Lee, one of the
successful boys in passing the tests, as they walked home.

'I vote for Wolf!' cried Dick--'the Wolf Patrol!  That sounds jolly, I
think.'

'Yes, we'll have that--the Wolf,' said Arthur Graydon.

'We must wait a little,' said Mr. Elliott, 'and see if any other
patrols have been formed in Bardon.  It won't do to clash, but I'll see
about that.'

Mr. Elliott made inquiries, and found that though there was some talk
of forming patrols here and there, yet not one was actually in
existence in the neighbourhood.  So Dick and his friends became 1st
Bardon Troop, Wolf Patrol, and were very proud of that fact.

The Wolf Patrol now turned to with a will to convert themselves from
second-class scouts into first-class.  Arthur Graydon was chosen patrol
leader, and Dick Elliott was the corporal.  Whenever the Wolves met
each other they gave the scouts' salute with great care, the rank and
file receiving the secret sign in half-salute, while Arthur Graydon, as
patrol-leader, was greeted with the full salute.  Their pocket-money
went like water for patrol flags, badges, crests, and tracking-irons,
and every boy rigged himself up with khaki shorts and a khaki hat with
broad brim, in proper scouts' style.  Above all, they practised without
ceasing the wolf's howl, which was the secret call of their patrol.
Several of the Wolf Patrol lived quite near to each other, and at night
they would go into their gardens, and scout would howl to scout in such
mournful, long-drawn notes that peaceful, elderly gentlemen, reading
the evening paper after dinner, rushed out to see if murder was being
done somewhere.



CHAPTER III

CHIPPY HEARS OF NEW THINGS

One Saturday afternoon Chippy, the leader of the wharf-rats of
Skinner's Hole, was crossing the heath on his way home.  He had been
with a message to a village some three miles from Bardon, and was
taking a short cut over the heath, which he knew from side to side and
corner to corner.  Suddenly he stopped.  He had heard a strange
noise--a sound as of chanting or singing--and he wondered where it came
from.  In a moment he had fixed the place.

'That's in the old sand-'ole,' he muttered to himself, and he shuffled
across the heath in his big, clumsy, hob-nailed boots towards the spot.
In a couple of minutes he had wormed his way between two gorse-bushes
growing at the edge of the deep hollow, and was looking with much
interest at the sight beneath him.

It was the Wolf Patrol practising the scouts' war-dance.  The old
deserted sandpit made a splendid place for their patrol meetings for
open-air work.  They had come there that afternoon for practice in Test
12--fire-laying and lighting, and cooking flour and potatoes without
utensils.  But, first of all, they were practising the war-dance.  The
strange words of the Scouts' Song floated up to Chippy's ears, but he
could make nothing of them:

  'Ingonyama--gonyama
  Invooboo
  Yah bobo!  Yah bobo!
  Invooboo.


But though Chippy did not understand the words, he understood that
those fellows down there looked splendidly smart, and were having a
fine time.  He admired their uniform immensely; it looked so trim and
neat compared with his own ragged garb.  He admired their neat, quick
movements as they stamped in unison with the words of the song, and
moved round in a circle.  The 'Ingonyama' chorus ended, and then the
fire practice began.  Chips and sticks were carefully piled, and a
scout was allowed two matches to make a rousing fire of the gorse-stems
and dried sticks to be found in the coppices on the heath.  Then he
went to work with his flour and potatoes.

Finally the patrol organized a hunt to finish the afternoon.  George
Lee was sent off on tracking-irons, and given ten minutes' start.  When
the time was up, the others went after him, and the sandpit was
deserted.  No one had observed Chippy, for the latter was a scout
without knowing it, and had kept himself carefully hidden.  He didn't
know they were boy scouts, and on their honour to treat him and
everyone else fairly; he only knew them as 'chaps we've slugged with,'
as he put it to himself.

'Wot's the game, I wonder?' muttered Chippy to himself, as the last
scout vanished behind a hazel thicket.  'Jolly good fun they're havin'.
I should just like to know wot it all comes to.'

He slid down the side of the sandpit to examine the place where the
scouts had built their fires, and soon was on the road to find out what
it all meant.  His sharp eyes, running over every mark the boys had
left, saw something white in a long tuft of dried grass.  He pounced
upon it and picked it up.  It was a book with a picture on the cover.

'Wot's this?' thought Chippy.  'A kid watchin' a ship round a rock.
Wot for?  "Scouting for Boys."  Wot's inside?'  He opened it at page
42, and at once recognized the scouts' uniform.  'Why, these chaps 'ad
all got togs on like this,' said Chippy to himself.  'I'll bet this
book's all about the game.'

He began to read, and was fascinated at once.  Chippy talked badly
because he had been brought up among people who talked badly, but he
could read as well as any Grammar School boy, and had plenty of
intelligence behind his freckled face to grasp what he read.  He was
deep in the little volume, when he heard the patter of running feet
behind him.  He turned, and saw Dick Elliott coming up to him.  They
knew each other at once.

'Hallo!' said Dick.  'It looks as if you'd found my book.  I felt sure
I had dropped it here.'

'Yus, I found it,' replied Chippy.  'It wor' in that 'ere patch o'
stuff, an' I picked it up.  I've bin a-lookin' at it.'

'That's all right,' said Dick cheerfully.  'You won't hurt it.'

Chippy had rather expected that Dick would take a scornful tone to him,
as most of the Grammar School boys did to the wharf-rats.  He did not
know that Dick was in honour bound to obey Scout Law No. 5, and be
courteous to all whom he met.  But Dick's friendly voice encouraged
Chippy to speak out something which he had on his mind.

'Look 'ere,' said Chippy, 'I ain't in wi' that crowd as tried to chuck
yer into the mud t'other day.  That ain't playin' the game.'

'Well, you certainly didn't help 'em,' replied Dick, with a merry grin.

'No,' agreed Chippy.  'I was outed that time, proper.  Lor! my 'ead
sung for 'alf a day!  But it was Carrots as put 'em up to that mud
game, an' I've booted 'im out o' the crowd.  As long as I'm a-runnin'
the show, I'll slug wi' anybody ye like, but I'll slug fair.  Here's
yer book.'

There was a touch of reluctance in Chippy's manner, which did not
escape Dick's quick eye.

'Have you read some of it?' asked Dick.

'Yus; I read quite a bit,' replied Chippy.

'How did you like it?'

'Oh, it's pross!' returned Chippy in his deepest, hoarsest note.

'All right,' laughed Dick.  'Take the book and keep it.'

'D'yer mean it?' cried Chippy eagerly.

'Of course I do,' answered Dick.  'Tuck it into your pocket.  I can
easily get another.  Well, I must be on, or I shall never catch our
fellows up.  Good afternoon!'  And away he went, leaving Chippy to
growl hearty thanks after him.

Chippy walked slowly home, his eyes glued to page after page.  The
little book went straight to Chippy's heart.  The wharf-rat felt all
the delightful romance attached to being a boy scout as keenly as any
member of the Wolf Patrol, and his mind was made up swiftly.

'This 'ere's a long sight ahead o' sluggin',' he reflected.  'It's
chock-full o' good fun all the time.  I'll turn my crowd into a patrol,
blest if I don't!'

He made a beginning that night.  He begged a candle-end from his
mother, and gathered his followers into a corner of an old deserted
storehouse on the quay, and read and explained, and so filled them with
his own enthusiasm that each was resolved to become a boy scout, or
perish in the attempt.



CHAPTER IV

THE NEW SCOUT

Three weeks later the Wolf Patrol, again on a Saturday afternoon, were
busy in their beloved headquarters.  They had flattened out a tracking
patch fifteen yards square.  Dick had brought his bicycle, and the
Wolves were studying walking, running, and cycling tracks across their
patch, when they were joined by a stranger.

The first to see the new-comer was Billy Seton; the rest were bending
over the tracks which Dick's bicycle had just made.  The new-comer
promptly gave Billy the half-salute, and Billy returned it, and put out
his left hand, which the stranger shook in grave fashion.

Billy had done this because the new-comer made the secret sign which
showed that he was a brother scout; but, at the same time, Billy was
full of astonishment at the odd figure before him.  It was Chippy, and
Chippy had been doing his best to provide himself with some sort of
scout's rig, in the shape of shorts, hat, and boots.  His shorts were
rather on the queer side.  He had only one pair of ragged trousers, and
he did not dare to cut them down, or he would have had nothing for
general wear, so he had obtained an old pair of corduroys from a
bricklayer who lived next door.  The bricklayer was a bird-fancier, and
Chippy had paid for the corduroys by fetching a big bag of nice sharp
sand from the heath to strew on the floors of the cages.

Chippy was no tailor, so he had simply sawn off the legs to such a
length as would clear his knees, and left it at that.  The waist would
have gone round him at least twice, so Chippy laid it over in folds,
and lashed all tight with a piece of tarry string.

His hat was an old felt one of his mother's.  It was the nearest thing
he could rake up to a scout's broad brim, and he had hammered the edge
with a big stone to make it lie flat; but it would curl up a little,
and it looked almost as odd as the capacious trousers in which he was
swallowed.  His boots were borrowed from his mother also.  His ordinary
boots, heavy and clumsy, with hobnails as big as peanuts, seemed to him
very ill-suited for the soft, swift, noiseless tread of a scout, so he
had replaced them with an old pair of elastic-side boots intended for
female wear.  The elastics were clean gone, and his feet would have
come out at every step had not, luckily, the tabs remained.  These he
had lashed together, fore and aft, round his ankle, for, being a
riverside boy, he was very handy with string.

The toes were the worst bother.  His mother was a long-footed woman,
and the toes of the boots sailed ahead of Chippy's feet, and turned up,
after the style of the boots of the Middle Ages, as depicted in
history-books, and went flip-flop-flap before him as he walked.  And so
Chippy had come to visit the Wolf Patrol as a friend and a brother.

'Hallo! who's this?' cried Arthur Graydon, looking up from the
tracking-patch.

The others looked up, too, and some of the boys raised a great shout of
laughter.

'What do you want here?' went on Arthur, stepping forward, patrol flag
in hand.

The flag told Chippy that he stood in presence of the patrol-leader,
and he gave the full salute.  But Arthur did not return it.

'Who are you?' demanded Arthur.

'My name's Slynn,' replied the other.  'They gen'ly call me Chippy.'

He announced himself in his usual husky notes.  It seemed as if Chippy
was bothered with a perpetual cold, which had settled in his throat.
Perhaps it came from living in the continual damp of Skinner's Hole.

'And what do you want here?' went on Arthur.

'I come over wi' a little challenge,' growled Chippy.  'Our patrol 'ud
like to have a fren'ly try wi' yourn, at any sort o' scoutin' ye like.'

'Patrol!' cried Arthur in astonishment.  'What's a rum-looking beggar
like you got to do with a patrol?  What patrol?'

'Raven Patrol o' Skinner's 'Ole,' announced Chippy.

The Wolves received this with a shout of laughter, but Chippy remained
as solemn as a judge.

'I like that,' said Arthur.  'Do you suppose anyone will take notice of
a patrol you wharf-rats would set up?  Why, I know you now!  You're the
fellow that blacked my eye the other week, confound you!  It's like
your cheek to come here!  You'd better clear out of this!'

'Well,' replied Chippy, 'wot if I did black yer eye?  I did it fair and
square.  I stood straight up to yer.  Ye'd a-blacked mine if yer could!
Wot yer grousin' about?'

'Oh, shut up and clear out!' said Arthur impatiently.  'What's the use
of coming here and talking about a patrol of wharf-rats?  Where's your
patrol-leader?'

''Ere 'e is!'

And Chippy tapped his breast.

'Oh, you're patrol-leader, are you?' returned Arthur 'Where's your
patrol-flag?'

''Ain't got none!' replied Chippy in laconic fashion.

'Where's your badge?'

''Ain't got none.'

'Where's your shoulder knot?'

''Ain't got none.'

'Where's your lanyard and whistle?'

''Ain't got none.'

'You're a fine lot to call yourselves the Raven Patrol!' cried Arthur
jeeringly.  'What have you got, I'd like to know?'

Chippy looked him straight in the eye.

'The mind to run straight an' play fair,' he said.  ''Ow's that for
bein' good enough?'

'Pooh!' said Arthur.  'A patrol of scouts must be turned out properly.
That's the first thing.'

'I dunno about that,' growled Chippy, and drew a very dirty and
well-thumbed book from the inner pocket of his ragged jacket.  'I bin
a-goin' by what the cove says as writ this 'ere book--B.-P.'

'You can't teach me much about that book!' said Arthur loftily.  'I
know it from end to end.'

'Well, I bin through it about ten times, I shouldn't wonder,' huskily
murmured Chippy, 'an' I've got it all wrong if 'e don't say as to run
straight an' play fair is just about all there is to it.'

Chippy began to turn over the leaves, and there was silence for a
moment.  The patrol had left everything to their leader.  No one else
said a word.  But Dick Elliott felt interested above all.  He knew that
this was his doing.  It was he who had really started the Raven Patrol
by giving the book to Chippy Slynn.

The latter looked up quietly.  He had found the place he wanted.

'I can't teach yer much out o' this 'ere book, eh?' he said.  'I can
teach yer "Scout Law No. 4."'  And Chippy read in a loud voice: '"A
scout is a friend to all, and a brother to every other scout, no matter
to which social class the other belongs."'

'Wait a bit!' said Arthur.  'You think you're very sharp, but how do I
know you're a scout?'

'Page forty-two,' said Chippy, who certainly knew the text-book very
thoroughly.  'See it?  I gi'ed yer the signal.'

'And then you show your badge!' cried Arthur triumphantly.  'Now,
where's your badge, wharf-rat?'

For a moment Chippy looked stumped.  Then he recovered himself and read
out: '"Or proves that he is a scout,"' and scratched his jaw and looked
hopeful again.

'Yes; but how are you going to prove it?' said Arthur.  'You can't
prove it!  Clear out, and don't waste any more of our time!'

'Yus, I can prove it!' replied Chippy.  'Try me!  I'll let yer 'unt me,
if yer like.  If yer cop me, yer can call me no scout!'

'That's a fair offer, Arthur,' said Dick quietly.

And two or three of the patrol expressed the same feeling.

'Oh, rubbish!' cried Arthur impatiently.  'I'm patrol-leader, and I
give orders.  I don't mean to go shuffling over the heath after a chap
like that!'

Chippy's sharp eye fell on Arthur's necktie.  It was hanging outside
his waistcoat, with a knot in the end of it.  Every boy scout has to do
one good turn a day, and the knot is to remind him of that duty.

'Look 'ere,' he said, 'the knot ain't out o' yer necktie yet!  Now's
yer chance for a good turn.  Lemme prove it.'

Everyone had to laugh at this clever twist of the argument, and Billy
Seton murmured:

'I'm hanged if this chap is any sort of a fool!  Come, Arthur, give him
a show!  It'll be great fun, anyway.  We're tired of hunting each
other.  Perhaps he'll give us a merry little run.'

'Well,' said Arthur, 'if you fellows are keen on it, I won't stand in
your way.  Seems to me a pretty poor sort of game.  Still, it will do
to choke him off with as well as another.'



CHAPTER V

THE CHOKING-OFF OF CHIPPY

'We'll make a man-hunt of it,' said Billy Seton.  'I suggest that
somebody lends him a pair of tracking-irons, and we give him a quarter
of an hour's start.  When we come up to him we'll fire at him with
tennis-balls, as usual.  If we hit him three times, he's dead.  If he
hits one of us first, that man's dead, and out of the hunt.'

'Righto!' said Chippy.  'I've studied them rules.  I'm ready.'

'And I'll lend the tracking-irons,' cried Dick Elliott.

Chippy put on the tracking-irons with immense pride and delight.  He
had wondered so much what these things were, and to fasten a pair on
his feet, and to make tracks with them for a real patrol to pursue
him--it was simply great.

'Wait a bit!' said George Lee.  'We've got our tennis-balls to fire at
him; but how is he going to fire at us?'

'That's all right,' said Chippy.  'We've played that game.  I've got
mine 'ere.'

He dived a hand into one of his wide-spreading pockets, and brought out
a ball.

'That isn't a tennis-ball,' said Arthur scornfully.

It was not.  Chippy's funds did not run to tennis-balls.  It was a
bottle-cork wrapped up in pieces of rag, and whipped into shape with
string.

'I'll tek my chance wi' it,' said Chippy calmly, and prepared to start.

The patrol laughed as he scuttled out of the pit, and Dick stood with
watch in hand to give him the proper law.

'He's a rum-looking beggar!' said Billy Seton, 'but I'll be hanged if
he isn't wide-o.  And I reckon he stood it uncommonly well, the way you
jawed him, Arthur.  He didn't get a bit raggy; he just hung on to his
chance of showing himself to be a boy scout.'

'Pooh!' said Arthur.  'This is turning the whole thing into piffle.
You fellows seemed to want to chivvy him, so I agreed just for the
joke.  But it isn't likely that we shall recognise wharf-rats as
brother scouts!'

'Not likely!' cried No. 6, whose name was Reggie Parr; but the others
said nothing.

When time was up, away went the Wolf Patrol on the tracks which Chippy
Slynn had made, and for some distance they followed them at an easy
trot, for Chippy had posted straight ahead over grassy or sandy land,
on which the irons left clear traces.  But within a mile and a half of
the sandpit the track was lost.

Arthur Graydon drove in his patrol-flag beside the last marks which
could be found, and ordered his scouts to separate and swing round in a
wide circle until the line was picked up again.

The tracks had ended beside the wide high-road which crossed the heath,
and half the patrol took one side of the road and half the other.
Within three minutes Dick Elliott raised the wild howl which was their
patrol-call, and everyone rushed towards him.  He had found the trail.
It was on the further side of the high-road, and ran straight ahead
beside it, and on raced the Wolves along the tracks.

Chippy had observed how clear a trail he left, and when he came to the
high-road, he thought it was about time to throw his pursuers out a
little, for they could travel much faster than he could go in the
tracking-irons.  So at the edge of the high-road down went his head and
up went his feet, and he walked across the smooth hard road on his
hands, leaving no trace, or such a trace as the Wolf Patrol were not
yet clever enough to pick up.  With the tracking-irons safely hoisted
in the air, he went quite thirty yards before he turned himself right
side up again, and scuttled off.  He went another mile, and practised
the same manoeuvre once more, and then he crept very warily forward,
for the land was rising to a ridge.  Unless he crossed this ridge with
the utmost caution the boys behind him on the heath would see his
figure against the sky-line.  He marked a place where the ridge was
crowned with gorse-bushes, and through these he wriggled his way,
receiving a hundred scratches, but troubling nothing about that.

On the other side the ridge went down even more steeply than by the
slope which Chippy had just ascended, and up this farther side a huge
waggon, drawn by four powerful horses, was slowly making its way.

As soon as Chippy saw the waggon an idea popped into his mind, and he
hurried forward to meet the great vehicle.  He kept among the bushes so
that the driver did not see him.  The latter, indeed, from his high
perch, was too busy cracking his whip over his team to urge them to the
ascent to see that small, gliding figure slipping through the gorse.
So Chippy dodged behind the waggon, swung himself up by the tail-board,
and climbed in as nimbly as a cat.  The forepart of the waggon was full
of sacks of meal, and a heap of empty sacks lay against the tail-board.
In a trice he had hidden himself under the empty sacks, and lay there
without making sign or sound.

The waggon rolled on over the ridge, and soon Chippy heard the
long-drawn note of a Wolf's howl.  He knew the patrol was now near at
hand, but he lay quite still, and peered out at the side of the
tail-board, for the latter was hanging a little back.

At the next moment he was being carried clean through the lines of the
Wolf Patrol.  They had separated, and had been searching busily at the
second place where he had thrown them off.  Not one glanced at the
familiar sight of a big waggon rolling back to the town, for as it
passed, Billy Seton raised the patrol call to tell his companions that
he had found the trail.  All rushed towards him to resume the hunt, and
away they went.

As soon as they were out of sight up jumped Chippy, swung himself over
the tail-board, and dropped into the road.  He dived at once into the
bushes which bordered the way, and the waggoner never knew that he had
given anyone a lift.  Now Chippy set himself to track the trackers.  He
followed them up as fast as he could go, taking advantage of every
patch of cover, and holding his ball in his hand ready to fire.

He saw the first Wolf at the foot of the ridge; this was Billy Seton.
The track had again been lost on a hard, stony patch where Chippy had
stepped very lightly and carefully.  The Wolves had separated, and
Billy became an easy prey.  He was bending down, carefully examining
every twig, every inch of soft soil, when something hit him on the
right ear and dropped to the ground.  For a moment Billy stared in
wonder at the queer rag-ball; then the truth broke upon him--he had
been knocked out.  He was no longer a pursuer; he was dead.

He looked up, and saw Chippy's queer old felt hat poked out of a
bramble thicket some eight yards away.

'Got yer,' murmured Chippy in his husky whisper.  'Don't gie me away!'

Billy checked the exclamation which was rising to his lips, for he saw
at once how unfair it would be to betray Chippy's presence.  He
approached the bush, and tossed the rag ball back.

'All right,' he said quietly.  'I'll go to the rear; I'm done for.'

'Thanks; you're a straight un,' returned Chippy, and sank into the
depths of the bramble thicket and crawled on like a snake.

The next Wolves he saw were running in a pair--Nos. 7 and 8.  They had
their heads together over a mark, and were debating what it meant, if
it did mean anything.  It was a long shot, but Chippy did not hesitate.
He took a ball in each hand and hung for a second on his aim.  He was a
first-rate thrower.

It was a favourite sport in Skinner's Hole to cork an empty bottle,
toss it far out into the river, and give each player three shots to
knock the neck off.  Chippy was an easy winner at this game, and when a
thrower can hit the neck of a bottle dancing along with the stream he
isn't going to miss a boy.

'Hallo!' said No. 7, as something took him in the neck.  No. 8 turned
to see what was the matter, and pop went a ball into his eye.  A felt
hat rose from behind a neighbouring bush, and a finger beckoned.

'Why, it's the wharf-rat,' said No. 7.  'He's got us!'

They surrendered at once, for they could do no less, and Chippy sent
them to the rear, and crept on in search of fresh victims.

Suddenly he saw a patrol flag fluttering.  Ah! that was the leader who
had bullyragged him.  Chippy's heart gave a leap.  If only he could bag
the proud leader, and show him that a scout could come out of Skinner's
Hole!  That would be splendid.  And Chippy went down flat on his face
and wriggled forward to work his way within firing distance.



CHAPTER VI

CHIPPY CHOPS THEM UP

Nearer and nearer crept Chippy to the vainglorious patrol-leader who
had spoken so scornfully of his ambition to become a boy scout.

Arthur Graydon was on the other side of a small open space, and Chippy
paused and peered from behind a holly-bush to see what chance there was
of a surprise shot.  He waited a moment, and the chance that came was
excellent.

Arthur had just struck on the trail again.  He threw back his head and
opened his mouth to its widest, and let out a tremendous howl to call
his patrol together from their wanderings.  Suddenly his howl was
interrupted.  Taking a most careful aim, Chippy let fly at the
wide-open mouth, and put the ball fairly on the mark.

Arthur spluttered with rage.  He thought that one of his patrol was
having a lark with him.

'What's that game?' he yelled.  'Who's playing the fool?'

He looked angrily round, but his face became a picture of surprise when
Chippy walked quietly up to him and remarked:

'Yer outed.  Step back wi' th' others I've a-took prisoners.'

'Where have you come from?' roared Arthur.

'Never mind,' returned Chippy, picking up his ball: 'that's my
business, I should fancy.  I've got yer, and that's enough for now.'

There was a crashing through the bushes at a short distance away, and
Dick Elliott burst into the open.  He saw Chippy, and it was an instant
duel.  Dick fired first, but Chippy leapt aside as nimbly as a goat,
and the ball flew wide.  Chippy feinted to throw, and Dick jumped.
Before he could move again, Chippy let fly and struck him on the arm.

'I'm done for,' said Dick, and came forward to pick up his ball.
Chippy vanished into a clump of gorse, for the remaining members of the
patrol were running towards the place, and all three had seen him.

The five who had been put out of the hunt gathered together, and
watched the three effective fighters, who now began to beat the
surrounding gorse in search of Chippy's hiding-place.

George Lee, Reggie Parr, and a comrade named Harry Maurice were left in
the pursuit, and they went very warily to work to seize this wily bird.

Reggie Parr was creeping down a narrow alley between the gorse, when he
saw something which pulled him up at once.  He dropped flat, and
signalled to George Lee, who was behind him, to come up.

'I can see him.  I know where he is,' whispered Reggie eagerly when
George was at his side.  'Lift your head very carefully and take a look
at a big blackthorn-bush just ahead.'

George did so; and there, sure enough, was Chippy's queer old felt hat,
with his rather pale face under it.

'We'll rush him from three sides at once.  One of us is sure to get him
that way,' whispered Reggie.

George nodded, and crept away to take up his position, while Reggie
slipped off to find Harry Maurice and place him for his share in the
attack.  The signal for the charge was the cry of the patrol.

When all was ready, Reggie gave one howl, then the three scouts darted
from their hiding-places, and bore down at full-speed on the little
covert where Chippy's hat was still to be seen through a thin place in
the blackthorn-bush.

But they burst into the covert, to find it quite empty.  No Chippy was
there, only his old hat cleverly arranged on a stick as if he were
crouching behind the bush.  And while they stared at the hat and each
other, there came a swift fusillade of balls from an ambush a dozen
yards away.  Chippy had three balls, and every one hit its man.

'Got yer,' grunted Chippy in a tone of deep satisfaction, and crawled
out of a patch of tall dried bracken, and came forward to fetch his hat.

'Well, by Jingo!  That's an artful touch,' cried Reggie Parr.  'Why, I
saw you.  I saw your face plainly.'

'I know yer did,' replied Chippy, with a cheerful grin.  'I meant yer
to.  As soon as I wor sure yer'd seen my face, I rigged up th' ole 'at
an' 'ooked it.'

At the sound of their voices in conversation the other five scouts came
racing towards them.  Dick Elliott was leading.

'How goes it?' cried Dick.  'Have you bagged him?'

'Not a bit of it,' replied George Lee.  'It's the other way about.
He's bagged us.'

'Oh, Jerusha!' cried Billy Seton.  'The whole patrol!  He's a scout and
a half, this one.'

For the most part the patrol took their defeat with the utmost good
humour, but Arthur Graydon's face wore a dark and angry look.  This
look deepened as Dick chuckled:

'Well, Arthur, not much choking him off about this.  Our friend from
the Raven Patrol seems to be doing the choking.  There's nothing left
for us to do but smile and whistle, according to Scout Law No. 8.'

'Look here,' said Arthur sharply to Chippy, who was smiling on the
Wolves with a most amicable air; 'what do you mean by turning up behind
us?  We expected you to be in front.'

'Well, I dunno,' replied Chippy.  'Seems to me a scout 'adn't ought to
expec' nothin'.  He ought to be ready for wot may turn up--front, back,
or anywheer else.  That's 'ow I read the book.'

He dived into an inner pocket and fetched out Part II.  The Raven
Patrol had purchased it by putting together a halfpenny each, and
Chippy was the custodian.

'Page 81,' read out Chippy.  '"A scout must not only look to his front,
but also to either side, and behind him; he must have 'eyes at the back
of his head,' as the saying is."  Now,' went on Chippy, 'that's
'IMSELF.  Wot about it?'

Arthur had no answer to this home thrust.  He turned to another point.

'How did you get behind us?'

'Me?' replied Chippy--'I come clean through the line.'

'Oh, nonsense!' cried two or three boys.  'We were watching on each
side and in front too closely for that.'

Chippy grinned.  'Yer worn't watchin' close enough to see wot wor in
the waggon from Bland's Mill,' he remarked.

'You were in the waggon?' cried Billy Seton.  Chippy nodded, and went
on to explain.

'But at that rate,' said Arthur, 'you abandoned your duty of laying a
track.'

'Well,' said Chippy, 'there's plenty o' track now.  I've bagged the lot
of yer long afore the track's finished.  I reckon I'm in my rights
theer.'

'Yes,' said Dick; 'there's a good deal in that.  In my opinion it was a
jolly smart bit of work.'

'Rather,' cried Billy Seton; and he began to sing the Scout's Song:
'Ingonyama' (He is a lion); and Dick responded with the 'Invooboo'
chorus (Yes; he is better than that: he is a hippopotamus).

But Arthur Graydon's angry voice struck in: 'Stop that fooling, Seton
and Elliott,' he said.  Then he went on: 'Wolf Patrol, you will at once
return to the sand-pit and then home.  March!'

The patrol fell in at once, for orders must be obeyed instantly, and
without question.

'Wot about my challenge now?' cried Chippy.

'The Wolf Patrol refuses to receive any challenge from you,' replied
Arthur shortly.  'We're not going to have anything to do with a set of
grubby bounders out of Skinner's Hole.'

He ordered his men forward, and was at once obeyed.  Chippy had already
given up the tracking-irons, and away went the patrol for the sandpit
to fetch Dick's bicycle, which had been carefully hidden there.

Chippy watched them go with a sore heart.  He had felt certain that he
would be recognised as a brother scout, after capturing the whole
patrol.  But it seemed that he was not to be, and his bitterness found
vent in speech.

'Fine ol' patrol, yo' are!' he called after them.  'I'll lay a bit as
B.-P. wouldn't be any too proud of yer if he knowed about it.  Ye've
got too much edge on yer.  Smart togs ain't everythink.'

Chippy's speech, all things considered, was very natural, but in the
main it was undeserved, as we shall soon see.



CHAPTER VII

THE PATROL DECIDES

The Wolf Patrol were to meet Mr. Elliott the next Thursday afternoon.
If the day should be fine they were to practise tracking tests on the
heath; if wet, it was to be Kim's game in Mr. Elliott's study.

The day turned out one of pouring rain, and at three o'clock the Wolf
Patrol had gathered in Mr. Elliott's room, where a tray of small
articles, covered by a handkerchief, lay on a side-table.

'We'll begin with Kim's game,' said Mr. Elliott, 'and I'll be umpire.
On that tray I have put twenty-five small articles, all different--a
button, a pin, a stud, a ring, and so on.  I shall give you each a
pencil and a card, and I shall allow every boy one minute to study the
tray.  Then he will go away and write down every article that he can
remember.  The card with the longest list, of course, wins.'

He was about to give out the cards and pencils, when Billy Seton spoke
up.

'Mr. Elliott,' he said, 'there's another matter that two or three of us
would like you to umpire upon before we begin this game.'

'What is it, Billy?' said the instructor.

Billy told the story of Chippy's challenge, of his capture of the
patrol, and told it fairly.  'We left him standing there,' concluded
Billy, 'and I didn't like it, and I found that some of the other
fellows didn't like it; but we had the order to march, and we had to
go; that's Scout Law No. 7.  But the same law says that we can reason
about an order if we don't think it's fair, and I don't think that was
fair.'

'What does the patrol-leader say?' said Mr. Elliott, turning to Arthur
Graydon.

'I gave the order to march because it seemed to me the thing was too
silly from beginning to end,' cried Arthur.  'I'm not going to scout
about with a parcel of dirty, ragged wharf-rats.  I think we should
look a lot of idiots if we did.'

'Now, Mr. Elliott,' said Billy, 'what do you say?'

'Not a word, Billy,' replied Mr. Elliott quietly.  'Not a syllable.
This is a thing for the patrol to decide for themselves.'

There was a short silence, then Billy murmured gently:

'What do you think, Mr. Elliott, that B.-P. would say if he was here?'

Mr. Elliott smiled, and shook his head.  He was not to be drawn that
way.

'I'll tell you this much, Billy,' he remarked, 'that I think he would
do exactly as I am doing--leave it to the patrol.  The very foundation
of the thing, you know, is to teach you to stand on your own legs.'

'Why not vote upon the question?' suggested Dick Elliott; and the idea
was received with a burst of applause.

'Yes,' said Mr. Elliott, 'that's a good plan.  Hold a secret ballot, so
that every member of the patrol may feel quite free to express his real
feelings.  We can soon arrange that.'

He took a sheet of plain foolscap from his writing-table, and carefully
divided it into eight equal pieces, and gave each boy a piece.  From
the mantelshelf he took a tall china vase, and placed that on the
writing-table.

'Now,' said he, 'I propose that each of you shall go out in turn to the
hall table.  There you will mark your papers.  A circle means that the
voter is willing to meet the boys from Skinner's Hole in friendly
contest; a cross means that he is not willing.  When a paper is marked
it will be folded across the middle with the mark inside, brought back,
and dropped into the vase.  In that way the ballot will be perfectly
secret, and you may freely express your feelings.'

There was deep silence as the boys voted in turn according to their
patrol numbers.  The party in the study kept their backs to the
writing-table, so that a voter was not even seen to drop his paper in,
and within five minutes the eight votes were in the vase which served
as ballot-box.

The boys looked on eagerly as Mr. Elliott fetched the vase after No. 8
had voted and returned to the group of his comrades.

'First of all,' said Mr. Elliott, 'I shall shake the vase well, so that
the papers may be thoroughly mixed up.'

He did so, then held the vase upside down, and the papers fell out.  He
opened them one after the other.  There were six circles and two
crosses.  It was an immense majority in favour of Chippy's challenge.

'Six to two,' announced Mr. Elliott.  'The Wolf Patrol is willing to
meet the Ravens from Skinner's Hole.'

'Then they'll meet them without me!' burst out Arthur Graydon, his face
scarlet with rage, for he had quite expected to carry the patrol with
him.  'I shan't be patrol-leader any longer!'

He whipped off his badge and flung it on the table, and was gone before
anyone could stop him or remonstrate with him.  He snatched his cap
from the stand in the hall, and was out of the house in a flash.  The
Wolf Patrol had lost their leader!

'That's Arthur all over,' murmured Billy Seton.  'He's frightfully
shirty.  But I didn't think he'd hook it.'

'Oh, he'll think better of it when he's cooler,' said Mr. Elliott.
'We'll get on with our game.  But I'll say that I'm quite with you in
your decision.'

'Half a minute, please,' said Reggie Parr, flushing to the roots of his
hair.  'I'm going to come out into the open.  The other cross was mine.
But I don't want to leave the patrol.'

'You needn't leave it, old man,' cried Billy Seton.  'We should be
jolly sorry to lose you.'

'I'll run with the rest,' jerked out Reggie.  'But I shouldn't like to
stop and keep quiet about the cross.'

'It's forgiven!  It's forgotten!  Come to my arms!' sang out Billy, and
pretended to embrace his comrade as a lost sheep returning to the fold.
This caused much laughter, and the Wolf Patrol, save for their lost
leader, were completely reunited, and plunged into Kim's game with
great earnestness.



CHAPTER VIII

THE PATROL-LEADERS

A few days later Dick Elliott was standing outside a shop in Bardon
High Street waiting for his sister, who was inside.  He was on his way
to a party, and so was dressed in full fig, a thing he hated very much,
but had to put up with on such occasions.

Presently a second boy came along the pavement towards him.  It was
Chippy, with a big bundle under his right arm.  Chippy looked at the
smart figure staring into the shop-window, and recognised it.

'One o' them Wolf toffs,' thought Chippy.  'I wish I'd a chance to slug
'im now.  I'd soon knock 'is top-'at in the gutter.'

The vengeful Chippy was staring at Dick's glossy silk hat and
irreproachable gloves, when Dick looked up straight into the other
boy's face.  At the next moment Chippy was taken utterly aback, for
Dick stepped forward and gave him the full salute.  Chippy could
scarcely believe his own eyes when he thus received the honours of a
patrol-leader.

But he tucked his bundle between his legs, for the pavement was dirty,
returned the salute, and proffered his left hand.

'Wot cheer, brother!' murmured Chippy in his husky whisper, for he
could think of no more appropriate salutation.

'Oh, I'm all right,' said Dick.  'How are the Ravens getting on?'

'Peggin' away,' returned Chippy.  'We done most o' the things out o'
them books.'

'Ah!' said Dick.  'Now about that challenge.  When would you like to
try a friendly turn against us?'

'Any Sat'day arternoon,' cried Chippy eagerly.  'Yer would meet us,
then?  Yer leader ain't agin us now?'

'Well, it isn't the same leader,' replied Dick.  'The leader you saw
has left us.  We tried to get him to come back, but he wouldn't come.
I'm the leader now.'

'Good, good!' said Chippy gleefully.  'Wot about nex' Sat'day at three,
up at yer sandpit?'

'Yes, I think I can arrange for that,' returned Dick.

'We'll be there, an' proud to come,' said Chippy, whose face shone
again with pride and satisfaction.  'An' we'll put up the best we know
to gie yer a good practice.'

'We shall get all the practice we want if there are a few more like you
among the Ravens,' laughed Dick.

'A bit of luck,' said Chippy modestly, 'that wor all.  Well, I must get
on.  I'm in a job now, an' goin' on an errand.  An' when yer at work,
there's Law 2 to reckon with--playin' a straight game wi' yer boss.'
So the patrol-leaders gave each other the full salute, and each went
their way, for Dick's sister was now waiting for him.

'Who's your friend, Dick?' asked his sister.  'He looks like a ragged
errand-boy.'

'That's just what he is,' replied Dick; 'but he is also a brother
scout, and so I was doing the civil.'

'Good gracious!' said his sister.  'I didn't know boys like that were
in it.'

'They run in all shapes,' replied Dick, 'as long as they run straight.'



CHAPTER IX

THE WOLVES AND THE RAVENS

On the next Saturday afternoon, accordingly, the Wolf and Raven Patrols
fraternized in the old sandpit on the heath, and Mr. Elliott attended
as umpire.  The boys were far from being strangers to each other, for
they had often met before in a slugging match, but all such foolish old
feuds were laid aside, and they prepared eagerly for a friendly
struggle in this most fascinating sport of scouting.

'Now, Slynn,' said Mr. Elliott to the leader of the Ravens, 'as your
scouts are the visitors, I think you ought to have the choice of the
game at which to challenge the Wolf Patrol.'

'Well, sir,' said Chippy, 'wot about "Scout meets Scout"?  I think that
'ud suit us, if it 'ud suit the Wolves.'

'Yes,' said Mr. Elliott, 'that would give you some good fun.  And, as
it happens, that is a game I have been thinking over.  I believe you
would enjoy it better still if you combined it with hunting.  You've
all got a ball apiece, haven't you?'

Yes, everybody had a ball of some sort, and all were listening eagerly
to the instructor.  Mr. Elliott drew a small parcel from his pocket,
and opened it.  Inside there were sixteen little flags--eight yellow
and eight black.

'You see, I am prepared with your patrol colours,' he said.  'The truth
is, I was intending to suggest this game myself as one to be taken.
Now, let every scout fix a flag in his hat.'

The Wolves took the yellow, and the Ravens took the black, and the
flags were fixed.

'The next thing,' said Mr. Elliott, 'is full trot for the Beacon;' and
away they all went.

The Beacon was a small hill which rose sharply from the heath, and
stood quite alone.  It was not very high, perhaps a hundred feet, but
from the top you could see far over the heath on every side.  In old
days a beacon-fire had been lighted on it to warn or arouse the country
in times of danger; a fire had burned there when the Spanish Armada
came.

The scouts swarmed up the side, and raced each other to the top.  Then
they gathered once more about the umpire.

'Now,' said Mr. Elliott, 'here's my idea of "Scout meets Scout."  The
Wolves will go to that patch of burnt gorse which is about half a mile
east of the Beacon.  The Ravens will go to that big oak which is about
half a mile west.  Those are the boundaries, and no one must pass them.
North and south the land becomes open quite close to us, and nobody may
go out there.  It isn't likely he would wish to, for he would be seen
at once.  When I blow my whistle, the two sides will begin to work
towards each other, and the hunt opens.  The scout who strikes an enemy
with his ball captures that enemy's flag.  The flag is handed over, and
the beaten scout comes up at once to report to me on the Beacon.  He is
dead, and will leave the contest.  That patrol wins which finally
captures the whole of the flags belonging to the other patrol.'

'But, Mr. Elliott, suppose you hit a man who has already taken two or
three flags belonging to your own side, what then!' asked Billy Seton.

'He gives up everything,' replied the instructor, 'both his own flag
and those he has taken.  You see, it's a fight to a finish.  The last
man will simply collect the whole of the flags.  The patrol with the
finest scout is bound to win, and it gives everybody first-rate
practice.  There are heaps of hiding-places, and you may employ any
means to decoy or deceive an opposing scout, except using his patrol
cry, or, as the book says, disguise.  But disguise is out of the
question at the present moment.  Now, away with you!'

Off the boys dashed, the Wolves scouring down the eastern face of the
Beacon, the Ravens down the western.  Within five minutes both patrols
were in position, and they signified this to Mr. Elliott by holding up
their patrol flags.  Chippy had made the flag for the Ravens, and made
it very well too, cutting the raven out of a scrap of an old green
curtain, and stitching it on to a piece of calico.  When the umpire saw
the patrol flags raised above the gorse clumps which hid the patrols,
he blew a long blast on his powerful whistle, and the contest began.

On the side of the Wolf Patrol, Dick Elliott ordered his men to spread
out widely in the thick cover of gorse-bushes and low-growing thickets,
and to push slowly and cautiously towards the Ravens.

'You've got to be jolly careful,' said Dick, 'or if there are many like
that patrol leader of theirs, we shall be snapped up before we know
where we are.  Work in pairs, and one scout will support the other.'

So the Wolves split into four couples, and spread themselves as widely
as possible on their front.  On the other hand, Chippy sent his men out
singly, but also on a well-extended front; and so, creeping, gliding,
stealing from patch to patch of cover, and watching closely on every
hand, the Wolves and the Ravens drew nearer and nearer to each other.

Dick, with the corporal, Billy Seton, had taken up a post in the centre
of their patrol line, and they advanced together.  Dick looked on every
hand, and was very satisfied with the way in which his men took cover.
He could not catch a glimpse of one of them among the patches of gorse
and heather and brushwood.

Suddenly Dick stopped dead.  He scented danger.  Twenty yards ahead a
wren was perched on the topmost twig of a thorn-bush, chattering and
scolding furiously.  Now, there is no bird which gives prompter warning
of an intruder than the wren.  Whether the intruder be two-legged, man
or boy, or four-legged, stoat, weasel, or pole-cat, the plucky little
wren always gives the enemy a piece of her mind.

'That bird's been disturbed,' thought Dick, and he dropped behind a
great tuft of withered fern and waited and watched.  Billy Seton
crawled up without a sound, and lay beside him.  Three minutes passed,
and then Dick saw a shock of black hair pushed right under a
low-growing blackthorn, a dozen yards in front.

It was one of the Ravens coming along flat on the ground like a snake.
The Raven put his head out of the blackthorn bush and looked and
listened carefully.  He seemed reassured by the silence, and made a
swift dash across the open for the very patch of cover where his
opponents were in hiding.  Both were ready for him, but he came in on
Billy's side, and fell to Billy's deftly-thrown ball.

'You're done for, old chap!' chuckled Billy.  'Hand over your flag, and
leg it for the hill, and report yourself.'

The Raven pulled a wry face for a moment, then remembered Law 8, and
tried to look cheerful.

'It's a fair cop!' he remarked.  ''Ere's the flag.  'Ope you'll soon
lose it!'

The others grinned and retired to their ambush, while No. 7 of the
Ravens ran to the Beacon to report himself as out of the hunt.

Twenty minutes of careful reconnoitring passed, but Dick and Billy had
seen no further token of any Raven on the move.  They gained a thick
hazel copse, and crept into the heart of it to wait in ambush a little
for any sign of an opponent's presence.  Peering through the boughs,
Billy whistled below his breath.

'What is it?' whispered Dick.

'Look at the top of the Beacon,' replied Billy, 'We can see it from
here.'

Dick looked, and understood Billy's whistle.  Four at the Wolf Patrol
were up there with Mr. Elliott, while of the Ravens there was but one,
the scout whom they had discovered.

'Our fellows have been bagged pretty easily,' whispered Billy.  'I
shouldn't be surprised if that artful patrol-leader isn't at the bottom
of it.'

'Oh, by Jingo!  Look there, look there!' burst out Dick, but below his
breath.  Billy rounded his eyes, and the leader and corporal looked at
each other in anxious surprise.  Two more of the Wolves were climbing
the hill; they were being sent in as captives.

'Why,' murmured Billy, 'there are only the two of us left.  Every man
Jack of the Wolves has been settled except us, Dick!'

'Yes, and there are seven Ravens out for our blood!' said Dick, 'We've
got to do something, I can tell you, or it's a very easy win for
Skinner's Hole.'

'What's the best plan?' whispered Billy.

'Stay here a bit,' replied Dick.  'We're in good hiding, and they'll
scatter freely, and very likely be more careless in showing themselves,
for they know there are only two of us left.'

Each clutching his ball ready to fire, the two remaining Wolves lay
closely in their ambush, eye and ear strained to catch the first
glimpse, the faintest sound.  Within five minutes a Raven appeared,
stealing as softly as a cat, though his boots were heavy and clumsy,
over the short, crisp heath-grass.  His very care led to his capture.
He was watching the grass so closely lest he should step on a dried
twig or fern-stalk that he only looked up when Dick's ball bounced on
his shoulder.  He gave up his flag and retired, and the odds against
the Wolves were now six to two.

'Billy,' said Dick, 'we must separate.  If they catch us together, it's
all over with the Wolf Patrol this time; but apart we can only be
collared one at a time.'

'Right!' said Billy.  'Which way do we move?'

'The Beacon's in front of us,' replied Dick.  'I'll work round it to
the right, you to the left.  If we're not caught, we'll meet at the
oak-tree where the Ravens started.'

Billy nodded, and the two survivors of the patrol slipped out of the
hazel copse and went against their friends, the enemy.

Billy's suspicion that the patrol-leader of the Ravens had had much to
do with the downfall of the Wolves had been correct.  Chippy, working
well ahead of his line, had soon discovered that the Wolves were in
pairs.  He hid himself in a hole under a mass of bilberry-bushes, and
soon one pair of scouts passed him.  He let them go a short distance,
followed them up, and bagged them one after the other.  Then he began
to work across the front of the Wolves, feeling certain that another
pair would not be far away.  Within ten minutes he had located his next
pair of victims.  One of them lost his mate and gave the Wolf-call very
low.  But, unluckily for the Wolves, that call did much mischief.
First of all, it brought up Chippy, who promptly settled the caller,
and then it brought up the caller's companion, whom Chippy bagged also.
So the leader of the Ravens now wore four yellow flags in his hat--two
on either side of his own black one.

Right away on the other side, No. 3 of the Ravens, a very wideawake
scout, had captured Nos. 7 and 8 of the Wolves by sheer speed and
clever throwing, and, so far, the Ravens had made a big sweep of their
opponents.  But the odds were not so great as they looked.  Dick and
Billy were by far the cleverest scouts among the Wolves, and the
destruction by the Ravens had been accomplished by their two cleverest
men.

Before long the odds went far to be equalized by the capture which Dick
made of No. 3 of the Ravens.  This able scout fell a victim to his own
impulsiveness.  He saw six Wolves on the hill; he became most eager to
seize the other two; he forgot that for a scout there is only one
word--caution, caution, always caution.

So he jumped into a little gully to hide himself, without first making
sure that no one was there already.  As it happened, Dick had crept
into it three minutes before, and No. 3 felt Dick's missile before he
knew what was in the wind.  Rather crestfallen, he gave up his own
black flag and the two yellow ones, of which he had been so proud, and
made his way to the Beacon.  Dick had now five flags in his cap--two
black and three yellow--and he redoubled his vigilance now that he had
become so valuable a prize.  He went on and on, but he never saw
another Raven.  Soon he became aware that Billy had not only seen some,
but seized them also, for Raven after Raven marched up to the summit,
until Billy's captives numbered three fresh ones.  When the patrol
leader and his corporal met at last under the oak, they greeted each
other joyfully.

'Well done, Billy!' said Dick.  'You've pulled 'em down in great style.
I've only had one; but he'd got a couple of our fellows' flags.'

'Oh,' said Billy, 'a couple of 'em were very easy shots.  The third
chap was rather more sticky, but I had him at last.'

'Now we'll work back and tackle the other two,' said Dick.  'There are
two on each side in the game now.'

'All right,' said Billy; 'we'll go for 'em in style this time.
There'll be some flags handed over, whoever gets collared!'

Each of them showed five flags in his hat.  Billy had his own yellow
and four of the Ravens' black.  Dick had three yellow, two recaptured,
and two black.  And now they plunged into cover for the final round.

Billy was the first to come into touch with the enemy.  He was stealing
along under cover of a patch of hollies, when, faint but clear, he
caught the Ravens' patrol call--'Kar-kaw!  Kar-kaw!'

'Where's that merry hooter?' thought Billy.  'He's giving himself away,
calling for the other fellow.  He's mine if I can spot him.'

Again the call came, a short distance ahead, and Billy crept forward
with the utmost caution.  The cry seemed to come from the other side of
a space littered with blocks of turf.  Some cottagers who lived on the
heath had the right to cut turves, and this was a place where they
worked.  Here and there the turves were gathered into little heaps.  In
the centre of the open ground was a larger heap.

'I can get a shot, perhaps, from cover of that bigger heap,' said Billy
to himself, and he began to worm his way across the ground.  He reached
the big heap and crouched behind it, and peered round it in search of
the Raven who had been uttering his patrol call.

'Where is he?' muttered Billy to himself, and at the next second be
knew.  A faint hiss sounded in the corporal's very ear.  Billy thought
of the vipers that swarmed on some parts of the heath, and jumped round
in affright, and at that instant a ball was flipped into his eye from
some unseen thumb and finger.

'Hang it all!' said Billy.  'I'm bagged!  Where are you?'

'Wot cheer, brother!' came a husky whisper from the centre of the
turf-stack.

Billy gave the stack a kick, and it collapsed, and revealed Chippy
crouching there with a cheerful grin on his face.  He had built himself
round with turves, and lay securely hidden.

'Nice little lot o' flags ye've got!' murmured Chippy.  'It'll be a
case of all round me hat this time.'

Billy felt disgusted at the neat way he'd been taken in, but he
proceeded to hand his flags over at once.  Presently his usual friendly
smile broke out.

'After all, Slynn,' he said, 'it was a fair catch.  What a jolly artful
dodge to draw me up with your patrol call!'

'Not bad,' chuckled Chippy.  'I know'd ye'd think there was a lost
Raven a-flitterin' about, an' then yo'd come to look 'im up.'

'Well, I must be off and report myself,' said Billy, and off he
strolled, leaving the leader of the Raven Patrol to fix in his hat the
fine trophy of flags he had captured.

Chippy was some little time at his task, for he had now five black
flags--his own and four recaptured from Billy--and five yellow flags;
four he had already seized, and the fifth was Billy's own original
badge.  He was scarcely ready to renew his quest, when a long, shrill
call rang from Mr. Elliott's whistle.  This signal had been arranged
for the moment when only two rival scouts remained in the field.  Now
the battle must be finished during the next twenty minutes, or the
contest was drawn.  Some such sharp close was necessary, or a pair of
over-cautious opponents might scout about or hide up and never find
each other.

The two left in were the rival leaders.  Just about the time that Billy
was drawn into range, Dick bagged the other Raven, and when Mr. Elliott
saw the two defeated scouts running for the Beacon he sounded his
whistle.

The scouts out of the game had not had a dull time of it.  If they were
not in the combat, they enjoyed a splendid view of it as spectators.
From the top of the hill almost every movement of the fighters below
could be watched, and the excitement now rose high among both Wolves
and Ravens as they saw their leaders running through the cover below in
eager search of each other.

There was no hanging about in hiding.  That would mean the loss of too
much precious time, but each patrol-leader moved warily as well as
swiftly as he sought his opponent.  Neither sight nor sound was made on
top of the hill.  That would have been unfair: the men below must be
left unaided or unhindered to fight it out.  But there was laughter
which no one could suppress when Dick and Chippy passed each other on
either side of a thick hawthorn copse and neither had the least idea
that the other was near.  Then there was a joyful murmur among the
Wolves as Dick swung round the far end of the copse, saw Chippy, and
darted after him.  But the Raven was on the alert, and observed Dick
almost at once, and turned to the combat.

Now it depended on the sureness of the eye and the speed of the throw;
whoever touched the other first with his ball would secure the victory
for himself and his patrol.



CHAPTER X

THE PATROL'S SURPRISE--A THIEF

There were several quick feints, but neither loosed his ball.  Then
Dick ran right in, and Chippy threw straight at him.  The Wolves raised
a howl of joy when their patrol-leader made a clever swerve and dodged
the flying ball.  Then Dick let fly in turn, as Chippy sprang away to
the right.  But no sooner did the latter's quick eye detect that the
ball had left Dick's hand than he dropped flat on his face, and the
ball skimmed just clear of him.

Down the hill streamed the two patrols, for the battle was over.  By
the laws of the game no second shot may be taken at the same enemy.

'Who has won, Mr. Elliott?' cried the boys, as they raced up to the
place where the rival leaders were laughing at each other's failure in
bringing off the finishing touch.

'I shall call it a drawn battle,' said the umpire, 'with the advantage
slightly on the side of the Ravens, as their man has more flags than
the other;' and this decision gave much satisfaction, and all voted it
a first-rate piece of sport.

'Now back to headquarters!' cried Mr. Elliott.  'We'll make a fire, and
try our hand at baking chupatties, for some of you are not up to Test
12 yet.'

The Ravens were very keen on this, for none of them had yet tried their
hands on cooking a quarter of a pound of flour and two potatoes without
cooking utensils, and they were anxious to see how it was done.

'Cut over and fetch the basket, Dick,' said Mr. Elliott, as they gained
the sandpit; 'there's a score of oranges in it as well.  They'll come
in handy after scouting over the heath.'

'Rather!' said Dick.  'A good juicy orange is just what I want, uncle;'
and away he ran.

'Shall we gather some sticks ready for the fire, Mr. Elliott?' said
Billy Seton.

'We'll have our oranges first, Billy,' replied the instructor.  'We can
soon get plenty of sticks if all hands turn to.'

A shout of surprise rang across the pit, and all eyes were turned
towards Dick.  He was bending over the corner where the basket
containing the flour, potatoes, and oranges had been carefully hidden
under ferns and tufts of dried grass.

'It's gone!' yelled Dick.  'There's no basket here!'

Gone!  All ran over to the place at once, and there was the hollow in
the sand where the basket had been set down; but the hollow was quite
empty, and the fern and grass had been tossed aside.

'Someone's bagged it!' cried Billy Seton.  'It's been stolen while we
were away at the Beacon.'

'There's nothing else to account for it,' said Mr. Elliott.  'Now, my
brave Boy Scouts,' he laughed, 'here's your chance to prove your mettle
and skill.  Track this thief--for a thief has been here without doubt.'

The boys were full of delight at the idea, and sprang with the utmost
eagerness to search for the track of the rogue who had stolen the
basket.  The Wolves took one side of the pit, the Ravens the other, and
began to look out closely for any mark of a foot entering or leaving
the place.  Almost at once a Wolf's howl was raised.  Harry Maurice had
found the mark of a heavy nailed boot, which had scored the sharply
rising slope at the southern end of the pit.  The mark was fresh, and
led out of the hollow, and it seemed very likely that it was the trail
of the thief.

The patrol-leaders took it up and raced along it, with their scouts at
their heels.

For a quarter of a mile it was followed as easily as possible, for the
ground was broken and sandy; then the trail ran on to short, close
turf, and was lost.  The patrol flags were driven in, and the band
spread out on a broad front, and carefully advanced, searching for the
spoor.  No. 5 of the Ravens hit on it well away to the right, where the
marauder had set his foot on a mole-heap in the turf, and left a clear
track of his big, square hob-nails.

'Kar-kaw!  Kar-kaw!'  The call gathered everyone to the spot, and the
leaders were agreed that it was the right track.  And again they spread
out on a new front, for the trail was once more lost on hard, crisp
turf.

This time it was not eyesight, but smell, which put the pursuers on the
track of their quarry.  Chippy had gone some distance ahead on the
probable line, and Dick was near at hand.  Suddenly Chippy lifted his
head and sniffed at the air, his nostrils working like a hound's on hot
scent.

'What is it, Chippy?' said Dick, who had noticed his companion's
movement.

'Bacca,' said Chippy briefly.  'Right ahead!  Come on!'

'Yes; I can smell it now,' said Dick, as they ran forward.  'It's
coming down the wind.'

The two patrol-leaders burst through a bramble-thicket, stopped dead,
and raised with all the force of their lungs their patrol cries; for
they had run their man to earth.  There, straight below them, in a
little hollow, sitting on the stump of an old thorn, and peacefully
smoking, was a man with their basket set before him, its contents
rolled out on the grass.

'Why, it's a big, dirty tramp!' said Dick.

'Yus,' agreed Chippy.  'It's a Weary Waddles, right enough.  Now we'll
get 'im on the 'op.'

Up dashed Wolves and Ravens, and there was no need for their leaders to
say a word: the situation explained itself.

'Charge!' roared Dick; and the two patrols burst from the thicket and
swept down upon the marauder in a wild, mad wave of shouting boys and
whirling sticks.  For a second the tramp sat moveless in paralyzed
astonishment.  Then he grasped what it meant, and he jumped to his feet
and scuttled away as hard as he could pelt.

The swift-footed boys pursued, yelling in delight, and promising that
he should feel the weight of a scout's staff, when a long shrill call
on a whistle checked them.  Mr. Elliott had come in sight of the chase,
and he recalled the pursuers at once.

'Let him go,' said Mr. Elliott; 'you've given him a good fright; and
the next time he comes across a hidden basket perhaps he won't be so
prompt in carrying it off.'

'Has he done any harm, Mr. Elliott?' asked Harry Maurice.

'He's had a couple of oranges, Harry, that's all,' said Mr. Elliott,
putting back into the basket the bag of flour and the potatoes which
had been tumbled out.  'Now all of you take an orange apiece--there are
plenty left--and we'll start back and have a go at our chupatties after
all.'

'He knew the heath, that fellow,' cried Billy Seton.  'He'd made for a
jolly quiet place to unpack the basket and see what was in it.'

'Yes,' said the instructor.  'You might have rambled over the heath all
day in a haphazard fashion without hitting on him.  It was quite a
scout's bit of work to follow him up.  You're coming on; I shall be
proud of you yet!'

So, laughing and talking, and eating their oranges, the Wolves and
Ravens and their instructor marched back to the sandpit, where the rest
of the afternoon was spent in the merriest fashion, so that all were
sorry when the dusk began to settle over the heath and drove them
homewards.



CHAPTER XI

CHIPPY MEETS A STRANGER

On a Sunday afternoon, some three weeks after the contest round the
Beacon, Chippy was crossing the heath towards the little village--or,
rather, hamlet--of Locking, three miles from Bardon.  He was taking a
message from his mother to his grandmother, who lived in the hamlet.
The latter consisted of not more than half a dozen scattered cottages,
tucked away in a quiet corner of the heath--a lonely, secluded place.

Chippy's destination was the first cottage beside the grass-grown track
which was the only road into Locking.  He lifted the latch of the gate
and entered the garden.  Standing in the garden was a young man whom
Chippy had never seen before.  Chippy looked hard at the stranger, and
the stranger took his pipe out of his mouth and stared hard at Chippy.

'Hallo, nipper!' he said at last.

Chippy acknowledged the politeness by a nod, and went up the paved path
to the cottage door.  His grandmother was busy about the wood-fire on
the broad hearth, making the tea, and she told him he'd just come at
the right time to have a cup with them.

'Who's that out in the garden, gra'mother?' asked Chippy.

'That's my lodger,' replied the old woman.

'I never knowed yer 'ave a lodger afore!' said Chippy.

'No; I never did,' she replied.  'But he come here an' he begged o' me
to gie him a room, an' I did.  'Twas Jem Lacey's mother as brought him.
He's come from Lunnon.  His name's Albert.'

At this moment the latch of the door clicked and the lodger came in.

'Tea ready, Mrs. Ryder?' he asked.

'In a minute,' she replied.  'This here's my grandson.  He've a-come
over from Bardon.'

The stranger gave Chippy a cheerful nod, and they soon fell into
conversation, and Albert proved very talkative.

'First-rate place to pick yer up, this is!' remarked the lodger.

'Been ill?' asked Chippy.

'Ain't I just?' replied the other.  'I'm boots at a big 'otel in the
Strand, an' there's a lot o' them Americans come to our place.  An' I
can tell yer their stuff tykes a bit o' handlin'.  Them American women,
they travel wiv boxes about the size of a four-roomed cottage, more or
less.  An' I got a bit of a strain pullin' of 'em about.  Then I
ketched a bad cold, an' it sort o' settled in the bellows!'--and the
stranger gave himself a thump on the chest--'so I had to go on my club,
an' I was laid up eight or nine weeks.  Well, arter I'd been on the box
that time, the doctor, 'e says to me, 'e says: "What you want now is a
change an' fresh air."  So Jem Lacey--he's porter at our place--put me
up to this spot, an' it's done me wonders!'

'Yer look all right now,' said Chippy, and Chippy spoke truly.

The lodger appeared the picture of health.  He was tall, broad, of fair
complexion, had sandy hair and blue eyes, and, as he drank his tea, he
looked as fit as a fiddle.

'Ah, it's a healthy place here on th' old h'eth!' said Mrs. Ryder.

'Look at me!' said Albert.  'I'm a livin' example!'

The conversation now turned on Bardon, and the stranger showed keen
interest in the ships which had lately gone up and down the river.

'I know a bit about ships,' he remarked, 'I 'ad a brother as went for a
sailor.'

After a time he returned to the garden to smoke his pipe, and Chippy
looked after him through the window.

'He seems a smart un!' remarked the boy.

'Ay, that Lunnon do mek 'em lively!' replied Mrs. Ryder.  'He's the
best o' comp'ny--a very nice young man, I'm sure!  He's no trouble at
all--blacks his own boots, an' looks arter hisself all ways!  I worn't
willin' at first to let him have my empty room, but I'm glad I did.
The place has done him a power o' good, though he didn't look very ill
time he come down!'

'What's his name?' asked Chippy.

'Albert,' replied the old woman.

'I know that one,' said the boy, 'What's t'other name?'

'I dunno,' returned Mrs. Ryder.  'He told me to call him Albert, and I
niver asked his other name.'

Everything that happens, everyone that appears, must furnish food for
practice for a Boy Scout, and Chippy ran his eye over Albert from head
to foot, and noted every detail of his perfectly commonplace
appearance.  Then the boy followed him into the garden, and, true to
the habit which was rapidly becoming an instinct, he dropped a glance
on Albert's track.  There was a patch of damp earth near the door, and
the lodger's footprint was plainly stamped on it.  At the first swift
look Chippy gathered that there was something slightly different from
usual about the heel-print.  He did not look closely, for you must
never let anyone know that either he himself or the trail he leaves, is
being watched; but there was something.  Chippy strolled forward, but
no other mark was to be seen; the garden path was hard, clean gravel.

Albert had seated himself on a bench nailed against an elm in the
garden fence, and was smoking calmly in the sunshine.  As Chippy drew
near, he turned his head and smiled in a friendly fashion.

'I s'pose you know all the creeks along the river pretty fair?' he
asked.

'Most of 'em,' replied Chippy.

'I've heerd Jem Lacey talk of a place they called Smuggler's Creek,
where the old smugglers used to run their boats in,' went on Albert; 'I
should like to 'ave a look at that.  When I was a kid I used to be fair
crazy arter tales of old smugglers an' that sort o' thing.'

'I know it all right,' replied Chippy.  'There ain't no 'ouse nor
anythin' for miles of it.'

'Not nowadays?' cried Albert.

'Yus!' returned Chippy.  'It's just as quiet as it used to be.'

'Could a boat from a ship in the river go up it?' asked Albert.

'Oh, easy!' replied Chippy; and, in response to the other's request, he
gave clear directions for finding the spot.

'I'll 'ave a look at it,' said the lodger.  'I like a good long walk.
The doctor told me as that was the best thing for me.  So I got a good
strong pair o' trotter-cases, an' I tramp out wet an' dry.'

He raised one of his heavy boots for a moment, and let it fall.

'Got it,' said the pleased scout to himself, but gave no sign of his
discovery.  The heavy iron tips on Albert's heels were screwed on
instead of nailed on, and the groove in the head of each screw had left
a small but distinct ridge in the earth at each point where the screws
came in the heel.

It was only practice, but Chippy was as keen in practice as he was when
chasing the thievish tramp for the lost basket.  He had mastered the
idea that it will not do to be keen by fits and starts: you must be on
the spot all the time.  So he took away from Locking that afternoon one
fact which he had discovered about his grandmother's lodger--the boots
from a London hotel--that the tips on his heels were screwed on,
whereas the common method is nailing.



CHAPTER XII

DICK AND CHIPPY MEET A SERGEANT--THE QUEER TRAIL--A STRANGE DISCOVERY

The Monday week after Chippy's visit to Locking was Easter Monday and a
general holiday.  The Wolves and the Ravens made it a grand field-day,
and they were on the heath by nine o'clock, each with a day's food in
pocket or haversack, and a grand scouting-run ahead--a run which had
been planned from point to point by Mr. Elliott, who accompanied them.
The patrols had by now worked together several times, and had become
brothers in arms.

The old foolish feuds between them were completely forgotten, and when
Dick and his friends crossed Quay Flat the wharf-rats would now swarm
out, not with sticks for a 'slug,' but with salutes and eager inquiries
as to progress in this or that game dear to the hearts of Boy Scouts.

But it is not with this Easter-Monday scouting-run of the combined
patrols that we are about to deal.  We shall go straight away to the
hour of three o'clock on that afternoon, when a very memorable and
exciting experience for the two patrol-leaders began to unfold itself.

Mr. Elliott had set his band of scouts the hardest task of the day.  He
himself had put on the irons, and was laying the track.  He had warned
them that it would be a tough test--something to really try them--and
so it proved.  If they failed to run him down, they were all to meet at
a little railway-station about two miles away, from which they would go
back to Bardon by rail.  They were already a good eight miles from
home, for they had marched right across to an unknown part of the heath
to carry out their manoeuvres.

At one point, where Mr. Elliott's track seemed to have vanished into
the very earth, Dick took a long cast away to the right by himself.  As
he moved slowly forward he heard a rustle of bushes, and looked up and
saw Chippy trotting to join him.

'He's done us one this time!' said Chippy, grinning; 'I'm blest if I
can 'it the trail anywheer!'

'It's jolly hard to find any sign,' answered Dick; 'but he told us it
was to be a stiff thing, and if we can't get hold of it we shall have
to head for the station, that's all.  But we'll have a good go at it.
What about a cast round by that rabbit warren over there?  The ground's
half covered with soft soil the rabbits have thrown out of their holes.
If he's gone that way the irons will leave a dead certain track.'

'Righto!' murmured the Raven leader, and they trotted across to the
rabbit warren and began to search the heaps of sandy soil.

They were working along the foot of a bank with faces bent to the
earth, when suddenly they were startled by a voice hailing them a few
yards away.

'Hallo, there!' called someone.

The boys glanced up, and at once straightened themselves and came to
the salute.  A tall man in khaki and putties stood on the top of the
bank looking at them, a revolver in the holster strapped at his side.

'And who may you be, and what do you want here?' he asked pleasantly,
and returned the salute.

'We're Boy Scouts,' replied Dick, 'and our patrols are out for a big
scouting-run over the heath.'

'Ah, yes!  Boy Scouts--I've heard of you,' said the big man, still
smiling at them.  'Well, I'm in the same line myself.  But you can't
come any further this way, mateys.  You'll have to scout back, if you
don't mind.'

'Why must we do that, sergeant?' asked Dick, who had noted the chevrons
on the big man's sleeve, and understood them.

'Well,' said the good-natured soldier, 'it's like this: We've got a lot
of big, bad convicts at work over there,' and he jerked his head behind
him, 'and we keep 'em strictly to themselves, you see.  They're bad
company for anybody but the men as looks after 'em, so we keep this
corner of the country clear of other people.'

'At that rate,' laughed Dick, 'the track we want isn't likely to be
laid your way?'

'Not it,' said the sergeant, 'else I should ha' spotted it on my round.
No, mateys, you can cut right back.  Ta-ta!'

The boys gave him a farewell salute, and ran back towards the spot
where they had left the rest of the patrol.

'That's a rum game, ain't it?' remarked Chippy--'a soldier a-walkin'
round in a quiet place like that theer.  Who's he a-tryin' to cop?'

'Perhaps watching to see that no convicts escape,' suggested Dick.
'You know, Chippy, they often try to cut and run if they see a chance.'

'Yus,' said the Raven.  'I've seed that in the papers.  But wot do they
want convicts for on the h'eth?'

'I know,' cried Dick--'I know.  I heard my father talking about it at
dinner the other day.  It's the Horseshoe Fort at the mouth of the
river.  They're making it ever so much bigger and putting new guns
there so as to be ready if ever some enemy should come to our country
and try to sail up the river.  The convicts are at work there, digging
and building and doing all sorts of things.'

'I see,' nodded Chippy; 'that's 'ow they mek' 'em useful, I s'pose.'

'That's it,' said Dick, 'and that sergeant we saw was one of the men in
charge of them.'

'He soon started us back,' murmured Chippy.

'Yes,' said Dick; 'I heard my father say that they are very strict
about letting any stranger go near the place.'

'That was on'y gammon of his about them convicts,' remarked Chippy.

'Of course it was,' agreed Dick; 'he wouldn't let anyone go nearer the
fort on any account.'

'How far are we off?' asked Chippy.

'I'll soon tell you!' replied Dick, and pulled his haversack round.
From this he took out a small leathern case with a map tucked away in
it.  The map was a shilling section of the Ordnance Survey on the scale
of one inch to a mile.  Dick had bought it and carried it as
patrol-leader.  The space it covered--eighteen miles by twelve--was
ample for their work.

Dick knelt down and spread the map on the ground; Chippy knelt beside
him.  Chippy had never seen such a map before, and his keen
intelligence was soon deeply interested.  His finger began to run along
roads he knew, and to point out spots he had often visited.

'Why, wi' this,' he declared, 'ye could go anywhere if ye'd never seed
the place afore.  Look here, this is the road to Lockin', an', I'm
blest! why, 'ere's my gra'mother's house, this little black dot, just
off o' the road.  An' 'ere's the Beacon, an' there's the san'pit!'

'Yes, it's a jolly good map,' said Dick, 'and very clear in the heath
part, for there are few roads and few houses, and every one is put in.
Now, where are we?  Let's find the rail and the station.  That will
give us our bearings.'

The boys considered the map very carefully for a few moments; then Dick
put his finger on a certain spot.

'That's just about where we are now,' he said, 'and I can prove it, I
think.'

'I should just like to know 'ow ye do prove it,' said Chippy, to whom
this map was a new and wonderful thing.

'Well,' said Dick, 'we know in a general way we're no very great
distance from the Horseshoe, and here that is.'  He placed his finger
on the spot where the big redoubt was shown on the map.  'Then here's
rising ground with trees on it, marked Woody Knap.  Now, where's that?'

'Why, theer it is,' replied Chippy, pointing to a hill which rose above
the heath at some distance.  'It must be that.  There ain't no other
hill wi' trees on it in all this part o' the h'eth.'

'And how far is it away from us?'

''Bout a mile.'

'Which way does it lie?'

Chippy considered the sun, and thought over the directions Mr. Elliott
had given the scouts time and again.

'Right away north,' he answered.

'Very well, then,' said Dick.  'We're a mile to the south.  And a mile
on the heath is an inch on the map.  Now, my thumb-nail is just half an
inch--I've measured it; so twice my thumb-nail to the south of Woody
Knap brings us to the spot where we are.'

'So it does,' cried Chippy, with enthusiasm.  'It's as plain as plain
now ye put it that way.  An' that's a proper dodge, to measure it off
wi' yer thumb-nail.'

'Oh, uncle gave me that tip,' laughed Dick.  'It's very useful for
measuring short distances on the map.  When you want a rule, you
generally find you've left it at home, but your thumb-nail is always on
the spot.'

'Yus,' smiled Chippy; 'ye mostly bring it wi' yer.  Now,' he went on,
'wot's the distance to the Fort?'

'To the Horseshoe?' said Dick, and began to measure.  'Barely a couple
of miles,' he said.  'We're quite close.  Isn't it lonely country all
round it?  There isn't another building for miles on this side of the
river.'

The broad tidal river curved down the western side of the map, widening
rapidly as it neared the sea.  Its western bank was dotted with hamlets
and villages and scattered farms, with roads and lanes winding in every
direction; from the eastern bank the heath stretched away with scarce a
road or house to be seen for a great distance.

'We must get on, Chippy,' said Dick, starting to fold up the map, 'or
we shall get clean out of touch with the other fellows.  We've been
studying this thing quite a while.'

'Oh, we'll soon drop across 'em,' replied Chippy; 'they ain't found
anythin', or they'd be a-hootin' like mad.'

He rose to his feet and strolled slowly forward, while Dick put the
map-case back into the haversack.  The latter was adjusted, and Dick
was just rising in turn, when something moving caught his eye.  Seventy
yards away a rabbit flashed at full speed across an open strip of turf,
and dived full into its burrow, and vanished with a flick of white scut.

'Down, Chippy!' hissed Dick; and the Raven fell flat on his face behind
a gorse-bush, and Dick crouched lower and watched.

'Someone has disturbed that rabbit,' thought Dick, and he waited to
discover who that someone was.  Dick knew the ways of wild rabbits
perfectly well.  If a rabbit feels certain that no one is near, he
ambles about in the most unconcerned fashion; but scent, sight, or
sound of man, dog, or other enemy sends him to his hole at treble-quick
speed.

Three minutes passed, and no one appeared.  Four, five, and Dick began
to think it was a stoat or weasel from which the rabbit had fled.  Then
he knew it was not; it was a man, for there was a movement in the clump
of bushes from which the rabbit had darted, and Dick saw a tall figure
moving very slowly.  He waited for it to come into the open, but it did
not.  It bent down and disappeared.

'Why,' thought Dick, 'he's going to work just like a scout.  Is he
slipping off under cover of those low blackthorns?'

The boy watched the line of dwarf bushes, and was soon certain that the
stranger was doing this.  He caught a glimpse of the man's form through
a thin patch, then lost it as the hidden figure crept on.

Dick dropped flat on the ground, and slid along to the spot where
Chippy lay behind the gorse-bush, and told his companion what he had
seen.

'Rum go, that!' murmured Chippy, who from his post had been unable to
catch any glimpse of the stranger.  'Yer sure that it warn't Mr.
Elliott!'

'Oh no; it wasn't my uncle!' whispered Dick.  'I didn't see the man
clearly, but I should have known at once if it had been my uncle.'

'How about the sergeant?' said Chippy.  'P'raps he's come a-creepin'
arter us, to be sure we've cleared off.'

'No; I'm sure it wasn't the sergeant,' replied Dick.  'The man had a
cloth cap on, and the sergeant had a flat-topped soldier's cap.'

Suddenly Chippy's eyes became round and bright, and he turned a look
full of meaning upon his companion.

'Wot about a convict?' he whispered.

'By Jingo!' murmured Dick.  'There may be something in that, Chippy!
Has a convict escaped?  Is he trying to steal across the heath to find
somewhere to hide himself?  Is that it?'

Chippy said nothing, but he gave a nod of deep meaning, and the two
boys stared at each other.

'We must follow 'im up,' said Chippy at last.  'Track 'im down an' see
wot it means.'

'Yes, we must,' agreed Dick.  'You see, Chippy, if he is an escaped
convict, he may be a very dangerous character to be at large.  I've
heard of them attacking lonely places to get food and clothes to help
them to escape.'

'I've heerd o' that, too,' said the leader of the Ravens; 'an' some o'
the h'eth folk, they live in cottages all by theirselves.'

'Yes; and suppose such a man went to a place where there was no one at
home but a woman, or a woman and children?' said Dick.

'Who knows wot 'e might do?'  And Chippy shook his head.  'We're bound
to lend a hand, then--Law 3, ye know.'

'Right you are, Chippy,' said Dick.  'Law 3.  Come on!'  And the two
boy scouts, game as a pair of terriers, crept swiftly up to the clump
of bushes from which the mysterious stranger had emerged.

From the bushes the track was easy to follow for some distance.  There
were no footmarks, but the ferns were brushed aside and some were
broken, and these signs showed which way the man had gone.  When the
ferns were left behind, there was still a fair trail, for the heavy
boots of the stranger had broken the grass, or scraped a little earth
loose here and there along the slope of the ridge which led up to Woody
Knap.

Suddenly the boys lost the trail.  It disappeared on a strip of turf,
and they slipped back at once to the last spot of which they could be
sure--a soft patch of earth where hobnail marks were fresh and clear.

'Now we've got to separate and try to pick up the line,' said Dick
softly.  'I'll work right, and you left; and we'll meet at that big
thorn-bush right in front, if we've found nothing.  If one of us hits
on the track, he must call to the other.'

'Wait a bit,' said Chippy.  'Wot call?  Our own calls 'ud sound odd,
an' might give 'im the tip as somebody was arter 'im.'

'You're right,' said Dick; 'the wolf howl, at any rate, is no good
here.'

'Let's 'ave a call for ourselves this time,' suggested Chippy.  'One as
you might 'ear at any minute, an' never notice.  How about the pewey?'

'First-rate!' said Dick.  'The pewey.  There are plenty of them on the
heath!'

Bardon boys always called the 'peewit' the 'pewey,' and every one of
them could imitate its well-known call.  Nothing more simple and
natural could have been adopted as a signal.

Dick was working most carefully round his half of the circle, when the
cry of the peewit rang out from the other side.  Away shot Dick,
quickly and quietly, and, as he ran, the call was repeated, and this
guided him straight to the spot where Chippy was kneeling beside the
mouth of a rabbit burrow.  The rabbits had been at work making the
burrow larger, and a trail of newly thrown out earth stretched three or
four feet from the hole.

'Have you got the track?' breathed Dick eagerly.

'I've got summat,' replied Chippy; 'it looks pretty rum, too!'

Dick dropped beside his companion, and saw that a foot had been set
fair and square in the trail of earth.  But there was no sign of a nail
to be seen; the track of the foot was smooth and flat, and outlined all
the way from heel to toe.

'That's not a boot-mark,' said Dick.

'No, it ain't,' murmured Chippy.  'If you ask me, I should say it wor'
stockin' feet.'

'But what should he pull his boots off for?' said Dick, knitting his
brows.  'This is an awfully strange affair, Chippy.'

'Ain't it?' said the latter, his eyes glittering with all the
excitement of the chase, and the pleasure of having found this queer
mark.  'As far as I can mek' out, he wanted to step as soft as he could
tread.'

'But why--why, in the middle of the heath, here?' went on Dick.

'I dunno yet,' said Chippy; 'let's get on a bit, an' see if we pick up
summat else.'

Dick blew out a long breath.  'It's going to be jolly hard,' he
murmured, 'to track a fellow in his stockings.  We've got to keep our
eyes open.'

Chippy nodded, and they went on slowly and warily.  As it happened,
Dick scored the next move in the game.  Thirty yards from the rabbit
burrow a heath track crossed the trail they were following.  The
weather had been very dry lately, until about twelve o'clock of the
present day, when a heavy shower had fallen--a shower from which the
scouts had sheltered in a hovel where the heath-folk store their turves.

This shower had wetted the dust of the track, and Dick at once saw
clear, heavy footmarks, as if a man had quite lately walked along the
path and gone on.

'Here's a perfectly fresh track,' said Dick; 'and this chap in his
stockings has crossed it at this patch of grass where he has left no
sign on the path.'

'Seems to me,' remarked Chippy, 'as 'im wot we're arter heerd this one
a-comin',' and Chippy pointed to the firm new tracks; 'an' then he off
wi' his boots to dodge along on the quiet.'

'I don't see anything else for it,' said Dick; 'and that would make it
plainer than ever that he's up to no good.'

'Look theer!' snapped Chippy swiftly, and pointed.

Dick whirled round in time to see a man's head and shoulders appear
over the bushes at a far bend of the way, and then vanish as the walker
turned the corner.  But both boys had recognised him.  It was the
sergeant with whom they had spoken.

Dick gave a long, low whistle.  'He was dodging the sergeant, Chippy!'

'It's a convict!' said Chippy.  'Can't be nuthin' else!'

For a moment the boys discussed the plan of running after the sergeant
and laying the matter before him, but they gave it up, for several
reasons.  He was a good way ahead, and out of sight.  He might turn
right or left across the open heath, and in that case they would have
to hunt his track while their quarry was going farther and farther
away.  They decided to stick to their man, and turned to his spoor.

'Here's his road,' said Dick, pointing along a grassy glade.  'He's
gone on, and he must have gone this way.  It's all bramble and gorse
everywhere else, and a man isn't going through that in his stockings.'

Chippy nodded in agreement, and the two scouts ran at full apeed along
the narrow ribbon of grass between the prickly, spiny bushes.

'He'll soon put his boots on again,' said Dick,' and then we'll get
this line a lot easier.'

But the fugitive had not stayed to do so for a long way, as was plain
from the flat, smooth marks which the boys found twice in soft places.
Then the trail went again, and they pulled up and began to beat round
in search of it.  It was Dick this time who uttered the cry of the
peewit, and Chippy ran up to find his brother scout holding a fragment
of something in his fingers.

'Picked it up just here,' said Dick.  'What do you reckon it is.
Chippy?'

'Bit of an old cork sock,' replied the Raven.

'Just so,' said Dick, 'and it's quite dry, so it was dropped here since
the rain.'

'One to you,' said Chippy; 'that come out of 'is boot--jerked out as 'e
was runnin'.  We're on the line.'

He made a few steps forward, then gave a low cry.  'Here's the place
where he put 'is boots on,' called Chippy eagerly.  'Here's all sorts
o' marks.'  And then Chippy gave another low cry, this time full of
such astonishment and wonder that Dick looked at him quickly.

To Dick's surprise, Chippy seemed fixed to the spot, his finger
pointing, his eyes staring, his mouth gaping open, as if he could not
believe what he saw.  'I know the tracks,' gasped Chippy.  'I know 'im!
I can tell yer who it is!'



CHAPTER XIII

ALBERT, WHO WASN'T ALBERT

'You know who it is?' cried Dick.  'Well, who?'

'It's Albert,' said Chippy.  'It ain't no convict at all.  It's Albert.'

'Who's Albert?' asked Dick.

Chippy told the story of his grandmother's lodger, and pointed to the
heel-mark before them.  It was the first time since they hit the trail
that the heel-mark had been clearly shown.  'Screws in the heel-tip,'
said Chippy.  'That settles it.  It's Albert.'

'But wait a bit, Chippy, wait a bit,' said Dick.  'You're making jolly
sure all at once over this one point.  Fifty fellows might have screws
in their heels.'

'Not they,' returned Chippy.  'I know more about them sorts o' boots
than wot you do.  It's a scout's job to twig everythin', an' I twigged
the screws in his boots.  I knowed they worn't common, an' a day or two
arter I asked a snob' (a local term for a cobbler) 'about it.  I done
one or two odd jobs for 'im to get 'im to talk, and then I sez to 'im,
"D'yer ever screw tips on heels?"  "No," he sez, "never.  We screw tips
on the toes sometimes, for there ain't much depth o' leather theer.
But on heels there's plenty of leather to drive nails into, an' that's
a lot quicker."'

'By Jingo, Chippy!' murmured Dick; 'we shall have to get you the Wolf
badge.'

'Not me,' grunted Chippy; 'yer must do a lot more than that to get the
"Wolf" name, I should fancy.  But wot about this work?  Wot about
Albert?'

He turned to business again, knitting his brows and staring hard at the
track their man had left.

'The thing gets queerer still, if it is the man Albert,' said Dick.
'Why should he be here, all this distance from Locking?'

'Six mile good,' put in the Raven.

'Yes,' went on Dick, 'full six miles, and then taking off his boots and
stealing about like a thief or an escaped convict, as we thought.'

'Foller 'im up,' said Chippy shortly.

'Right,' said Dick, 'we'll see this out;' and the scouts began once
more to work along the trail.

For more than half a mile they followed quite easily.  There were many
bare patches among the grass, and the heavy shower which had fallen at
midday proved a good friend to them, the damp soil giving many
excellent impressions of the heavy steps of the man whom they pursued.

The boys had now gained a very lonely part of the heath, for the
fugitive appeared to be making for the most secluded corner of the vast
expanse.  They had been steadily working away from the part where the
patrols had been searching, and the distance between them and the
rendezvous at the railway-station increased with every stride.

Chippy was leading, and Dick was guarding the rear.  The former looked
out the track, the latter watched before and behind and on either side:
by sharing the duties thus they covered the whole field of a scout's
work--the finding of the trail and the guarding against surprise.

Looking out in this fashion, Dick saw a crow come sailing on outspread
wings, down, down from a great height.  The crow was skimming straight
towards a small solitary pine sixty or seventy yards before them, as if
aiming to settle among the topmost branches; but just as it was about
to alight, it gave a startled, gobbling quaw-quaw-quaw, flapped its
wings swiftly, and shot away at a sharp angle, and continued its flight
across the heath.

Dick reached out his patrol flag and touched Chippy.  The latter
paused, and the two scouts put their heads together while Dick
whispered what he had seen.  'There's someone about,' concluded Dick.
'The bird was going to settle, but it was scared and flew away.'

'S'pose I 'ave a look?' suggested Chippy.

'All right,' said Dick.  'I'll stay here.  One can work more quietly
than two.'

Chippy went, and within ten minutes was back, his face shining with
excitement and triumph.

'Albert,' he whispered--'it's Albert aw' right.  Come on!'  He crept
away on hands and knees, and Dick followed.  Piloted by Chippy, the
latter crawled along until he found himself behind a small bank about a
yard high.

'Yer can see 'im over this bank,' breathed Chippy into his ear.

Laying his hat aside, Dick raised his head inch by inch until his eyes
were above the bank.  Now he could see between stems of dried fern
without being seen himself.  He was looking into a deep green hollow,
bounded upon one side by an almost perpendicular wall of earth--a place
from which most likely sand had been dug a long time ago.  At the foot
of the steep wall sat a man--the man whom they had been following.  He
had a pencil in his hand, and a pocket-book on his knee, and he was
busily writing on a sheet of the pocket-book.

All this seemed innocent enough, but at the next moment the boys
looking on were filled with wonder.  Albert suddenly laid down pencil
and pocket-book, bent forward, unlaced his left boot, and took it off.
Then he drew something from his pocket, and went to work on the heel of
his boot.  The boys were not near enough to see what tool he was using,
but his movements were those of one who draws out screws, and they
clearly saw the heel of the boot come loose and fall into his hand.

Chippy gave his companion a nudge, and they looked at each other in
astonishment.  Then they watched Albert closely, and saw him fold into
small compass the piece of paper upon which he had been writing, place
it inside the heel, and screw the latter up again.

An idea shot into Dick's mind.  If he had never been a boy scout, that
idea would not have occurred to him; but in his enthusiasm he had
bought Baden-Powell's 'Aids to Scouting,' and read it over and over
again.  One chapter in that little book now sprang to his memory, and
he touched Chippy, and beckoned to the latter to draw back completely
out of sight.

They slipped eight or ten yards away, and put their heads close
together and held a whispered conversation.

Dick's eyes shone brightly, and he took Chippy by the arm.  'Chippy,'
he said, 'I believe that's a spy!'

Chippy's sharp face wore a puzzled look.  'A spy!' he repeated.  'Wot's
he a-spyin' on in the he'th?'

'The fort, Chippy--the fort!' breathed Dick eagerly--'the Horseshoe,
the new fort!'

'Ah!' said the Raven, and began to see what his companion meant.

'I've read all about it in a book of B.-P.'s,' went on Dick.
'Foreigners will do anything to learn about a new fort.  They send
spies to find out all they can.  He's taking notes of all he discovers,
and hiding the papers in the heel of his boot.'

Chippy gave an eager nod.  His keen face lighted up at this new and
wonderful turn of events.  A spy! a foreign spy!  He felt at once that
here was greater game than any escaped convict.

'That's why he dodged the sergeant,' breathed Chippy.

'Yes; it's plainer and plainer every instant,' said Dick.

Chippy nodded.  'Wot do we do?' he asked.

'We must stop him, somehow,' replied Dick.  'He might do the greatest
harm to our country.  It's a scout's work to collar such people.  B.-P.
himself has caught four foreign spies at different times in England.'

Chippy jerked his head towards the bank, and began to crawl back.  Dick
understood that he was going to see what the man was at now, and
followed.

Albert still sat under the steep bank, pencil in hand, and a fresh
sheet of paper on his knee.  Chippy nudged Dick, and made signs to him
to duck down, as Bardon boys say.

'I'm off to get a bit closer and see wot he's a-doin',' breathed
Chippy.  'Stop 'ere an' "pewey" if he shifts.'

Dick nodded, and Chippy slid away as quietly as a snake.

Six or seven minutes passed before Dick saw his companion again.  Then
he caught sight of the Raven's head as Chippy appeared round the trunk
of the pine which grew on the steep bank of the pit.

Little by little Chippy crept on, until his head was thrust over the
brink, and he was looking straight down on the concealed man, the
latter now drawing lines on his sheet of paper.  His head was bent low
over his work, and Chippy craned out farther and farther to glance over
his shoulder.  The man sat up and began to fold this paper as before,
then reached out his hand for the boot which lay beside him, and deftly
unscrewed the heel once more.  As soon as the paper was stowed away and
the heel refastened, he took the boot in hand to put it on his foot.

Suddenly he looked up.  Either he had caught Chippy's shadow, or he had
felt that he was watched.  He looked up, and saw the boy hanging over
the brink.

Chippy's main purchase was on a root of gorse which cropped up at the
edge of the pit.  He aimed to swing himself back with all his might,
depending on his grasp of the root.  The root snapped short off close
to the ground, and Chippy went tumbling and sprawling head-long into
the pit, landing at the man's feet.



CHAPTER XIV

CHIPPY AND THE SPY

The latter sprang up with a savage cry that was not English.  'Ach
Himmel!' cried he, and again, 'Ach Himmel!'

At that moment of immense surprise, his native tongue sprang to his
lips before any other, and he leapt upon Chippy, and seized him with
hands that trembled.

The leader of the Ravens was not hurt, and his coolness was splendid.

'Hello, Albert!' he said; 'it's all right.  There's no need to 'elp me
up.'

'Help you up!' hissed the stranger.  'What are you doing here?  What do
you mean by watching me?'

His Cockney accent, too, was wiped out as if by magic.  Probably he had
forgotten for the instant that he had used it in Locking.  At any rate,
he did not use it now.  But his English was perfect, in word and
tone--the English of a well-educated man.

'Why,' said Chippy calmly, as if to tumble on a man's head was the most
natural thing in the world, 'me an' a lot more are out to-day for a run
over the he'th.  One cuts ahead, an' the rest of us foller 'im.  We've
lost the one we foller, an' he's got to be found, so I'm looking
everywheer.  Wot made yer pull yer boot off?  Got a stone in it?'

Chippy did this superbly.  He boldly mentioned the fact that the boot
was off, and he suggested a probable explanation, and he did it all
with just the right amount of careless curiosity.  But he was dealing
with no common man.  The tall, powerful foreigner was still holding him
by one hand with a grip of steel, and the fierce blue eyes blazed again
with suspicion and distrust.  The man spoke, and his tone was low and
cool, for he had mastered himself, but there was a hard note in it.

'How long had you been there?' he asked quietly.

'Just seein' who it was, then tumbled,' said Chippy.

The Raven knew--how he could not say--but he knew that he was in great
danger.  There was a dreadful change in this man.  The chattering
Cockney who had called himself Albert had gone, and a grim, stern,
savage man stood in his place, a man whose fierce glittering eyes
seemed to be striving to pierce Chippy's very soul and read his
thoughts.

Chippy was indeed in danger.  For Dick was right: this man was a spy
sent by his Government to gather for them all particulars of the new
fort which was being built at the mouth of the river.  So far the spy
had been very successful, and to carry off his notes and to secure his
own safety he was quite ready to kill this boy if need should arise,
and hide his body in this solitary place.

Consider for a moment the position in which the spy stood.  What is the
punishment threatened to the spy who is caught at such a task?  Death!
What will the Government he serves do to help him?  Nothing at all,
nothing.  It may be a Government quite friendly to the land where the
spy is seized.  It will disavow him, and leave him to his fate.  Yet
that Government was quite willing to profit by his labours; nay, sent
him there to gain that information.  Yes, because Governments act upon
the idea that the friend of to-day may be the foe of to-morrow, so they
use such instruments freely.  But if an instrument should break in the
hand, it is cast aside, and not a second thought is given to it.

The spy knew all this; he was no raw hand in this dangerous profession,
and he was now weighing in his mind whether it would be safe to let
this boy go.  Had he seen too much?  He tried to find out how much
Chippy had seen.

'What was I doing when you saw me first?' he asked lightly, and smiled.
But the smile was of the lips only, a mere mockery of a smile.  The
eyes, the very heart of a smile, remained fiercely bright, and cold,
and questioning.

'Fiddlin' wi' yer boot,' said Chippy calmly; 'gettin' the stone out, I
s'pose.'

'Look here,' said the spy in quiet tones, 'have you seen me for the
last five minutes?  Yes or no.'

He paused for a reply, but none came.  Chippy was shaken.  Yes or no.
That position admitted of no manoeuvring.

'What's this?' said the spy softly, and fingered with his left hand
Chippy's badge; his right hand was clutched with a grip of iron on
Chippy's shoulder.

'Scout's badge,' muttered Chippy.

'Ah, is it really?' murmured the spy.  'Yes, I've looked into that
movement.  Well, on your word as a scout, yes or no.'

Chippy looked up.  He forced a laugh.

'Why--look 'ere, Albert,' he began, and then twisted like an eel, and
tried to dive under the spy's arm.  He had smiled and spoken, hoping to
throw the man off his guard, but this man was not easily deceived, and
his grip remained unshaken.

He gave a low, savage laugh.  'Thank you; that is all the answer I
want,' he said, and slipped his left hand into a hidden pocket under
his coat.

There is an instinct which teaches every living creature that the
moment has come when it must fight for its life.  Chippy felt it
strongly, and he hurled himself upon the spy, kicking, biting, tearing
at him like a little tiger, but all in vain; in that powerful grip he
was utterly helpless.  Yet no, that gallant struggle was not all in
vain, for it held the spy's whole attention as he mastered his victim,
and it prevented him from seeing a second boyish figure racing into the
hollow down the slope by which the spy had entered.

Chippy, clever Chippy, saw his staunch brother scout dashing into the
combat, and began to yell at the highest pitch of his voice, not
calling to Dick, but just making a noise, any noise, to cover the sound
of those swift feet, and give Dick the advantage of a surprise as he
darted up behind the spy.

Dick made full use of the opportunity.  He had watched every movement
of the two in the hollow, and had leapt from his cover as soon as he
saw Chippy begin to struggle.  His patrol flag was fastened on a stout
ashen staff, hard as iron, an old alpenstock cut down.  He swung it up
as he ran, and he was within a yard of striking distance, when he saw
the spy's hand reappear with something in it glittering like the blade
of a dagger.

With a last bound Dick was within reach, and he brought the heavy staff
down with all his strength, fetching the spy a ringing crack on the
head.  Half-stunned, the man staggered round to face the new assailant,
and Chippy saw his chance.  He tore himself free, made a swift dive to
the ground, and was off.  Dick joined him, and the two boys scoured
away at full speed, leaving the spy all abroad for the moment from the
effects of that shrewd stroke.



CHAPTER XV

FLIGHT

The scouts made straight for the bank over which they had been peeping,
leapt it, and dashed on, Chippy picking up his patrol flag as he ran.
He had left it with Dick to have his hands free.  Dick was last over
the bank, and he glanced back as he cleared it.  'Run, Chippy, run,' he
called.  'He's coming!  He's coming!'

The spy had pulled himself together, and was in hot pursuit.  He was
bounding up the slope, and Dick saw that he came terribly fast.  'He's
a confounded long-legged beggar,' thought Dick.  'We shall have to
fight for it yet.  It's lucky we've got a good stick apiece.'

Beyond the bank was a long grassy ride sloping easily downwards, and
here the boys ran their fastest, and behind them the spy raced at great
speed, gaining, gaining steadily.  They went half a mile, and then Dick
gasped: 'He's close on us, Chippy.  Let's turn on him!'

'Not a bit of it,' grunted Chippy.  'Peg it! peg it!  See wot's in
front?'

'Only some burnt furze,' said Dick.

'Only!' snorted Chippy.  'See wot's under my arm?'

Dick looked, and, precious as wind was, he let out a yell of delight.
In the excitement of the flight he had not observed it; tucked under
Chippy's arm was the spy's boot.  The Raven had whipped it up, and
carried it on at the moment of escape.

Dick at once saw what Chippy meant.  Hitherto they had been running
over clear open grass, and the spy, even with one boot off and one boot
on, had made tremendous headway, but the burnt furze was close at hand,
and here they would show him another dance altogether.

They were approaching a broad belt of land which had been swept by a
heath-fire.  The furze-bushes had been very thick on the ground, and
had been burned away to the very foot of the stems.  Now those
close-standing stems pushed short spikes above the soil like the teeth
of a huge harrow pointing upwards, each tooth blackened, hardened, and
pointed by fire.

The spy was not ten yards behind the boys when the latter burst into
the flame-swept belt of heath.  Their boots kicked up clouds of black
ashes as they bounded forward, and their pursuer followed at once.
Twice he put his unprotected foot down in safety, missing by sheer luck
the thickly planted spikes, but the third time he set the very middle
of his sole on a short stout fang standing bolt upright, and pointed by
fire as if with a knife.

He let out a yell of agony as the spike, by the force of his weight and
speed, was driven home into his foot.

'Got 'im,' said Chippy, and the two scouts turned to see their enemy,
doubled up on the ground, utterly crippled for the time by that shrewd
thrust from below.

'I knowed that 'ud settle 'im, if we could on'y get on to it,' chuckled
Chippy, while the boys eased their speed, but still ran steadily on.
'I've 'ad my foot cut on a burnt root afore now.'

'Oh, Chippy,' said Dick, 'what a touch to bring his boot!  That was
splendid.'

''Tworn't a bad notion,' agreed Chippy.  'We'll leg it a bit again, an'
then 'ave a look at it.'

The boys ran for a mile or more, and then fell into a walk.  The
blackened strip of country was now out of sight, and they looked round
for a place to halt for a few minutes to get their breath and examine
the boot.

'We want a place,' said Dick, 'where there's good cover for ourselves,
and a clear space all round so that no one can surprise us.  I learned
that from "Aids to Scouting."'

'I see,' said Chippy.  'Wot about that patch o' thick stuff right
ahead?'

'That'll do,' said Dick; 'there's plenty of room all round it;' and the
boys ran to the covert and crept into it.

'Now for the boot,' murmured Dick eagerly, as Chippy laid it down
between them.  'Here you are, Chippy.  Here's my pocket-knife, and
there's a screw-driver in it.'

'Righto,' said the Raven.  'I was just a-thinkin' 'ow to open it.'

Chippy went to work with the screw-driver in Dick's knife, and in two
minutes the heel-plate was off.  The screws held the iron tip and a
single thickness of leather in place as a cover on the rest of the
heel.  In the thickness of the heel was a small cavity out of which
fell three closely folded scraps of paper.  The boys opened the papers
and looked at them.  They could make nothing of the marks and signs
with which the tiny sheets were covered.

'There don't seem no sense at all here,' remarked Chippy.

'Those are secret signs,' replied Dick, 'so that no one can understand
the information except the people for whom it is meant.  I expect
they'd know fast enough, if once they got hold of it.'

'Well, they won't 'ave it this time,' said Chippy.  'Wot are we goin'
to do wi' this?'

'I wonder where that sergeant is,' said Dick.  'I'll be bound that was
his business on the heath, Chippy--not trying to keep convicts in, but
trying to keep spies out.'

'I never took it in when he was tellin' us to tek' care o' the
convic's,' said Chippy.  'Not but wot I thought at fust as one of 'em
had got away.'

'So did I,' agreed Dick.  'I felt certain it was an escaped convict.'

'An' it wor' Albert,' murmured Chippy in wonder.  'Albert, wot 'ad been
bad, an' come down from Lunnon for his health,' and Chippy chuckled
dryly.

Before the papers were restored and the heel fastened up, Dick measured
the hidden cavity with his thumb-nail.  It was one inch and a quarter
in length, one inch in breadth, and half an inch deep.  'Plenty of room
for a lot of dangerous information there,' remarked Dick.

'What makes 'em so sharp on this game?' asked Chippy.

'Oh,' cried Dick, 'I've heard about that.  A spy gets a great sum of
money if he can carry back full information about the forts and
soldiers of another country.  You see, it is a great help if you are
going to war with that country.  You know just what you've got to meet,
and you can be ready to meet it.'

'I see,' said Chippy.  'Well, I've done the boot up again.  Now we'll
have a look round for that sergeant.  We've come straight back to the
part where we seed 'im afore.'

'So we have,' said Dick; 'there's Woody Knap right in front of us
again.'

'Hello! wot's that?' cried Chippy, whose eyes were always on the move.
He was pointing through the covert towards the direction from which
they had come.  Something was moving in the distant gorse, and then
they saw the spy.  He was hobbling along at a good speed, his eyes bent
on the ground.

'Here he comes again!' cried Dick, 'and, by Jingo, he's following our
trail.  I say, Chippy, he can do a bit of scouting, too.'

'That's a fact,' said Chippy, and began to steal out of the covert on
the farther side.  Before leaving it the two boys paused for a last
look at the spy.  His wounded foot was bound up in his cap with a
handkerchief round it, and he was covering the ground at considerable
speed.  He was a first-rate tracker, and he was coming along their
trail as easily as if he had been trotting on a plain road.  For a few
seconds the boys were held fascinated by the sight of this savage
sleuth-hound at their heels.  They were held as the rabbit is held,
when he pauses in his flight, yet knows that all the time the weasel is
following swiftly in quest of his life.

Suddenly the boys started, looked at each other, threw off the feeling,
and ran away at their best speed, for the halt had given them their
wind again.

'Good job we 'ad a place where we could see 'im a-comin',' remarked
Chippy.  'I ain't a-goin' to forget that tip.'

'He sees us now,' cried Dick.  'He's coming faster.'

The boys were no longer hidden by the covert in which they had halted.
They had come into the spy's field of view, and now he pursued by
sight, and leapt out at the best speed he could make.

Chippy looked round.  'Droppin' 'is foot down a bit tender,' commented
the Raven; 'we can choke 'im off any time we want on a rough patch.'

Dick now pulled out his patrol whistle, and began to blow it.

'I'll join yer,' said Chippy, and pulled out his.  The two whistles
sent their shrill blasts far over the heath, as the boys ran on and on,
and the spy still pursued.  The latter had faltered for a moment when
the whistles rang out but he had recovered his speed and hastened
forward.  He thought that it was a trick, that the boys wished him to
fear that they had support near at hand.  If only he could seize the
boy who carried his boot!  That was his great hope.



CHAPTER XVI

THE SPY IS SEIZED

It was a happy thought of Dick to use his patrol whistle upon reaching
the strip of country where they had seen the sergeant.  The latter
heard the very first shrill note.  He was haunting that stretch of the
heath for a purpose, eyes and ears wide open.  He ran towards the
sound, and came plump on the boys as they raced round a bend in the
way, for the two scouts were now following the heath-track where they
had last seen the prints of the soldier's ammunition boots.

'Hooray!' yelled Chippy, who was a little in front.  ''Ere he is.
Hooray!' and Dick joined in the cheer.

'You two again!' cried the astonished sergeant.  'What on earth are you
nippers up to?'

'We've discovered a spy, sergeant,' panted Dick.  'He's running after
us.  He'll be up in a minute.'

At the word 'spy' the sergeant's face underwent an extraordinary
change.  It filled with wonder, and then a grim alertness sprang to
life all over him.  He dropped his hand to his holster, and whipped out
a big regulation 455 revolver, blue and sombre.  The boys formed behind
as under cover of a tower of strength, and the spy dashed round the
bend.

'Hands up!' bellowed the sergeant, and the spy knew better than to
disobey with that grim dark muzzle laid full on his body.

'Heavenly powers!' murmured the sergeant, 'I was right.  As sure as my
name's John Lake I was right.  Didn't I see you on the heath just about
here last Thursday?' he demanded of the spy.  The latter made no reply.
He stood, drawn up to his full height, his hands above his head, and in
one of them was a long-bladed hunting-knife of the sort which folds
into small compass.  Now it was fully opened, and looked a very
dreadful weapon.  The man was white as death, and gasping fiercely from
his run and this frightful surprise.

'Drop that knife,' commanded the sergeant, 'or I'll put a bullet
through your wrist.'

The spy's wild eyes were fixed on the English soldier's grim face.  He
knew when a man meant what he said, and he dropped the knife.

'Step two yards back,' went on the sergeant.  The spy did so.

'One o' you boys pick up that knife,' murmured the sergeant; and Dick
ran and fetched it.

'Now, I'm in the dark yet,' went on the sergeant quietly; 'all this
looks very suspicious, but how do you boys come to reckon you've nabbed
a spy?'

Dick began with the boot and the papers hidden in it.

'That's enough, my lad,' said the sergeant.  'We'll lose no time.
There's plenty o' reason, I can see, to take him in on suspicion, and
after hearing that I'd shoot him at once if he tried to escape.  Now
you,' he went on to the spy, 'turn right round and march ahead as I
tell you.  And remember I'm a yard behind you with a cocked revolver.
March!'

The spy turned, and went as he was bidden.

'Come on, boys; you must come with me,' said the sergeant and the
little party went across the heath, the prisoner turning as the
sergeant bade him, and taking as direct a line as possible to the
Horseshoe Fort.


An hour later Dick and Chippy found themselves in the presence of the
officer in charge of the works at the fort.  The prisoner had been
handed over into safe keeping, and the sergeant and the two boys had
been ordered to report to the colonel himself.

They were shown into a large bare room where a tall man was seated at a
great table covered with papers.  He stood up, as they went in and
saluted, and posted himself in front of the fire.

'Well, Sergeant Lake,' he said.  'What's all this about?'

'I believe, sir, I've got a spy; at least, these boys had him.  I only
helped to bring him in.'  So spoke the modest sergeant.

'Ah, yes, a spy;' and the colonel nodded, as if he had been expecting a
spy for weeks, and perhaps he had.  'But this is rather an odd thing to
get hold of a spy in this fashion.  Let me hear all about it.'

'I can tell you little or nothing, sir,' replied Sergeant Lake.  'I
didn't wait to hear all their story.  The boys told me enough, though,
for me to bring him in.'

'Well,' said the colonel, 'suppose I have the story from one of you
boys?'

Dick and Chippy looked at each other, and the latter mumbled: 'You tell
'em.  Yer can manage it a lot better 'n me.  I shan't, anyhow.  Goo on.'

Thus adjured by his brother scout, Dick told the whole story from the
moment he saw the startled rabbit until they had run upon the sergeant
in their headlong flight.  Then Chippy handed over the boot, which
underwent the most careful examination at the hands of the colonel.
The latter spread out on the table the tiny sheets of paper from the
cavity, and studied them long and earnestly.  To his trained eyes those
marks meant things which the boys had, as was only natural, failed to
grasp.  He had sat down at the table to examine the papers, and Dick,
Chippy, and the sergeant were standing on the opposite side.

At last the colonel leaned back in his chair, and looked at the boys
and tapped the papers with his forefinger.

'Oh yes,' he said, 'you've nabbed a spy, and no mistake about it, my
brave lads.  I feel, personally, that you've done me an immense
service, for I should have been simply wild to think that my plans were
as good as pigeon-holed in some foreign intelligence office.  But,
after all, that's only my personal feeling.  You've done your country
an immense service, and that's a much bigger thing still.
Unfortunately, it can never be publicly recognised: this affair must
remain a profound secret; and men, you know, have received medals and
open honour for smaller things than you have done to-day.'

'We don't trouble at all about that, sir,' said Dick quietly.  'We're
not out for what we can get for ourselves: we're boy scouts.'

'I beg your pardon,' said the colonel.  'I beg your pardon.  Of course,
you're boy scouts, and that puts you on a different footing at once.
You look at the thing from a real soldier's point of view--all for his
side, and nothing for himself.  That's it, isn't it?'

'Theer's Scout Law 2,' growled Chippy; 'it's all theer.'

Ah!  Law 2,' said the colonel, who was not, like Chippy, a walking
encyclopaedia on 'Scouting for Boys.'  'I should like very much to hear
how that law runs.'

Chippy recited it, and the colonel listened attentively as the scout
said, 'A Scout is loyal to the King, and to his officers, and to his
country, and to his employers.  He must stick to them through thick and
thin against anyone who is their enemy, or who even talks badly of
them.'

'A splendid law,' he said, 'and you boys have obeyed it nobly to-day.
And now I'm going to ask you to be very quiet about the seizure of this
man.  You may, if you wish, tell your parents, but bind them over to
strict secrecy.  You see, this man belongs to a nation with whom at the
moment our own is on the most friendly terms, and it will never do for
his capture to get abroad.  Now, how are you going to get back to
Bardon?'

Dick mentioned the station at which they were all to meet.  The colonel
looked at his watch, and shook his head.  'You can't do that now,' he
said; 'but we'll manage it all right.  My chauffeur shall run you over
to Bardon direct, and drop you at the station.  There you'll meet your
friends when they arrive.  My Napier will do that comfortably.  But we
must find you something to eat first.  Come with me to my quarters.'

Half an hour later the colonel put the two scouts in his big splendid
six-cylinder Napier, and the great car was ready to start.  As he shook
hands with them at parting, he wished to tip them a sovereign apiece,
but the boys would not hear of it.  Chippy, to whom the money was a
little fortune, was most emphatic.

'Not a bit of it, sir,' he growled--'not a bit of it.  If we tek' money
for the job, 'ow 'ave we 'elped our country?'

'I quite understand,' said the colonel, smiling, 'quite.  You're a pair
of trumps, and I honour the feeling.  If B.-P.'s movement turns out
many more like you it will prove the finest thing we've had in the
country for many a day.'

He gave his man a nod, and away shot the huge powerful car along the
road which led to Bardon.

True to the colonel's promise, the car drew up outside Bardon Station a
few minutes before the train which would bring their friends was due.
Dick and Chippy sprang from the tonneau, where they had ridden in
immense comfort, thanked the chauffeur, bade him good-night, and sought
the arrival platform.

''Ow about Mr. Elliott?' said Chippy; 'we ought to tell 'im.'

'Ah, of course!' said Dick.  'He's our instructor, and the colonel said
we might tell our parents.  At that rate we might tell Uncle Jim.'

'I shan't tell my folks,' said Chippy; 'they wouldn't bother about
knowin'.  I'll tell Mr. Elliott instead.'

'All right, Chippy,' said Dick.  'Hullo, here's the train!'

Mr. Elliott was very much relieved when the first faces he saw on the
platform were those of the missing patrol-leaders.  Wolves and Ravens,
too, swarmed out and sprang on their lost comrades, and plied them with
eager questions.  But to each inquirer Dick and Chippy merely said they
had been on duty, and come home another way, and the patrols were left
mystified and wondering.

'I've got to report to yer, Mr. Elliott,' said Chippy, and took him
aside.  Now, the patrols thought that this disappearance and
reappearance of the leaders was something in connection with the day's
movements, and their questions were checked, for discipline forbids
prying into the arrangements made by officers.

The instructor was full of delight when he heard how the missing
leaders had spent their time.  He congratulated both warmly, and said:
'One to the Boys' Scout movement this time.  If you hadn't been out on
that scouting-run, the plans of the new Horseshoe Fort would have gone
abroad as easily as possible.  That's playing the game as it ought to
be played.'



CHAPTER XVII

HOPPITY JACK'S STALL

When Chippy left the station and gained Skinner's Hole, he put away his
patrol flag carefully behind the tall clock, which was the only
ornament of the poor squalid place he called home, and then turned to
and helped his mother with a number of odd jobs.

'There ain't much supper for yer,' she said--'on'y some bread an' a
heel o' cheese.'

'That's aw' right,' said Chippy.  'Gie it to the little uns.  I don't
want none.'

He left the house and strolled towards a corner of Quay Flat, where on
Saturday nights and holidays a sort of small fair was always held.  One
or two shooting-galleries, a cocoa-nut 'shy,' and a score or more of
stalls laden with fruit, sweetmeats, and the like, were brilliantly
lighted up by naphtha flares.  Towards this patch of brightness all
loungers and idlers were drawn like moths to a candle, and Chippy, too,
moved that way.  It was now about half-past nine, and the little fair
was at its busiest.

As he went he was joined by an acquaintance, who held out a penny
packet of cigarettes.

'Have a fag, Chippy?' he said.

'Not me, thenks,' replied Chippy.  'I've chucked 'em.'

'Chucked 'em!' replied his friend in amazement.  'What for?'

'They ain't no good,' said Chippy.  'There ain't one in our patrol as
touches a fag now.  If he did, I'd soon boot 'im.  'Ow are yer goin' to
smell an enemy or a fire or sommat like that half a mile off if yer
spoil yer smell wi' smokin'?'

'I dunno,' replied the other.  'Who wants to smell things all that way?
Why don't yer go and look?'

'Yer can't always,' returned Chippy, 'and when you dussn't go close, it
comes in jolly handy to be able to smell 'em, and them wot smoke can't
do it.  So there ain't no fags for boy scouts!'

'I like a cig now and then,' said the other boy.

'Who's stoppin' yer?' asked Chippy loftily.  'You ain't a boy scout:
you don't count.'

This view of the case rather nettled Chippy's acquaintance, and he
began to argue the matter.  But he was no match for Chippy there.  Away
went the latter in full burst upon his beloved topic, and the other
heard of such pleasures and such fascinating sport that his cigarette
went out, and was finally tossed aside, as he listened.

'Yer don't want another in the Ravens, do yer, Chippy?' he asked
eagerly.

'Not now,' returned Chippy, 'but we could mek' another patrol, I
dessay.  I'll talk to Mr. Elliott about it.'

'Righto, Chippy,' returned the other.  'I know plenty as 'ud like to
join.  I've heard 'em talkin' about it, but I hadn't got 'old of it as
you've been givin' it me.  Hello, wot's up here?  Here's a
lark--they're havin' a game wi' old Hoppity Jack, and there's ne'er a
copper about.'

While talking, the boys had drawn near the noisy crowd of Skinner's
Hole residents gathered around the stalls and shooting-galleries.  One
of the stalls stood a little away from the rest, and instead of a huge
naphtha flare, was only lighted by a couple of candles set in battered
old stable-lanterns.  The owner of the stall was a queer little bent
old man wearing an immensely tall top-hat and a very threadbare suit of
black.  The collar of his coat was turned up and tied round his neck
with a red handkerchief, and the ends of the handkerchief mingled with
a flowing grey beard.  He was a well-known character of Skinner's Hole,
and the boys called him Hoppity Jack, because one of his legs was
shorter than the other, so that his head bobbed up and down as he
walked.

He kept a small herbalist's shop, and stored it with simples which he
rambled far and wide over heath and upland to gather, and dry, and tie
up in bunches.  On Sundays he betook himself to the public park of
Bardon, carrying a small stand.  From this stand he delivered long
lectures, whenever he could gather an audience, on the subject of the
ten lost tribes of Israel.  Altogether, he was one of those curious
characters whom one finds at times in the byways of life.  His many
oddities marked him out very distinctly from other people, and often
made him a butt for the rude jokes and horseplay of idle loungers on
Quay Flat.

His stall was always to be found near the rest, and it was never
stocked but with one thing--a kind of toffee with horehound in it.  He
made it himself, and vended it as a certain cure for coughs and colds.

As Chippy and his companion came up, Hoppity Jack was screaming with
rage, and the crowd of idle boys tormenting him was convulsed with
laughter.  A long-armed wharf-rat had flung a piece of dried mud and
sent the old man's queer tall hat spinning from his head.

The thrower was laughing loudly with the rest, when a sound fell on his
ear.  'Kar-kaw!  Kar-kaw!'  He whipped round, for he was a member of
the Raven Patrol, and saw his leader a dozen yards away, and ran up at
once.

'Wot d'yer want, Chippy?' he cried.

'Come out o' that,' commanded Chippy--'come out an' stop out.  Wot sort
o' game is that un for a scout?'

'On'y a bit of a lark wi' old Hoppity Jack,' said the surprised Raven.
'Why, yer've bin in it yerself many a time, Chippy.'

The patrol-leader went rather red.  No one likes to be reminded of the
days when he was unregenerate.  But he spoke firmly.

'We got to chuck them games now, Ted.  Theer's Law 5, yer know.  He's
old, an' more 'n a bit of a cripple.'

'Well, I'm blest!' murmured the astonished Ted.  'I never thought o'
the scoutin' comin' into this.'

'It does, though,' replied Chippy, 'an' we got to stand by an' lend 'im
a hand, as far as I can mek' it out.'

'He'll want a hand, too,' said Chippy's acquaintance.  'They're goin'
to upset the stall an' collar the toffee.'

It was true; a number of boys were gathering for a rush, while Hoppity
Jack danced in frenzy up and down in front of his stall and shouted for
the police.  But though no police were near, a staunch band of helpers
sprang up as if by magic to aid the poor badgered old fellow beset by
enemies.

The Raven patrol call rang out, and was answered swiftly.  Most of the
Ravens had come out on to Quay Flat after their return home, and in a
trice Chippy was at the head of six of his scouts.  His orders were
brief.

'We got to stand that lot off old Hoppity,' he said, and every Raven
wondered, but obeyed, for they adored their clever leader, and were
held in strict discipline.

At that moment the marauders made their rush, but, to their great
surprise, they were taken in flank by a charge which hurled them into
utter confusion, and sent them rolling to the ground, one on the other.
The seven scouts had timed their assault to the moment, and sent their
opponents over like ninepins.  There was a sharp, short scuffle when
the assailants got to their feet, but it soon ended in favour of the
patrol.  Chippy had known what he was about when he enrolled his men,
and the pick of Skinner's Hole now fought under his command.

'No punchin',' roared Chippy.  'Just start 'em.  Like this! ' He
bounded up to the leader of the rush on the stall--a youth a good head
taller than himself--and gave him an open-handed slap on the jaw, which
rang like a pistol-shot.  The Ravens leapt to support him, and the
marauders were driven off in short order, the Raven who had knocked the
old man's hat off now exerting himself with tremendous zeal to show the
sincerity of his repentance.

'That's aw' right,' said Chippy to his followers when the enemy were in
full flight; 'yer off duty now.'

'But look 'ere, Chippy,' said the corporal, Sam Fitt by name, 'have we
got to be ready any time to stand up for Hoppity Jack sort o' people?
O' course, now we had orders from you, an' that's plain enough.  But is
it a reg'lar game?'

'Of course it is, Sam,' said Chippy; 'you can't be a scout when yer
like an' then drop it for a lark.  Yer must play the game all the time.'

Thus did Chippy turn from serving his country to saving Hoppity Jack's
stall, and it was all in the day's work.



CHAPTER XVIII

CHIPPY'S BAD TIME

When Chippy told his followers that they must play the game all the
time, he meant every word that he said.  He had devoted himself heart
and soul to becoming a true scout, who is also a true gentleman, and he
not only could reel off the laws by heart, but, as we have seen, he
honestly strove to put them into practice at every moment.  But now and
again he ran up against a hard streak of weather in doing this, and he
hit an uncommonly hard streak the very next morning.

At seven o'clock he turned up bright and early at the fishmonger's shop
where he was employed.  His employer, Mr. Blades, was in a fairly
prosperous way of business in one of the secondary streets of the town.
Mr. Blades looked after the shop; his son, a young man of twenty-three,
drove a trap round with the customers' orders; and two boys, of whom
Chippy was one, cleaned up, fetched and carried, ran short distances
with pressing orders, and made themselves generally useful.

All went as usual until about eleven o'clock in the morning, when
Chippy was despatched to deliver four or five small bags of fish at the
houses of customers who lived within easy reach.  He handed in the last
bag of fish at the kitchen door of a semi-detached house, and the
mistress took it in herself.  Chippy was going out at the gate, when he
heard himself called back.  He returned to the door.  The customer had
already opened the bag, and was surveying critically the salmon cutlets
inside.

'I don't think these look quite fresh,' she said.  'Has Mr. Blades had
salmon in fresh this morning?'

'Yus, mum,' answered Chippy.

'Were these cutlets taken from the fresh salmon?'

They were not, and Chippy knew it, and was silent for a moment.  She
looked at him keenly, but smiling at the same time--a pleasant-faced,
shrewd-eyed woman.

'Look here, my boy,' she said, 'these cutlets are for my daughter, who
is only just recovering from a long illness, and I want her to have the
best.  You've got an honest sort of face, and I'll take your word.
Were they cut from the fresh salmon?'

'No, mum,' mumbled Chippy.

'I felt certain of it,' she said.  'Now you ask Mr. Blades to send up
fresh cutlets or none at all.'

Chippy went back with a sinking heart: he knew Mr. Blades.  There was
ample reason for his foreboding when he reported that the customer
wanted cutlets from the fresh salmon.

'Fresh salmon!' roared Mr. Blades, a red-haired, choleric man.  'How
under the sun did she find out these were not fresh?  They look all
right, and they smell all right.'

Chippy said nothing.  Suddenly the fishmonger turned on him.  'Tell me
just what she said!' he bellowed.  'You've been at some fool's trick or
other, I know.  You boys are enough to drive a man mad.  Did she ask
you anything?'

'Yus,' grunted Chippy, who now saw breakers ahead.

'Well, what did she ask you?'

'Wanted to know if they wor' off o' the salmon as come in this mornin'.'

'And what did you tell her?'

'Told 'er no,' mumbled Chippy.

The fishmonger jumped from the ground in his rage.  'There!' he cried,
and smote the counter in his anger.  'What did I say?  These boys are
enough to ruin anybody!  "Told her no!  Told her no!"'  He paused,
speechless, and glared at Chippy.

At this moment a trap drove up to the kerb and stopped.  Young Blades
jumped out and came into the shop.

'Hallo!' he said cheerfully.  'Giving him a wiggin', guv'nor?  That's
rum.  Slynn's a good little man, as a rule.'

Mr. Blades recovered his breath with a gasp and poured out the story of
Chippy's enormity.  'Told her no, Larry!' he said.  The astounded
fishmonger could not get away from this.  'Told her no!' he repeated
once more.

Larry Blades threw back his head and burst into a roar of jolly
laughter which rang through the shop.  'Well, that's a good un!' he
cried--'a real good un.  And I never thought Slynn was such a softy.
Why, Slynn,' he went on, and clapped Chippy on the shoulder, 'you'll
never make a fishmonger if you carry on like that.  Everything's fresh
to a customer.  You must always tell 'em it's just done its last gasp,
unless the smell's a trifle too high, and then you must be guided by
circumstances.'

He turned round to his father and laughed again jovially.

'It's all right, guv'nor,' he said.  'Cool off and calm down.  You do
get so excited over these little trifles.  The kid's made a mistake.
Well, he won't do it again.  Anyhow, he's worth twenty o' that other
kid.  I caught him on th' Oakford road with his bags hangin' on some
railings and playin' football with about a dozen more.'

'I dunno about him not doin' it again,' grumbled Mr. Blades; 'that's
the way to lose customers; and people pass things like that from one to
another.'

'Look here, Slynn,' said Larry Blades, wheeling sharply round, 'you've
got to put yourself square with the guv'nor, or he'll have a fit every
time you start on a round.  Now, drop on your bended knees, raise your
right hand, roll your eyes up, and say, "Mr. Blades, I'll never, never
be such a flat again"'; and Larry laughed loudly, and pressed Chippy's
shoulder to force him down and carry out the joke.

But Chippy did not go down: he only looked with anxious eyes from
father to son.

'Come on, speak up!' cried Larry.  'What made you do such a soft trick,
Slynn?'

'She said her daughter 'ad been ill,' mumbled Chippy.

'What of that?' laughed Larry.  'That salmon wouldn't hurt her then.'

'Yer see, I'm a boy scout,' burst out Chippy suddenly, his husky voice
hoarser than ever from excitement and uneasiness.

'Boy scout?' said Larry wonderingly.  'What's that?  And what's it got
to do with Mrs. Marten's cutlets?'

Chippy began eagerly to explain, and the two men listened for a few
moments in puzzled wonder.

'Oh, well,' burst in Larry, 'that may be all very well in its way, but
it's clean outside business.'

'It ain't outside anything,' murmured Chippy.

'What!' said young Blades.  'You don't mean to say you'd do the same if
it happened again, do you?  Do you want to lose your job?'  Chippy
stood aghast.  Lose his precious four-and-six a week!

'No, no,' cried Chippy; 'I'll do anything.  I'll work as long as yer
like--I'll come at six if yer like, an' stop till any time at night.
Don't tek' me job off o' me.'

'Well, if you want to keep it, you must do as you're told,' began
Larry, but his father out in.

'There's a lot of talk,' he cried, 'but I want you to notice, Larry,
that that boy is dodging the question all the time.  He's given no
promise to do his best by us, and he ain't going to give any promise,
either.'

'All right,' said Larry.  'I'll come bang straight to the point.  If we
send you out, Slynn, with a bit o' salmon that looks sweet and smells
sweet, will you swear to a customer as it's dead fresh, and can't be
bettered?'

Chippy was cornered.  On one side his job--his precious job--how
precious none could know unless they knew his starved and narrow home;
on the other his oath as a boy scout to run straight and play fair to
all men.

'Now, speak out,' cried Larry impatiently.  But Chippy--poor
Chippy!--had seen an ideal in his rough, hard life, and he clung to it.

'Yer see,' he began once more, 'I'm a boy scout----'

The fishmonger was bubbling mad all the time; now he completely boiled
over.

'There he goes again!' yelled Mr. Blades.  'If he's a boy scout, let
him clear out o' this, and scout round for another job.  Now, then,
shift, and look sharp about it.'

But Chippy was unwilling to go.  He was searching his mind for words
with which to plead, and to promise to do his utmost for them, save for
the breaking of his scout's oath, when the furious fishmonger sprang
upon him, tore the bag he still held from his grasp, and literally
threw him out of the shop.  Taken by surprise, Chippy was pitched
headlong, and went sprawling along the pavement.  He picked himself up
without a word, and went away down the street.  His job had gone, and
he knew it, and he stayed not another moment for vain pleading.

'Just hark at him!' cried the fuming Mr. Blades; 'the impident young
dog!  Got the sack, and goes off whistling!'

'Well, I'm blest!' said Larry, and nodded his head thoughtfully.  'I
thought he was dead keen on his job.  But he don't care a rap about it.
He was only a-kiddin' us.  Whistling like a lark!'

Poor Chippy! how sorely was he misjudged!  The fishmonger and his son
knew nothing of Scout Law 8: 'A scout smiles and whistles under all
circumstances,' and 'under any annoying circumstances you should force
yourself to smile at once, and then whistle a tune, and you will be all
right.'

Chippy turned a corner, and his whistling died away.  Soon it stopped.
His mouth worked a little, and his lips would not quite come into shape
for the merry notes.  Scout Law 8 was splendid advice, but this was a
very stiff thing, even for No. 8.  Chippy could not whistle, but he
hoped very much that he still wore the smile.  Well, his face was
twisted, true, and the twists had the general shape of a smile, but it
was a smile to wring the heart.

When he got home, he found his mother bending over the wash-tub.  She
looked up in surprise and then alarm: his face betrayed him.

'What's the matter?' she cried.  'What brings you back at this time?'

'I've got the sack,' said Chippy briefly.

The poor pinched-face woman cried out in dismay.

'An' your father's only done four days this last fortni't!' she wailed.
Chippy's father was a dock-side labourer, and work had been very slack
of late.

'It's aw' right,' said Chippy.  'Don't worry, mother.  I'm off up the
town now, to look for another job.  I seen two cards out th' other day
in Main Street, "Boy Wanted."  I only come in now to mend me britches.'

When Mr. Blades flung Chippy out, the Raven had fallen on one knee, and
his trouser had split clean across.  He now purposed to cobble up the
rent before he started on his quest for the precious work which means
the right to live.

He found a needle and some thread, took off his trousers, and stitched
busily away, for he was very handy with his fingers: his mother, too,
had no time for such work; she had got a washing job, and was hard at
it to help the family funds.

As Chippy stitched, his cheerfulness returned.  Soon he was whistling
in real earnest.  'I'm goin' in for a rise,' he announced.  'I've
picked up a lot at old Blades' place.  I'm goin' to ask five bob.'

'What made him sack yer?' asked his mother.

'Oh, I didn't suit,' said Chippy hastily.  'An' I done my best, too.'

He made haste to be off on his quest, for he was not anxious to
disclose why he had been sacked: in Skinner's Hole the reason would
sound too fantastic to be easily accepted.



CHAPTER XIX

A BROTHER SCOUT TO THE RESCUE

Nearly a fortnight passed, and one dull afternoon a very discouraged
Raven was perched on a capstan at the edge of Quay Flat.  Chippy had
tramped the town end to end and street by street in search of those
cards marked 'Boy Wanted,' and had found none, or had failed to get the
place.  There was so small a number of them, too.  He was reflecting
that when he had been in a job he had seen two or three in a day as he
traversed the town; he was quite sure of it.  Now they seemed to have
vanished, or, when he lighted on one, it meant nothing.  The people had
just got a boy, and had forgotten to take the card down.

Suddenly he was hailed from behind.  He glanced round, leapt down, and
came promptly to the full salute, which was promptly met by his brother
patrol-leader.

'Hallo, Chippy!' said Dick.  'Got a holiday?'

'Got nuthin' else,' said Chippy.

'How's that?' asked Dick.  'I thought you went to work.'

'So I did--once,' murmured Chippy; it seemed a hundred years since he
was pleasantly engaged in the task of earning the substantial sum of
four-and-sixpence a week.

Dick looked at his comrade, whom he had not seen since that eventful
afternoon on the heath.  Chippy was thinner and whiter: Dick saw it,
and asked him if he had been ill.  They got into talk, and before long
Dick learned about Mr. Blades, and the manner in which the Raven leader
lost his job.

'What a jolly shame, Chippy!' burst out Dick.  'That's altogether too
bad.  Sacked you because you wouldn't be a sneak and break your scout's
oath!  And you haven't found anything else?'

'Nuthin' straight,' replied Chippy.  'I could soon get a job on the
crook.'

'On the crook?' repeated Dick; 'that means dishonest, doesn't it,
Chippy?'

Chippy nodded, and went on: 'There's a chap as lives in Peel's Yard
down in Skinner's 'Ole, he's been arter me two or three times.  He's a
bad un, I can tell yer.  He wants me to goo wi' him a-nickin'.'

'What's that, Chippy?' asked Dick.

'Stealin' money out o' shop-tills,' replied Chippy.  'He keeps on
a-tellin' me as we could make pounds a day at it, if I'd on'y let him
train me a bit.'

'Oh, but you'd never, never do that!' cried Dick.

'No fear,' returned the Raven.  'I told 'im straight he was on the
wrong lay.  "Yer wastin' yer breath," I told 'im.  "A boy scout don't
goo a-nickin'."'

'Not likely,' said Dick.  'Oh, you'll soon find a job, Chippy, I'm
sure.'

'It 'ud suit me uncommon to come acrost one,' murmured Chippy.
'Four-an'-six a wick wor' very useful, I can tell yer, at our 'ouse.
Theer's some kids, an' they eat such a lot, kids do.'

Chippy fell silent, and Dick kicked thoughtfully at the capstan for a
few seconds.  Then he whirled round on his heel, saluted, and said,
'Well, I'm off.'

'Why, you're goin' straight back!' cried Chippy, returning the salute.

'Yes, Chippy, old boy,' said Dick.  'I'm going straight back.'

He had been coming from the town, and he now returned to it at a swift
step.  On he went, head back, shoulders square, walking as a scout
should walk, until he reached Broad Row, the street where the great
shipping firms had their offices, and here he paused before a fine
building, whose huge polished brass plate bore the inscription of
Elliott Brothers and Co.  The Elliott Brothers were Dick's father and
his Uncle Jim, and before going in Dick paused for a moment and bit his
lip.

'It's a business job I'm after,' said Dick to himself, 'and I'll carry
it out in a business style.  I don't want father to make a joke of it;
it's no joke to poor old Chippy--anybody can see that with half an eye.'

So Dick dived into his pocket and fetched out a dozen things before he
lighted on what he wanted--a small leathern case with a dozen cards in
it.  In the centre of the card appeared 'Dick Elliott,' neatly printed;
while in the corner, in quaint Old English lettering, was his address,
'The Croft, Birchfields,' being the names of the house and suburb in
which he lived.  The card was his own achievement, produced on his own
model printing-press, and he was rather proud of it.

He entered the inquiry office on the ground-floor, and the clerk in
charge came forward with a smile.

'I say, Bailey,' said Dick, 'you might take this up to my father, will
you?'

The clerk took the card, looked at it, and then at Dick, and went
without a word; but his smile was now a grin.  In a short time he came
back, and murmured, 'This way, please,' and Dick followed, very serious
and thoughtful, and in no wise responding to Bailey's unending grin.

Dick was shown into the room of the senior partner, who was looking at
his visitor's card, and now glanced up with a humorous twirl of his eye.

'Ah, Mr. Elliott,' he said--'Mr. Dick Elliott, I think'--glancing at
the card again.  'Pleased to meet you, Mr. Elliott.  Won't you sit
down?  And now what can I do for you?'

'I have called upon you, sir,' said Dick, 'in the hopes of enlisting
your sympathy on behalf of a worthy object and a noble cause.'

Dick had collared this opening from the heading of a subscription-list,
and he thought it sounded stunning.  He felt sure it would impress the
senior partner.  It did: that gentleman's emotion was deep; he only
kept it within bounds by biting his lips hard.

'Ah, Mr. Elliott,' he said, 'you are, I suppose, in quest of a
donation?'

'Well, not exactly,' replied Mr. Elliott; 'I should like to tell you a
little story.'

'Charmed,' murmured the senior partner; 'but I hope it will be a little
story, Mr. Elliott, as I and my partner are due very shortly at an
important meeting of dock directors.'

Dick plunged at once into his narration, and the senior partner
listened attentively, without putting in a single word.

'I see, Mr. Elliott--I see,' he remarked, when Dick had made an end of
the story of Chippy's troubles; 'you are in search of a post for your
friend?'

'I should be uncommonly glad to find him something,' murmured Dick.

'I'm afraid you've come to the wrong person, Mr. Elliott,' said the
shipowner.  'I believe there are some small fry of that kind about the
place who fetch parcels from the docks, and that kind of thing, but I
really don't concern myself with their appointment--if I may use so
important a word--or their dismissals.  All those minutiae are in the
care of Mr. Malins, the manager.'

'Oh, father, don't put me off with Mr. Malins!' burst out Dick,
forgetting his character for a moment in his anxiety.  'I want you to
lend me a hand, so as to make it dead sure.'

'Well, Mr. Elliott, you're very pressing,' remarked the senior partner.
'I'll make a note of it, and see what can be done.'

'I'm very much obliged indeed,' murmured Mr. Elliott.

'May I ask your friend's name?'

'Slynn,' replied Dick.

'Christian name?'

'I never heard it,' said Dick, rubbing his forehead.  'They call him
Chippy.'

'Thank you,' said the senior partner, pencilling a note on his
engagement-pad; 'then I am to use my best efforts to find a post for
Mr. Chippy Slynn, errand-boy.  Well, it's the first time I've made such
a venture; it will have, at any rate, the agreeable element of novelty.
And now I must beg you to excuse me: I fear my junior partner is
waiting for me.'

'That's all right, sir,' said Dick cheerfully.  'Uncle Jim won't mind.
He knows Chippy.'  And forthwith Dick departed, quite content with the
interview.



CHAPTER XX

THE OPINIONS OF AN INSTRUCTOR

As Dick's father and uncle walked towards the docks, the former related
with much relish how Dick had gone to work to do his friend a good
turn, and the two gentlemen laughed over Dick's serious way of tackling
the question.  Then Mr. Elliott began to speak soberly.

'He seems very friendly with this boy Slynn,' said Dick's lather.

'Naturally, after the splendid piece of work they did together the
other Monday,' replied the younger man.

'Oh yes, yes, of course; that, I admit, would be bound to draw them
together,' said the other.  'But do you think it is quite safe, Jim,
this mingling of boys from decent homes with gutter-sparrows?'

'Dick will come to no harm with Chippy Slynn,' replied James Elliott
quietly; 'the boy is quite brave, quite honest.'

'I don't know,' said Mr. Elliott uneasily.  'His mother was very
uncomfortable when Dick and his sister had been out one day.  Ethel
brought word home that Dick and a wharf-rat had been chumming up
together.  His mother spoke to Dick about it.'

'Oh yes,' said his brother, 'and Dick referred her to me, and I
explained, and put matters straight.'

'I hardly know what to think about it,' said Mr. Elliott, and his tone
was still uneasy.

'Look here, Richard,' said his brother, 'the feelings which I know are
in your mind are the feelings which make such an immense gulf between
class and class.  Now, confess that you are not quite comfortable
because Dick has a deep regard for a wharf-rat out of Skinner's Hole.'

'I confess it,' said Mr. Elliott frankly.

'Exactly,' returned his brother; 'there is no saying more frequent on
our lips than that we must look, not at the coat, but at the man inside
it; but it remains a saying--it has little or no effect on our thoughts
and actions.  The rich look with suspicion on the poor; the poor repay
that suspicion with hatred.  This brings about jealousy and distrust
between class and class, and gives rise to any amount of bad
citizenship.  I declare and I believe that if those who have would only
try to understand the difficulties and the trials of those who have
not, and would help them in a reasonable fashion--not with money;
that's the poorest sort of help--we should see an immense advance in
good citizenship.'

'And what is your ideal of good citizenship, old fellow?' asked Mr.
Elliott.

'All for each, and each for all,' replied his brother.

'Why, Jim,' laughed the elder man, 'I never heard you break out in this
style before.  I never knew you set up for a social reformer.'

'Oh,' said James Elliott, smiling, 'I don't know that I claim any big
title such as that.  But, you know, I was in the Colonies some eight or
nine years, and I learned a good deal then that you stay-at-homes never
pick up.  Out there a man has to stand on his own feet, while here he
is often propped up with his father's money.'

'And that's true enough,' agreed the elder.  'Well, then, Jim, you
think this scouting movement is of real service?'

'I am convinced of it,' said the other.  'Even in our little circle it
has thrown together a group of boys belonging to the middle classes and
another group whose parents are the poorest sort of dock labourers.  I
have watched them closely, and the results are good, and nothing but
good.  I am delighted that I have been given the chance to have a hand
in bringing about such results.  What were their former relations?
They used to shout insulting names at each other, and fight.  That
boyish enmity would have deepened and embittered itself into class
hatred had it continued.  But in their friendly patrol contests the
boys have learned to know and like each other, and to respect each
other's skill.  Take Dick and Chippy Slynn.  Without this movement,
Dick would only have known the other as a wharf-rat who was formidable
beyond ordinary in their feuds.  Now he knows him as a boy whose pluck
and honesty command respect, and Dick gives that respect, and liking
with it.  Will they be class enemies when they are men?  I think not.
But I'll dry up.  I am letting myself go into a regular sermon.'

There was silence for a few moments, and they walked on.

'Yes, Jim,' said his brother at last, 'I must confess it had not struck
me just as you put it.  There's a great deal of truth in your view.'


That night Dick was crossing the hall, when he heard his father's
latch-key click in the door.

'Ah,' said Mr. Elliott, as he stepped in, 'I fancy you're the gentleman
who called on me this afternoon?'

Oh, father,' cried Dick, running up to him, 'do tell me you've found
something for poor old Chippy.  He's breaking his heart because he's
out of work.'

'Well, his heart needn't break any more,' said Mr. Elliott, putting his
umbrella into the stand--'that is to say, if he can give satisfaction
to Mr. Malins, who offers him a berth at seven shillings a week.  I
don't know if your friend was getting more, but Mr. Malins doesn't see
his way any further.'

'He'll jump at it,' yelled Dick.  'He was only getting four-and-six at
Blades, the fishmonger's.  Father, this is splendid of you.  You're
good all through.'

'Almost up to a boy scout, eh?' chuckled Mr. Elliott.  'There, there,
don't pull my arm off.  I can't eat my dinner one-handed.'

Next morning Dick ran down to Skinner's Hole before seven o'clock, to
make sure of catching Chippy before the latter set off on his search
for a job.  He was not a minute too soon, for he met Chippy in the
street.  The Raven had brushed his clothes and blacked his boots till
they shone again, in order to produce a good effect on possible
employers; but he looked rather pinched and wan, for victuals had been
pretty scarce of late, and the kids, who ate a lot, had gone a long way
towards clearing the board before Chippy had a chance.

'It's all right, old chap,' sang out Dick; 'no need to peg round on
that weary drag to-day.  Here's a note my father has written.  There's
a job waiting for you up at our place.'

'No!' cried Chippy, and shook like a leaf.  It seemed too good to be
true.

'Yes,' laughed Dick, 'unless you think the wages too small.  They're
going to offer you seven shillings a week.'

Chippy's eyes seemed ready to come out of his head.  As for saying
anything, that was impossible, for the simple reason that his throat
was at present blocked up by a lump which felt as big as an apple.

At last he pulled himself together, and began to stammer thanks.  But
Dick would not listen to him.

'That's all right,' cried Dick.  'I was bound to have a shot, you know.
We're brother scouts, Chippy, old boy--we're brother scouts.'



CHAPTER XXI

CHIPPY GOES ON SCOUT DUTY

Chippy had been at work for Elliott Brothers rather more than a
fortnight, when one day he went down to the waterside warehouse for
some samples.  The firm had a huge building at the farther end of Quay
Flat, where they stored the goods they imported.

He was told that he must wait awhile, and he filled up his time by some
scout exercises, giving himself a long glance at a shelf, and then
shutting his eyes and reciting from memory the various articles piled
upon it.

His eyes were still shut, when he heard voices.  He opened them, and
saw Dick's father, the head of the firm, walking into the room,
followed by the warehouse manager.

'This is a most extraordinary thing, White,' Mr. Elliott was saying.
'There's certainly a thief about the place, or someone is breaking in
at night.'

'It's a most mysterious affair, sir,' replied White.  'The place was
locked up as usual, and I unlocked everything myself.  Every padlock
and fastening was in order, and no window had been tampered with.'

'Yet there's a lot of valuable stuff gone,' said Mr. Elliott.  White
shook his head.  He seemed utterly bewildered and unable to explain
what had happened.

'I shall go to the police at once,' said Mr. Elliott.

'Yes, sir; there's nothing else for it,' agreed the manager; and the
two, who had been talking as they went through the great storeroom
where Chippy was waiting, passed out at a farther door, and disappeared.

Chippy left his practice, and fell into thought.  Things had been
stolen from the warehouse.  That was plain enough.  The Elliotts were
being robbed.  Chippy was on fire in a moment.  His friends and
benefactors were being robbed.  It was clear that Mr. Elliott meant to
set the police to watch the place.  Chippy promised himself that a
certain boy scout would also take a hand in the game.  Skinner's Hole
was close by, and his home was not four hundred yards from the
warehouse.  That would be convenient for keeping watch.

That evening Chippy ate his supper so slowly and thoughtfully that his
mother asked him what was on his mind.

'It's all right about yer place, ain't it?' she asked anxiously.

'Rather,' replied Chippy, waking up and giving her a cheerful nod.
'This ain't a job like old Blades's.  Do yer work, and yer all right at
Elliott Brothers'.'

'Yer seemed a-moonin' like,' said Mrs. Slynn.

'Thinkin',' returned Chippy briefly.  'I got a bit o' scoutin' to do
to-night as 'ull keep me out pretty late, so don't get a-worryin',
mother, an' sendin' people to see if I've dropped into the "Old Cut."'

The Old Cut was a dangerous, unprotected creek, where more than one
resident of Skinner's Hole had been drowned in darkness and fog, and
its name was proverbial on local lips.

'Tek care o' yerself, my boy,' said Mrs. Slynn.  'I don't know what I
should do without yer.'

Chippy waved his hand with an air of lofty protection, and went on with
his supper.

Towards ten o'clock he left the house, and went down a quiet byway to
Quay Flat, and as soon as he got well on the Flat and away from the
gas-lamps, he could see little or nothing.  But Chippy had haunted the
Flat all his life, and could find his way across it blindfold.  He
headed steadily forward, and a few minutes brought him to the spot
where the huge bulk of the warehouse buildings stood at the river's
edge, black against the sky.

He now commenced a stealthy patrol of the walks, every sense on the
alert, and creeping along as softly as possible.  The warehouse
occupied an isolated position on the quay.  The river front was now
washed by only a few feet of water, for the tide was nearly out; but
this side was only approachable by boat.  A rude pavement of
flag-stones ran round the other three sides, and along this pavement
the Raven meant to hold his patrol march.

The march came to an end almost as soon as it had begun.  Chippy turned
an angle of the walls, and pulled up dead.  He could hear footsteps a
short distance away.  He flitted off to the shelter of a pile of rusty
anchors and iron cables which he knew lay within twenty yards of where
he stood.  He found his cover, and crouched behind it.  He had barely
gained it when a flood of light swept the pavement he had just left,
and heavy boots tramped forward.

'Huh!' grunted Chippy to himself, 'they've got a bobby on the job.  No
call for a boy scout here.  I might as well be off home an' go to bed.'

The policeman came forward, stood at the corner, and yawned; then he
slowly paced forward on his beat once more.  Chippy waited twenty
minutes, but the constable persistently haunted the warehouse walls; it
was clear that they were the special object of his care to-night.

'It's old Martin,' thought Chippy, who had recognised the constable;
'he's gooin' to potter round all night.  I'll get 'ome again.'

Martin disappeared round the farther angle of the walls, and Chippy
stood up to move softly away.  But he did not move.  He stood still
listening intently.  At the moment he straightened himself he felt
certain that he heard a low chuckle somewhere behind him in the
darkness.

Yes, there was someone there.  Now he caught the voices of men who
conversed together in tones little above a whisper.  Chippy judged they
were some twenty yards from him.  Next he heard stealthy sounds as they
moved away.

Who were these people who had crept up so silently that the scout had
heard nothing?  Chippy meant to find out, if possible, and already he
had bent down, and his fingers were going like the wind as he whipped
the laces out of the eyelets of his boots.  Off came the latter; off
came his stockings.  The stockings went into his pockets; the boots
were tied together by their laces and slung round his neck, and away
slipped Chippy in search of the men who had laughed and whispered
together.

He had lost a few seconds in taking off his boots, and the sounds of
their stealthy movements had died away.  Chippy dropped flat, and laid
his ear to the ground.  This gave him their direction at once, and, to
his surprise, the sounds told him that they were going towards the
river.  That was odd.  The quay edge was a very dangerous place on so
dark a night as this, but these men were going down to it, and not
across towards the town, as Chippy had expected.

The scout followed with the utmost caution--a caution which he
redoubled as he drew near to the riverside.  He would have thought
little of going over the quay wall when the water was up, for that
would only mean a ducking, and he could swim like a fish.  But in some
places patches of deep mud were laid bare at low tide, spots in which
the finest swimmer would flounder, sink, and perish.  Chippy sought for
a mooring-post, and was full of delight when his hands came against a
huge oaken bole, scored with rope-marks and polished with long service.
These stood in line along the quay some ten yards apart, and Chippy
worked from one to the other, and followed his men, who were still
ahead, but moving very slowly.  It was quite certain that the two in
front knew the quay well, or they would not be here at this time.

Suddenly a match spurted, and a pipe was lighted.  The men had come a
good way now from the warehouse, and were quite out of sight of the
constable.  The light of the match showed the scout that there were two
of them, and they had halted in lee of a fish-curing shed, now locked
up for the night.  The shed stood in a very lonely part of the quay,
where no one ever went after nightfall.  The men began to talk
together, and Chippy crept closer and closer until he could catch their
words.

'Laugh!' said one, as if in answer to a remark the scout had not
caught--'who could help laughin'?  To see old Martin postin' up an'
down, round an' round, just on the sides we want him to.  If he started
to swim up an' down t'other side, now, it might be a bit awkward for
us.'

'Ah,' replied his companion, 'it'll be a long time before they tumble
to the idea of anybody workin' 'em from the river-front.  How did ye
get round to the trap this mornin'?'

'Easy as winking,' said the first speaker.  'I made a little errand
there, and slipped the bolts, and there it all was, as right as rain.'

'It's a clippin' dodge,' murmured the second man.  'We'll have another
good go to-night, then leave it for two or three months till all's
quiet again.'

'We will,' agreed the other.  'The boat's ready, I suppose?'

'Yes; I've seen to all that,' was the answer.  'She's lyin' at
Ferryman's Slip, just swingin' by her painter.  It'll be slack water
pretty soon.  We can start in about half an hour or so.'



CHAPTER XXII

CHIPPY GOES IN CHASE

Chippy's heart beat high with excitement.  It thumped against his ribs
till he felt sure that the talkers a few yards away would hear it; and
he turned and crept away, and circled round to the back of the
fish-shed, where he pulled up to think over what he had heard.  He felt
sure that he had hit upon the thieves.  What should he do?  Run to
Martin and tell him what he had found out?  Chippy considered that,
then shook his head.  He knew Martin, and Martin knew Chippy.  'He'd
ne'er believe me,' thought Chippy.  'He'd think I was a-tryin' to kid
'im.'

Martin was a good, zealous officer, but rather a dull one, and Chippy
knew that he would be very slow to give any credit to a story brought
him by a wharf-rat.  And then, they were not the best of friends.
Chippy now entertained the most respectful regard for
police-constables, for it was part of his duty; but it had not always
been so.  In his days of sin, before he became a boy scout, he had
guyed and chaffed Martin many a time and oft, and had exercised a
diabolical ingenuity in tricks for his discomfiture.  Therefore a
sudden appearance, springing out of the darkness as a supporter of law
and order, might not be taken as it was meant, and Chippy was quite
shrewd enough to see that.

And Chippy was puzzled--he was tremendously puzzled.  For the life of
him, he could not see how two men in a boat were going to successfully
attack the river-front of Elliotts' warehouse, and he burned to
discover their plan of assault.  He shut his eyes, and saw clearly a
mental picture of the building.  Chippy knew the riverside look of
every building as well as he knew the back of his hand; he had spent
scores and scores of summer days floating about in anything he could
seize upon in the shape of a boat.

Well, he saw a broad, high wall, perfectly flat, turning a gable end to
the wide stream, and in that wall he saw a number of windows and one
large doorway, above which an arm carrying pulleys was thrust out.
Under this doorway barges came when the tide was up, and sank to the
mud when it went down.  Boxes, bags, bales, were swung up to the
doorway by pulley and chain, and so taken into the warehouse.  But
there was no landing-place of any kind; the wall ran sheer down to the
mud.

Now, how were these men going to break in?  And at low water, too!
Fifteen feet at least of oozy, slimy wall would stand up between the
boat and the foot of the doorway; twenty feet to the nearest row of
windows.  Chippy could not form any idea of their tactics, but he meant
to discover them before long.

'Well, I got to move a bit,' said the scout to himself.  'I'll 'ook it
down to Ferryman's, and get ready for 'em.'

Still on his bare feet, he slid like a shadow through the darkness,
counted the mooring-posts as he went, in order to get his bearings,
found the head of the steps running down to the spot he sought, and at
the next instant his feet were treading the rough stones of Ferryman's
Slip.

Here close beside the water it was not quite so dark; the heavy clouds
had broken in the west, and the stars were coming out.  In their faint
gleam Chippy caught the shine of the oily swells as the water lapped
gently against the wharf.

There was always water beside Ferryman's Slip at every state of the
tide, and Chippy knew that a bunch of boats would certainly be moored
off the boat-builder's yard at the top end of the slip.  He went up
there, and saw their dark forms on the water.  He could step into the
nearest, and in a moment he was climbing from one to the other with all
the sureness of a born waterman, searching for what he wanted.  Luck
favoured him: he found it on the outside of a bunch, where he had only
to slip the knot of a cord to set it free.  It was a little broad boat,
blunt in the bows, wide in the stern, the sort of boat you can sit on
the side of without oversetting, and very suitable for Chippy's purpose
this night.

Now Chippy scratched his jaw thoughtfully.  There was the boat, but
oars and rowlocks were safely locked up in the builder's shed.  This
would have stumped some people, but not Chippy.  Often and often he had
been able to get hold of a boat, but nothing else.  He was quite
familiar with the task of rigging up something to take the place of an
oar.  He hopped across the boats, gained the shore, and sought the
boat-builder's shed.  Around such a place lie piles of planks, broken
thwarts, broken oars, odds and ends of every kind relating to boats,
new or old.  Chippy knew the shed, and sought the back.

'Old Clayson used to chuck a lot o' stuff at the back 'ere,' thought
Chippy.  'I wish I durst strike a match, but that 'ud never do.  They
might see it.'  So he groped and groped with his hands, and could
hardly restrain a yell of delight when his fingers dropped on a smooth
surface, broken by one sharp rib running down the centre.

'A sweep!' Chippy cried to himself joyously--'an old sweep!  Now, if
theer's on'y a bit o' handle to it, I'm right.'

With the utmost caution he drew the broken sweep from the pile of odds
and ends where it lay.  Yes, there was a piece of handle, and Chippy
made at once for his boat, carrying his prize with him.  An oar would
have suited him much better, but beggars must not be choosers.  The
fragment of the sweep was heavy and clumsy, but in Chippy's skilled
hands it could be made to do its work.

These preparations had taken some time, and Chippy was about to try his
piece of sweep in the scull-notch in the stern when he paused and
crouched perfectly still on the thwart.  They were coming.  He heard
movements on the stone stairs which ran down to the river.  The scout
put his head over the side of the boat and listened.  Water carries
sound as nothing else does, and he heard them get into their boat very
cautiously, slip oars into rowlocks, and paddle gently away.  There was
no dip or splash from the oars.  'Muffled 'em,' said Chippy to himself.

He gave them a couple of minutes to get clear out into the river from
the side channel which washed the slip; then he prepared to follow.  He
untied the painter, pushed his boat clear of its companions, slipped
his sweep over the stern, and began to scull down the channel without a
sound, his practised hands working the boat on by the sweep as silently
and smoothly as a fish glides forward by the strokes of its tail.

The little skiff slipped out on to the broad bosom of the river, and
Chippy looked eagerly ahead.  He saw his men at once.  They were
paddling gently down-stream close inshore.  At this point the river ran
due west, ran towards the quarter of the sky now bright with stars.
Against this brightness Chippy saw the dark mass of boat and men.  He
glanced over his shoulder.  The east remained black, its covering of
cloud unbroken, and Chippy felt the joy of the scout who follows
steadily, and knows that he himself is unseen.

The boat ahead went much faster than Chippy's little tub, but he let
them go, and sculled easily forward; he knew where to find them.  As
they approached Elliotts' warehouse, a great cloud drew swiftly over
the west, and the scout completely lost sight of the other boat.  But
the darkness was short.  Within a few minutes the cloud passed as
swiftly as it had come, and the surface of the river was once more
pallid in the starshine.

Chippy saw the great bulk of the warehouse emerge from the gloom; he
saw the level plain of water, now smooth at this time of dead-slack,
and he expected to see the boat, but he did not.  He brought up his
skiff with a sharp turn of the sweep, and rubbed his eyes, and looked,
and looked again.  He saw nothing.  The boat had vanished.  It was not
lying off the warehouse; of that he was quite sure.  He was so placed,
fairly close inshore, that his eye swept every inch of water along the
front of the building.  No boat was there.



CHAPTER XXIII

THE OLD WATER-GATE

This was very mysterious.  Chippy could not make out what had happened.
The boat had not sunk.  Had it done so, the men would never have gone
down without a sound.  The scout thought a moment, then seized his
sweep, and drove his skiff square across the river.  Had the men gone
out towards the middle?  But Chippy opened fresh sweeps of the starlit
stream, and all empty.  Save for himself, there did not seem to be a
single floating thing in the neighbourhood.

Now, in working across, Chippy had also gone down with the stream, so
that by the time he was well out he had gained a point directly in
front of the warehouse.  He glanced towards the dark mass at the
water's edge, and started.  A pin-point of light flashed out at its
base far below window or doorway.  The light burned steadily for a few
seconds, then went out as suddenly as it appeared.

'Looks to me as if some'dy struck a match over theer,' reflected
Chippy.  'But who?  The water looked empty enough.  I'll have a look.'

He worked his boat round, and drove it steadily towards the great
building, shaping his course a little upstream, in order to bring
himself above it once more.  He watched closely as he sculled, and when
he checked his way not ten yards from the bank he was quite certain of
two things: he had not seen the light again, and he had not seen any
boat leave the front of the warehouse.

He let himself drift slowly down, staring and staring, and full of
wonder.  His eyes were now so used to the starshine on the river that
he could see the water in front of the building like a smooth, pale
plain, and it was empty--it was perfectly empty.  Who had struck that
light about the water-level?  It was all very strange and mysterious.

Chippy let his craft drift.  It moved slowly on the slow-running
stream, but presently it was under the shadow of the lofty wall, and as
it slid along, Chippy looked out more sharply than ever for the source
of that strange light.

He stood in the stern of the boat drifting down in complete silence,
with not even the gurgle of the sweep to betray his presence.  And to
this complete silence Chippy owed the discovery which he made about
midway of the river-front.

He was staring straight at the blackness of the wall, when suddenly a
light appeared in it.  To his immense surprise, he found himself
looking up a kind of long, arched tunnel, at whose farther end a man
stood in a boat, a light in his hand.  Only for an instant did Chippy
behold this strange vision.  His skiff drifted on, and he was faced
once more by the darkness of the solid wall.

Chippy drew a deep breath, dug his sweep into the water, and sculled
rather more than half a circle.  This brought him opposite the mouth of
the tunnel, but well out from the wall.

'That's wheer they'd slipped in,' reflected Chippy.  'Theer's the light
again.  Wot does it all mean?  I never heerd o' that hole afore.'

Chippy was puzzled because he did not know the history of Elliotts'
warehouse.  It was a fairly old building, having been erected about the
middle of the eighteenth century.  Its basement had been pierced by a
water-gate, which gave small barges direct entrance to the building,
their contents being raised to the floor above through a large
trap-door.  But in the course of time, and under the influence of great
floods, the river scoured out its bed in such fashion as to alter its
depth against the wall of the warehouse, and largely to block the
water-gate with mud.  Sooner than undertake the expense of dredging in
order to keep the water-gate open, the owners abandoned its use, and
knocked a doorway in the front, and hauled up from the barges as they
lay outside.

But on a very low tide it was possible yet to pole a small boat up the
old water-gate, and gain the trap-door, which still existed, though
unused, and almost unknown to the present generation of workers in the
warehouse.

It took the scout a very short time to make up his mind.  He was soon
sculling for the mouth of the archway, which, now he knew where to look
for it, could be made out as a darker patch in the dusk of the wall.
With the utmost care Chippy laid the blunt nose of his craft square in
the middle of the archway, and sculled very gently up.  The air was
thick and close and damp, but a slight current set towards him.  He
felt it blowing on his face, and knew that there was some opening at
the top of this strange passage.  He only went a short distance up,
then checked his way, and his boat floated quite still on the quiet
water of this hidden entrance.

Ten minutes passed, and then Chippy heard a voice.  'That's as much as
we can shift to-night,' it said; and a second voice said: 'All right;
drop a glim on the boat.'

At the next moment a strong shaft of light darted downwards into the
darkness, and lighted up an empty boat floating within five yards of
Chippy.  Luckily for the latter, the light came from a dark lantern,
whose slide had been turned, and was only a brilliant circle which did
not discover the daring scout.

Chippy held his breath, and watched.  He saw that aloft the light was
pouring through an oblong opening; the latter was formed by the raising
of one of the two doors of the big trap.  He had need to hold his
breath; the smallest turn of the lantern would throw the light along
the tunnel, and he would spring into full view of the thieves.  His
position would then be desperate, for escape was out of the question.
They had only to drop into their boat and pursue, when his clumsy old
broken sweep would prove no match for a pair of oars.  So Chippy held
himself dead still, and watched with fascinated eyes the strong shaft
of light pouring on the boat before him.

Presently a strongly corded bale slid into the light, and was lowered
by a thin rope.  The rope was tossed after it, and the same thing
happened with three more bales; and then a pair of legs came into
sight, and a man slid swiftly down a heavy rope which dangled above the
boat.

The man swung himself down, and dropped among the bales.  Chippy could
not see his face, but the scout's eye saw the man's hand outstretched
as he balanced himself with a sailor's skill in the swaying boat, and
marked that the little finger was missing.

'I'll stow these, and then give ye a hand wi' the flap,' said the man
in the boat.  'It'll never do to let it down wi' a bang, because of our
friend outside.'  And both of them chuckled.

Now was Chippy's chance, while the men were busy with the task of
closing the heavy flap with as little noise as possible.  He had been
standing with the sweep in his hand.  He began, with the tiniest, the
softest of strokes, to turn his boat round.  But his discovery would
have been certain had not the men been so busy with the task of
reclosing the heavy trap.  It fell into place with a soft thud, which
echoed along the water-gate, and as it did so Chippy glided into the
open, and turned the nose of his craft down-stream.  He now put out all
his strength, sculled a dozen hard, swift strokes, then held his hand,
and floated close beside the wall in the deep shadow.

From this cover he saw the boat glide out and the men give way as they
gained the open stream.  They pulled out some distance, and so
skilfully did they use the muffled oars that Chippy scarce caught a
sound.

'Rullocks muffled, too,' thought the scout; and very likely the thieves
had muffled the rowlocks also.



CHAPTER XXIV

ON BOARD THE 'THREE SPIRES'

When the boat was well out from the shore its nose was turned, and it
began to drop at an easy pace down the river.  In cover of the bank
Chippy was sculling his best.  He had seen how the warehouse was
robbed; he meant to see where the plunder was taken.

Beyond Elliotts' warehouse there were only two or three scattered
buildings, and then the river-shore stretched away empty and deserted.
For nearly a mile the men pulled steadily down, and left Chippy a long
way behind.  But the night was brightening fast; the moon was coming
up, and he could see the dark spot upon the water which meant the
gliding boat laden with plunder.

Then the boat turned and came towards the shore on the scout's side.
It crossed his line of sight, and disappeared as if into the bank.

'Gone up Fuller's Creek,' said Chippy to himself, and sculled harder
than ever.  Fuller's Creek was a wide, deep backwater, never used
nowadays for any active purpose, though occasionally an old hulk was
towed there, and left to rot.  Chippy supposed that his men had pulled
up to the very top of the creek, where there was a deserted
landing-stage, and he put all the strength of his wiry frame into
driving his boat down to the creek and up it as hard as he could go.

He entered the broad, dark water-mouth, for the moon was not yet
shining into the creek, and sculled into its shadow.  Half-way up, a
dark bulk loomed high in his path, and he swung the nose of his craft
to port, to pass round the _Three Spires_, an old barquentine left to
rot in Fuller's Creek out of the way of the river traffic.

The _Three Spires_, named from the three chief churches of the town,
whose steeples rose high above the roofs of Bardon, was a broad, roomy
old craft, and had carried many a good cargo in her time.  But she was
now past her work, and, her spars, rigging, and raffle all torn away,
her hulk lay abandoned in Fuller's Creek, for the breakers-up did not
want her.

It was mere luck that Chippy threw his skiff's nose over to port, for
he was bearing straight for the Three Spires as she lay end on, and
port or starboard was all one in point of distance as regarded sculling
round her.  But he threw his bow over to port, and thereby made a
striking discovery.  For beside the great bulk lay a small bulk, and
the latter was a boat swinging to the shattered taffrail of the _Three
Spires_ by her painter.  Chippy checked his way, and the two boats
floated side by side on the quiet, dark backwater, with the hull of the
deserted barquentine towering above them against the sky.

Chippy threw out a long breath of immense surprise.  'They ain't gone
on to the stage,' he thought.  'They're here.  They're on this old un.
This is their boat.'  He heard movements on board the barquentine, and
he sculled a few swift strokes which sent him forward under the thick
shadow of her broad stern, where he checked her way again.

The sounds were those of men who scrambled up her forward companion,
and at the next moment Chippy's cars told him that they had approached
the side of the Teasel, and one was swinging himself into the boat.

'This is the last,' he heard a voice say.  'We'll get it down, and have
a look at what you've picked out this time.'

'One knows what's in the bundles; t'other don't,' reflected Chippy.
'They mean to open 'em.  That'll keep 'em busy a bit.'

He waited until his ears assured him that the men had gone down the
companion again, then sculled back to the point where their boat
floated below the port taffrail.  This was the only point at which the
deck of the vessel could be gained.  The _Three Spires_ lay on the mud,
heeled over to port, and everywhere else her sides were high, smooth,
and unclimbable.

And now Chippy made a mistake--a great scouting mistake: he did too
much; and the scout who does too much blunders just as surely as he who
does too little.  Had Chippy sculled quietly away with the ample
information he had already gained, the thieves might have been taken
red-handed.  But he burned to put, as he thought, a finishing touch to
his night's work.  He wanted to see what was going on in the forepeak
of the _Three Spires_, and he wanted to see the faces of the men; it
was almost certain that he would recognise people so familiar with Quay
Flat and Elliotts' warehouse.  He took the painter of his tiny craft,
and threw two easy half-hitches round the painter of the large boat.
He could cast his rope loose in a second, and it would be ample hold to
keep his craft from drifting away.  He laid the sweep where it would be
ready to his hand if he had to make a rush, then swung himself up to
the taffrail by the rope which the thieves had fastened there for their
own use.

'They're forward,' murmured Chippy to himself, and crept without a
sound along the slanting deck.  His stockings were still in his
pockets; his boots he had left in the skiff.

The companion-hatch was broken, and the men had gone up and down
through the hole which yawned above the steps.  To this gap Chippy
crept, and thrust his head forward inch by inch until he was looking
into the deserted forecastle.  He saw the men at once.  They were
almost directly beneath him, kneeling on the floor, while one was
deftly slipping the cord which bound one of the stolen bales.

Chippy scarcely dared to breathe when he saw how close he was to the
thieves.  'If I could only get a look at 'em, I'd 'ook it,' he thought
to himself, and waited for their faces to be shown in the shine of the
lantern, whose slide was partly turned to give them light.  But one
held the lantern while the other opened the bale, and the light showed
no more of them than the worker's hands, the latter tattooed like those
of a seaman.

Suddenly the scene changed with magic swiftness, and the pursuer became
the pursued.  It happened simply enough.  The man unfolding the bale
asked his companion a question.  His voice was pitched in so low a
murmur that Chippy did not catch what was said, but he heard the second
man's reply.  'No, I 'ain't got it,' said he who held the lantern.

'Then we've left it in the boat,' rejoined the first speaker in louder
tones; and he sprang to his feet and shot up the crazy steps of the
companion as nimbly as a cat.

It was so swift, so sudden, that the man was out on the deck before the
scout, stretched at full length beside the companion-hatch, could get
to his feet.  The man slipped along the deck as smartly as he had
swarmed up the companion, and Chippy was clean cut on from his boat.

What could he do?  Nothing but sit tight and hope that his boat would
not be discovered in the gloom of the barquentine's shadow.  Vain hope.
Scarce had it been formed than a savage growl of anger and surprise
broke the silence.  His boat was discovered.

The man below heard his companion's cry.  The dullest would have read
warning in it.  He leapt to his feet, and bounded up the companion in
turn.

'Anything wrong?' he called in low tones.

'Here's another boat,' said the other.

'Another boat!' murmured the second thief, and scrambled swiftly along
the deck, and thrust his head over the side.

The two men were thunderstruck.  A second boat!  That meant someone
abroad of whose presence they had not dreamed.

'Was it there when we came?' asked the second man.

'Not it,' replied the discoverer; 'the painter's made fast round ours.'

'Then, whoever came in that boat is aboard now,' went on his companion,
'an' we've been spied on an' followed.'

'It's a little boat.  There can only be one,' said the other.

'Stand by the boat,' said the man aboard.  'I'll settle the spy.'  And
he clinched his words with a dreadful oath.

'Don't go too far,' said the man in the boat, who was a more timorous
fellow.

'Too far!' growled the other.  'It's sink or swim with us now.  There's
somebody on this old barky as is fly to our little game, an' his mouth
has got to be stopped.  Wait; stave his boat in, and you keep in ours.
Stave it in now while I'm here.  He won't run away.'  And again the
desperate thief broke into a volley of savage imprecations.

Chippy had heard all this, and recognised how true was the last
assertion of the infuriated rogue.  There was no running away from the
barquentine.  No prison surer while his boat was in their hands.  And
at the next moment there was a crash of boat-hook on wooden plank.
Three blows were struck.  The little boat was not new, and its timbers
gave easily.  Three planks were staved in; it filled and sank.

'It's gone,' said the man in the boat; and his companion turned to
search for him who had approached the barquentine in it.

Chippy had left the companion and darted forward while they talked.
The sounds of the planks going in his boat told him that his case was
desperate; his retreat was cut off.  He found the stump of the
foremast, and crouched behind it, and lay still.  Twice the man in
search of him crept round the vessel in the darkness, and Chippy
shifted noiselessly from side to side as he passed.

There were movements aft, and suddenly a flood of light streamed along
the deck.  The searcher had fetched up the lantern, regardless of the
chances of the light being seen ashore, and flung its full blaze
forward.

The slide was turned at the lucky moment for the rogue who held it.
Chippy stood beside the foremast, one hand laid on it, his head bent
and listening for any sound.  The ring of light fell full upon him, and
the desperate ruffian gave a growl of satisfaction when he saw his prey.



CHAPTER XXV

A NARROW SHAVE

'It's a kid--a cheeky kid,' he cried in low, savage tones.  'I'll soon
settle him.'

'P'raps he'll keep quiet.  Ask him if he'll swear to say nothin'?'
called out the man in the boat, his tones low and eager.

'Shut up!' snarled the other; 'as if any kid could keep quiet!  I ain't
a-goin' to do time for the likes of him.  Not me!  I'll chuck him into
the hold.'  And he clinched his words with another stream of fierce
imprecations.

He scrambled towards the spot where Chippy stood as fast as his feet
could carry him.  The scout knew that he was in great danger; his
acquaintance with longshore folk was extensive, and he knew that among
them were to be found a few ruffians and thieves as desperate as any
alive--men who would not value a boy's life any more than a fly's, if
it became necessary to their safety to take it.  If he were seized, he
would be knocked on the head, and his body flung into the hold of the
_Three Spires_, into the deep muddy bilge which lay there, as safe a
hiding-place for a crime as could be found.

There was but one way of escape, and he turned to it at once.  His boat
had gone, but the river was still his refuge and way of release.  He
seized the broken taffrail, swung himself over it, let himself go, slid
swiftly down the side, holding himself straight and stiff as a bar, and
struck the water with his bare feet with less than a splash, with no
more than a sharp _clunk_, and at the next instant was striking out
with all his might for the side of the creek.

The man creeping along the deck uttered a savage oath full of baffled
fury as he saw Chippy vanish over the side, and heard him enter the
water; then scrambled swiftly back to the boat, and sprang in.

'He's jumped over,' he growled.  'Pull round and after him.  We'll get
him yet.'

'P'raps he's drownded,' said the other.

'Not him,' cried the fiercer thief; 'he didn't drop into the water like
one as gets drownded.  He's makin' off--that's what he's a-doin'.
Pull, I tell ye--pull!'

They bent to the oars, and the skiff was driven at speed round the
stranded hull of the barquentine.  For his part, Chippy was swimming as
he had never swum before.  He was lashing the water with all his might,
swimming his favourite side-stroke, his fastest way of moving, now
glancing at the dark mass which marked the side of the creek, now
glancing behind to see if the boat pursued.  In one thing he was very
unlucky.  He had struck straight away from the side over which he had
slipped, the side upon which the boat was not lying, and was swimming
into the moonlight which now bathed the farther side of the creek.  He
shot into the lighted space as the boat slid from under the shadow of
the broad stern, and was seen at once.  Across the quiet water Chippy
heard the voice of his more dangerous foe: 'There he is! there he is!'
cried the ruffian.  'Pull, I tell ye--pull! we'll have him easy before
he touches bank.'

Chippy looked ahead, and felt that there was horrible truth in this.
Stripped to the buff, he would have escaped without a doubt, for he
could go through the water like a fish.  But he was now fully clothed,
and the water-sodden garments clung round him like a coating of lead,
impeding his strokes, and cutting down his pace in cruel fashion.

Still, he fought gamely, putting out every effort to drive himself
through the slow, dead water, and keeping his mind fixed on the shore
ahead, and not on the boat darting after him under the propulsion of
two powerful oarsmen.

He wanted to look back, but he drove the feeling off.  He knew it would
not help his speed to mark how near his foes were, and he could, in any
case, do nothing but swim--swim for his life.  There is no more
helpless creature in the world than the swimmer overtaken in the water.
He can neither fight nor fly.  His powers are needed to support
himself, and, once disabled, the deadly water takes him into its
murderous embrace.

But, of a sudden, Chippy was forced to mark the terrible danger which
hung over him.

'Pull straight ahead,' said a voice, which seemed almost in his ear.
He turned his face, and his heart leapt in his side.  The muffled
rowlocks and sweeps had brought the boat almost full upon him in
silence, and the ruffian who sought his life was springing into the
bows armed with the boat-hook.  The boy scout saw all this clearly in
the moonlight--saw the second man pulling with a terrified face turned
over his shoulder, saw the heavy, iron-shod pole swinging aloft to fall
upon his head.  He drew a long breath, and filled his lungs deeply.  As
he did so, the shadow of the bow fell upon him, and at that instant he
dived like a water-hen.  There was a tremendous splash just at his ear,
and a heavy blow was dealt on his shoulder, driving him deeper still.
He turned over on his back, and opened his eyes, for he had closed them
at the instant of diving.  He saw directly above him a dark mass, and
knew that he was under the boat.  It passed slowly on, and he rose, and
his face came to the surface and was brushed by a rope.  He seized the
rope and hung on, and drew, cautiously, a deep breath.  He looked
round, and found that he had caught the painter as it dragged astern,
and that the way of the boat was checked.  Then Chippy heard a voice.
'Pull round a bit,' it asid; 'we shall soon see if he rises again or
no.'

'Not he,' said another voice, which quavered.  'Never! never!  He'll
ne'er rise again after that frightful crack you hit him.  I shall hear
it all my days.'

The hardier ruffian chuckled.  'I did fetch him a good un,' he said--'a
reg'lar oner.  I felt the hook light on him.  But pull, I tell
ye--pull!  There's no time for moanin' an' groanin' now.'

Chippy felt that way was being given to the boat, and he struck out
softly with one arm and both feet in order that he should not drag on
the boat and betray his presence.  By the aid of the painter, he could
keep his head low behind the broad stern, and quite out of sight of the
two rogues in the boat.

His shoulder ached where the boat-hook had fallen upon it, but the blow
had not been disabling, for the force had been partly broken by the
water.  In one way, it was very lucky for the scout that he had
received this sharp crack, for the thief who sought his life was now
fully under the impression that the boy had been beaten under.  This
caused the two rogues to be less thorough in their search for a head
showing above the water.  The boat was gently paddled round the spot
where Chippy had disappeared, but the men did not move to and fro in
the boat, glancing on every side.  Had they done so, the head bobbing
along under the stern would have been discovered, and there would have
been a short shrift for the daring scout.

'He'll never come up--never,' said the rower, his voice still unsteady;
'you stunned him, an' I've heard as anyone stunned will never rise
again.'

'That's true,' said the ruffian, who still poised the boathook ready to
deal a second blow if needful--'that's true, an' like enough he's gone
down for good.  Anyhow, he's been under long enough for us to be sure
he's settled.  Here, what are ye up to?'

This question was addressed to his companion, who now dipped his oars
deeply, and began to pull a strong stroke.

'I'm off ashore,' said the latter; and Chippy could hear the fellow's
teeth chattering as he spoke.  'I've had enough o' this.  I'm goin' to
get on the bank.'

'Pull away, then, chicken-heart,' jeered his more brutal comrade.
'After all, the stuff's safely stowed away.  There's no need to go back
to the old barky.'

The boat was steadily driven inshore, and at the stern Chippy swam his
hardest to take his weight off the painter and keep his head under
cover.  'I got to look out,' said the cool scout to himself, 'or I'll
get that boathook on my nut yet.'

But once more fortune favoured the brave, and the boat slid into the
deep shadow of the old landing-stage, and Chippy was still
undiscovered.  No sooner did they enter the friendly dusk than Chippy
released the painter, and let himself float without movement.  The boat
pulled on a dozen yards to the stairs, and the scout swam gently to the
shelter of a great pile.  Chippy now heard the rower fling down the
oars and spring out of the boat, and rush up to the stage above.

The second man poured a stream of jeers after his less resolute
comrade, then sat down, took the oars, turned the boat, and pulled away
down the creek, evidently bent on restoring the craft to its proper
anchorage.

The boat shot away and disappeared round the end of the stage, and
Chippy struck out for the stairs and crawled to land.  He was by this
time pretty exhausted, and he sat for a few minutes on the lowest step,
to rest and draw a few easy breaths, while the water poured from him in
streams.  As soon as he had recovered a little, he sprang up the steps,
and hurried homewards on his bare feet; for his boots were at the
bottom of the river, and he considered himself a very lucky scout to
think that he was not there beside them.



CHAPTER XXVI

CHIPPY MAKES HIS REPORT

The next morning Chippy turned up at Elliott Brothers' prompt to time.
He had had a big ducking, a rattle on his shoulder, and not much sleep;
but he was as hard as nails, and looked none the worse for his
adventure.  He had also purchased a pair of boots from a pawn-shop in
Skinner's Hole.  They were not up to much, for one and sevenpence was
the total sum the scout could raise; but they covered his feet in some
sort of shape, and he could do no more.  Mr. Malins set him to work to
shake out and tie up a great heap of sacks in the basement, and when
Chippy had finished this task he went and took a peep at the clock in
the church-tower at the end of the street.

'Mr. Elliott's in by now,' muttered the scout to himself, and he
marched straight up to the office of the junior partner, and tapped at
the door.

'Come in,' called a voice; and in Chippy went, and closed the door
behind him.

Mr. Elliott looked up from the morning letters, with which he was busy,
and raised his eyebrows.

'Well, Slynn,' he said, 'and what may you want?'

Chippy stood up very straight, and saluted.

'Come to report, sir, on the robbery at the warehouse.'

'What!' shouted Mr. Jim Elliott, and his eyebrow went up higher than
ever.

'Went on scout, sir, last night, about ten,' began Chippy, and then
plunged into the recital of his adventures.

He had no more than fairly started when the door whirled open once
more, this time without any formality of tapping, and in burst the
senior partner in a state of great excitement.

'Jim, Jim,' he called out, quite failing to notice that his brother was
not alone, 'there's more stuff gone.  The warehouse was broken into
again last night, for all the police were on the watch.  Altogether a
good seventy pounds' worth of goods have been stolen.'

'Ah, yes, Richard,' returned his brother.  'I'm just receiving a report
on the matter from one of my scouts.'

'About the burglary,' cried the senior partner, knitting his brows in
wonder and astonishment, and observing for the first time the
bolt-upright figure of the Raven, who promptly saluted.  'Do you mean
to say this boy knows something about it?'

'I fancy he does,' returned Mr. James Elliott.  'Take a chair, and
we'll hear what he's got to say.  He'd only just begun his report as
you came in.'

The senior partner sat down, and stared at Chippy with an expression of
doubt and perplexity.  'But suppose we're just wasting time here, Jim,'
he expostulated.

'Better hear what he's got to say,' said the instructor quietly; 'he's
a good scout, and a good scout doesn't waste people's time.  Now.  No.
1, Raven Patrol, go on with your report, and make it short and clear.'

Chippy went ahead at once, and for five minutes the two gentlemen
listened in perfect silence to his husky voice as he ran swiftly over
the points of his adventure.  He stopped speaking, saluted, and stood
at attention once more.

'Never heard a more extraordinary narration in my life,' burst out the
senior partner.  'It sounds incredible; the boy's been dreaming.'

'No, I think not,' replied his brother; 'or if he has, we can soon put
his statement to the proof.'

'Just what was in my mind,' said Mr. Elliott; 'we'll take him down to
the warehouse at once, Jim, and look into this.'

A four-wheeler was called from the hackney stand near the church, and
within a few minutes the two partners and the errand-boy were being
driven to the waterside.  At the gate of the warehouse yard they met
Mr. White, the manager.

'The thing's more mysterious than ever, Mr. Elliott,' cried the
manager, 'Here's Inspector Bird of the police; he's been all over the
place, and he can't find any sign that a single fastening has been
tampered with; and a constable was on patrol all night.'

'Ah,' said the senior partner, 'have you looked at the trap which gives
on the old water-gate, White?'

'Old water-gate, sir!' cried White.  'What's that?  I never heard of
such a thing.'

'No, possibly not; it's been out of service for so many years,' replied
Mr. Elliott; 'but it exists nevertheless, and we'll have a look at it.'

At this moment they were joined by Inspector Bird, and after a few
words between the police-officer and Mr. Elliott, the party of four men
and the scout went in search of the trap, the senior partner leading
the way with a lantern, for which he had asked, in his hand.

At the farther end of the great storeroom a flight of winding stone
steps led down into a huge cellar.  Mr. Elliott went first, and threw
the light of his lantern back to guide the others; for there was no
hand-rail, and an ugly fall awaited anyone who might miss his footing.

'Why, sir,' said White, 'we never use this place; it's too damp.  I've
only been down here once before in the five years I've been with you,
and there's neither door nor window to it.'

'Yes, White, there's a door,' replied Mr. Elliott; 'but it's in the
floor, and that's what we're going to look at.'

Guided by the shine of the lantern, the party marched across the floor
of the huge damp vault, and the senior partner paused beside a broad
trap-door, and threw the light upon it.  He gave a long, low whistle,
and his brother said, 'Ah, first point to Slynn, Richard.'

'It is, it is,' said the latter, after a pause--'it certainly is.'

The trap-door was in two halves, meeting on a broad central bar slotted
into the stones at either end.  Each half was secured by a couple of
big iron bolts running into sockets fixed on the bar.  The right half
was firmly fastened; the left half was unfastened at this instant; the
great bolts were drawn back, and the sockets were empty.

The senior partner put his foot on the left flap.  'Here you are,
inspector,' he said.  'The thieves came in here.'  And in a few words
he explained about the old water-gate.

'Then they had an accomplice inside, sir,' cried the inspector.

'Yes, that's very certain,' replied Mr. Elliott.  'He drew the bolts
before he left the warehouse for the night, but he hasn't been yet to
replace them.'

'My word, sir!' burst out White, 'there's one man never turned up to
work this morning--Luke Raper.  Can he have had anything to do with it?'

'Is everyone else here?' asked the inspector.

'Everyone,' returned White.

'Then I'll send one of my men after Raper at once,' said the
police-officer.

'Very good,' remarked Mr. Elliott; 'and while Raper is being looked up,
we'll go on the next step of our investigations.'

He had already ordered a boat to be got ready at a stage near at hand,
and thither went the two partners, Chippy, and Inspector Bird.  The
manager was left at the warehouse to see that everyone employed about
it stayed there until the police had finished their inquiries.  The
boat was rowed by a couple of watermen, and as soon as the party of
four had taken their seats it was pulled down the river and up the
creek to the spot where the derelict old barquentine lay.

The first man on the _Three Spires_ was Mr. James Elliott.  He
scrambled down the companion, and raised a loud cry of surprise and
pleasure.  'Here they are!' he called out.  'Here are the missing
bales!  Slynn was right in every particular.'

He was soon joined by the others, and again the senior partner indulged
in his long, low whistle when he saw the missing goods neatly piled in
a dry corner.

'As clever a hiding-place as ever I heard of!' cried Inspector Bird.
'No one would ever think of overhauling this old hulk.  But there's
your stuff, sir, all right.'

The senior partner dropped his hand on Chippy's shoulder.  'Slynn,' he
said, 'you are a brave, clever lad.  I'll admit now that I could
scarcely believe your story, but I am sure that you have spoken the
truth in every particular.  My brother and I are not only grateful to
you for this recovery of our property, but you have done a service to
every honest man about the warehouse.  It ought not to be difficult now
to trace the thief and remove all suspicion from straightforward men.'

'A very good piece of work indeed, No. 1,' chimed in the instructor;
then he turned to his brother.  'Well, Richard,' he said in quiet
triumph, 'this is one up to the boy scouts, I think.'

'It is, Jim,' returned the senior partner; 'there's no mistake about
that.  A movement which trains youngsters to be cool and level-headed
in this fashion ought to be supported.'

At this moment Inspector Bird, who had been searching the vessel
generally, came back to the group below the companion.  He had been
given a general idea of Chippy's work in the discovery of the stolen
goods, and now he wished to question the scout.

'First thing,' he said, 'did you know either of the men?'

'No,' said Chippy; 'I never saw their faces, and the only way I could
spot one of 'em 'ud be becos he'd lost a finger.'

'Lost a finger!' cried Mr. Jim Elliott.  'Why, Luke Raper's a finger
short!'

'Ah, ha!' said Inspector Bird; 'this begins to look like narrowing it
down, gentlemen.  It seems to me the sooner we have a talk to Mr. Luke
Raper, the better.'

'We'll go back to the warehouse,' said the senior partner, 'and see
whether your man has Drought Raper up to the mark.'

So back to the warehouse they went, leaving one of the watermen to
guard the goods on the _Three Spires_ until they could be removed.  But
there was no Luke Raper at the warehouse, nor was he ever seen there
again.  The police found that he had vanished from his lodgings,
leaving no clue whither he had gone, and he was never traced.  Chippy
always felt certain that he was the timorous partner of the pair of
thieves, and had fled because he feared implication in the murder which
he believed had been committed.

Almost at the same time a wild, drunken longshoreman, known as Spitfire
Bill--a name which his savage temper had earned for him--disappeared
from the wharves of Bardon River, and very possibly he was Raper's
accomplice.  No one could say, for neither man was ever brought to
book; but Raper's guilt was certain, for every other man about the
place could account for himself clearly, and none other than Raper had
a deformed hand.

Mr. Elliott wished to give Chippy a handsome reward, but the Raven
steadily refused to take it.  'Can't be done,' was his reply.  'Yer
see, theer's Law 2 an' the back end o' Law 5; they'm dead agin it.'

However, Mr. Elliott did something which filled Chippy and his
followers with immense delight.  He rigged out the Raven Patrol, from
their leader down to No. 8, in full khaki scout's rig, so that when
they went out in friendly competition or on a scouting-run with their
friends the Wolves it was hard to say which patrol was the more smartly
turned out.



CHAPTER XXVII

DICK'S GREAT PLAN

No one was more delighted to hear of Chippy's clever work in connection
with the robbery than his fellow patrol-leader, Dick Elliott.  Part of
Dick's delight, if the truth must be told, was on his own account.
'Now,' he said to himself, 'if I can only get permission to go myself,
I ought to be sure of Chippy as my companion for the week.'

What did this mean?  It meant that Dick was turning over in his mind a
splendid plan which he had formed for Whitsun week, if only he could
gain permission to carry it out.

He was burning to go a real scouting journey--a journey upon which he
would be cast upon his own resources, sleeping under the sky, or in a
hay-loft or barn, and marching through the country, patrol staff in
hand, taking what might come.  He thought it would be splendid if he
could set out on such a tramp with Chippy for a companion; and surely,
after Chippy's splendid bit of work for the firm, it would be easy to
beg for a week's holiday for him.

The Grammar School was always closed in Whit-week for local reasons.
The fine old building stood at one side of the wide market-place, and
this place was the scene of a great annual fair--a fair as old as the
town itself, and possibly older.  In former days, when manners were
ruder and rougher, the school had not been closed during Whitsun Fair,
and traditions still existed among the schoolboys of wild pranks played
by their predecessors among the booths and stalls.  In this way enmity
arose between the boys and the fair-folk--an ill-feeling which had more
than once given rise to pitched battles and serious rioting, as the
town records went to prove.  So towards the close of the eighteenth
century the practice arose of closing the school during the fair, and
forbidding the boys to frequent the market-place.  During the hundred
years and more that had passed since then the fair had fallen off very
much, but the Whit-week holiday was still given at the school.

Dick's first move in the matter was to go to his uncle and lay the
whole affair before him, including his hopes of having Chippy as a
companion.

'I don't see that you could come to much harm in a few days,' said his
uncle, when Dick had finished.  'I suppose you want me to back you up
with your father and mother.'

'That's just it, uncle,' cried Dick; 'if you'll only do that, I shall
be awfully glad.'

'Well, go ahead,' said his uncle; 'I'll do what I can for you.'

Even with his uncle's help Dick had some difficulty in gaining his
parents' consent.  At last his father was struck with a brilliant idea,
which he thought would settle the affair very neatly.  'We'll let him
go, as he's so keen on it,' said Mr. Elliott to his wife; 'but we'll
soon have him back.  I've thought of a plan.'  And he explained it.

That evening Dick was in the schoolroom busy with his lessons for the
next day, when he was summoned to the study, where his father was
sitting by the fire with the evening paper.

'Well, Dick,' said Mr. Elliott, 'about that scouting idea of yours,
now.'

'Oh, father,' burst out Dick, 'I can go, can't I?  And Chippy as well?
I'm sure you ought to be willing to spare him for a week.'

'Perhaps, perhaps,' laughed Mr. Elliott; 'but wait a little.  I'm going
to put a plan before you, to take it or leave it.  Here it is: You
shall start Whit-Monday morning, and I'll give you a couple of
half-sovereigns.  One will be for the expenses of yourself and your
companion----'

'Hooray!  Chippy's coming!' yelled Dick.

'Your companion on the road,' went on Mr. Elliott; 'and you must give
me your word as a scout that you will not go outside that ten shillings
for any expense whatsoever.  The other half-sovereign is for your
rail-fare home as soon as you are on your beam-ends--and that will be
pretty soon, I shouldn't wonder.  It will cover you up to sixty miles
third-class, and you're not likely to get outside that radius on your
feet.'

'And we can stay out till the ten shillings is gone, father?' cried
Dick.

'Up till Saturday night,' returned Mr. Elliott.  'You must be home
again before Sunday.'  He chuckled as he said this, for he did not
suppose for an instant that the scouts' trip would last more than a day
or two.  'They'll soon run through a trifling sum like ten shillings,'
he had said to his wife, 'and then, in honour bound, they must return.'

Dick gave his word joyfully, and returned to the schoolroom to gloat
over the happy time ahead, when a pair of brother scouts would march
out upon the world in search of adventure.  The next day he sought out
Chippy, and imparted the glorious news.  The Raven's eyes glittered
again at the thought of such a splendid time, and he entered into the
romance of the thing with a zest even deeper than Dick's own; for
Chippy's life had known little change and little real pleasure until
the boy scouts' movement had claimed him for its own.

'We'll camp same as in the books,' cried Chippy, his voice huskier than
ever in his excitement; 'an' we'll practise them dodges o' cookin' the
grub, so as we'll eat on the cheap.  Ten bob!  Why, ten bob!  We'll goo
fur on ten bob!'

'And it will be all right about your wages for the week, Chippy,' said
Dick; 'I've settled about that with Uncle Jim.  He laughed, and said he
rather fancied the firm wouldn't grumble at that.'

Chippy smiled and nodded, and then the boys plunged into eager
discussion of things they must do and master in order to be ready for
this noble trip.



CHAPTER XXVIII

THE SCOUTS MARCH FORTH

At seven o'clock on Whit-Monday morning the sun's rays fell on the
backs of two boys marching westwards from Bardon at the scout's pace:
Dick and Chippy were on the road.  They were in full scout's uniform,
and Chippy, in his new rig, looked as smart as Dick.  Their hats and
shorts were of khaki shade, their shirts grey flannel, their
neckerchiefs and shoulder-ties of their patrol colours, their coats
rolled at their waists with spare socks and vests tucked away in the
pockets, their haversacks slung over their shoulders.  In their
haversacks there was no food at present, for they had to purchase
everything they would need from their precious ten shillings; but each
carried a blanket which Mrs. Elliott had found for them.  Then Chippy
carried a tin billy--a present from their instructor--and Dick bore,
slung at his belt, a tiny axe, tomahawk shape, its head weighing
fourteen ounces.  This was intended for cutting wood; and, beside the
axe, each had a strong, sharp jack-knife, with spring back, so that the
blade could not close on the fingers.  Being patrol-leaders, each wore
his badge on the front of his hat, and had a lanyard and whistle; and
thus accoutred, with patrol staff in hand, they marched on their way.

'I hope it will keep fine, Chippy,' said Dick; 'we can't afford to pay
money for lodgings.  How long do you think we shall be able to keep
going on our money--till the end of the week?'

'Hope so,' replied Chippy.  'I don't want to goo back till we're
obliged.'

'Nor do I,' cried Dick.  'Well, there's the last of Bardon for a bit.'

They looked back from a little ridge, and saw the spires of the town
over a row of poplars.

'Ta-ta, Bardon,' said Dick.  'We mean to have a look at Newminster
before we see you again.'

'We do,' grunted Chippy.

Newminster was a famous cathedral city rather more than forty-five
miles from Bardon.  To go there and back would mean a tramp of some
ninety miles in the six days, and that would be a very fair achievement
to carry out on ten shillings for all expenses.  The boys talked over
ways and means as they went on.  'We got to look out for everythin' we
can pick up as 'ull help us,' said Chippy.

'I see,' replied Dick; 'we must try to live on the country.  That would
be real scout style, Chippy.  But it isn't a hostile country; we can't
take anything.'

'No, no,' agreed Chippy; 'no pinchin', o' course.  Still, theer's
things to be had in places.  Fish, now--we could cop some fish in some
rivers wheer it's free to put a line in.'

'I never thought of fishing,' said Dick; 'that's a  good idea.  But
we've got no rods or tackle.'

Chippy gave a chuckle, and dived a band into a pocket of his shorts.
He drew out a hank of fine cord and a screw of paper.  In the paper
were half a dozen hooks on gut.  'That's all as we want,' he remarked.
'Wait till we come acrost a river wheer there's suthin' to cop.'

'Good for you, Chippy,' laughed Dick.  'A few fish will help us along
in style.  Only we mustn't poach.'

'No, no,' said Chippy; 'we'll play fair.'

By eleven o'clock the boys had made, with occasional halts, just about
eight miles, and both had the knot out of their neckties.  Dick had
seen an old cottage woman labouring at her well, and had lent her a
hand with the heavy bucket, and drawn all the water she would want for
the day, while Chippy had sprung forward to hold the pony of a lady who
was visiting a sick woman in a cottage near by.

In connection with Chippy's good turn, a discussion arose between the
two scouts as they marched on from the hamlet where these things had
happened.  The lady had offered Chippy sixpence, and, of course, he had
refused it.

'Now, look 'ere,' said Chippy; 'o' course, I didn't tek' the sixpence,
becos the knot worn't out o' me neckerchief, an' the job worn't worth
sixpence, nohow, an' we got to do all them sorts o' things for nuthin',
by orders.  But s'pose I did a job for some'dy as was really worth
sixpence, an' I'd done me good turn that day, could I tek' the sixpence
to help us along?  It 'ud come in uncommon handy.  An', besides that,
we're allowed to earn money, though we mustn't beg it or tek' it for
little trifles as we ought to do for nuthin'.'

Dick looked puzzled, and thought for a moment before he spoke.

'What you say is very true, Chippy,' he said at last, 'and if you like
to earn some money for scout work, why, that's all right.  But I don't
think we could use a single farthing of it for this trip.  You see,
we're bound to the ten shillings.'

'Righto, Wolf,' said the faithful Raven; 'but if some'dy offered us a
drink o' milk for a hand's turn, or summat like that, I s'pose there'd
be no wrong theer?'

'No, I should think not,' replied Dick.  'That would be living on the
country in an honest sort of way, and on good scouting lines.'

'Just so,' said his fellow scout.  'I don't mind a rap how it goes, as
long as we understand one another.  Now we'll look out for a good place
to mek' our fust halt.'

At the general shop of the hamlet they had made their first purchases
and broken into the ten shillings.  They had bought enough flour to
fill a ration-bag for sevenpence, two ounces of tea for
twopence-halfpenny, a penny packet of baking-powder, half a pound of
brown sugar for a penny farthing, and the old woman who kept the shop
had thrown a lump of salt as big as Dick's fist in for nothing.  So
they had spent elevenpence three-farthings, and their purchases were
stowed away in the linen bags which Dick and his sister had made ready
for the trip.

'Big hole in a bob for a start,' commented Chippy; 'but we must stretch
the stuff out.'

'Oh, the flour will make us a heap of chupatties,' said Dick.  'We'll
get a lot more to eat for the money than if we'd spent it in bread.'

'Rather,' said Chippy, 'an' we'll want it, too.  Here's a spring.  Just
the place to fill the billy.'

He filled the big tin, and then they looked round for a spot to make a
fire.  Fifty or sixty yards past the spring a grassy cart road turned
aside from the track, and they went down it for a hundred yards till
they reached a quiet sunny corner.

Chippy set the billy down, and both turned to and built a fire, at
which they were now pretty expert.  First they gathered a dozen
handfuls of dried grass and made a little heap.  Over this heap they
built a pyramid of dried twigs and tindery sticks gathered at the foot
of the hedgerow.  A match was set to the dried grass, and a little red
flame sprang swiftly up and began to curl about the twigs and sticks.
Now the boys were busy scouting here and there for large sticks to pile
again in a bigger pyramid above the burning heap, and in a corner where
hedge-cuttings had been flung in the previous winter they found plenty
of fuel.  Soon they had a capital fire, and the billy was put on to
boil, while Dick turned his hand to the chupatties.

He unrolled his coat, and spread it on the ground with the lining
upwards.  Upon the lining he made a heap of flour, and formed a hole in
the centre with his hand.  Into this hole he poured hot water from the
billy, and added a little salt and baking-powder.  Then he mixed the
whole well together, kneading and working it with his hands, the latter
sprinkled with flour to prevent the dough from sticking to his fingers.
Finally he had a couple of flat buns or cakes of dough.  In the
meantime Chippy had been getting the fire ready.  A good pile of
red-hot wood ashes had gathered in the centre of the burning sticks.
When the dough was ready these ashes were swept aside, and the cakes
laid on the hot earth.  Then the ashes were piled round the cakes, and
they were left to bake.

When the chupatties were nearly baked, the billy was boiled up again,
and some tea and a handful of sugar thrown into it.  Dick had cut a
long skewer of wood to try the cakes, and he now pronounced them done.
They were taken from the ashes and set to cool, while each scout fished
a tin mug out of his haversack.  Soon they were seated at their first
meal, a thousand times more happy than any two kings.



CHAPTER XXIX

WINNING A SUPPER

While they ate the chupatties with the relish gained by their morning's
tramp, and washed them down with steaming hot tea, they looked over the
map which Dick had spread between them.

'Here we are,' said Dick, putting his finger on the very cartway
itself, which was clearly shown in the capital map.

Chippy nodded.

'Lemme see,' murmured the latter.  'Wot's the best way to head arter
this?'

The two scouts were steering clear of all high-roads and beaten tracks.
They were both agreed that there was no fun in tramping along under
telegraph wires and in the dust of motor-cars.  Anyone could find his
way where there was a row of milestones and finger-posts to keep him
straight.  They were marching purely by the map, following byways and
narrow, hidden country lanes, and unfrequented tracks which led by moor
and heath and common.  There was another immense advantage, too, in
moving by such routes.  Not merely was it excellent scouting practice,
but it afforded them quiet places for camping.  It is not easy to camp
along a high-road: there are too many people about.  No sooner does the
smoke of the evening fire begin to rise than a squad of village
loungers turn up to watch the preparations, or perhaps, worse still,
someone in authority arrives, and forbids the campers to halt in that
spot.

'Lemme see,' murmured Chippy again.  'Here's a river; that's about
seven mile again, as fur as I can mek' out.'

Dick measured the distance.  'Just about seven miles,' he said.

'Wot d'yer say to campin' pretty handy to it to-night?' went on Chippy.

'So that you can try your hand on the fish, eh?' laughed Dick.

Chippy nodded.

'All right,' said Dick, 'we'll strike out for it.  We shall have to do
about two miles along a main, then we can branch off again, and get up
to the river in very quiet country.  See, there's hardly a house marked
on the map.'

'All the better for mekin' a camp,' said Chippy; and Dick agreed.

When they had finished their meal they lay in the sunshine, chatting
and watching the fire die away.  Before they left they took care that
every ember was extinguished, so that no harm could come to the place
where they had made their halt.

It was about two o'clock when they resumed their journey, and they
moved at an easy pace, with the aim of reaching their camping-ground
towards five.  That would give them ample time to make their
preparations for the night.

Until four o'clock the march was quite uneventful, then Chippy had an
adventure with a baker's cart.  They were passing through a village
whose street was spanned at one end by a railway bridge.  Near the
bridge stood a cottage lying well back from the road, and as the scouts
passed, a baker drove up, and went to the cottage with his basket on
his arm.

While he was at the door, a train whizzed up and thundered over the
bridge, and the horse took fright and dashed away, galloping up behind
the two boys.  Both of the latter began to run with all their might in
the same direction as the horse, which soon caught them up.  He was
about to pass them on Chippy's side when the Raven flung aside his
staff, and seized the shaft with his right hand, and thus was enabled
for a few yards to keep an equal speed with the horse.  Then Chippy
gripped the near rein with his left hand and tugged with all his might.
The terrified creature was not yet too wild with fear to fail to answer
to the pull on the bit, and swung round to the left.  In this way the
scout managed to jam the frightened brute's head into the tall bank,
and thus pulled it up.  In dashed Dick and seized the other rein, and
between them the scouts held the horse until the baker ran up and
helped them to secure it.

The baker was profuse in his thanks--above all, when he had looked over
the horse and cart, and found that neither was a penny the worse,
thanks to the Raven's clever manoeuvring.

Chippy scratched his jaw thoughtfully, then spoke up:

'D'ye reckon it's worth a loaf to ye--a big un?'

'A loaf!' cried the baker, 'it's worth every loaf I've got in the cart,
and more, too.  The mare might have broke her leg and the cart been
smashed, and I gave three-and-twenty pound for the mare less 'n a
fortnight ago.'

'We'll let it go at a loaf,' murmured Chippy; and the baker picked out
the best he could find and gave a thousand thanks with it.  Chippy put
the loaf in his haversack, and the scouts trudged on.

'It'll stretch our flour out a bit,' said Chippy, and Dick grinned.

'After all, Chippy,' he said, 'the loaf was well earned, and no
mistake.  I don't see that we're not playing fair by picking up things
like that.'

'I don't see aught wrong in that,' replied the Raven; 'that's living on
the country in as straight a way as can be, I reckon.'

Beyond the village they climbed a rise to a ridge, and at the crown of
the ascent they looked ahead, and saw a wide valley before them, with a
shining stream winding its way through a green river-flat.

'There's the river, Chippy,' said Dick, 'and there goes the road up the
side of the valley, turning away from the river.'

He pointed to the white ribbon of dusty road which climbed a distant
rise and disappeared.

'We'll mek' straight for the river,' said the Raven.

'Right,' said Dick.  'Cross-country it is;' and the boys struck away
into the fields.  They spent some time in reaching the river, for they
carefully avoided crossing fields where grass was growing for hay, or
where corn was green; but at last they were on its banks at a point
where it wound across a big patch of rough common land, dotted by
flumps of gorse and broken by two or three spinneys.

The river was not wide, but it was slow, and seemed deep.  The boys
tried two or three places with their patrol staffs, and could not touch
the bottom.  Then they started to prospect for a camping-ground for the
night.

'How about under that little hanger?' said Dick, pointing to a tiny
wood which clung to a bank a short distance back from the river.

'Looks all right,' rejoined Chippy; and they went towards it.  They
were crossing a grassy strip between two clumps of furze when a small
spiny creature with a sharp nose trundled across their path some
distance ahead.  Chippy leapt out and darted in pursuit, his staff
raised.  Dick followed, saw the staff fall, and came up to find the
Raven turning over a dead hedgehog with the point of his stick.

'Supper for two,' chuckled Chippy, 'an' a jolly good un.'

'Supper?' cried Dick, 'Why, it's a hedgehog.  Who can eat a thing like
that?' and he made a face of disgust.

'Them as know's wot's good,' murmured Chippy, with a cheerful wink.
'Wait till ye've had a bit.  Besides, ain't we scouts?  An' scouts ha'
got to tackle anythin' an' everythin'.  Look wot it says in the books.
Look wot B.P. et at one time an' another.'

'You're right, old chap,' said Dick; 'but just for a minute it seemed
so jolly queer to knock over a spiny little brute like that, and then
talk of eating it.'

'Gipsies eat 'em reg'lar,' replied Chippy, 'an' I know 'ow they handle
'em.  They're good--I tell ye that.'

Carrying the hedgehog by a withe cut from a willow, the scouts went on
to the ground below the hanger, and pronounced the spot first-rate for
a camp.  There was a sandy patch at the foot of the bank, and here they
resolved to build their fire and sleep.



CHAPTER XXX

THE FIRST CAMP

The fire was taken in hand first thing, for Chippy would need a great
pile of red-hot embers for his cookery.  The hanger was littered with
dry sticks, so that there was no lack of material, and soon they had a
rousing fire crackling on the sandy soil.

At the foot of the hanger they met with a stroke of luck.  They found a
young beech-tree which had been blown down in some winter storm.  It
was now as dry as a bone and easy cutting, and Dick went to work with
the little axe, and soon cut and split a heap of logs some eight or ten
inches long and three or four inches through--first-rate stuff, for no
tree in the wood burns more sweetly than beech.  While the fire was
under way, and while Dick hacked at the beech, Chippy had gone in
search of clay.  He was gone soms time, for he did not hit on a clayey
spot at once.  But he worked along the bank of the stream where the
wash of the water had laid bare the nature of the soil until he struck
upon a seam of red clay, and dug out a mass with his knife and the
point of his staff.

He brought the clay to the fire, and next fetched a billy of water from
the river, and worked the clay into a mass which would spread like
stiff butter.  Now he took the hedgehog, opened it, and removed its
inside.  Then he began to wrap it in a thick covering of the clay.

'Aren't you going to skin it?' cried Dick, who had been watching his
brother scout's doings with deep interest.

'I am,' said Chippy, 'but not now--leastways, it'll skin itself when
the time comes.'

Soon Chippy held in his hands a great ball of clay, inside which the
hedgehog lay like a kernel in a nut.  The fury of the fire had passed
by now, and the small beech logs were heaped in a glowing mass of fiery
embers.  With a spare log Chippy drew the embers aside, and laid his
ball of clay on the heated ground, and raked the ashes into place again.

'Now,' said he, 'when we're ready for supper, that theer 'ull be ready
for us.'

'It doesn't look as if our supper was going to cost us much,' laughed
Dick.  Chippy looked up with his dry, quiet smile.

'As it's runnin' so cheap,' he said, 'we might goo in for suthin'
extra.  Wot d'yer say to a drop o' milk in the tea?'

'Where are we going to get it?' cried Dick.

'When I was down theer'--and Chippy jerked his head towards the
river--'I seen a house acrost the fields.  If ye'll turn me up a copper
ot o' the cash-box I'll tek' a billy an' buy a pennorth.'

Dick laughed and turned out a penny, and away went Chippy after the
milk, while Dick watched the fire and the haversacks they had piled
beside it.

While Chippy was away an old man came up-stream whipping it with a
fly-rod.  The time of the evening rise was coming on, but very few
circles broke the surface of the smoothly running river.  Dick went
over and asked him what luck he had had.

'Only two, an' them little uns,' said the old man.  'You see, this is a
free stretch for about a couple o' miles, an' it gets fished a lot too
much.  There are some in it, an' big uns too, but they'm too wide awake
to tek' the fly.'

When Chippy came back Dick reported this.  'Not much chance for you,
old chap,' said Dick; 'the old fellow had got a good fly-rod and fine
gut, and he could do little or nothing, so it isn't likely we shall get
trout for breakfast in the morning.'

But Chippy's calm was quite undisturbed.  'Said as there wor' some
about, an' big uns too, did he?' remarked the Raven.  'That's good
enough fer me.  Shouldn't wonder but wot I'll yank one or two on 'em
out yet.'

He set the billy down beside the fire, and Dick cried out in wonder.
'By Jingo, Chippy, what a jolly lot of milk!  You made that penny go a
tremendous long way.  You must have dropped across a good sort.'

'Just wot I did,' rejoined the Raven--'a stout old lady, with a heart
to match the size of her waist;' and he flipped the penny back at the
treasurer.

'And you've brought the penny back!' cried Dick.

'Wouldn't tek' it nohow,' replied the other; 'said I was kindly
welcome.'

'Why, we needn't make any tea,' said Dick.

'Just wot I thought,' remarked his companion; 'that's tea an' sugar
saved at a bang.  Bread, milk, an' 'edgehog ought to fill us out aw'
right this time.  Now, what about gettin' the bed ready afore we have
supper?  After supper I may be busy for a bit.'

'Right you are,' said Dick; and they turned to their first attempt of
making a scout's bed.

The farther end of the hanger was composed of a thick growth of
larch-trees, and here there had been a fall of timber in the winter.
Two or three lots of logs had not yet been carried away, and the two
scouts chose four logs of fairly suitable length for the framework of
their couch, and pegged them into position.  They could soon have
chopped the logs to the right length, but they did not do so, for that
would have been damaging other people's property, and no scout acts in
such a way as to raise difficulties for those who may come after him.

When the woodmen had felled the larches they had stripped off the
branches and cut away the plumy tops with their axes, and heaps of
branches and tops lay about among the remaining trees.  With axe and
knife the scouts cut great armfuls of the tips and carried them to the
framework.  Here they laid them to overlap each other like the slates
on a roof, as Mr. Elliott had shown them, and within an hour they had a
dry, springy bed, upon which they flung themselves, and rolled in
delight and kicked up their heels for a minute or two.

'One little job agen before supper,' said Chippy, 'but it'll only be a
short un.  I want two or three minnows, an' I saw a place wheer they
wor' swimmin' in hundreds.'

The scouts ran down to the river, and Chippy pointed to a shallow where
a great shoal of the tiny fish were glancing to and fro, their sides
glittering as they turned in the light of the setting sun.  Chippy
throw himself flat on the bank, and very slowly and cautiously slipped
his hand into the water.  The minnows darted away, but soon returned,
and the scout, with a swift, dexterous scoop, tossed a couple high and
dry on the bank, where Dick secured them.  A second attempt only landed
one, but it was a good-sized one, and Chippy sprang to his feet.

'I reckon three 'ull be enough for now, an' we ain't supposed to catch
more'n we can use.  That's in the books.  Got 'em safe?'

'Safe and sound,' replied Dick.  'But we can't eat these tiny things,
Chippy.'

'Not likely,' said the Raven, 'but they'll make first-rate bait: that's
wot I'm arter.  Now for supper.'

'I'm ready,' said Dick.  'I'm as hungry as a wolf.'

'Right thing for one o' your patrol,' chuckled Chippy, and the boys
laughed as they raced back to their camp.

Chippy opened the heap of ashes and drew out the ball of clay.  Very
carefully he broke the clay open and disclosed the white flesh of the
hedgehog, cooked to a turn, and smelling deliciously.

'Where'e the skin?' cried Dick; 'and I say, how good it smells!'

'Skin's stuck fast in the clay wi' the prickles,' replied the Raven.
'Cut some chunks o' bread while I get it out.'

Dick took the loaf and cut some good slices with his knife, while his
comrade dexterously divided the hedgehog into handy pieces.  Then they
sat about their fire and made a glorious supper.  The bread was good,
the milk was sweet, the hedgehog's flesh was tender and toothsome.
Dick forgot all about his first dislike as he ate his share and
applauded Chippy's skill and cookery.



CHAPTER XXXI

THE BIG TROUT

'The light's going fast,' remarked Dick, as supper was ending.

'So it is,' said Chippy, 'and I ain't got a fishin'-rod yet.'

He sprang to his feet and seized the tomahawk.

'Where are you going to get one?' cried Dick.

'Handy by,' replied the Raven, and marched to a thicket of hazels
within thirty yards of the camp fire.  Dick heard one or two strokes of
the little axe, and then Chippy came back dragging a tall, straight
hazel stem nine or ten feet long.  He sat down, took his knife, and
began to trim off the side branches.

'So that's your rod, is it?' said Dick.

'Jolly good un, too, for what I want,' returned Chippy.  'Ye'll soon
see.'

He trimmed the hazel and cut down the weaker end until he had a strong,
pliant rod about eight feet long.  Next he unwound his hank of cord,
tied one end round the rod a foot from the bottom, then wound the cord
round the rod for its full length beyond, and tied it again at the top.
In this way the whole spring and strength of the rod would be behind
the cord, and aid it in its pull.

'No use just to fasten the line at the top,' commented Chippy; 'if yer
do, p'raps the top 'll break, an' then theer's yer line, hook, an'
everythin' gone.'

He opened his packet of hooks and took out a largish one, whose shank
was covered smoothly with lead.

'I got these hooks from an old chap as lives close by us,' said Chippy.
'He's a reg'lar dab 'and at fishin', an' I've been with him many a time
to carry his basket an' things.  He rigged me up wi' these when I told
'im about our trip, an' I know wot to do becos I've seen him at it
often enough.  Now for the minnows.'

Chippy took the largest minnow, and, by the light of the fire, deftly
worked it over the hook and lead until the latter was hidden in the
body of the tiny fish.

'They call this the "pledge,"' he said, as he fastened the line into
the loop of the gut; 'an' the way yer use it is the "sink-an'-draw"
dodge.  It's a sure kill, an' yer almost certain to get a big un.'

'But it's going darker and darker!' cried Dick.

'Dark's the time to use it,' replied his friend; 'that's when the big
uns come out an' swim at the bottom o' some deep hole, an' wait for
summat to show up atween them an' the sky.'

The scouts now went down to the bank, where Chippy had marked a
likely-looking pool between two big hawthorn-bushes.  They moved very
softly, according to his orders, and when they gained the bank the
weighted minnow was swung out, dropped into the water without a splash,
and then lowered and raised slowly--the 'sink-and-draw' motion.

For five minutes Chippy worked steadily, and then he felt a sharp tug.
In this style of fishing one strikes at once.  Chippy struck, and found
he was fast in a fish.  He could not play it, for he had no reel.  Nor
is it safe to play under bushes in the dark.  It is a case of land or
smash, though a practised hand will land where a novice is certain to
smash.  Chippy put a swift but even strain on the pliant rod, and swung
his fish up and out.  The line was strong, the gut was good, and the
trout was well hooked.  Out it came, turning and tumbling on the grass,
and Dick pounced upon it, for its under sides showed gleams of silver
in the faint light, and he could see it bounding.  Chippy took it from
him, unhooked it, slipped his forefinger into the trout's mouth, and
broke its neck with a dexterous jerk of finger and thumb.  Then he
weighed it in his hand.  'Not a big un,' he whispered; 'about half a
pound.  There ought to be more on 'em in this pool.'

He examined the minnow, and found that by good luck the trout had done
little or no damage to it, and it would serve another turn, so he went
to work once more.  Several minutes passed, and then he had another
bite, and again landed his fish, but it was a little smaller than the
first.

'No big uns in this pool,' murmured Chippy.  'Theer's another good
place about thirty yards up.  We'll try that.'

The minnow had been badly torn by the teeth of the second trout, so by
the light of a couple of wax matches, struck one after the other by
Dick, Chippy fixed a fresh bait on the leaded hook.  Then they went up
to the second pool.

'S'pose yer have a try here,' whispered Chippy to Dick.  'It's as easy
as can be.  Ye must just let it down an' pull it up again, quiet an'
easy.  Ye'll know soon enough when a fish lays hold on it.  Then give a
little jerk to fasten th' 'ook in.  Next lug him right up, pullin'
smooth an' steady wi'out givin' an inch.  If yer do, he'll get away,
most likely.'

Dick took the rod and let the minnow down into the smooth dark pool
where stars were reflected between the shadows of overhanging branches.
Down and up, down and up, down and up, he lowered and raised the bait,
many, many times, but there was no sign that the pool held a fish.  He
was about to whisper to Chippy that it was useless to try longer, when
there came a tremendous tug, which almost tore the hazel wand out of
his grasp.  He tightened his clutch convulsively, and in recovering the
rod he struck the fish, for at the next moment the tug of a tightly
hooked 'big un' shook him from head to foot.  Then there was a terrific
splash at his feet, which caused his heart to jump into his mouth.  The
trout had leaped clean out of the water.

'Pull up!  Pull up!' yelled Chippy, and Dick pulled.  The fish was so
firmly hooked that he was still there, and now the rod bent and twisted
in Dick's hands as if that, too, were alive and trying to free itself
from his wild clutch.  Dick raised the fish slowly, for it felt
tremendously heavy, and when he had it on the surface it kicked and
wallowed till you might have thought a dog was splashing in the water.

'A good swing an' step back,' roared Chippy.  Dick obeyed, and gave a
big lift.  He felt the hazel bend and tremble in his hands, then Chippy
pounced on something, and the rod was still.

'Have we got it?' cried Dick breathlessly, for he had felt sure that
the trout was too strong for their tackle.

'Got 'im,' snapped Chippy in triumph, 'an' a good un, too.  They say
it's allus the new hands as get the best luck.  We've got plenty now,
an' it ain't allowed to tek' more'n we can eat.'

This trout was far too big for Chippy to kill with finger and thumb, so
he whipped off his jacket, rolled the fish in it, and the two scouts
hurried back to the camp fire.  Here Chippy despatched the trout by a
sharp tap behind its head, delivered with the handle of the tomahawk,
and the boys gloated over their prize.  It was a fine, short,
hog-backed trout, weighing well over three pounds, and in the pink of
condition.

''Bout as much as anybody wants to lift out wi' a nut-stick,' commented
Chippy, while Dick stared entranced at his glorious shining prize.

'Time to turn in now, I shouldn't wonder,' said the Raven, and the Wolf
looked at his watch.

'Close upon ten,' said the latter.

'Well, we've just about 'ad a day of it,' said his comrade.  'I'll bet
we'll be off to sleep like a shot.'



CHAPTER XXXII

TERRORS OF THE NIGHT

It was not until they lay down and waited for sleep that the boys felt
the oddness and queerness of this first night in the open.  Bustling
round, making the fire, cooking, rigging up their camp, eating supper,
fishing--all those things had kept at bay the silence and loneliness
which now seemed to settle down upon them like a pall.  They were quite
comfortable.  Each was wrapped snugly in his blanket.  The bed of
larch-tips was dry and springy.  The haversacks, stuffed with the
smallest tips, formed capital pillows.  Yet sleep did not come at once.

After a time Dick spoke.

'Listen to the river,' he said.

'Rum, ain't it?' replied Chippy.  'Daytime it didn't seem to mek' no
noise at all.  Now yer can't hear nothin' else.'

The river, as a river always does, had found its voice in the dark: it
purred and plashed, while over a shallow some distance below, its
waters ran with a shrill babbling, and a steady roar, unheard by day,
came up from a distant point where it thundered over a weir.

'Good job we made a rattlin' fire afore we turned in,' remarked the
Raven; 'seems like comp'ny, don't it?'

'Rather,' said Dick; and both boys lay for a time watching the dancing
gleams, as the good beech logs blazed up and threw the light of their
flames into the depths of the hanger which rose above the camp.

Sleep came to Dick without his knowing it, but his sleep had a rude
awakening.  He woke with the echo of a dreadful cry in his ears.  For a
moment he looked stupidly about, utterly at a loss to discover where he
was.  Then the cry came again--a horrible, screaming cry--and he sat
up, with his heart going nineteen to the dozen.

'Chippy!' he cried, 'are you awake?  What was that?'

'I dunno,' said the Raven, sitting up too.  'But worn't it awful?'

The cry came again, and the two boys, their heads still heavy with
sleep, were filled with horror at its wild, wailing note.

'Sounds like some'dy bein' murdered,' gasped Chippy.  'An' the fire's
gone.  Ain't it dark?'

The fire had gone down, and was now no more than a heap of smouldering
ashes.  Heavy clouds had drawn across the sky, and the darkness under
the hanger was thick enough to cut with a knife.  The two boys crouched
together side by side and quaked.  This was pretty frightful, to be
roused in the dead dark time of the small hours by this horrible outcry.

Suddenly Dick jumped.

'Chippy!' he whispered breathlessly, '_there's someone about.  I hear
them._'

Both boys listened with strained ears, and caught distinctly the sound
of light footfalls near at hand.

'_Theer's more'n one,_' gasped Chippy.

The gentle, creeping footfalls came nearer and nearer in the darkness.

'G-g-gimme the chopper!' whispered the Raven, and his voice was shaking.

'I--I--I've got it,' replied Dick; and his fingers were clenched with
the grasp of despair round the smooth handle of the tomahawk.

Chippy drew his jack-knife, opened it, and gripped it in his left hand
like a dagger.  In his right he had seized his strong patrol staff.

A sharp puff of wind blew along the foot of the slope.  It fanned the
embers of the dying fire, and a little flame ran up a twig, flickered
for a moment, then died as suddenly as it had leapt up.  But the boys
were stiff with horror.  It had shown them a strange dark form
crouching within three or four yards of the opposite side of the heap
of ashes.

'W-w-what is it?' said Dick.

'I--I--I dunno,' replied Chippy.

Another stronger puff of wind, and a little train of bright sparks shot
into the air.  Now the boys saw two great gleaming eyes, low down,
within a foot of the ground, like some creature crouching to spring,
and again the awful wild cry rang out some little distance away.

'Oh--oh--Chippy!' gasped Dick, 'I'm j-j-jolly frightened.'

'S-s-same 'ere,' returned the Raven.

'So I'm going b-b-bang at it, whatever it is.'

'S-s-same 'ere,' muttered the Raven, with chattering jaws.

'Come on!' yelled Dick; and the two scouts threw aside their blankets,
bounded to their feet, and dashed at the monster in the dusk beyond the
fire.  Chippy was nearer, and his patrol staff dealt the first blow.
Down it came with a thundering whack on something; then Dick sailed in
with the tomahawk.  But he had no chance to put in his blow, for the
creature was off and away, with a thud of galloping hoofs, and a
terrific snort of surprise and alarm.  Twenty yards away it paused, and
made the river-bank resound again--'Hee-haw! hee-haw! hee-haw!'

'Why, it's a confounded old jackass!' roared Dick; and then the two
boys burst into a peal of laughter almost as loud as the brays of the
assaulted donkey.

'Well, I'm blest!' said Chippy, 'if that ain't a good un.  The least I
thought on wor' some tramps comin' to pinch all we'd got.'

'But what made that frightful noise?' asked Dick, as they went back to
the fire and began to pile fresh logs on from a heap which had been
stacked away.

'I dunno,' replied his comrade; 'it wor' pretty rum.  No jackass as
ever lived 'ud mek' a row like that.'

They sat for a while by the fire, which soon burned up cheerfully, and
made the camp seem home-like at once.  Suddenly the wild cry broke out
again, this time straight over their heads.  The boys looked up
quickly, and saw a bird flitting silently across the light of the merry
blaze.

'Theer it is!' cried Chippy--'theer it is!  A scritch-owl--naught else.'

'Is that a screech-owl?' said Dick.  'I've heard of a screech-owl many
a time, but never heard its call.  It's a jolly horrid sound.'

'Ain't it?' rejoined Chippy.  'Wot between wakin' up sudden, and
hearin' 'im 'oot, an' th' ole jackass a-cavortin' round, I was wellnigh
frit out o' my senses.'

Dick laughed and poked the fire with a stick.  The logs flared up, and
the pleasant blaze was warm and comforting.  He looked at his watch.

'It's just half-past two,' he said.  'Fancy, Chippy, half-past two in
the morning, and we're sitting by a camp fire.'

'It's great,' said Chippy; then he gave a tremendous yawn.

'Feeling sleepy?' said Dick.

'We'd better turn in again, I reckon,' said Chippy, 'or we won't be fit
to goo on our tramp again to-morrow.'

Dick nodded in agreement, and the boys added a few fresh pieces of wood
to the fire, and rolled themselves up once more in their blankets.  In
a few moments they were soundly off to sleep again, and when they were
wakened next time it was by the sun clearing the ridge and shining full
upon them.



CHAPTER XXXIII

THE MARCH RESUMED

'Here's a jolly morning, Chippy!' cried Dick, unrolling himself from
his blanket and springing to his feet.  'The sun's hot already.  We're
going to have another splendid day.'

The Raven sprang up in turn, and the scouts shook out their blankets,
and tossed them across a furze-bush close at hand to air before they
packed them away.  The fire had burned down, but they soon revived it
by tossing armfuls of their bed upon it, and in a couple of minutes the
larch needles were crackling by thousands as the flames ran through the
tindery tips.  The logs were carried back, and carefully replaced on
the heap from which they had been taken.

Next they went down to the river, stripped, plunged into the clear,
cool stream, and swam about like a couple of young otters.  There were
no towels in the outfit, so when they came to land again they rubbed
off as much water as they could with their handkerchiefs, and finished
drying by turning about fifty Catherine-wheels on a sunny patch of the
bank.  When they were dressed again, they were glowing with warmth,
felt as fit as a fiddle, and were ravening for breakfast.

'What's the bill of fare, cook?' laughed Dick.

'Bread, tea, an' trout,' growled Chippy, 'an' a nailin' good brekfus
too.  I wish as everybody 'ad got as good.'

'Right for you, old boy,' replied Dick; 'which trout shall we have?'

'Yourn, the big un,' replied the Raven.  'I'll show yer how to cook 'im
proper.'

The fire had burned away to the glowing embers which the camp cook
loves, and Chippy, having gutted the fish, broiled it in the hot ashes,
while Dick boiled water, and made the tea, and cut more slices from the
loaf.

Then they attacked the broiled trout, and, big as it was, they made it
look rather foolish before they had finished.  The piece that was left
Chippy wrapped up in dock-leaves and stowed away in the haversack.

'Come in handy next go,' he remarked.

After breakfast they sat for an hour to see the fire out, and Chippy
took the line from the rod and put it away.

Then they got into marching trim again, took their staves in their
hands, and set off up the valley.  Twice or thrice they looked back at
the spot where they had made their first camp, but soon a spinney hid
it from their view.

'Good old spot,' said Dick.  'I shall never forget it.  It was a jolly
good camp for a start, Chippy.'

'Yus,' agreed the Raven, 'spite o' the jackass.  Theer he is.'

There he was indeed, a placid brown-coated old donkey, cropping the
grass on the common on which he had been turned out.  The boys gave him
a cheer, and the donkey, when he heard their shout, lifted his head and
brayed long and sonorously, as if he understood all about it, and was
eager to reply.

Tuesday morning's march was fairly uneventful.  The comrades did quite
a number of good turns for people, for, like good scouts, their eyes
were always on the watch for anyone who needed a helping hand, and
Chippy commented on the number of chances which turned up.

'Rum, ain't it?' he remarked; 'afore I wor a scout, I never used to
twig how many chances there are o' lendin' a hand.  I s'pose they wor'
theer, only I ne'er seed 'em.'

'That's about it,' said Dick.  'I've noticed just the same thing
myself.  Doing your work as a scout teaches you how to keep your eyes
open.'

Midday brought them to the edge of a wide stretch of heath country,
where they were quite at home.  They halted as soon as they reached the
heath, built their fire, and made a good meal on the smaller trout, the
remains of the big one, the remains of the loaf, and a billy of tea.

The afternoon journey lay directly across the great, lonely track, and
they only saw two or three small hamlets, dwellings of broom-squires,
heath- and furze-cutters, or squatters.  As the afternoon wore on the
sky began to wear an ominous look.  The scouts had seen several signs
that rain was near.  For one thing, a very sure sign, distant ridges
had shown themselves sharply clear in the afternoon sunshine, and had
looked far nearer then they were.  Now great blue-black clouds began to
roll slowly up the western sky.

'Going to be a rough night, Chippy,' said the Wolf.

'No mistake, Dick,'replied his companion; 'it'll be too wet for the
open to-night.  We'll have to look for shelter.'

'If we can only do a turn for someone and get permission to sleep in
the hayloft,' went on Dick, 'that would be first-rate.  We don't want
to spend money on lodgings.'

'Soon bust the ten bob that way,' grunted Chippy.' 'Look, theer's a
village right ahead, wi' trees an' fields.  We'll be out o' the he'th
soon.  P'raps we can manage it there.'

The scouts pushed on steadily.  They did not know it, but an adventure
awaited them which would settle the question of the night's lodging.



CHAPTER XXXIV

SCOUTS TO THE RESCUE

On the outskirts of the village a mill-wheel droned lazily as the boys
swung at scout's stride down the road.  Suddenly the drone died away,
and by the time the comrades were abreast of the quaint old wooden
water-mill the wheel was still, and its day's work was ended.

The hatches were raised, and the water, no longer turned to its task,
was pouring at a swift race into a pool below.  The race was crossed by
a small wooden bridge with a single handrail, and over the rail hung a
little girl, about seven or eight years old, watching the swiftly
running water.

As the scouts came in sight of the child a strange thing happened.  The
little girl straightened herself and held the rail firmly by both
hands.  Then, her eyes still fixed on the racing water, she began to
swing slowly from side to side.  She gave a start and tried to run
across the narrow bridge, but fell upon her hands and knees.  Here she
began to swing again from side to side, rocking farther over at every
swing.  The foaming, swift-running race had fascinated her, had dizzied
and bewildered her, and was swiftly drawing her to itself.  She was now
below the single handrail, and there was nothing to prevent her
toppling into the darting mill-race.

'She'll be in!' shouted Dick, and the two scouts rushed at full speed
to a wicket-gate where a path ran from the little bridge to the road.
Chippy was through first, and flew like a greyhound for the bridge.
Dick was a little behind.  The Raven sprang on to the bridge and made a
snatch at the little girl's frock.  His hand was darting out when she
rolled over and fell, and he missed his grip by inches.  The child's
body was at once whirled away down the race.

Chippy flung off his haversack, and was about to leap when Dick yelled:
'No, no, Chippy!  It's mere madness to jump into the race.  This way!
this way!'

The Wolf tore along the margin of the race, casting off haversack,
jacket, and hat as he ran.  At the foot of the torrent the little girl
had been whirled out into the pool, and was just sinking as Dick flew
up.  With all the impetus of his run he shot out from the bank and
clove the water with a long swift dive.  His eyes were open, and he saw
a dark mass slowly sinking in front of him.  He made a swift stroke,
and had a good handful of clothes in his right hand.  With his left arm
and his feet he struck out for the surface, and was up in an instant.
The tail of the race set up a strong current which swept inshore, and
this current caught rescuer and rescued and brought them up at a point
where Dick was in reach of Chippy's patrol staff.  Chippy, who had seen
his comrade's idea, had followed, and was now ready to lend a hand.

'Here, Dick!' he shouted, and stretched out his strong stick.  Dick
seized it, and Chippy drew both inshore.

'Take her first,' gasped Dick.  'There's no bottom; the bank goes
straight down.'

He seized a tuft of rushes springing at the edge of the water and
supported himself, while Chippy lifted the little girl out of the
water, and laid her on the bank.  In a second Dick was beside him.
Relieved of the weight of the child, Dick swung himself up and
scrambled out nimbly.

As he shook himself, an elderly man in white dusty clothes ran across
the bridge and down the bank towards them.  It was the miller.  The
shouts of the boys had called him to the mill-door, and he had seen the
plucky rescue.  He ran up trembling and white-faced, too shaken for the
moment to speak.  The little girl was his grand-daughter, the child of
his only son.

Chippy looked up sharply as he came.

'Wheer's the nearest place wi' a fire an' a woman in it?' cried the
Raven.

The miller pointed to his house, a little behind the mill, and shaded
by a grove of chestnut-trees.

'Ah!  I didn't see it at fust,' said Chippy, and he caught up the
little girl in his wiry arms, and hurried for the bridge.  He crossed
it with speedy foot, and Dick and the miller followed.  The door of the
house was open, and Chippy marched straight in and laid his burden on
the hearth in front of a blazing wood-fire.  The miller's wife came
downstairs at that moment, and uttered a cry of alarm.

'What's come to Gracie?' she said.

'Your little gell, eh?' said the Raven.  'She tumbled into the race,
an' my mate fetched her out.  She's more frightened nor hurt, I
shouldn't wonder.  She worn't in above a minnit.'

He left the child to her grandmother's care, and went out to meet Dick
and the miller.  The old man was thanking Dick with a voice which still
quavered, for he had received a great shook.

'Don't worry,' said Chippy cheerfully; 'she'll soon be all right.  Th'
old lady's lookin' arter her.  Now, Dick, wheer are ye goin' to dry
yerself?'

'Come into the mill,' cried the old man.  'There's a good fire in the
drying-kiln.'

'That'll do,' said the Raven, 'an' if ye'll kindly oblige wi' a blanket
or suthin' to wrap him in while his things are a-dryin', that'll be all
right.'

'Ay, sure, anythin' I've got ye're more than welcome to,' said the
miller.  'I'll niver forget what ye've a-done this day.  How I could
ha' faced my son if aught had happened I don't know, an' that's truth.'

He took the scouts into the mill, and then hurried away to the house.
Dick stripped off his dripping clothes, and the comrades wrung out all
the wet they could before they hung them over the kiln.

'I can manage as soon as my shorts are dry,' said Dick.  'I chucked
away the coat and haversack with the spare things in them, and they're
dry now.'

The miller came in with a big blanket, and Dick wrapped himself in it,
while Chippy ran off to collect the traps they had flung aside at the
moment of the rescue.  When he came back he began to laugh at sight of
Dick.

'Now, Wolf,' he said, 'if yer 'ad a few feathers to stick in yer hair,
ye'd look just like some big Injun sittin' outside his tent.'

'Outside his wigwam,' grinned Dick.  'Well, it's jolly comfortable
inside a blanket, anyhow.  You're pretty wet, Chippy.'

'Yus; the water run on to me a bit off the little gell,' said Chippy.
'I'll stand up to the kiln, and soon get dry.'

The miller had gone away again, and this time he returned with a jug of
steaming tea, two cups and saucers, and a plate heaped high with food.

A drap o' meat an' hot drink will do ye good,' he said, an' ye can peck
away while the clo'es do dry.'

Chippy chuckled.  'How's yer tender conscience?' he murmured to the
Wolf.  'Fair enough for us to tek' this, ain't it?'

'Fair enough?' cried the astonished miller, who had caught the remark.
'Well, what a man ye must think me!  I'd give a bite an' a sup to
anybody; an' after what ye've done, I'd pull the house down to please
ye.'

'It's aw' right,' cried the Raven hastily.  'I don't mean wot you mean.
It was only a bit of a joke wi' my pardner.'

'Oh, ay, a joke--well,' said the miller; 'but ye're welcome, an' more
than welcome.'

'How's the little girl coming on?' cried Dick, in order to turn the
subject.

'Bravely, bravely,' cried the old man.  'She'd swallowed a tidy drap o'
water, an' felt pretty queer.  But she's comin' round now.  How did ye
come to see her?'

Dick related the story of the child's fall, and the old man declared
he'd put more rails to the bridge.

''Twor' the runnin' water carried her beyond herself,' he said.  'Ay,
sure, that wor' it.'

Before the boys finished their meal the threatened storm broke.  There
was a tremendous downpour of rain, thundering on the roof and lashing
the windows.

'I'd just as lieve be agen this kiln-fire as out in that,' remarked the
Raven.  'Seems to me we'll put up here to-night.'

'I dare say he'll let us turn in on his hay, or something like that,'
said Dick.  'We'll ask him when he comes back.'  For the miller had
gone again to the house in his anxiety to see how his grandchild was
getting on.

Chippy turned the shorts, which had been put in the best drying-place,
and felt them.

'They'll be dry in no time now,' he said, and returned to the jug for
the final cup of tea which it contained.

'At the rate we're going on,' laughed Dick, 'we could stop out a month
on our ten shillings, Chippy.'

'It 'ud suit me proper,' said the Raven, cutting his bread against his
thumb with his jack-knife.  The miller had brought them knives from the
house, but the scouts preferred to use their own.

The old man was gone a long while, and when he returned Dick had got
into his shorts and dry things, and was himself again.

'Ah!' said the miller, 'now p'raps ye'll step across to the house.  My
missis do want to see ye an' thank ye.'

The scouts did not look very happy over this, for they both hated any
fuss.  But when they got into the big kitchen they found it was all
right.  The miller's wife was not a fussy person at all, and they were
at home with the old lady in a minute.  The little girl was sitting
beside the fire in a big chair.  She looked very pale, but was quite
herself again.

''Tis a new thing to her, you see,' explained the miller's wife.
'She's my son's child, and lives over to Baildon, forty mile away.  I
don't know as ever she'd seen the race a-runnin' afore--leastways, from
the bridge.'

'It made my head swing,' put in the child.

'Ay, it turned her head all swimmy like,' said the miller.  'Well, it's
a merciful providence there wor' brave hearts at hand to save ye.
Now,' he went on to the scouts, 'I can see by yer knapsacks an' sticks
as ye be on a sort o' journey through the land.'

'Yes, we're on a scouting tramp,' said Dick.

'Ah!' said the miller, and rubbed his ear.

Dick saw he did not quite understand, and he entered on a short
explanation of their movements.

'Walkin' from place to place, be ye?' said the old lady.  'Then ye must
stay wi' us to-night, an' I'll see ye have a good bed.'

A good bed!  The scouts looked at each other in dismay.  Perish the
thought!  They were not out to sleep in good beds.

'Haven't you a hay-loft?' asked Dick.

'Yes,' replied the miller.  'What of that?'

Again Dick explained.  The miller and his wife were rather puzzled at
the idea of the boys preferring the hay-loft, but they were willing
that the scouts should do as they pleased; and that night the two
comrades rolled themselves in their blankets, and slept snugly side by
side in a nest of soft sweet hay.

The next morning they were up bright and early, intending to slip off
before the people of the mill were astir; but they reckoned without the
miller, who was up earlier still, and insisted that they should eat a
good breakfast before they started.  And when at last they struck the
trail once more, they carried a huge packet of sandwiches the miller's
wife had cut for them.



CHAPTER XXXV

A BROTHER SCOUT--THE TWO TRAMPS

It was mid-morning before they got the knots out of their neckties, for
they followed quiet ways on which few people were to be met.  Then they
approached a small town entered by a steep hill.  At the foot of the
hill an old man was struggling to get a hand-cart loaded with cabbages
up the slope.  The scouts called upon him to ease up; then Chippy took
the shafts, and Dick pushed at the side, and they ran the heavy
hand-cart up the hill to the door of the greengrocer, whose shop the
old man supplied from his little market-garden.  At the top of the
hill, as they rested to get their wind, a cheery-looking gentleman
drove by in a dog-cart.  He smiled at sight of them and their task,
saluted, and called out; 'Well done, boy scouts!'

The comrades saluted him in return, and he drove off, waving his hand.

'I'll bet he's an instructor,' said Chippy.

'I shouldn't wonder,' returned Dick.  'He looked cheerful enough to be
one of ours.'

They only stayed in the town long enough to despatch a post-card, of
which Dick had a small stock in his haversack, to Bardon, to say all
was well, then pushed on, and were soon in the open country once more.

Two miles out of the town they met a comrade.  They were passing a
house standing beside the road, when a boy came out at the gate.  He
started and stared at sight of them, then gave the secret sign in full
salute; for he had observed the badge on their hats, and knew them for
patrol-leaders.  They returned the salute, and the stranger stepped
forward and held out his left hand.  They shook hands, and he produced
his badge.

'I'm No. 7 Midmead Owl Patrol,' he said.  'Midmead's about half a mile
farther on.  You'll see the village after you turn the next corner.'

He inquired where they had come from, and the Bardon boys told him, and
they chatted for some time.  The Owl was very deeply interested in
their journey, and wished a hundred times he could go on such a tramp.
Finally he rushed back into the garden from which he had come.  'Wait a
minute,' he said; but the scouts had to wait five minutes before he
returned with his hat full of new potatoes.

'Look here,' he said.  'Jolly good, aren't they, for so early in the
season?  I've grown them in my own garden.  I've got a piece of the
garden, and I grow stuff, and sell it to buy all I want for scout work.
I've done splendidly with new potatoes.  I sowed very early, and
covered the tops with straw when there were any signs of frost, and got
the first potatoes in the village, and made rattling good prices.  Do
take a few.  They'll come in handy at your next camp.'

They thanked him, and Chippy stowed the potatoes away in his haversack.
Then their fellow scout, whose name was Jim Peel, accompanied them
through Midmead and half a mile beyond.


At midday they halted, and built their fire, and overhauled their store
of provisions.  They had stayed their march beside a little brook, and
in it they washed the potatoes, and then boiled them in their jackets
in the billy.  After the potatoes were boiled, they washed the billy,
and then boiled more water, and made their tea.  They were very hungry,
for they had made a good long tramp during the morning, and the
sandwiches which the miller's wife had given them, the new potatoes,
and the tea went down very well.  Then they stretched themselves at
ease on the grass in the hot sun, with the idea of taking a good rest.

Dick spread out his map, and took his pencil to mark out the route of
their morning's journey.

'We're all right, Chippy,' he said in a tone of deep satisfaction;
'we've broken the back of our journey.  Look, we're between five and
six miles from Newminster.  That will be just a pleasant stroll this
afternoon.'

'An' that 'ull mean three days each way,' said the Raven.

'That's it,' said Dick.  'We'll do it comfortably, Chippy, my boy.'

He carefully marked the track they had followed, then closed the map,
and returned it to the haversack.  Their haversacks lay at their feet
between them and the dying fire; their staves were beside them.  The
two scouts now stretched themselves comfortably in the sun, drew their
hats over their eyes, and discussed their own affairs.

'I say, Chippy, we're bound to have plenty of cash to see us through
now,' said Dick, 'even if we have to spend steady on for the rest of
the journey.'

'Rather,' replied Chippy; 'there's a lot o' flour left, an' some tea
an' sugar, an' the bakin'-powder, an' the lump o' salt; an' we've only
spent eleven three-fardens so fur.'

'Yes,' chuckled Dick.  'I can see father smiling now as he gave me the
two half-sovereigns.  I know as well as can be what he thought.  He
felt sure we should be back before now, with our ten shillings for
way-money all blued.  And one half-sovereign is in my belt, and almost
all the other is in my purse.'

On the other side of the hedge below which the scouts lay, a couple of
evil faces looked at each other with evil joy in their eyes.  Every
word the boys were saying was falling into the ears of a pair of big,
burly tramps.  One was a stout, middle-aged man, the other a tall young
fellow with long legs; both belonged to the worst class of that bad
order.

When will this pest of lazy, loutish loafers, often brutal and
dangerous, be cleared from our pleasant highways and byways?  There are
beautiful stretches of our country where it is not safe for women and
children to stroll unattended through the quiet lanes, simply because
the district lies on a tramps' route from one big town to another, and
is infested by these worthless vagrants.  There is nothing that
dwellers in the country see with greater satisfaction than the
conviction, slowly ripening in the public mind, that this tramp
nuisance and danger must shortly be dealt with, and the firmer the hand
the better.  They are the people to shut up in compounds, where they
should be made to do a few strokes of labour to earn their living,
instead of terrorizing cottagers and dwellers in lonely houses for food
and money.  But now to our heroes and their experience with two members
of this rascally order, feared and dreaded in every solitary
neighbourhood.

We have said that the scouts had made their halt beside a brook.  They
had paused on the bridge where the brook ran under the road they were
following, and had observed that a path turned from the road, passed
through a narrow gateway from which the gate was missing, and went
along the bank.  They had gone down the path some sixty or seventy
yards, and had made their halt at a point where there was a strip of
grass some ten yards wide between the hedge of a field and the bank of
the brook.

Half an hour before the boys arrived, a pair of tramps had turned down
the same quiet side track, intending to eat the food they had begged in
a hamlet near at hand.  They had gone some distance beyond the spot
where the scouts halted, and did not discover the presence of the
latter until they were on their way back to the high-road.  The younger
tramp was leading the way, and when he saw the boys lying on the bank
with their haversacks at their feet, he stepped back into cover, and
the two rascals took counsel with each other.

'Might be the price of a pint or two on 'em,' said the elder, a
villainous-looking rogue, his tiny bloodshot eyes firing at the thought
of drink.

'Mebbe,' said the other; and they went back a score of yards, found a
gate, climbed over it into the field, and crept stealthily up on the
other side of the hedge.  Crouching behind the boys, they heard Dick
speak of the money he had about him, and they looked at each other with
evil, greedy joy on their scoundrel faces.

The assault was made at once, and through a gap close at hand.  It was
the stout, heavy man who led the way.  With an agility no one would
have suspected in his bulky, clumsy-looking figure, he bounded nimbly
through the gap, caught up the haversacks, tossed them three yards to
the other side of the fire, leapt the fire himself, then stood on guard
between the haversacks and their owners.  He was followed by the tall
young man, who posted himself in front of the scouts, and threatened
them with a heavy stick which he held in his hand.

The attack was so sudden, so unexpected, that the scouts, stretched
comfortably at full length, could do no more than sit up before their
enemies were in position.

'Kape still!' roared the long-legged tramp.  'If e'er a one on yer
tries to get up, I'll land 'im one acrost the nut!'

It was quite clear that he was in very savage earnest, and the two
scouts sat still and looked upon their foes.

The younger tramp was solemnly ferocious in looks, but the bulky, elder
man was grinning all over his drink-blotched face, his broken yellow
teeth all on view between purple lips.  He had a huge bulbous nose, far
ruddier than the cherry, and it shook as he laughed harshly at the
captives.

'That's the way to talk, Sam,' he wheezed; 'gie the fust un as moves a
good lowk as 'll mek' 'im see stars.'

'What do you want?' demanded Dick.  'You have no right to interfere
with us.  We have done no harm to you.'

'Hark at 'im!' chuckled the elder villain; 'no right t' interfere, an'
the young shaver's got the price o' gallons on 'im.'

Long Legs changed the stick swiftly from right hand to left, and
stretched out the right towards Dick.

'Fork over,' he said shortly and savagely.

Dick had been surprised at the sudden appearance of the desperadoes,
but that was nothing as compared with the surprise which now fell upon
him.  For Chippy burst out crying with all his might.

'Oh, don't 'urt me,' wailed the Raven.  'Oh, please don't.  Oh, kind
gen'l'men, let me go.  I ain't got no money, nary copper: look 'ere';
and in his wailing earnestness he scrambled to his feet, and pulled the
pockets of his shorts inside out.

The blow which had been threatened did not fall.  Although Chippy had
got up, it was to wail and lament, and the tramps took no notice of him
except to laugh at his distress.  You see, they knew where the money
was, and Dick sat still.

'See,' moaned Chippy.  'I ain't got nothin' in my pockets but a knife.
It's 'im wot's got the money, mister, not me;' and the Raven pointed to
his comrade.

'I'll bet we know that wi'out yer tellin' us,' jeered Long Legs.  'We
heerd every word ye said about that.  Come on, fork over,' he added
roughly to Dick.

Dick did not move; he only looked up at his brother scout.  He could
hardly believe his own eyes.  Chippy's face was twisted into the most
frightful contortions of grief, and tears as big as peas were hopping
down his cheeks.  The Wolf's bewilderment was complete.

'Oh! oh! mister,' cried Chippy, 'lemme go! lemme go!  I ain't got a
farden.'

'All right, wait a bit,' chuckled the younger tramp.  'We'll put that
straight.  We'll go whacks with ye.  Now then, you, turn that money up,
will ye?' he went on to Dick.  'There's nineteen bob an' a farden on
ye, we know.  We'll ha' the nineteen bob, an' yer mate shall ha' the
farden.'

This struck Fiery Nose as a very good joke, and he grinned till he
showed his yellow fangs right back to the grinders.

'Righto, Sam,' he laughed; 'we'll mek' a division of it.'

'Oh, oh!' moaned the Raven.  'I don't want no farden.  Only lemme go.
Oh! oh!  _B.P._  Lemme go, mister, please, an' I'll thank ye ever so
much.'

Dick stiffened himself from head to foot.  What was that Chippy had
worked in among his sobs and moans?  B.P.--the motto of their
order--'Be Prepared.'  Dick held himself tense as a bowstring, ready
for anything.

'The one wi' the rhino ain't in no 'urry to fork over, Sam,' said the
elder tramp.  'Ye'll ha' to go through 'im, while I see wot's in these
'ere bags.'



CHAPTER XXXVI

CHECKMATE

The haversacks were behind him on the bank of the brook.  Sam, for his
part, turned upon Dick with a ferocious oath, and a fresh demand for
the money.  Of the whining, puling, weeping Raven they took no notice
whatever.  No notice!  Ah, ha, Messrs. Long Legs and Fiery Nose, you
are making the mistake of a lifetime.

No sooner was their attention drawn from him than the Raven made his
leap, swift and silent as a charging panther.  He darted upon the stout
tramp, whose back was towards him, as its owner bent over the
haversacks.  Chippy placed both hands against a certain portion of the
tramp's person which afforded him an excellent purchase, and gave a
tremendous shove.  Fiery Nose stumbled forward, caught his feet in the
haversacks, grabbed wildly in the air to save himself, found nothing to
fill his clutch, and pitched head first over the edge of the bank into
the deep, slow brook.  Crash!  Splash! he went into the pool, and the
water leapt like a fountain under his terrific plunge.  But the Raven
did not stay to observe the success of his manoeuvre.  Quick as a trout
in a stream he was off at full speed, but he had the haversacks tucked
safely in his arms.

Round whirled the younger tramp in time to see his comrade hit the
water.  He swung up his stick for a blow at the nimble gliding Raven,
but as he sprang at the scout, Dick thrust his staff between the long
legs, tripped him up, and sent him sprawling with his face in the hot,
smouldering ashes.  Chippy was already racing for the road, and Dick
followed at top speed.

In a moment the tramp was on his feet, and dashing the wood ashes out
of his eyes and hair.  Then he caught up the stick which had flown from
his hand and pursued the fugitives, a wild medley of execrations
pouring from his lips.  In the pool Fiery Nose wallowed and blew like a
grampus, and howled for help.

Dick looked back and saw the long-legged tramp covering the ground at a
tremendous pace.  He was a big, powerful fellow, and was armed with an
ugly club.  The scouts were not out of the wood yet.  They turned a
corner and saw the gateway with no gate close before them.  An idea
shot into Dick's head.

'Run straight ahead, Chippy,' he called.  'Leg it down the road.'

The Raven made no reply.  He obeyed orders, feeling sure that his
comrade had a reason for what he said.

The boys shot through the gateway, and Dick turned abruptly and dropped
down beside it.  The gateway was a couple of posts on which a wicket
had once swung, nothing more.  But a thick bramble-bush grew beside the
right-hand post, and in cover of this bush Dick was crouching.  He
peered through the bush and saw the tramp come tearing round the bend.
The rascal saw Chippy disappearing over the bridge, and thought the
second fugitive had already vanished.  He roared a fresh set of
exceedingly impolite remarks and wishes, and came on like a tornado in
full career.  And as he charged into the narrow gateway, a stout patrol
staff slid across, and was laid on the inner sides of the posts.  He
never even saw it, so madly was he bent on his pursuit, and it did its
work to a miracle.  He put one foot fairly under it, and as he rose to
his wild bound the staff took him a little above the ankle and tripped
him up.  The surprise was so complete that he could not save himself.
He came down headlong on the hard causeway, and ploughed up the gravel
for a foot or more with his features.

The crash knocked all the wind out of him: it deserted his body in a
fierce whistling sound, something between a grunt and a howl, and he
was half-stunned besides, with his nose flattened into his face.

Dick gave a yell of delight, whipped out his staff--the stout bit of
tough ash had taken the shock with hardly a quiver--and raced after his
comrade.  Chippy was a good way down the road, and when he glanced
back, Dick waved his stick in triumph.  The Raven at once eased to
allow his friend to come up, and Dick shouted the glad news as he
joined his comrade.

Chippy shouted with delight.  'He's done for,' cried the Raven.  'A1,
that was.  No more runnin' for 'im just yet.  That was splendid, Dick.'

The boys swung their haversacks across their shoulders and continued
their way at a steady, loping trot.

'Oh, Chippy,' cried Dick, 'but yours was the splendid dodge, the way
you took those fellows in!  They never dreamed but that you were sick
with fright.  How did you manage it?'

'Oo,' said the Raven, 'there ain't nothin' in that.  Anybody can mek'
believe to cry and beg for mercy, like.'

'Ah,' cried Dick, 'but there were real tears streaming down your face,
Chippy.  How did you do that?'

'Easy as easy,' replied the Raven.  'Yer just jab yer fingers in the
corner o' yer eyes.  I'll show yer.'

'Thanks,' laughed Dick.  'I'll take your word for it, old boy.  It
doesn't sound too delightful.'

'I wonder if the old un's out o' the pool yet,' said Chippy, as they
trotted on, and the scouts shouted with laughter as they recalled his
terrific plunge.

'The other can go back and help his friend out when he's got his wind
again,' said Dick.

'Rough on the pool, though,' muttered the Raven; 'that nose o' his wor
enough to mek' the water boil.'

'What luck to lose nothing!' cried Dick.

'Barrin' my stick,' put in Chippy.

'Why, yes,' replied Dick.  'Upon my word, I hadn't noticed that.  Of
course, your hands were filled with the haversacks, and your staff has
been left on the bank where we were resting.'

'Ne'er mind,' said the Raven; 'it's wot we could best afford to lose.
Soon cut another.'

The boys did not check their pace until they reached a large village a
mile or more from the bridge, and then they dropped into their usual
scout's stride.

On the other side of the village they came to another bridge, this time
spanning a canal.

'Here we are,' said Dick, for the scouts intended to follow the towpath
into Newminster: it would save them a mile and a half of dusty
high-road.

They went down to the bank and started off along the side of the canal.
It was not a dirty piece of water, malodorous and unsightly, as canals
are in manufacturing centres: it was like a straight stretch of a
clear, beautiful river.  There was a towpath only on the one side.  The
other was a grassy border, where sedges and bulrushes grew, and cows
came down from the meadows to drink.

The scouts had barely gone half a mile when they came upon a barge
lying beside the bank.  They glanced into its cabin as they went by,
and saw that a tiny fire was burning brightly in its stove, and that it
was a very trim, smart little place.  But there was no bargeman, no
horse, no one; the barge seemed deserted.  The boys went on, and soon
heard cries of anger and distress coming down the breeze.  They broke
into the scouts' trot, turned a bend, and saw a stout lady pursuing a
white horse.

Chippy knew all about canals.

'Broke 'is tow-line, an' now he's 'ookin' it,' observed the Raven.
'Come on--scout's job 'ere.'

The old white horse was not hooking it very fast.  There was no need
that he should.  The stout lady jogged a few steps, then settled into a
walk.  The old horse cropped the grass beside the water till she was
close at his heels, then he jogged off a little and settled down to
grazing again.  But the active scouts soon settled his hash.  They
passed the stout lady at full speed, and ran down the old nag within
fifty yards.  Then Dick led him back to the barge-woman, who was
mopping a hot red face with a big red handkerchief.

'Well, I'm more'n a bit obliged to yer,' she panted, 'an' thank ye
kindly.  The line parted, and I thought I never should ketch that
dratted ole creetur.  Ah, ye good-for-nuthin',' she cried to the horse,
who now held down his nose and looked meekness itself, 'an' the good
missis I am to ye.  Allus plenty to eat, and no whippin'.'

'He went off on a little beano,' said Chippy soothingly.  'Don't blame
'im.  They all will when they get the chance.  Now we'll rig 'im for ye
tight an' sound.'

The boys led the horse back to his deserted task, fished the broken
rope out of the water, and joined the parted ends with a sheet-bend
knot, such as all scouts learn to tie.

'Goin' to Newminster?' asked the bargewoman.

'Yes,' said Dick.

'In a hurry?'

'Not particularly,' he said.

'Why not ride along o' me?  It ain't fast, but it's as easy as
anythin'.'

Now, neither scout would have confessed it to the other for worlds, but
each of them was feeling the three days' tramp a little; and besides,
the idea of gliding along the river-like canal on the barge, which was
very clean and gaily painted, was rather fascinating.

'You're very kind,' said Dick, and glanced at his comrade.

'I'd like it prime,' murmured Chippy.

'Jump on,' said the stout lady; and the scouts were aboard in an
instant.

Dick was less familiar with a barge than Chippy, and he inspected with
the deepest interest the snug, neat little cabin, as bright and clean
as a new pin, with its little stove, its narrow seats, its shelves, and
cupboards, with everything stowed away in shipshape fashion, the whole
place reminding him of a room in a big doll's house.

Chippy complimented the lady of the barge on the smartness of her ship.

'We keep it as tidy as we know 'ow,' she replied.  'Me an' my 'usband
we niver tek' dirty loads--coals, or anythin' like that.  Crockery an'
earthenware we got under the canvas now'--and she nodded
forward--'that's the sort o' load for us.  Queer thing the ole horse
broke loose this arternoon when I'm by myself, which don't often
happen.  My man he's gone on to Newminster, an' there we'll stop
to-night.'  Then she gave her attention to steering the barge round a
bend, while the old horse plodded along the bank as meekly as if
thoughts of running away could never enter his head.

In a quiet bend of the waterway the bargewoman roared 'Wo!' and the
white horse pulled up at once and whickered.

'Time for 'is nosebag,' she said, 'an' 'e knows it very well.  An'
we'll have a cup o' tea.  I allus pull up for that, an' tek' it quiet
an' comfortable, wi'out havin' to bother about steerin'.'

She fished out a tin bucket already filled with chaff, and proceeded to
climb ashore and hang it round the horse's head.

'Tea for three,' murmured the Raven.  'More grub;' and Dick smiled.

The meal was a very cheerful little affair.  The scouts sat on the roof
of the cabin in the sunshine, with their cups beside them, and their
hostess spread butter liberally on the slices of a large cottage loaf,
and encouraged them to eat heartily, and set them a first-rate example
herself.

Over the teacups they chatted freely, and the boys explained their
movements.  Among other things, they narrated their adventure of a few
hours ago with the tramps, and the bargewoman was very indignant.

'Lazy good-for-nothin' varmin--that's what I call them tramps!' she
cried.  'I know what I'd do wi' 'em.  I'd take ivery man-jack of 'em by
the scruff o' his neck, an' set him at a job, that I would, as sure as
my name's Hester Slade.  An' I'd say to him: "When that's done ye'll
get sommat to eat, an' not afore."  That's wot I'd say.  "Work or
starve!"'  And Mrs. Slade waved the bread-knife above her head, as if
it were a sword flourished in defiance of the whole army of tramps in
general.



CHAPTER XXXVII

AT NEWMINSTER

'We come off pretty well,' said Chippy--'lost naught but my stick.'

'I'll show you where to out another afore we get to Newminster,' said
Mrs. Slade--'a place where my man often cuts a stick.  'Tis a
plantation of ashes on a bank lookin' to the north.  Heavy, holdin'
ground, too--just the spot for slow-growin' tough timber.'

She went to the towpath once more to unstrap the tin bucket from the
horse's head, and set him to his task again.

'I fancy we shall have to stay somewhere in Newminster to-night,
Chippy,' said Dick.

Chippy grunted in a dissatisfied fashion.  The Raven was very keen on
doing the trip for the smallest possible outlay of money.  It seemed to
him so much more scoutlike to live on the country, as they were fond of
saying, and to pay for shelter did not seem to be playing the game.

Dick nodded.  'I know what you mean,' he said, for he had quite
understood Chippy's grunt.  'But we're bound to make Newminster, and
send off a card to show we've been in the town.'

'O' course,' said the Raven.

'And then it will be rather late to start off again and strike for the
open country to search for a camping-place.'

'Right, Dick--quite right,' rejoined his comrade; 'the wust of it is as
lodgin's cost money.'

'Needn't cost ye a single copper this night, anyhow,' said a voice in
their ears, and the scouts jumped.  Mrs. Slade had come up unseen, and
had caught the last words of the Raven.

'Here y' are,' she went on, and pointed to the snug little cabin;
'that's yourn to-night if ye want it.'

'But you'll need it for yourselves,' cried Dick.

'Not this night,' she replied.  'I've got a married darter in
Newminster.  She've a-married a wharfinger in a good way o' business.
Such a house as she've got!  Upstairs, downstairs, an' a back-kitchen.'

Mrs. Slade visibly swelled in importance as she described her
daughter's palatial surroundings.  No doubt they seemed very extensive
indeed after one small cabin.  'An' 'tis settled we stay wi' her
to-night, so the cabin 'ere will be empty, an' ye're as welcome to it
as can be.'

The scouts' eyes glistened, and they were easily induced to accept the
kindly offer, and so they glided on their way towards the town,
chatting together like old friends.  Mrs. Slade pulled up for a moment
at the ash plantation, and Chippy sprang out with the tomahawk.  In
five minutes he was back with a tough, straight ash-stick, which he
trimmed and whittled with his knife as they made the last mile into the
city.

At the wharf where the barge was to lie for the night they met Mr.
Slade, a short, thick-set man, with a short, broad face between a fur
cap and a belcher handkerchief.  He was to the full as good-natured as
his wife, and cordially re-echoed her invitation for the scouts to
sleep in their cabin.  The wharfinger's house was near at hand, so that
the owners of the barge would not be far away.

The scouts stowed their haversacks and staves away in the cabin of the
barge, shut it up, and locked it with the key which Mrs. Slade had lent
to them, and left the key at the wharfinger's house.  Then they put on
their jackets and went for a stroll round the streets of the quaint old
city.  The long summer evening was dying as they stood below the fine
west front of the cathedral, and watched the swallows skimming about
the noble towers.  Near at hand was a post-office, where Dick
triumphantly scribbled, 'At Newminster.  All well,' on a card, and
dropped it into the letter-box.

'Supper and turn in now, Chippy,' he said,

'Righto,' murmured the Raven.  'We must be off early to-morrow.  Road
home 'ull work out three or four mile more'n the road 'ere.'

'That's a fact,' said Dick; 'but we'll turn up at Bardon by Saturday
night without setting foot in a train yet.  Now, Chippy, what shall we
have for supper?  We've got jolly good lodgings for nothing: we can
afford something extra for supper.'

They were going down the street which would lead them back to the
wharf, and the Raven paused in front of a butcher's shop.

'Can we sport a pound o' sausages?' he said.  'They'd mek' a good feed
to-night, and we'd have one or two left for brekfast again.'

'Good,' said Dick, and they laid down eightpence for a pound of
sausages, and threepence for a small loaf, and returned to the barge.
Here they fried their sausages and made some tea, for the fire in the
stove was not out, and the good-natured bargewoman had left them a
small bucketful of coke to make it up again.

After supper they carefully put out the fire, and turned in on the two
bunks which lay one on either side of the little cabin.  Here, wrapped
in their blankets, they slept like tops till five o'clock in the
morning.

Chippy was the first to wake, and he got up and thrust his head out at
the hatch.  His movements aroused his comrade, and Dick sprang to the
floor.

'Lucky we've been in 'ere,' said Chippy.  'It's been pourin' o' rain in
the night.'

So it had.  The hollows among the stones which paved the wharf were
filled with pools of water, and everywhere had the fresh-washed look
which accompanies a heavy downpour.

'Well, we've been snug and dry enough,' cried Dick.  'Now for breakfast
and a start.'

They had cooked the whole of the sausages the night before, so that
they did not trouble to light a fire.  They finished the loaf and the
sausages, and were almost at the end of their meal, when Mrs. Slade
came across from the wharfinger's house.  Through her good offices they
obtained a bucket of clean water, and washed their faces and hands,
promising themselves a good dip in the first river they came to in
their day's journey.  So by half-past six they had said farewell to the
bargewoman, and were marching through the silent streets of the little
city in the sweet freshness of a June summer morning.

They had entered Newminster from the south: they were leaving it
towards the north.  In order to cover fresh ground all the time, they
had planned their route so that their track as marked on the map showed
as a very much flattened oval.  They had worked towards Newminster on a
south-westerly sweep; they were working home again on a north-easterly
tack.



CHAPTER XXXVIII

HOMEWARD BOUND--A DISH OF EELS

For nearly three miles they held to the main road, going due north,
then turned aside to a quiet grassy by-track running north-east, and
were fairly launched on their new route.  Moving in quiet, steady
fashion, they made nine miles before they halted, then pulled up below
an oak-tree on the borders of a little wood for a long halt during the
heat of the day.  Both, though in good, hard condition, were dripping
with sweat, for the day was unwontedly sultry for early summer.

'Don't mind if I do stretch me legs a bit,' grunted the Raven.

'Yes,' said Dick; 'jolly stiff going to-day, Chippy.  Isn't it hot?
But we can take a good long rest now.  We've broken the back of the
day's journey.'

'Right time to do it, Dick,' said his friend.

'Rather,' said Dick; 'no time for a tramp like the freshness of the
morning.'

The boys stretched themselves in the shade and lay at their ease for
half an hour, then Dick sat up.

'Well,' he said, 'there seems a hollow inside me somewhere.'

'Same 'ere, Dick,' murmured the Raven.  'We'll fill up.  Wot's the bill
o' fare?'

'Chupatties and tea, I fancy,' replied the Wolf.  'We've been carrying
the rest of that bag of flour about since Monday morning.'

'All to the good,' murmured Chippy, 'all to the good.  Wot we've
dropped in for has saved our----'  He pulled up abruptly, and did not
utter the word 'cash,' which had been in his mind.  'Shan't mention
that,' he continued in a lower whisper still, ''cept we're in the
middle of a ten-acre field.'

Dick laughed.  'We got into a trifle of a fix the last time we
discussed that subject,' he said.  'I say, Chippy, do you reckon that
it was a bit of a blot on us as scouts that we were caught like that?'

Chippy heaved a deep sigh.  'I've never mentioned it,' he replied, 'but
it's bin on my mind more'n once.  Seems to me we orter scouted round
more to find whether there wor enemies in the country.  They 'ad us on
toast, they did.  Reg'lar let down for a pair o' scouts,' and Chippy
sighed again.

In order to banish these melancholy thoughts, the Wolf and the Raven
began to get something to eat.  The Wolf opened his jacket and mixed
the flour on the lining, while the Raven fetched water and made a fire,
and chopped and peeled and heated a club.

When the dough was ready, Dick worked it into a long strip which was
wound spirally round the club.  Then the club was thrust into the
ground beside the fire, one end of it being sharpened.  Now and again
the club was given a turn while the dough toasted steadily.  Chippy
watched the dough, and Dick made the tea.

They ate their meal, rested a couple of hours, then went on again.  It
was now midday, and tremendously hot.  But they were not going a great
way.  The map showed the winding blue line of a river two miles ahead,
and they were in search of it for a pleasant swim.

They gained the bank of the river, sat down a short time to cool off,
then stripped and plunged in, and spent a delightful half-hour in the
clear water.  As they were dressing they observed that a faintly marked
path ran through the meadow at the edge of the stream.  They followed
it when they were ready to march once more, and soon came upon a mill
standing at the waterside.  Above the mill was a broad pool, and in the
shade of some bushes trout were feeding, or, more likely, playing, for
now and again one would leap clean out of the water and fall back again
with a flash of silver.  The boys sat down on the bank beside the water
and gazed upon the pleasant pool.

'It would come in handy if you could catch a few of those trout,
Chippy,' said Dick.  'Those were all right we caught on Monday night.'

The Raven shook his head.  'Wish I could, Dick,' he replied; 'but that
dodge ain't no use now, an' I couldn't get them over theer to look at
anythin' I've got wi' me.'

'I suppose not,' said Dick.  'I say, Chippy, see that heap of stones
just under the bank here.'

The Raven glanced down and saw what his brother scout was pointing at.
It looked as if for generations the millers had flung their broken
mill-stones into this part of the pool, and they lay piled against each
other with black hollows between.

Chippy looked down thoughtfully, then his eyes lighted up.  'Never seen
a more likely place in me life for big eels,' he grunted; 'they love a
hole atwixt stones lik that.'

'Do you think we could catch a few?' cried Dick eagerly.

'Shouldn't wonder,' replied his comrade.  'We'll have a go, anyhow.
Fust, we want some lobs.'

The search for lob-worms was made at once.

'We'll have to dig for them, I suppose,' said Dick.

'Not a bit of it,' said Chippy.  'I'll show ye a lot quicker way than
that.'

He went to the side of the field where there was a ditch nearly dry in
the hot sun.  He walked along the ditch until he came to a stone.  He
turned the stone swiftly, and there was almost sure to be a big lob
lying underneath it, sometimes two or three.  Before they could
withdraw into their holes the Raven's finger was pressed on their
tails, and they were helpless.  In a few moments he had collected more
than a dozen big lobs, and these were carried back triumphantly to the
mill-pool in his hat.

Next he cut a couple of hazel-rods about four feet long, and fairly
stiff, tied a short line to each, and fastened a strong-eyed hook at
the end of the line.

'Now we're ready,' he said.  'This little game's called "sniggling,"
an' it's a sure thing if only th' eel's at 'ome.  Lemme get 'old 'o one
fust, an' show ye how to pull 'im out.'

Chippy put a lob on his hook, and then pinched a small split bullet--of
which his friend had given him half a dozen--on the line about six
inches above the hook.  He dropped the weighted bait into a dark hole
between two fragments of stone, and moved it gently about.  Two or
three minutes passed; then the Raven drew his bait up.

'Nobody in,' he remarked; 'try next door.'  He moved a yard along the
bank, and dropped the bait into a second dark crevice.  It was seized
instantly, and the line sharply plucked.

'One 'ere,' said Chippy; 'there's no mistake about hearin' from him, if
there's one about.'

'Look how he's pulling at the line!' cried Dick, as the slender cord
jerked again and again.

'Yus,' said Chippy; 'nuthin' plucks an' pulls like an eel.  Now he's
got a good hold o' the bait, an' out he comes.'

The Raven began to pull firmly but slowly, keeping the line quite taut.

'Don't try to yank 'im out,' he said to his pupil.  'Sure's ye do,
ye'll break the line an' lose the lot.  Pull gently at 'im till he's
tired; then out he comes, smooth an' easy.'

Three or four minutes passed before Chippy drew the snake-like head of
the eel out of the black hole between the stones.

'A good un,' he snapped, drew on the line a little harder, and swung an
eel weighing half a pound or more to the bank, where he promptly put
one foot on the eel and drew the line taut.

'See wot I'm doin'?' said the Raven.  'If ye don't look out, he'll
tangle hisself all up in yer line, an' give ye a fine old job to get
'im free.'  With that he whipped out his knife, and despatched the
wriggling creature by cutting off its head.

Dick now took his stick and line to try his luck, while his comrade dug
out hook and bait, which had vanished down the eel's throat.  Dick
caught a little one in the first hole that he tried, and drew it safely
to the bank.  But there he failed to control its wild, sinuous
movements, and it tangled itself up in his line in such a style that
Chippy had to come to his aid.

After that he got on much better, and caught two good-sized ones, and
held them and the line taut, while Chippy sailed in with the knife and
whipped their heads off.

In a short time they had seven, for the holes were well furnished with
occupants, and with these seven they stayed content.  They washed them
in a quiet backwater, and rubbed them as clean as they could with wisps
of dry grass, and then packed them in Chippy's haversack, with more dry
grass about them.

'Mek' us a jolly good supper to-night,' said the Raven.

'They will,' cried Dick.  'Now for the road again.  We've got an uphill
stretch before us, Chippy, according to the map.'



CHAPTER XXXIX

THE STORM--WHAT HAPPENED WHILE THEY DRIED THEIR CLOTHES

Within a mile again, the track they were following--a very ancient
vicinal way--began to rise over a long stretch of moorland used mainly
for sheep-walks, and covered in places with wide patches of low-growing
bilberry-bushes.  On some of these bushes the purple little berries
were already ripe, and the boys gathered them in handfuls, and ate them
as they walked.

Suddenly a low, heavy muttering called their attention to the western
sky, and they saw a blue-black cloud rising swiftly.

'Thunder,' said Dick; 'that's what this terrific heat has meant.'

'Best step out,' remarked the Raven.  'No shelter about 'ere for a mile
or two.'

They stayed no longer to gather bilberries, but pushed on at a steady
swinging stride, looking back from time to time at the storm, which
seemed to pursue them.  A wind sprang up, and wild gusts raced past
them, and howled across the moor.  Light, swift clouds which seemed to
be flying before the storm hurried across the sky, and the sunshine was
swallowed up and the day darkened.

Dick looked back and whistled.

'Here comes the rain, Chippy,' he said.  'We'd better put our jackets
on.'  They did so, but the Raven shrugged his shoulders as if he was of
the opinion that jackets would be but slight protection against the
downpour now rushing upon them.

The thunder-shower was perhaps a couple of miles away, and marching
across the country in a line as straight as if drawn with a ruler.  A
clump of pines stood out darkly against the white veil of the streaming
rain.  As the scouts looked, the pines were swallowed up, and the wall
of water stalked swiftly on towards them.

They looked round, but there was not the faintest chance of gaining the
least shelter.  All round them the earth was covered with low-growing
bushes; there was neither tree nor hedge nor fence to break the force
of the torrential downpour.  A mile in front the road topped the ridge
and disappeared.

'There may be shelter beyond the ridge, Chippy,' cried Dick.  'Let's
run for it.'

They ran, but in vain.  Long before they gained the ridge the storm was
upon them--first a few heavy drops, then a downpour which made the
earth smoke again.  In two minutes the scouts were wet to the skin, and
the storm lasted twenty.  Then it raced past them, hissing and roaring,
and left them tramping down the farther side of the ridge, their boots
full of water, and not a dry thread about them save for the blankets
stowed in the waterproof haversacks.

When the rain passed away, the two scouts, who had been tramping
steadily along without growling at the weather, stopped and looked at
each other, leaning on their sticks.

'Well, Chippy,' laughed Dick, 'we look like a pair of drowned rats.'

'That's about it, Dick,' grunted the Raven, and tried to do a step or
two of a dance.  This set the water bubbling out over the tops of his
shoes.

'We must dry ourselves somehow or other,' went on Dick.  'You know, B.
P. says it's jolly dangerous to go on in your wet clothes.'

'Sat under a waggon wi' nuthin' on while he dried 'em when he'd been
wet,' quoted Chippy.

'And you remember his dodge for drying his toggery?' said Dick.

'Rather,' returned the Raven; 'fire under a cage o' sticks.'

'Right,' said Dick; 'and there's a copse ahead.  We'll halt in it, and
dry ourselves.'

They marched briskly for the copse, hung their haversacks on the branch
of a small, low-growing oak, and went to work at building a fire.  It
was no easy task, but by searching in corners where thick bushes had
turned aside the worst of the downpour, they found odd handfuls of dry
stuff to start their blaze.  Luckily the matches had been in Dick's
haversack, and were perfectly dry.  A small dead larch afforded them
twigs and sticks when once the fire was started, and Dick chopped the
dead tree into small, handy pieces, and fed the flames with them.  They
did not want a lasting fire, but a heap of hot ashes, and this would be
soonest afforded by small pieces of wood.

While Dick was busy with the tomahawk, Chippy attacked a thicket of
tall, straight-growing hazels with his knife, and cut an armful of the
springy rods.  As soon as the fire burned down, the boys took the rods,
sharpened each end, took an end each, bent the rod into an arch, and
drove the ends deeply into the soft earth.  In this way they had soon
covered the fire in, as it were, with a great basket.  Then they
stripped off their sodden raiment, wrung it out, and spread it over the
bent hazel-rods to dry.

The excellence of the plan was soon manifest.  Clouds of steam began to
rise from the wet clothes, and promised that they would soon be dry.
But it was cool after the rain, and the clothes hid the fire, and the
scouts felt no inclination to sit under a waggon, as their great leader
had done; they felt more inclined to move about a little to warm
themselves.

'It's jolly cold compared with the heat before the thunderstorm,' said
Dick.

'Ain't it?' said Chippy.  'I'll race ye to th' end o' the copse an'
back.  That'll warm us a bit.'

'Right,' said Dick.  'Let's cut along where the larches and firs are.
It'll be fun sprinting over the fir-needles, and soft to the feet.
Where do we run to?'

'The big beech yonder,' said the Raven.  'I'll count.  We'll go at
three.'

He counted, and away bounded the two scouts, racing at their fastest
for the big beech which they were to touch, then to return to their
fire.

Now, the last thing they expected to have was a witness of their race.
They believed that the copse was a lonely patch of wood on the lonely
heath.  So it was, save for one house which lay just beyond the wood
where the ridge sloped away to the south.  The house was that of a
sheep-farmer, whose flocks fed over the moorland; and as the boys raced
through the little wood, the shepherd left the farmsteading, where he
had been sheltering from the storm, and came up through the copse to go
about his business.

The scouts did not see him, but he saw the scouts.  For a few moments
he watched the race, his mouth gaping wide in true rustic wonder; then
he turned, and hastily retraced his steps to the farm.  He burst into
the kitchen, where the farmer and his wife were seated at a round table
in front of the wide hearth, taking their tea.

'Maister! maister!' cried the shepherd, 'theer's two bwoys a-runnin'
about i' the copse wi' ne'er a stitch on 'em.'

'What's that ye say, Diggory?' cried the farmer's wife.

'Ne'er a stitch on 'em, missis, a-runnin' about there like two pixies,
they be.  A' niver seed such a sight afore in a Christian land.  'Tis
like haythens, on'y they be white uns 'stead o' black uns.'

'What do ye make of it, Tom?' said the farmer's wife to her husband.

'Maybe 'tis nought but his simple-minded talk,' replied the farmer,
taking a huge bite out of a slice of bread-and-butter.

'No, maister,' cried the shepherd.  ''Tis Gospel true, ivery word.
Ne'er a stitch on 'em.'  And he waved his left hand like an orator.

Suddenly an angry flush sprang to the farmer's face, and he stood up.

'Then, 'tis gipsies!' he cried.

'I dunno,' said the shepherd.  'Brown they hain't, but white as milk.'

'I'll mark their white for 'em,' cried the farmer; and stepping quickly
to the wall, he seized a long cart-whip which hung there, and strode
from the house.

For years there had been a bitter feud between the sheep-farmer and a
large family of gipsies of the name of King.  The Kings went about the
country in several small bands, and for generations the copse had been
a favourite halting-place.  But one spring the farmer lost some lambs,
and was persuaded that the gipsies had been at the bottom of his loss.
So he forbade them the use of the copse, and drove them out whenever he
found they had dared to pitch their camp there.  He was a
hasty-tempered man, utterly fearless and quite unforgiving, so that a
regular war had sprung up between himself and the Kings.  Now he was
persuaded that his enemies had sought the shelter of his copse, and he
was off at once to attack them.

He arrived on the scene to find the scouts turning their clothes.
Instead of heathens, they now looked like Red Indians; for they had
remembered the dry blankets in the haversacks, had taken them out, and
were wrapped in them like a pair of braves.

They saw nothing of the angry farmer till he burst upon them through a
thicket of brambles within a dozen yards of the fire, so busy were they
with turning their steaming clothes.

The farmer's wrath rose higher at sight of the steam and smoke.  A fire
was the very thing he had defied the gipsies again and again to make on
his land.  He cracked his whip with a vicious snap, and rushed upon the
scouts.

'I'll larn ye to make a fire on my land arter the many times I've
a-warned ye,' he bellowed.

The attack and the outcry were both so sudden that the scouts were
taken by surprise.  Dick was on the side of the rush.  He saw that an
onslaught was meant, though he knew not why, and grabbed at his staff.
He forgot to keep hold of the blanket, and it slid to the ground, and
left him defenceless.  Down came the hissing thong, and wrapped itself
right round him, a regular rib-binder.

A yell of pain burst from the Wolf's lips; then he shut his teeth
tight.  The surprise had forced that first cry from him, and he did not
intend to utter another.  But the whip was already hissing through the
air, and flight was the only thing possible; he made a spring clean
across the heap of drying clothes, and fled.

'Tom, Tom,' panted a shrill voice behind, 'why will ye be so franzy?
These be no gipsy lads.  Look at their clothes a-dryin'!'

The farmer's wife, well knowing her husband's impetuous temper, had
followed up, and at sight of her Dick tucked himself away behind a
wide-stemmed beech.

The farmer looked down at the heap of steaming clothes, and was struck
with the force of his wife's remark.

'Why, 'tis a sort o' uniform,' he muttered.

'O' course it's a uniform,' cried Chippy, who had stood his ground
wrapped in his blanket and flourishing the tomahawk.  'It's the uniform
o' Baden-Powell's Boy Scouts, an' what ye want to come 'ere for an'
fetch my mate one acrost the ribs I'm blest if I know.'

'Bring my blanket here, Chippy,' called out Dick from his refuge.  'I
dropped it in my hurry.'

'Why, ye see, I thought 'twor gipsy tramps startin' a fire in this
copse, an' I've forbid it,' said the farmer slowly, scratching his
head, and gradually getting hold of the idea that he had made a
full-sized mistake.

'Tramps!' snorted Chippy in scorn, taking Dick's blanket, and marching
across to his friend.  'D'ye reckon we look like tramps?'  He simply
bellowed the question, for he was immensely proud of his new scout's
uniform, and quite forgot that at present he was arrayed only in a
blanket.

'They've been in the wet, and they're dryin' their clothes,' went on
the farmer's wife.  'Come home, Tom, an' leave 'em be; they'll do no
harm.'

The farmer was already regretting his hasty blow, but, being a man who
could never be made to express the opinion that he was in the wrong, he
said nothing, merely turned away, and beat a retreat.

'Here's your blanket, Dick,' said the Raven.  'I felt ready, I can tell
ye, to chuck the chopper at that confounded old hayseed of a farmer.'

'He did fetch me one for luck,' said Dick, rubbing the weal which now
began to show up on his body.  'It seems we're trespassing.'

'Not to do any harm,' growled the Raven.  'But he's off now; the wife's
fetchin' him away.  She seems a good sort.'

The two scouts went back to their fire, and again turned the clothes,
which were drying fast.  Before long they were able to dress again, and
march on their way.



CHAPTER XL

THE SCOUTS' SECOND CAMP

They had gone half a mile from the copse, when their attention was
drawn to a bramble-brake which seemed to be alive.  It shook, it
twisted, it rocked to and fro.  They went up to the spot, and found a
fat ewe on her back in the heart of it.  She was struggling furiously
but quite hopelessly; the brambles were wrapped about her fleecy body
like cords of steel, and would hold her there till she died of
exhaustion.

'I suppose she belongs to the chap who waled me,' said Dick.  'Well, I
can take my knot out all right this time, Chippy.  I'll chuck the cut
of the whip and the sheep in as a good turn.'

'He don't deserve it,' cried Chippy; 'but we've got the poor beast to
think of, an' that's a scout's job.'

The boys set to work at once, and it took them a good half-hour with
knife and axe to free the terrified creature.  At last they had it out
of the brake, and placed it on an open patch of grassy land, and left
it to recover.

Within a mile again they were surprised to enter a dry, dusty land once
more.  They had passed the region of the thunder-burst.  It had been a
local shower, not general, and the point where it had ended was shown
in quite a sharp line drawn across the way they were following.

'All the better for us,' said Chippy.  'We can camp to-night, instead
o' havin' to look for a barn or hay-loft, or suthin'.'

In the distance a yellow van was jogging over the moor.  It was moving
along a road which crossed their track at right angles.

'That's a baker's van,' said Dick.  'Let's tun on and catch it.  If we
can get a loaf, we shall be set up, and can break our march where we
like.'

'Righto,' said the Raven; 'the flour's all gone.'  And the scouts ran
forward.  They caught the van at the crossroads, and bought a
threepenny loaf.  Dick entered the purchase in his notebook; they had
now spent two shillings and a penny three-farthings, and had plenty of
food in hand for their fourth day.  From this point on they surveyed
the country with a single idea--the finding of a good spot for a camp.

They had now reached the border of the moor, and the land was studded
by woods, coppices, and coverts.  Pheasants flew across their path, and
rabbits ambled about in every direction; for evening was coming on, and
the bunnies were swarming from their burrows.

'Sportin' country, this,' observed Chippy; and Dick agreed.

Suddenly the boys came on a little brook, and both said, 'Here we are,'
for they knew that somewhere along the brook there would be a spot to
suit them.  They left the road, and followed the little stream for
three or four hundred yards, and then pulled up at a smooth grassy
patch on the sunny side of a pine-wood.  In the evening light the great
tall red trees stood up quiet and splendid, and the scouts knew that
their dark depths would make a happy hunting-ground for firewood and
bedding.

They started their fire, and collected a huge pile of dried sticks with
which to feed it.  They gathered armfuls of pine-tips from the lower
branches, but could find no logs for a framework; so they made the bed
much broader, and worked in some strong dried branches at the side, and
hoped the plan would answer well.  They tested it by rolling on the
bed, and all seemed firm and steady.  Then, with ravening appetites,
they turned to preparations for supper.

Bread and tea were easy enough to prepare, but how were they going to
cook the eels?  Chippy had been enthusiastic over the delicious
richness of fried eels, and there was the billy to fry them in, but
what were they going to do for grease?

'A bit o' lard, now,' murmured Chippy.

'Wait a bit,' said Dick.  'I'll put you right, cook.'

He opened his haversack, and took out a small tin box.  'Here you are,'
said Dick.  'Mutton fat.  I boiled it down myself.  Grand stuff to rub
on your feet if you get a sore place, but we haven't wanted it yet.'

'No, we ain't tenderfeet,' grunted the Raven.

'Hope not,' said Dick.  He opened the box and smelled the contents.

'Has it gone bad?' asked his companion.

'Not a bit of it,' replied the Wolf; 'sweet as a nut.  Here's a lump
for your pan.'  And he dug out a piece of the solid mutton fat with his
knife.

The eels were washed and skinned, and soon were hissing and spluttering
delightfully in the mutton fat in the billy.  The two biggest eels,
weighing more than half a pound each, were treated in this manner, and
proved quite as good as Chippy had promised.  While the hungry scouts
devoured them, some smaller ones were set on to boil, for the Raven had
heard boiled eels were good also, though he hadn't tried them.  So the
billy was rubbed round and three parts filled with water, and on went
some more eels in a new form of cookery.  When it came to the test of
eating, the scouts did not think the boiled were quite so tasty as the
fried, but they vanished before their raging appetites, and the two
boys ate every eel they had sniggled.

They built up their fire and turned in before the daylight had gone,
for they were fatigued by the long journey they had made that day.

'If a scritch-owl turns up this time,' chuckled Chippy, 'we'll just
turn over and let 'im scritch.'

'And if a jackass rambles round, we won't be frightened and make three
instead of one,' laughed Dick.

About one in the morning Dick was aroused from sleep by finding that he
was very uncomfortable.  The bed lacked the support of the side-logs,
and the pine-tops had worked loose, and Dick had worked through them,
and was lying on the ground.  His hip-joint was aching, and the
discomfort had awakened him.

'Hallo,' thought Dick, on recognising what had happened, 'I've reached
the bottom shelf.  I shall have to dig that little hole about the size
of a teacup which B.-P. recommends for you to tuck your hip-joint in.'
He turned over on his back and lay still for a few moments.

The night was very still and bright, and the moon was low down in the
west, but clear, and shining strongly.  The Raven was soundly asleep,
and his breathing was deep and regular.  Dick sat up and looked at the
fire.  It had burned down to a mass of embers hidden under a coating of
ashes.  He rolled out of his blanket, got up, and threw an armful of
sticks on the fire.  They began to crackle at once, and he stood for an
instant to watch them.

Suddenly he lifted his head and sniffed: the wind was tainted as it
blew lightly towards him along the lee of the wood: he could smell
tobacco-smoke.

'Who's about?' thought Dick.  'What does it mean?  We're far off from
any village according to the map.  But that's tobacco, and no mistake.
I'll have a look round.'

He glanced at his companion, but Chippy was still wrapped in heavy
slumber.

Dick stepped forward, then paused.  'No, I won't wake him,' murmured
the Wolf.  'It would be a shame to fetch him up for nothing.  I'll see
who's in the neighbourhood first.'

Dick slipped on his shoes, drew the laces tight, for they were rove
scout fashion, tucked in the ends, took his staff, and began to creep
up-wind like a hare stealing from its form.



CHAPTER XLI

THE POACHERS

As Dick moved along the edge of the wood, the smell of tobacco grew
stronger, and below a small ash he stopped with a jump of his heart.
There was a scratch and spurtle of a match at his very feet, as it
seemed.

Beyond the ash lay a big clump of brambles, and Dick peered over them.
He discovered that the growth of brambles masked a deep hollow, and in
the hollow lay three men, one of whom was smoking, and had just
relighted his pipe.  Dick checked himself just as he was about to give
a low whistle of surprise and wonder.  The men were blacks.  The moon
shone full into the hollow and showed ebony faces, in which white teeth
glittered, as they spoke to each other in whispers.  Then the smoker
raised his hand to press down the tobacco in his pipe, and here again
was a fresh surprise, for the hand was the hand of a white man.

Now Dick understood.  These men had met for some evil purpose, and had
blacked their faces as a disguise.

'Something wrong,' said Dick to himself.  'Those fellows are out for no
honest purpose.  Scout's job here.'

As the thought passed through the Wolf's mind, one of the men sat up
and growled an oath.  'Wheer are they got to?' he said.  'Here, 'tis
nigh on ha'-past one, an' Young Bill and Smiley ain't turned up yet.'

'We'll start wi'out 'em if they don't show up soon,' grunted a second
speaker.

'As far as old Smiley goes we can do wi'out him all right,' returned
the first man, 'but we must ha' Young Bill.  He's got the stren'th o'
half a dozen to pull.'

At that very moment Smiley and Young Bill were standing open-mouthed
before the scouts' fire with the sleeping Raven at their feet.  Smiley
was a little twisted old fellow, but Young Bill was a gigantic navvy,
powerful as a five-year-old bull.  Their faces, too, were blacked in
readiness for the night's work.  Three minutes after Dick had crept
away, they had slipped along the brook under the wood, turned a sharp
corner, and come full upon the camp just as a bright light sprang up
from the new sticks with which Dick had fed the fire.

'Wot's this?' growled Young Bill; 'a fire, an' somebody on the watch.'

Chippy had been sleeping uneasily for some time, for Dick's movements
had disturbed, though not awakened, him.  At the sound of the
new-comer's voice he awoke, flung off his blanket, and leapt to his
feet.  But Young Bill was upon him at once, and pinned him with a grip
of iron.

It was a terrifying experience for the Raven--to awake from sleep to
find his companion gone and himself in the hands of two fellows whose
blackened faces had a horrifying look in the dancing firelight.

'Wotcher doin' here?' demanded Young Bill, giving his captive a shake
which rattled together the teeth in Chippy's head.

'Sleepin',' replied the Raven calmly.

'Who set ye here?'

'Nobody: set myself.'

Chippy's eyes shot swift glances on every side.  Where was Dick?  What
had become of his friend?  Was he free or a captive?  If free, he must
be warned, and Chippy acted at once.  He let out a wild wolf-howl,
which was promptly checked by Smiley.  The latter gripped Chippy by the
throat with both hands, shutting off the call, and half strangling the
caller.

'See, he's givin' a signal,' cried Smiley.  'They're out for us, Bill.
They've put this kid on the watch!'

The young giant was furious.  He shook the Raven savagely, and struck
him a cruel blow on the side of the head.  While Chippy was still
reeling and dizzy from this assault, he felt a handkerchief passed over
his mouth, and it was quickly tied behind his head: Smiley had gagged
him.

'Bring him along,' said Smiley.  'We're close to the place where
t'others are.  Let's see if they know aught.'

Dick had been immensely startled to hear his patrol call ring out from
the direction of the camp, and then hear it suddenly checked.  He
turned and raced back, but silently and warily, and soon saw the two
men advancing with Chippy, gagged and helpless, dragged along between
them.

Dick dodged behind a tree, let them pass, then followed closely in the
rear.

The astonishment of the three waiting men was very great when their
companions arrived with the prisoner.  Smiley told the story, laying
stress on the warning cry which he had cut short with his throttling
clutch.  The general opinion was that Chippy had been posted there as a
spy, and threats of vengeance were breathed against him.

'Seems to me,' said Smiley, 'we'd better call it no go to-night.
They're on the watch; this is a sure proof of it.  We'll ne'er drag yon
stretch in safety.'

'I ain't goin' back,' burst out Young Bill, in his thick, savage tones;
'ye can clear out yerself as soon as ye like, Smiley.  Yer wor' allus a
white-livered un.  I'm gooin' to net yon pool to-night if I ha' to do
it by myself.'

The three who had been waiting agreed with Young Bill, and Smiley said
he was willing to try if all were willing.

'What are we goin' to do with this nipper?' asked one of the men.

'I'll show yer,' growled the big navvy.  'I'll bring 'im along, an' ye
bring the things on.'

A great pile of nets had been lying on the ground, and the three men
gathered the nets up, and led the way, while the two last-comers
followed with the prisoner.

Dick had watched closely all that went on, and had listened to every
word and followed up, using every patch of cover to keep closely in the
rear, and burning to strike in on behalf of his brother scout and
friend.

For three hundred yards the party tramped along the bank of the little
brook, and then a broad, silvery stretch of water opened out before
them.  The brook ran into a river at the head of a long pool noted for
its big trout, and the men were poachers, whose aim was to net this
reach of a famous trout-stream.  One and all were idle rascals whose
boast was that they never did a stroke of honest work while there was
'fish, fur, or feather' to be stolen from the estates of the
countryside.

To-night they had come to their rendezvous feeling particularly safe.
A confederate had been posted right on the other side of the estate
with instructions to stumble on the alarm-guns set there.  These guns
were to be set off about a quarter-past one, and the poachers expected
that the keepers would be drawn to the sound of the guns, and thus
leave them undisturbed at their quiet task of netting the Squire's
finest trout-pool.  So that when they hit upon the Raven, and persuaded
themselves that he was a spy posted near the trout-stream, they were
full of vicious fury.

'Fust thing, we'll make sure o' this young limb,' said the navvy, when
they had reached the bank of the pool.  'He shall nayther hoot nor run
to carry news of us.'

So, with the aid of Smiley, he soon had Chippy lashed to a small beech,
the handkerchief fastened tightly over his mouth so that he could
neither stir nor speak.

Ten yards away, in cover of a thick patch of hazels, Dick watched
everything.  He drew out his knife, opened it, and ran his thumb along
the keen edge.  'All right, my fine fellows,' he said to himself, 'get
to your work'--for the nets had shown him what they meant to do--'and
my chum will be free in a brace of shakes.'

But Dick reckoned without Smiley.  That small, sly old poacher was not
there to work; his task was to keep guard.  So while the other four
undid their bundle of nets, and prepared for a big haul, Smiley moved
with the tread of a cat to and fro, watching the prisoner, listening,
looking, turning his head this way and that, to detect the first sign
or sound of danger.  The beech to which the Raven was bound stood by
itself on the bank, well away from other trees.  This rendered it
impossible for Dick to creep up unseen.  He would have to dash out into
the moonlight, and the wary watcher would see him and alarm the rest.
No, there was nothing to do but wait awhile and look out for a chance
to slip in, knife in hand.  So Dick kept still in cover and watched the
poachers as they worked busily in the light of the sinking moon.



CHAPTER XLII

DRAGGING THE POOL--A LITTLE SURPRISE

First a net was stretched across the head of the pool.  Young Bill
jumped into the water and waded across waist deep with one end of the
net, while a confederate paid it out from the bank.  The foot of the
net was loaded with leaden weights, and lay close to the bed of the
stream: the top was buoyed with corks and floated on the surface.
Thus, when the net was carried across and pegged into the opposite
bank, a wall of fine mesh lay across the stream.

Now the big navvy waded back, and a second net--a drag-net--was carried
to the foot of the pool.  This time three of them plunged into the
water, and drew the net across the stream.  Of the three, two remained
in the water, the third clambered out on the opposite bank.  The net
was arranged, and then the four poachers began to draw it slowly
up-stream, one working on each bank and two in the water.

Now, trout always lie with their noses pointing upstream, and when
alarmed dash away in that direction.  But this time there was a wall of
net to intercept their flight, and as the drag-net was brought up and
up, the fish would be enclosed between the two nets and caught.

While these preparations were going on, Dick had watched eagerly for a
chance that never came.  Smiley remained too close to the gagged and
pinioned captive for Dick to chance a rush, and the poacher was armed
with a heavy stick.

'I wish the moon would go down,' thought Dick, and glanced over his
shoulder towards the west.  He started, and looked again.  Two figures
were creeping almost on hands and knees across a moonlit patch of turf,
quite close to him.

'Keepers!' whispered Dick to himself.  'Here come the keepers!' for the
velveteens and gaiters of the crawling men announced who they were.
Dick was hidden in complete shade, and the patch of hazels where he lay
hid the new-comers both from the watcher and the working poachers.
Dick's heart gave a leap of joy.

'They'll attack at once,' he thought, 'and then I can get Chippy free.'

But to his surprise there was no attack.  The two keepers glided into
shelter of a holly patch and vanished.  There was neither sign nor
sound from them.  Dick, of course, could not know that the keepers were
biding their time, for they wished to take the poachers in confusion,
and it was very likely the biters would be bit.

The truth was that an inkling of the raid had been gained from words
let fall by a drunken poacher in the village inn, and the pool had been
prepared.  Across the middle of it a long weighted log had been sunk,
and in this log a number of old scythe blades, their edges whetted as
keen as razors, had been fixed in an upright position.  The edges were
turned down-stream, and the keepers were waiting until the drag-net
should be brought upon this cunning engine of destruction.

Presently there was a hitch in the dragging.

'Wait a bit,' said one of the poachers; 'she's caught a bit somewheer
or other.  Pull a bit harder, Young Bill.'

The navvy pulled hard, but to no purpose.

'It's out towards the middle o' the pool,' he growled, 'an' I dursn't
go a step fudder in.  I'm nigh out o' my depth already.'

'We'll get on the bank,' said the other man who was in the water.
'We'll have a better purchase for a tug at her then.'

He climbed out on the farther side, and Young Bill climbed out on the
nearer.  Then the four men bent to it, and hauled on the net with all
their might.  No use: it was stuck as fast as ever.

'Ye want to pull harder, boys,' called out Smiley.

Young Bill exploded into a volley of imprecations addressed to the
watchman.

'Hark at 'im,' growled the navvy--'pull harder; we're to pull harder
while 'e slinks about on the bank.  Come an' lend a hand yerself, an'
be quick about it, or I'll sling ye into the river.'

Smiley ran at once, for he stood in great dread of his violent
accomplice, and knew that the threat was a perfectly serious one.  For
a few moments there was a busy interchange of remarks and opinions as
the baffled poachers discussed the possibilities of the case, and
decided that a water-logged branch was at the bottom of the trouble.

While they were talking Dick was acting.  No sooner did he see the
watchman called off guard than he began to wriggle like an eel across
the turf towards the beech, keeping the trunk of the tree between
himself and the poachers.  His keen knife made short work of Chippy's
bonds, gag included, and the Raven was free.  The latter slipped round
the trunk, and the two scouts glided quickly back into cover of the
hazels.

'Good old Wolf,' whispered Chippy, drawing a few deep breaths.  'I felt
sure ye'd be somewheer handy.  I owe ye a vote o' thanks.  It's carried
unanermously.'

'Oh, dry up, Chippy,' whispered his comrade.  'As if you wouldn't have
done the same for me.  What luck the rascals got into a fix!  That gave
me a chance.  But, Chippy, there are keepers over there, watching them.'

'Keepers!' breathed Chippy in amazement.  'Why don't they collar
'em?'--and even as he spoke, the scouts learned why the keepers had
delayed their attack.

'Now, altogether,' cried young Bill at the waterside, and the five
poachers bent for a last tremendous tug which would free their net.
The net was freed, but not exactly in the style they hoped for.  There
was a sudden, keen _Cr-r-r-rish!_ of snapping, parting meshes, and the
net, cut clean into two by the scythe blades, came to shore in two
halves, one on either bank.

It gave, at the last, so suddenly that the hauling rogues were taken
completely by surprise.  At one moment they were pulling against a
tremendous resistance; at the next there was none, and they went head
over heels, all five of them, the three on the nearer side piled in a
heap.

Upon this heap the two keepers darted, and at the same moment a keeper
and a policeman appeared on the other bank.  The yell of surprise which
burst from the lips of the rogues as they went to earth was still
ringing in the air when they felt the grip of justice fastened on their
collars, and knew that the game had gone against them on every score.

The gigantic navvy broke away from his captors and ran.  A keeper
pursued him, caught him up, and closed with him.  There was a short,
fierce struggle, and both men went down headlong, locked together in a
savage grapple.  The keeper was undermost, and the weight of his huge
opponent knocked the breath out of him for the moment.  The poacher
leapt up, and aimed a terrific kick at his fallen opponent.  The man
would have received a severe injury had not the scouts swept into
action at the very nick of time.

'Here's the wust of 'em.  Cop 'im, my lads,' roared Chippy, in a voice
which he made as deep as a well.  And Dick lashed out and fetched the
big fellow a staggerer with his patrol staff, and shouted also.
Feeling the blow, and hearing the voices at his back, the poacher
thought that a crowd of foes was upon him, and took to his heels and
fled through a coppice, crashing through bushes and saplings with
furious lumbering speed.

The scouts slipped away to see how the second keeper was getting on,
and found that he had got Smiley safe and sound, while the third man
had vanished.  Upon the other bank one was captive and the other had
fled.

'How are you gettin' on there, Jem?' called the keeper who had secured
Smiley.

'Oh, I've as good as got my man,' replied Jem, returning to the
river-bank.  'It was Bill Horden, that big navvy.  I'll nail him
to-morrow all right.  But there was the rummest thing happened over
yonder, 'mongst the trees.'  And he burst into the story of his rescue.

'I'd have had my head kicked in if they boys hadn't run up and started
Bill off,' he concluded; 'but who they are, and where they sprung from,
I can't make out.'

The scouts, tucked away in the cover, chuckled as they heard their
mysterious appearance discussed, and wondered if Smiley would throw any
light on the matter.  But the old poacher remained sullen and silent,
and now the keepers were hailed by the policeman across the river.

'Bring your man down to the bridge,' he cried, 'and we'll march the two
we've got off to the lock-up.'

'All right,' said the keeper who had collared Smiley.  'I'll come now.
Jem, you get the nets an' follow us.'

'The play's over,' whispered Dick in his comrade's ear, 'and we'll get
back to camp.'

The scouts glided away up the little brook, and soon regained their
camp, where the fire was burning briskly, for the whole affair had not
taken any great amount of time.  They sat down and discussed the matter
from the moment Dick had smelt the tobacco-smoke till the final rally
on the bank of the trout-pool, then turned in once more, and were
asleep in two moments.

Dick had rearranged his side of the bed before he lay down again, and
now he slept in great comfort, and slept long, for when he woke the sun
was high up and the day was warm.

He rubbed his eyes and looked round for Chippy.  To his surprise, the
Raven sat beside the fire skinning a couple of young rabbits.

'Hallo, Chippy!' cried Dick, 'been hunting already?  Why, where did you
pick those rabbits up?'

'Just along the bank 'ere,' replied the Raven.  'I was up best part of
an hour ago, an' took a stroll, an' seed 'em a-runnin' about by the
hundred.  These two were dodgin' in an' out of a hole under a tree, so
I went theer, an' in they popped.  But I soon dug 'em out.'

'Dug them out!' cried Dick.  'Why, I've heard that digging rabbits out
is a job that takes hours with a spade.'

'So 'tis if they've got into their burrows,' returned his comrade.
'But theer's the big deep holes they live in, an' theer's little short
holes they mek' for fun.  They're called "play-holes," an' 'twas a
play-hole these two cut into.  It worn't more'n eighteen inches deep,
an' soft sand.  I 'ad 'em out in no time.'

Chippy finished skinning the rabbits, and washed them, and then they
were set aside while the comrades stripped, and splashed round, and
swam a little at a spot where the brook opened out into a small pool.
When they were dressed again, they were very ready for breakfast.
Chippy fried the rabbits in the billy with another lump of Dick's
mutton fat, and they proved deliciously tender.  The boys left nothing
but the bones, and with the rabbits they finished their loaf.  After
breakfast they lay on the grass in the sun for half an hour working out
their day's journey on the map, and pitched on a place called Wildcombe
Chase for their last camp.  It was within fourteen miles of Bardon, and
would give a quiet, steady tramp in for their last day.

At the thought that the morrow was the last day of their delightful
expedition the scouts felt more than a trifle sad; but they cheered
themselves up with promises of other like journeys in the future, and
took the road for a seventeen-mile march.

'Do we pull our knots out for lending a hand to the keeper last night,
Chippy?' asked Dick, laughing.

'You can pull your'n out two or three times over,' replied the Raven.
'Fust ye saved me; then ye let that big rogue ha' one for luck, an'
that saved the keeper.  Me, I did naught, 'cept get collared when I
wor' fast asleep.'

'Didn't you?' returned Dick.  'I know that shout of yours was the thing
that frightened him, not the crack I hit him.  He thought a six-foot
policeman was at his heels.  Well, never mind the knots.  We'll throw
that in.  After all, boy scouts are bound to lend a hand in the cause
of law and order.'

'O' course,' agreed Chippy.  'Wheer's discipline if so be as everybody
can do as he's a mind?'



CHAPTER XLIII

THE BROKEN BICYCLE

That morning the brother scouts enjoyed an experience which gave them
keener pleasure than perhaps anything else which happened during their
journey.  It began about eleven o'clock, when they were following a
country road upon which hamlets, and even houses, were very far apart.

They were approaching the foot of a very steep hill, when the Raven's
eyes, always on the watch, as a scout's eyes should be, caught a gleam
of something glittering in a great bed of weeds beside the road.  He
stopped, parted the weeds with his staff, and disclosed a broken
bicycle, diamond-framed, lying on its side.  It was the bright
nickelled handle-bar which had caught his eye.

'Somebody's had a smash, and left the broken machine here,' said Dick;
and Chippy nodded.

Now, Dick's statement of the case would have satisfied most people, and
they would have gone on their way.  There was the broken bicycle, and
the rider had left it.  Perhaps he meant to fetch his disabled machine
later.  In any case an untrained person would have seen nothing that he
could possibly do, and would have dismissed the matter from his mind.
But that would not do for the Wolf and the Raven.  It was their duty as
scouts to got to the bottom of the affair, if possible, on the chance
that help was needed somehow or somewhere, and they began a careful
examination of the machine and its surroundings.

The cause of the accident suggested itself at once--a broken brake and
a runaway down the hill, with a smash at the foot.  There were two
brakes on the machine.  One was jammed; one had a broken wire.  Whether
the jammed brake had been so or not before the accident they could not
tell.  As far as they could judge, the broken wire had left the rider
helpless on the steep slope.  They looked up the hill.  The track came
down fairly straight, until it was within a few yards of the bed of
weeds.  Then it swerved sharply aside.  A yard from the angle of the
swerve lay a large stone.  Deduction: The front wheel had struck the
stone, driven it a yard to the left, and itself had swerved violently
to the right, and dashed on to a heap of stones hidden under the growth
of weeds.  The shock had been tremendous.  How discovered?  The frame
was badly twisted and broken, and the machine was an excellent one; the
transfer bore the name of a first-rate maker.

Now, what had happened to the rider?  He had been pitched flying from
his machine, and Dick found where he had fallen.  Three yards from the
spot where the broken bicycle lay, the weeds were flattened, as if a
heavy body had dropped there.  Then Dick gave a long, low whistle.

'By Jove, Chippy! look here!' he cried, and pointed with his staff.
The Raven hastened up, and whistled too, when he saw a patch of blood
lying around a sharp-edged stone.  The blood was quite fresh, and that
proved the accident was recent.

'Poor chap dropped with his head on the stone, and cut himself pretty
badly,' said Dick; and Chippy nodded.

'It ain't a big machine,' he remarked.

'It's just about the size of mine,' returned Dick.  'It may be a fellow
about our age, Chippy, by the look of the bike.'

Now arose the vital question: Had the unlucky rider received help or
not?  How had he left the place--on his own feet, or with assistance?
The scouts settled that in a minute's close search.  They had taken
care not to potter about and confuse the spoor with their own markings.
They soon came to the conclusion that such marks as they could find
were made by the rider when he had dragged himself to his feet.

'Has anyone passed here since the accident?' said Dick.

'Soon find that out,' cried Chippy; and the two scouts turned their
trained eyes on the dusty road, which gave up instantly the knowledge
its surface held.

Two tracks only were recent.  One was made by a pair of wheels and the
feet of a horse; the other by a pair of large, hobnailed shoes.  The
wheel-tracks were narrow, and the horse had trotted till it was some
distance up the hill, then fallen into a walk.  The boys decided that a
gig and a labourer had passed along, both going the same way.

Ten yards up the hill the bicycle track crossed a track of the gig.
Thirty yards up the hill the ribbed Dunlops had wiped out the side of a
hobnailed impression.  Very good.  The bike had come down the hill
after these had passed; it had been the last thing on the road.  This
greatly strengthened the idea which the scouts had already formed, that
no help had been available.  Now they began to search for the rider's
line of movement from the place.

Dick found it: a footprint on a dusty patch in the grassy wayside
track.  He called to his companion.  When Chippy had seen it, Dick set
his own foot on the track; his shoe exactly covered it.

Now the scouts gathered their impressions together, and reconstructed
in theory the whole affair.  A boy of about their own age had ridden
over the brow of the slope, with only one brake available on his
machine.  Near the top of the hill the brake had broken; they regarded
this as proved by the tremendous way which the machine had got on it.
The rider was skilful, for his track was true, and he would have
escaped had it not been for the large stone in the track, and this, it
was very likely, his great speed had prevented him from seeing until
too late; another point, by the way, to prove the early giving-out of
the brake.  He had swerved violently aside, and struck the heap of
stones by the bank before he could regain control of his machine, and
the smash followed.  After the smash the rider had pulled himself
together, and gone alone from the place; his trail ran up the hill, and
it looked as if he were making for home; it was certain that he was
pretty badly hurt.

'Now, Chippy,' said Dick, 'the point for us is this: Has he got safely
home or not?'

'Foller 'im up,' said the Raven briefly; 'scout's job to mek' sure.'

Dick nodded, and without another word they struck the trail, and worked
their way up the steep slope.

'Blood,' said Chippy, and pointed out two stains on the grass.

'Blood it is,' replied his companion, and they pressed forward.

Near the top of the slope, where, just at the crown, the hill was at
its steepest, the boys stopped in amazement.  Here was a trail with a
vengeance!  The roadside grass gave way to a sandy patch twenty yards
long, and the patch was scored with long, dragging marks.  Then
Dick-pointed with his staff.  There in the soft soil was the impression
of a hand, and dark spots lay along the trail.

'By Jove, Chippy! the poor chap!' cried the Wolf.  'The hill proved too
steep for his weakness.  Look, he's finished it on his hands and knees.'

Dick bent, and laid his own hand over the clear impression on the sand.

'Same size again,' he cried; 'he's just about our age, Chippy.'

'It's the blood he's lost as fetched 'im down,' said the Raven, his
face very grave; 'but he's a good plucked un.  He's fightin' his way
somewheer.'

At the top of the hill came a level stretch, and here the wounded rider
had gathered himself together again and stumbled forward.  Within a
very short distance the road forked, and at the fork the trail was
lost.  The two roads were hard and stony, and showed no trace of
footmarks, and the blood had ceased to fall.

'A road apiece,' said Chippy.

'Yes,' said Dick.  'You take right; I'll take left.  First one to find
anything whistles.'



CHAPTER XLIV

THE BROTHER SCOUT

They parted instantly, and each took his track, his eyes glued to the
ground.  They could work a great distance apart and yet keep in touch,
for their patrol whistles were very powerful, and the day was still.

Chippy went a good three-quarters of a mile, and yet had found nothing.
He feared he was not on the right track, for at last he came to a soft
patch where spoor ought to have been.  There was one new track: the man
with the hobnailed boots had turned this way, but there was no other
sign of recent passage.  Chippy was standing in hesitation, when faint
and far away the shrill call of a patrol whistle came to his ears.  At
once he raised his own whistle to his lips and blew an answering call,
then turned and darted like a hare back along the road.  He gained the
fork and raced along the path which Dick had followed.  It was clear
that the Wolf had found the track or the injured boy, but the Raven did
not trouble about searching for signs of the rider.  He knew that his
comrade would leave him full directions which way to travel, and his
only aim now was to join Dick.  So he tore along the road, his eyes
fixed on the centre of the track.

Suddenly he pulled up dead.  There was a broad arrow marked heavily in
the road with the point of Dick's staff.  The head pointed to a
side-track, and Chippy wheeled and flew off in the new direction.
Again he was pulled up.  A second broad arrow, square across the way.
This time the head pointed to a wicket-gate painted white.  Even as the
Raven dodged through the wicket he knew that his comrade had hit the
right trail.  The wicket was painted white, and a stain of red was
smeared across the top bar: the injured boy had passed this way.

Faster and faster sped the Raven along a winding field-path which led
through meadow after meadow.  Then he saw his friend in the distance,
and knew that Dick was still on the trail, for he was bending low and
moving slowly.  The Wolf turned his head as his companion came up
panting.

'I'm on the spoor, Chippy,' he said.  'Here's blood again, spot after
spot.  He must have begun to bleed afresh.'

'I seed some on the gate,' said the Raven; 'did yer hit the trail
pretty soon?'

'No,' returned Dick.  'I was in more than half a mind to turn back when
I came on the boot track and knew it again.  And within twenty yards I
found sure signs and whistled.'

He moved forward, and the Raven dropped into file behind, for the track
was narrow.  Thus it was that he, being free to glance ahead, was the
first to catch sight of the object of their search.

'Look, Dick!' he cried.  'Look, look!  Right ahead!'

Dick straightened himself, saw what his comrade meant, and the two boys
darted forward.  They had just turned a corner where the path wound by
a tall bank, and thirty yards before them a figure lay in a heap at the
foot of the bank.  As they ran up to it, they uttered a cry of surprise
and wonder.  It was a brother scout!  There he lay, his slouch hat
beside him, his badge on his arm, his legs doubled under him.  He had
made a grand fight, a scout's fight, to gain his home after his severe
accident.  But now he had collapsed from utter weakness and loss of
blood, and lay against the bank, his face as white as wood-ashes.

His comrades pounced on him at once, placed him in an easier position,
and searched for the wound.  It was on the inner side of the right arm,
a frightful ragged cut made by the deep point of the jagged stone, and
was bleeding still.  Out came Dick's handkerchief and Chippy's knife.
Dick tied the handkerchief above the wound, Chippy cut a short, stiff
stick.  Then the stick was slipped inside the bandage and twisted until
the handkerchief was very tight, and had checked the flow of blood.
Dick held the boy's arm up above his body as a further aid to check the
bleeding.

'Now, Chippy,' he said, 'cut round and get some water in the billy.'

'Right,' said the Raven; 'we passed a ditch wi' some water in it a bit
back.'  He flew off, and soon returned with the billy full of cold
water.

'Now give me your handkerchief,' said Dick, 'and while I dab the cut
with water you push ahead and find help.'

Chippy nodded.  'I reckon this path runs somewheer,' he said.  'I'll
foller it up.'

He raced forward and disappeared round a further bend, leaving Dick to
do his best for their unconscious comrade.  Within three hundred yards
Chippy saw a white house before him in lee of a fir coppice.

'His place, I know!' burst from Chippy's lips.  The poor lad had fallen
almost within call of home.  How narrowly had a tragedy been averted!

The Raven ran on, passed through another white wicket, and entered a
farmyard.  A tall man was just dismounting from a cob.

'What, Fred, back already?' he cried, then stopped, for he saw it was
not Fred, but a stranger in scout's uniform.  Chippy darted up to him.

'Fred's your boy as like as not,' he said.  'A scout same as me.  Went
off on his bike a bit back, eh?'

'Yes,' said the farmer wonderingly; 'how do you come to know about him?
I've never set eyes on you before.'

'He's met with a bit o' an accident,' said Chippy, 'an' a comrade o'
mine found him an' sent me to get help.  Seems I've come to the right
place, fust send on.'

'Where is he?' cried the farmer.

'Just along the medder-path,' replied Chippy, pointing; 'fell off his
bike, an' had a nasty tumble.  Better bring summat to carry him.'

'Is he badly hurt?' cried the farmer in alarm.

'Well,' said Chippy, 'theer's a nasty cut on his arm, but we've stopped
the bleedin'.'

The farmer called to two men at work in a barn, and a door was hastily
lifted from its hinges.  Then all three hurried along in the wake of
the Raven, who led the way back.



CHAPTER XLV

AT THE HARDYS' FARM

But scarcely had the party left the farmyard than they saw in the
distance the figure of a heavily laden scout.  It was Dick marching
along with his injured comrade on his shoulders.  A few moments after
Chippy departed in search of help, the wounded boy came to himself
under the influence of the cold water with which Dick bathed the hurt
and the boy's face.

'Hallo!' he murmured feebly.  'What's wrong?  Have I got home?'

'Not just yet, old chap,' said Dick cheerily, 'but you'll soon be
there.  A friend has gone ahead for help.'

'It's only a little way now,' muttered the injured boy.

'How far?' cried Dick, but he received no answer.  The other was fast
falling into a stupor again.

Dick felt very uneasy.  He did not know a great deal about wounds, but
he knew that his brother scout had lost a large amount of blood, and
that it was very urgent that he should be swiftly conveyed to a place
where he could receive proper attention.

'I'll carry him in,' thought Dick.  He looked at the bandage, and
carefully tightened it a little again.  Then he turned the boy, now
insensible once more, on his face, and knelt down.  Raising the body,
Dick worked his way beneath it until his right shoulder was under the
other's stomach.  Slipping his right arm between the legs of his
burden, Dick gripped the wrist of the sound arm, and slowly raised
himself.  This was the hardest part of the task, but the Wolf's strong,
limber knees made sure work of it, and in a moment he stood nearly
upright with the injured scout across his shoulders.  Then Dick stepped
out at a gentle, even pace, following the path Chippy had taken.  He
was in sight of the farmhouse when the Raven and his followers came
streaming through the gate, and the farmer, running at full speed, was
the first up to the marching scout.

'Give him to me, give my boy to me,' cried the pale-faced man.

'Better not,' said Dick quietly; 'we mustn't move him about too much,
or the bandage may work loose.  Is that your house?'

'Yes,' cried the other.

'I'll run him right in,' said Dick.  'Shift the wicket.'

One of the men hurried forward and swung the wicket-gate from its
hinges, and, piloted by the farmer, Dick crossed the farmyard, marched
through a door into a passage, and thence into an ample kitchen, where,
with the aid of the farmer, he set down his burden on a broad settle.
As he did so, the boy's mother came hurrying in from the dairy.  She
gave a little gasping cry when she saw the ghastly face of her son, but
at once took command in a quiet, sensible fashion.

'Have you sent for the doctor?' she said to her husband.

'Yes; Joe's gone,' he answered.  Joe was one of the men.  He had raced
off at once to the village.

The wounded boy was again lifted very carefully, and carried away to a
bedroom.  In a few moments the farmer came back, eager to hear how the
scouts had found his son.  He was astonished to find that their only
clue, as he understood clues, was the seeing of the broken bicycle.  It
took him some time to grasp the methods by which the scouts had pieced
together the evidence and followed up the wounded rider, and his
thankfulness and gratitude were beyond expression.

'To think he was barely a field away from home, and couldn't move
another step!' cried Mr. Hardy--for that was the farmer's name.  'And
then you tracked him down in that clever fashion.  Well, if you two are
not a credit to Baden-Powell's Scouts, my name isn't George Hardy.'

'Your son is a scout too, I think,' said Dick.  'I saw he was wearing
our uniform and badge.'

'Of course he is,' cried Mr. Hardy.  'He's fairly crazy about
it--thinks of nothing else, he's so keen on it.  There's a patrol over
in the village yonder, and he's joined it.  He's what they call a
second-class scout at present, and he wants to become first-class.  So
off he set on his bike for a fifteen-mile ride, as it seems that's one
of the things he's got to do.'

'Test 7,' grunted Chippy.

'Ah, very likely,' agreed Mr. Hardy.  'I don't know the numbers.
Hallo! that's good.  Here's the doctor.'

He sprang up, and took the medical man to the bedroom, while Joe came
into the kitchen, wiping his face.

'Met the doctor on the road, so that's lucky,' said Joe, and then began
to ask the scouts about the accident; for Fred was a great favourite,
and all were anxious to know how ill had befallen him.

Dick and Chippy would now have resumed their interrupted march had they
not been desirous of hearing the doctor's report on their brother
scout's condition.

Twenty minutes passed before Mr. Hardy returned to the kitchen, and his
face shone with joy.

'He'll pull through,' cried the farmer.  'Doctor says there's a chance
for him yet.  But if he'd lain there half an hour longer there'd have
been no mortal hope of saving him, and I can never tell you how
thankful his mother and me do feel towards you.'

'Oh, very likely someone would have found him in time if we hadn't
tracked him,' said Dick.

'Never in this world,' said Mr. Hardy solemnly--'never in this world!
That path is but little used.  The village lies t'other way.  He might
have lain there for hours and hours.'

'Well, we're very glad we were so lucky as to be of service,' said
Dick; 'and now we must push on our way.  We're making a scouting
journey, and have to finish it by to-morrow night.'

'Nay, nay,' cried the farmer; 'you'll have dinner, at least, before you
go.  'Twill be ready soon, and I'd take it very onkindly if you left us
without bite or sup.'

At this moment Mrs. Hardy came in, and thanked the clever scouts warmly
for the great service they had rendered.  She seconded her husband's
invitation, and as one o'clock struck in thin chimes from a tall
eight-day clock, they sat down to a plentiful dinner.  Over the meal
the talk turned on the journey the scouts were making, and the farmer
and his wife were deeply interested in their adventures.

'But look here, now,' said Mr. Hardy; 'this fine piece of work you've
done for us--and we shall never forget it--has fetched you out of your
way, and cost you a lot of time.'

'We'll make it up before dark,' said Dick.

'Ay, by overtiring yourselves,' said the farmer.  'Now, suppose I run
you along a piece of your way in my trap.  I've got a Welsh cob that'll
slip us along as if he'd but a feather behind him.  I'll set you ten or
twelve miles on your road, and be thankful if you'd give me the chance.'

The scouts looked at each other.  It was a temptation.  It was an
undeniable temptation.  It would make the march into Bardon a very
simple affair on the morrow.

Then Chippy spoke up, his keen eye reading Dick's puckered brow and
considering face.

'Yer want to march all the way,' he said quietly.

'I didn't at first, Chippy,' replied Dick.  'The offer of the lift
seemed splendid, and it is immensely good of you,' he went on, turning
to Mr. Hardy.  'But I'll tell you just where I stand.  I'm under a sort
of agreement with my father that it's to be a genuine march all the
way.  If I had a lift from you, it would hardly be fair as I see it.
But that doesn't apply at all to my chum; he's quite at liberty to come
with you.'

'I'll take one or both, and be proud to do it,' cried the farmer.

'Much obliged,' said Chippy in his hoarsest notes; 'but me and my
comrade march together.'  Nor could either of the scouts be shaken from
his determination.



CHAPTER XLVI

DICK'S ACCIDENT

Dick and Chippy took the road again an hour after dinner amid a volley
of cheers raised by the labourers on the farm.  The men had gathered in
the stockyard to see them start, and gave them three times three and a
tiger; for the Hardys were very popular with their dependents, and,
beyond that, the men felt respect for coolness, pluck, and skill for
the sake of the qualities themselves.

The two scouts felt a glow of delight in this achievement such as no
words can describe.  They marched on their way with a swinging stride,
as if they stood on air.  First they had the keen professional delight
of having built up by their own observation a theory which proved true
in every particular save one--that the blood found on the scene of the
accident had flowed from a cut in the arm, and not in the head.  But
that was a mere detail; in every item that mattered their deductions
had proved sound.

'I should just like to have asked him when the brake went,' said Dick.
'Pretty well at the top of the hill, I know.'

'Must ha' done,' said Chippy, 'by the spin he'd got on the machine.'

They had not seen or spoken to their comrade before leaving the farm.
Fred Hardy was in too weak a state even to know what his brother scouts
had done for him, let alone seeing them or thanking them; his life
still hung on a thread, but that thread would for a surety have been
snapped had not the patrol-leaders discovered him and checked the
bleeding.

'An' to think, arter follerin' him up, he turned out one of us,'
murmured Chippy.

'Wasn't it splendid!' cried Dick.

Yes, that was the very crowning touch of the adventure.  They would
have done it all with the most cheerful willingness for anyone, old or
young, sick or poor; but to rescue a brother scout--ah! that gave a
flavour to the affair which filled them with purest delight.

Now the scouts swung forward with steady stride; they had lost a good
deal of time, and the miles stretched before them--a formidable array
to be ticked off before the spires of Bardon would be seen.  This sweep
back from Newminster was longer than the road they had followed to the
city, and the extra distance was beginning to tell.  They made a good
strong march for three hours, and then halted for a short rest; and
upon this halt a rather awkward accident took place, in which Dick was
the sufferer.

The scouts had been tempted to pause at a point where a shallow brook
ran for some hundreds of yards beside the road, forming one boundary.
They had just made a long stretch of hot, dusty road, and their feet
were aching.  The water tempted them to halt, and strip off shoes and
stockings, to bathe their heated and weary feet.

They sat down on the roots of a tree beside the stream, and dangled
their feet in the cool running water, and found it very pleasant and
refreshing.

'There's a fish acrost th' other side, just gone into a hole in the
bank,' said Chippy; 'wonder if I could get 'im out?'

'Are you any good at catching fish with your hands, Chippy?' asked his
companion.  'I never had any luck that way.  I've tried in that brook
on the heath, but they mostly seem to slip through my fingers.'

'There's a knack about it,' replied the Raven.  'Now, I dessay, Dick,
ye tried to shut your hand round 'em.'

'Yes, I did,' said the Wolf.

'Ah, now, that's wheer ye went wrong,' returned his friend.  'Ye want
to mark 'em down under a stone or in a hole, then press 'em hard agin
the side, an' hold 'em theer a while.  Then ye can jerk 'em out when
they've lost their wind a bit.'

Chippy proceeded to show how it was done.  He slipped his shirt-sleeve
back to the shoulder, and introduced his hand cautiously into the hole.
He made a sudden movement, and snapped 'Got 'im!' and held on.  A
minute later he drew out a small trout, his finger and thumb thrust
into the gills, and showed it to Dick.

'Quarter-pounder for ye,' he said, and dexterously broke its neck.

'Let's see if we can get enough for supper, Chippy,' cried Dick;
'they'd go down first-rate with the sandwiches;' for Mrs. Hardy had
insisted on storing their haversacks with a plentiful supply of ham and
beef sandwiches.  They spent half an hour or more paddling about in the
cool, clear water, but only three small ones came to hand.

Then Chippy thrust his arm up a hole among the roots of an alder, and
gave a chuckle of delight.  'A big un at last,' he cried; 'I've got
'im.'  But suddenly his note changed.

'Ow!' he yelled, in comic anguish, and whipped his hand out of the
hole.  Blood was streaming from his forefinger.

'I say,' cried Dick, 'what a savage trout!'

''Tworn't a trout at all,' wailed the Raven; ''twor a big rat, an' he
bit me.'

The scouts roared with laughter as Chippy flipped the blood into the
water.

'He'd got you that time,' chuckled Dick.

'Sure enough,' nodded the Raven.  'I thought it wor' a pounder at the
least.  He's nigh on bit my finger through.'

Dick had his patrol staff in hand: he thrust it up the hole and tried
to poke the rat out.  But the hole twisted among the roots, and was a
safe fortress for its wily defender.

'Well, I've done all the gropin' I want, this time,' remarked Chippy,
washing his finger in the stream.

'Yes, we must be off again,' said Dick, and began slowly to wade
towards the bank where their shoes and stockings lay.

Suddenly he started and picked up one foot.

'Ah!' cried Dick, 'that was sharp, and no mistake.'

'Wot's the matter?' called out Chippy, approaching him.

'Trod on something sharp,' said Dick.

'I should think yer did,' cried the Raven; 'look at yer foot.  We must
see to this.'

Dick looked, and saw the clear water stained with blood as it swept
past his foot.  He bent down and looked at the bed of the stream.

'Confound it all,' he said, 'it's the end of a broken bottle I've
trodden on.  No wonder it warmed me up a bit.  Somebody's chucked it
into the brook as they passed.'

The boys scrambled to the bank, and there Dick's wound was examined.
It was on the outer side of the right heel, not long, but deep, for the
broken bottle had thrust a sharp splintered point upwards, and the cut
bled very freely.  They washed it well in the cold water until the
blood ceased to flow, then rubbed plenty of the mutton-fat in, for that
was the only kind of ointment they had.

'Quite sure theer's no salt in this?' asked Chippy.  ''Cos salt 'ud be
dangerous.'

'Quite sure,' replied Dick.  'I boiled it down myself.  It's pure fat.'

Chippy looked anxious.  'It's frightful awk'ard a cut in yer foot,' he
said.  'How are ye goin' to march, Dick?'

'Oh, I'll march all right,' said Dick.  'I wish, though, it had been my
finger, like yours, Chippy.'

The Raven nodded.  'True for you,' he said, 'ye don't ha' to tramp on
yer hands.'

They bound up the cut in a strip torn from a handkerchief, got into
their stockings and shoes, and went forward.  Dick declared that his
cut gave him little or no pain, but Chippy still looked uneasy.  He
knew that the time for trouble was ahead, when the cut would stiffen.



CHAPTER XLVII

THE LAST CAMP

'We'll never see Wildcombe Chase to-night, Chippy,' said Dick, as they
stepped along.

'Not likely,' was the reply; 'we've a-lost too much time for that.  An'
now theer's that cut.  What I say is this: let's mek' an early camp an'
give yer foot a good rest.  P'raps it'll feel better in the mornin'.'

'It isn't very bad now,' said Dick, 'only a little sore.'

'H'm,' grunted Chippy, 'so ye say.  I know wot a deep cut like that
means.  We'll rest it as soon as we can.'

They paused on a triangle of grass at some cross roads and got out
their map.  Wildcombe Chase was altogether too far now, and they looked
for a nearer camping-ground.  They saw that they were within a mile of
a village, and beyond that a by-way led across a large common.  On this
common they resolved to make their last bivouac.

They passed through the village without purchasing anything.  They had
plenty of food for supper in their haversacks, and though their tea and
sugar and so on were finished, they did not intend to buy more.  Even
to purchase in small quantities would leave them with some on their
hands, and they were not willing to spend the money.  It was no mean,
miserly spirit which moved them.  Their scout's pride was concerned in
carrying out the journey at as low a cost as possible, working their
own way, as it were, through the country.  For the money, as money,
neither cared a rap.  It must also be confessed that Dick was rather
keen on handing back to his father a big part of the ten shillings.
Dick remembered the twinkle in his father's eye, when Mr. Elliott
handed over the half-sovereign for way money.  The smile meant that he
felt perfectly certain that the two boys would soon run through the ten
shillings and have to turn back.  Dick had perfectly understood, and
the more he could return of that half-sovereign the prouder be would
feel.

They pressed on across the common with a distant fir coppice for their
landmark and goal.  Such a place meant a comfortable bed for the night,
and as soon as they gained its shelter Chippy cried halt, and forbade
Dick to stir another step.

'It's been gettin' wuss and wuss lately,' said Chippy.  'Ye don't say a
word, an' ye try to step out just as usual, but it's gettin' wuss an'
wuss.'

'Oh, I don't mind admitting it's a trifle sore,' said Dick, 'but it
will be all right in the morning.'

'Hope so,' said Chippy.  'Now you just drop straight down on that bank,
an' I'll do th' odd jobs.'

Dick protested, but the Raven was not to be moved.  He forced his chum
to stretch himself on a warm, grassy bank while he made the
preparations for camping that night.  A short distance away a rushy
patch betokened the presence of water.  Dick pointed it out.  'I'll go
over there and wash my foot,' he said.

'Right,' said Chippy, 'an' dab some more o' that fat on the cut.'

Dick found a little pool in the marshy place, and the cool water was
very pleasant to his wounded foot, which had now become sore and
aching.  When he returned, Chippy was emerging from the coppice with
armfuls of bedding; he had found a framework in the rails of a broken
fence which had once bounded the firwood.

'Here, Chippy, I can lend a hand at that,' said Dick.  'There's no
particular moving about in that job.'

'Aw' right,' said the Raven; 'then I'll set plenty o' stuff to yer hand
an' see about the fire.'

Chippy soon had a fire going, and a heap of dry sticks gathered to feed
it.  A short distance away a big patch of gorse had been swaled in the
spring.  It had been a very partial affair, and the strong stems stood
blackened and gaunt, but unburned.  Thither went Chippy with the little
axe, and worked like a nigger, hacking down stem after stem, and
dragging them across until he had a pile of them also.

'They'll mek' a good steady fire for the night,' he remarked.  Then he
seized the billy.

'What d'ye say to a drop o' milk?' he said.  'We could manage that, I
shouldn't wonder.  When I wor' up in the wood I seen a man milkin' some
cows t'other side o' the coppice, an' now as I wor' luggin' these
sticks back I seen him a-comin' down the bank.  Theer he goes.'

Chippy pointed, and Dick saw a man crossing the common with two shining
milk-pails hanging from a yoke.  At this warm season of the year the
cows were out day and night, and the man had clearly come to milk them
on the spot, and thus make a single journey instead of the double one
involved in fetching them home and driving them back to the
feeding-ground.

Dick turned out twopence, and Chippy pursued the retreating milkman.
He returned, carrying the billy carefully.

'He wor' a good sort,' cried Chippy.  'He gied me brimmin' good measure
for the money.'

The scouts now made a cheerful supper.  Chippy broiled the trout in the
ashes; Mrs. Hardy's sandwiches were very good, and the milk was heated
in the billy and drunk hot from their tin cups.

Supper was nearly over when a small, reddish-coated creature came
slipping through the grass towards them.

'There's a weasel,' said Dick, and the scouts watched it.

The little creature came quite near the fire, loping along, its nose
down as if following a track.  Then it paused, raised its head on the
long snake-like neck, and looked boldly at the two boys, its small
bright eyes glittering with a fierce light.

'Pretty cheeky,' said Dick, and threw a scrap of wood at it.  The
weasel gave a cry, more of anger than alarm, and glided away.

Within twenty minutes they saw a second weasel running along under the
brake, nosing in every hole, and pausing now and again to raise its
head and look round sharply on every hand.

'Weasels seem pretty busy about this 'ere coppice,' observed Chippy.

'No mistake about it,' agreed Dick.  'Do you know, Chippy, I've heard
that they are always active and running about before bad weather.'

'Hope they've got another reason this time,' growled the Raven.  'Sky
looks all right.'

'It does,' replied Dick.

The two scouts looked to every point of the compass, and raked their
memories for weather signs, and compared what they remembered, but they
could see nothing wrong.  The sun was going down in a perfectly clear
sky, and flooding the common with glorious light.  There was no wind,
no threat of storm from any quarter: the evening was cool, calm, and
splendid.

'We'll turn in as soon as the sun's gone,' said Dick, 'and be up early
in the morning, and make a long day of it.'

Chippy nodded, and the boys watched the great orb sinking steadily
towards a long bank of purple woodland, which closed in the horizon.

'Wot's the home stretch run out at?' asked the Haven.

'The march in from here?' said Dick.  'Where's the map?  We'll soon
foot it up.'

The map was spread out, and careful measurements taken.  'Rather more
than twenty-one miles,' said Dick.

Chippy whistled softly.  'We'd do it aw' right if nuthin' had happened
to yer foot,' he murmured.

'We'll do it all right as it is,' cried the Wolf.  'Do you think I'm
going to let that spoil our grand march?  Not likely.  I'll step it out
to-morrow, and heel-and-toe it into Bardon every inch, Chippy, my boy.'

'It's a tidy stump on a cut foot,' said the Raven soberly.

'Hallo! what's that?' said Dick, and they looked round.

A furious squealing broke out among the trees behind them, and then a
rabbit tumbled out of a bush, made a short scuttling run, and rolled
over in a heap.

Close at its heels came the bloodthirsty little weasel in full pursuit,
sprang on its prey once more, and fixed its teeth in the back of the
rabbit's head, when the squealing broke forth anew.

Up leapt the Raven and took a hand in the affair at once.  He caught up
a stick of firewood, but the weasel ran away and left the rabbit
kicking on the ground.  Chippy picked up the bunny and came back to the
fire.

'A good fat un, he cried, 'about three-parts grown.  Good old weasel!'

'Very kind of him to go foraging for us,' laughed Dick.

'Ain't it?'--and the Raven showed the rabbit.  It was not yet dead, and
Chippy at once put it out of its pain by a sharp tap on the back of its
neck with the edge of his hand.  This killed it instantly.

'That's a good breakfast for us,' said Dick.  'We've got one or two
sandwiches left as well.'

'Righto,' said Chippy, and turned to and skinned the rabbit, and
cleaned it, ready for broiling in the morning.

Then they turned in, and were soon off to sleep.

Three hours later the Raven was wakened by something moving and
sniffing about his bed.  He sat up, and a creature, looking in the
faint light something like a dog, ran away into the coppice.

Next Dick awoke, aroused by his chum's movements, and heard the Raven
grunting and growling softly to himself.

'Anything wrong, Chippy?' he asked.

'Sommat's been here an' bagged the brekfus',' replied the Raven.

'Was it a dog prowling about?' cried Dick.

At this moment a hollow bark rang from the depths of the coppice:

'Wow-wow!  Wow-wow!'

'There it is,' said Dick; 'a dog.'

'No,' replied Chippy.  'I know wot it is now.  That's a fox.  I'll bet
theer's a vixen wi' cubs in this coppice, an' she's smelt the rabbit
an' collared it.'

'Then I hope that weasel will start hunting again, laughed Dick, 'and
chevy up another breakfast for us.'

'Well, it's gone, an' theer's no use tryin' to look for it,' said
Chippy, and tucked himself up in his blanket again.



CHAPTER XLVIII

IN THE RAIN

The scouts were falling off to sleep once more when they were aroused
again, this time by the divinest music.  A nightingale began to sing in
the little wood, and made it echo and re-echo with the richest song.

Suddenly a faint murmuring began to mingle with the lovely notes.  The
murmuring grew, and the bird's song ceased.  The air was filled with
the patter of falling rain.

'Rain!' cried Dick; 'that's rain, Chippy.'

'On'y a shower, p'raps,' said his comrade.

'I hope so,' returned the Wolf.

They felt nothing of the rain at present, for they were camped beneath
a fir which stood as an outpost to the coppice, and its thick canopy
was stretched above their heads.  Chippy sprang up and threw fresh fuel
on the fire, and looked out on the night.

'Theer's a big black cloud creepin' up from the sou'-west,' he said.
'That looks pretty bad for a soaker.'

In a short time the scouts knew they were in for a real drenching.  The
patter of the rain came heavier and thicker, until it was drumming on
the fir-branches in steady streams.  Soon great spots began to fall
from the lower branches of the fir beneath which they lay.

'I've just had a big drop slap in my eye,' said Dick, sitting up.
'What are we going to do, Chippy?'

'Got to do summat,' said the Raven, 'an' quick, too, afore we're
drownded out.'

'Let's rig up a shelter tent with the blankets,' suggested Dick; and
they set to work at once.  They pulled the four fence-rails which
formed the framework of their bed from their places, and laid them side
by side in search of the shorter ones.  They proved much of the same
size, so Chippy went to work with the hatchet to shorten a pair, while
Dick began to dig the holes in which to step them.  The ground was
soft, and with the aid of his knife Dick soon had a couple of holes
eighteen inches deep.  While he did this Chippy had cut two rails down,
and fastened a third across the ends of the shorter ones, with the
scouts' neckties for cords.  They had ample light to work by, for the
fire had flared up bravely.

Now they swung up their framework of two posts and a cross-bar, and
stepped the feet of the posts in the holes, throwing back the soft
earth, and ramming it in with the short, thick pieces cut off the
rails.  This made a far stronger hold for the uprights than anything
they could have done in the shape of sharpening their ends and trying
to drive them down.

Next they took their blankets, and hung them side by side over the
cross-bar, one overlapping the other by a couple of feet.  With their
knives they cut a number of pegs from the hard gorse stems, and
sharpened them, and drove them through the blankets into the bar,
pinning the blankets tightly in place.  The tough gorse-wood went into
the soft rail like nails, and the back of the tomahawk made a splendid
hammer.  They had a fourth rail, and they pegged the other ends of the
blankets down to that, drew it backwards, and there was a lean-to
beneath which they leapt with shouts of triumph.

'Done th' old rain this time,' yelled the Raven.  'Now we'll keep a
rousin' fire goin', and sit here and listen to it.'

There was, luckily, no wind, or the scouts might not have been so
jubilant; it was a heavy summer rain, pouring down strong and straight.
The boys were pretty wet before they had got their shelter rigged up,
but the fire was strong and warm, though it hissed vigorously as the
heavy drops fell from the branches of the fir.

'Any chance of putting the fire out, do you think?' said Dick.

'Not if we keep plenty o' stuff on it,' replied his chum.  'Hark 'ow
it's patterin' on the blankets!'

'They'll be jolly wet, and take some drying,' said Dick.  'Still,
better for them to get wet than for us.'

'We ain't cut a trench,' said Chippy.

'To carry off the water,' cried Dick.  'No, we haven't.  But we can dig
that from cover, just round the patch we want to sit on.'

They went to work with their knives, and cut a trench six inches deep
round the pile of bedding on which they were seated, and then had no
fear of being flooded out with rain-water.

Down came the rain faster and heavier.  The whole air was filled with
the hissing, rushing noise of the great drops falling on the trees, the
bushes, the open ground, but the scouts sat tight under their blanket
lean-to, and fed the fire steadily from the heap of sticks and stems
which the Raven had piled up.

'Weasels for weather-prophets for me arter this,' grunted Chippy; and
Dick nodded his head.

'It was my Uncle Jim who told me that about the weasels,' said Dick.
'He said they're always very active before stormy weather.'

'Just about fits it this time, anyway,' remarked the Raven.  The
mention of Mr. Elliott brought to mind their chums in Bardon.

'I wonder how our patrols are getting on without us, Chippy?' said Dick.

'Oh, it'll gie the corporals a chance to try their 'ands at leadin','
returned the Raven.  'I wish they could just see us now.  They'd gie
their skins to jine us.'

'Rather,' laughed Dick; 'this is just about all right.'

It is possible that some persons might not have agreed with him, and at
one o'clock in the morning might have preferred their beds to squatting
on a heap of brushwood under the shelter of a blanket, the hissing fire
making the only cheery spot in the blackness of the cloud- and
rain-wrapped moorland.  But the scouts would not have changed their
situation for quarters in Buckingham Palace.  There was the real touch
about this.  It seemed almost as romantic as a bivouac on a battlefield.

'Well, s'pose we try for a bit more sleep,' said the prudent Raven;
'long march to-morrer, yer know.'

'We've got to keep the fire up,' said Dick; 'it would never do to let
that out.'

'O' course not,' replied Chippy; 'we must take turns to watch.  Now,
who gets fust sleep--long or short?'

He held up two twigs which he had plucked from the bedding; the ends
were concealed in his hand.

'Short gets first sleep,' said Dick.

'Aw' right,' replied the Raven; 'you draw.'

Dick drew, and found he had the long draw.

'Wot's the time?' asked Chippy.

'Just turned one.'

'Right; then I'll sleep till three.  Then you wake me, and I'll tek' a
turn till five.  Then we must be movin', for to-morrer's a long day.'

'To-day's a long day, you mean,' laughed Dick.

'So it is,' replied the Raven.  'It's to-day a'ready--o' course it is.'

He was about to coil himself round like a dog upon the hearth, when he
cast a quick glance on the heap of firewood.

'Not enough theer,' he said; 'an' I ain't a-goin' to have ye hoppin'
round on yer game foot.'

He sprang up again, and, in spite of Dick's protestations, caught up
the axe and a flaming brand from the fire, and went down to the burnt
gorse-patch, and hacked away till he had as many of the long stems as
he could drag.

'They're a bit wet outside,' he said, as he returned; 'but they'll
ketch all right if ye keep a good fire up, and theer's a plenty to last
till I've finished my nap.  Then I can fill in my time wi' cuttin' any
amount.'

He curled himself up again, and was asleep in a moment.

Dick's watch was only two hours, but it seemed a long, long time.  He
kept a rousing fire going, such a fire as the rain could make no
impression upon, and lost itself in the glowing depths in an angry
spluttering.  Once the heat made him so drowsy that he dreaded the
terrible disgrace of falling asleep on his post.  So he stuck his head
from under the shelter, and washed the sleep out of his eyes in the
slashing downpour.  But even after that he was half asleep again, when
a sluice of cold water came in at the point where the blankets
overlapped, and very obligingly ran down his neck, and fetched him up
with a jump.  Now he had a job to do in arranging their cover, and he
moved the ground rail a little back, and drew the blankets tauter.  The
simple shelter did its work nobly.  It is true that towards the bottom
the weight of water caused the blankets to sag, and there was a steady
drip at that point; but it was beyond the spot where the scouts were
crouching, and the sharp slant of the upper part ran the water safely
over their heads.

Chippy woke upon the stroke of three in a manner which seemed to Dick
perfectly miraculous.

'How did you do it?' asked the latter.  'I should never have awakened
of myself in that style.'

'Yer must fix it on yer mind,' replied the Raven, 'and then somehow or
other yer eyes open at the right time.'

'Well,' laughed Dick, 'I'm afraid it's no use my trying to fix five
o'clock in my mind.  You'll have to wake me, Chippy.'

'I'll wake ye fast enough,' returned the Raven.  'Now roll yerself up,
an' go to bye-bye.  It'll be broad daylight soon.  Most likely the rain
will stop at sun-up.'

Day was breaking, but grey and chill, and the rain still poured down in
lines which scarcely slanted.  The scouts, however, were quite warm,
for there was no wind, and the leaping fire sent ample heat into the
nook where they lay.

Dick placed his haversack for a pillow, and laid his head on it.  The
sleep he had been fighting off descended on him in power, and he knew
no more until Chippy shook his arm and aroused him at five o'clock.

His eyes opened on a very different scene from that he had last gazed
upon.  The rain was over; the morning was bright with glowing sunshine;
the new-bathed country looked deliciously fresh and green; a most balmy
and fragrant breeze was blowing; and in copse and bush a hundred birds
were singing, while the lark led them all from the depths of the blue
sky.

'What a jolly morning!' cried Dick.

'Aw' right, ain't it?' grinned the Raven.  'The rain stopped a little
arter four, an' the sun come out, an' it's been a-gettin' better an'
better.'

Suddenly Dick looked up.  The blankets had gone.  Chippy laughed.

'Look behind,' he said.

Dick looked, and saw that the Raven had been very busy.  He had built a
fresh fire with a heap of glowing embers from the old one; the billy
had served him as an improvised shovel.  Over this fire he had erected
a cage of bent sticks, and the blankets were stretched on the framework
and drying in style; the steam was rising from them in clouds.

'That's great,' said his chum; 'I wondered more than once in the night
what we should do with sopping wet blankets.'

'They'll be all right in a while again.'  And the Raven gave them a
turn.  'Now we've got to wire in and hunt up a brekfus.'

Dick turned out the haversack which held the food they had left, but it
made a very poor apology for a meal.

'I could put that lot in a holler tooth, an' never know I'd had aught,'
said Chippy.  'This scoutin' life mek's yer uncommon peckish.'

'Rather,' cried the Wolf, who was as hungry as the animal after which
his patrol was named; and the two boys began to scout for their last
wild, free breakfast-table.



CHAPTER XLIX

DIGGING A WELL

The two scouts crept along the edge of the coppice, eye and ear on the
alert.  They were hoping to surprise a rabbit in a play-hole, but
though they saw plenty of rabbits scuttling to shelter, every hole
proved the mouth of a burrow, and that was too much for them to
attempt.  They worked clean round the coppice, saw dozens of rabbits,
but were never within a mile of catching one; at last they came back to
their camp.

'It strikes me, Chippy, we shall have to divide the scraps we've got
left, tighten our belts, and strike out for the next baker's shop.'

'Looks like it,' murmured the Raven.  'I'm jolly thirsty too.'

'So am I,' said Dick; 'let's see if we can find a pool of clear water
in the swampy patch yonder.'

They went down to the little marsh, but though there was plenty of
water, it all appeared thick and uninviting.  Being scouts, the boys
were very careful of what water they drank, and they looked
suspiciously on the marsh pools.

'No drink nayther,' said the Raven; 'we'd better get a start on us for
a country wheer there's things to be got.'

'Wait a bit, Chippy,' replied his comrade.  'I think I know a dodge to
get round this, if we only had a spade to dig with.  It's a trick my
Uncle Jim put me up to.  He often used it when he was travelling in
Africa.'

Dick explained what was to be done, and the Raven nodded.

'If that's all there is to it,' remarked the latter, 'I'll soon find
the spades.'

He returned to the camp, seized the tomahawk, and began to cut at one
of the pieces chopped off the rails.  In five minutes of deft hewing
Chippy turned the broad, flat piece of timber into a rude wooden
shovel.  Dick seized it with a cry of admiration.

'Why, this will do first-rate, old chap,' he asid.  'The ground is
pretty sure to be soft.'

'Go ahead, then,' said the Raven.  'I'll jine ye wi' another just now.'

Dick went down to the swamp, and chose a grassy spot about twenty feat
from the largest pool.  Here with his knife he cut away a patch of turf
about a couple of feet across; then he went to work with his wooden
spade on the soft earth below.  In a short time Chippy joined him, and
the two scouts had soon scraped a hole some thirty inches deep.  From
the sides of the hole water began to trickle in freely, and a muddy
pool formed in the hollow.  Dick now took the billy, and carefully
baled the dirty water out.  A fresh pool gathered, not so dirty as the
first, but still far from clean.  This, too, was baled out, and a third
gathering also.  Then the water came in clear and cool and sweet, and
the scouts were able to drink freely.

Chippy was warm in his praise of this excellent dodge, when suddenly he
stopped, caught up the wooden spade, and, with a single grunt of
'Brekfus ahoy!' was gone.

His eye, ever on the alert, had marked a small figure scuttling along
in the undergrowth of the coppice, and he was in hot pursuit.  In two
minutes he was back with a fat hedgehog.

'Ye've tasted this afore,' he said.  'How about another try?'

'Good for you, Chippy!' cried Dick; 'it was first-rate.  Will you cook
it the same way?'

'There ain't none better,' replied the Raven, and set to work at once
to prepare and cook the prey of his spade.  In the end the scouts made
an excellent breakfast.  They enjoyed hedgehog done to a turn--or,
rather, to a moment, as there was no turning in the matter--the remains
of Mrs. Hardy's sandwiches, and a billy of water drawn from their own
well.  The well and the breakfast took some time, and their start was
much later than they had intended that it should be.  But, on the other
hand, there were the blankets to dry, and between the sun and the fire
the latter were quite dry enough to pack away in the haversacks when
the scouts were ready to move.

Dick's foot had become quite easy during the night's rest, but after a
couple of miles the cut began to let him know that it was there.  By
the time they had covered four miles it was very painful, and he was
limping a little.  Then they struck a canal on the side opposite to the
towpath, and they sat down beside it on a grassy bank and cooled off a
little before they stripped for a good swim in the clear water.

When Dick took off his shoe and stocking, the Raven whistled and looked
uneasy.  The flesh all round the cut looked red and angry, and the heel
was sore to the touch.

'Isn't it a nuisance,' groaned Dick, 'for a jolly awkward cut like that
to come in and make the going bad for me?  But I'll stick it out,
Chippy.  It's the last day, and I'll hobble through somehow and finish
the tramp.'

'We'll pass a little town 'bout a mile again, accordin' to the map,'
said the Raven, 'an' there we'll get some vaseline.'

'Good plan,' said Dick; 'that's splendid stuff for a cut.'

They had their dip, dressed, and pushed forward.  At the little town
they called at a chemist's and bought a penny box of vaseline.  As soon
as they reached quiet parts again, Dick took off his shoe and stocking,
and rubbed the wound well with the healing ointment, then covered the
bandage with a good layer, and tied it over the cut, and rested for
half an hour.  This greatly eased the pain and discomfort, and they
trudged on strongly for a couple of hours.

Suddenly the scouts raised a cheer.  Above a grove of limes a short
distance ahead, a church steeple sprang into sight.

'Half-way!' cried Dick.  'We've done half the journey, Chippy.  Here's
Little Eston steeple.'

The Raven nodded.  'We'll halt t'other side,' he said.

In the village they bought a small loaf and a quarter of a pound of
cheese, and those were put into Chippy's haversack.  At a cottage
beyond the hamlet they lent a hand to a woman who was drawing water
from her well, and filled their billy with drinking-water at the same
time.  They made another three hundred yards, then settled on a shady
bank under a tall hawthorn-hedge for their midday halt.

'How's yer foot, Dick?' queried the Raven anxiously.

'A bit stiff,' replied Dick; 'but that vaseline has done it a lot of
good.  I'll peg it out all right yet, Chippy, my son.  Now for bread
and cheese.  It will taste jolly good after our tramp, I know.'

It did taste very good, and the scouts made a hearty meal, and then lay
for a couple of hours at ease under the pleasant hawthorns, now filled
with may-blossom.



CHAPTER L

THE OLD HIGGLER

Before they started again Dick gave his foot another rubbing with
vaseline, but found it hard going after the rest.

'Look here, Chippy,' he said, 'I mustn't halt again for any length of
time.  If I do, my foot may stiffen up till I can't move.  We must make
one long swing in this afternoon.'

The road that ran from Little Eston in the direction of Bardon had a
broad strip of turf beside the way, and Dick found this a great ease to
his aching foot.  But after a time the road narrowed, and was dusty
from hedge to hedge.  They passed a sign-post which said, 'Two miles to
Little Eston.'

'That's a couple scored off,' said Dick; 'the miles are less than
double figures now, Chippy.'

'Yus,' said the latter; 'an' we'll get to Shotford Common soon.
That'll be easier walkin' than the road.'

A short distance beyond the sign-post an old man leading a small donkey
in a little cart met them, and they passed the time of day.

'Mortal hot, ain't it?' said the old man; and the scouts agreed with
him.  The heat was, indeed, sweltering.  It was one of those days of
early summer which seem borrowed from the dog-days, and the scouts,
tough as they were, were dripping with sweat as they marched along with
shirt-sleeves rolled nearly to their shoulders, their shoes and
stockings thickly powdered with the white dust which lay deep under
foot.

Suddenly Chippy pulled up.  'I'll 'ave that haversack o' yourn,' he
remarked.

'You won't, old boy,' replied Dick.  'Every man shoulders his own pack
on a day like this.'

'I'll have that haversack,' went on Chippy calmly.  'Bit too bad for a
scout wi' a damaged foot to pull a load while another strolls along as
easy as can be.  So pass it over.'

'I won't,' said Dick.  'It's no load in particular.'

'Then why mek' a row about handin' it over?' queried the Raven.

Dick was about to reply when he paused, looked ahead, and said: 'By
Jingo, Chippy, here comes a choker.  The haversacks will come handy to
put our heads into.'

The Raven turned and saw a huge pillar of dust whirling towards them.
It rose high above the hedges beyond a bend near at hand, and came on
at great speed.  The scouts knew that a motor-car was at the fore-foot
of the pillar, and they stepped back into the shallow ditch which
bordered the way.

In another moment a big, heavy car, flying at terrific speed, came
shooting round the bend, and as it flew it gathered the deep white
dust, and hurled it thirty feet into the air; leaving the road in the
wake of the car one utterly blinding, choking mass of eddying dust.
The scouts threw themselves into the bank and covered their faces with
their hats: it was the only way of drawing some sort of breath, and
even then their throats were choked with dust till they coughed.

'Nice thing, a motor-car running forty miles an hour over two inches of
dust,' remarked Dick in ironical tones.

'It 'ud serve 'em right to bust their tyres on a broken bottle end,'
murmured Chippy.  'It ain't safe to scoot along like that on these 'ere
narrow roads.'

'It's to be hoped they eased up before passing the old man and his
donkey-cart,' said Dick.  'The wind of their passing would be enough
almost to upset him.'

'That's wot they've done,' cried Chippy suddenly.  'Look! look! his
cart's in the ditch.'

Dick looked, and saw through the thinning cloud that the poor old man
was in distress.  His cart was turned over, and the donkey was
struggling on its side.  The scouts ran back at full speed to help him.

'What's wrong?' cried Dick.  'Did the car hit you?'

''Twor comin' a main sight too fast,' cried the old man, 'an' just as
it passed, the noise o' it med Jimmy start round an' swerve a bit, an'
suthin' stickin' out caught him on the shoulder an' knocked him into
the ditch as if he'd been hit wi' a cannon-ball.'

'And they never stopped or asked what was the matter?' cried Dick.

'Not they,' said the old man; 'on they went as fast as iver.'

'What cads!' cried Dick.  'Did you see the number, Chippy?'

'No,' replied the Raven.  'Too much dust.'

'There were four men in it,' went on the old man, 'an' they looked back
at me, but they niver pulled up.'

The scouts were loud in their anger against the inconsiderate
motorists, and they were perfectly right.  The truth was that the men
had fled in fear.  A chauffeur had taken his master's car without
permission to give some of his fellow servants a run, and they dreaded
detection, which would get them into trouble at home.  However, the car
had gone, and its number was not known, and within half a mile there
was a meeting of cross roads where the motorists could turn aside
without passing through the village.  The comrades gave their attention
to the matter immediately in hand, and helped the old man to unharness
the struggling donkey and draw the little cart back.

The poor beast did not attempt to rise when it was freed.  There was a
cut on the shoulder where it had been struck, but the wound was not
bleeding much, and the old man did not think the hurt was so bad as it
proved to be.

'S'pose we tried to get Jimmy on his legs,' he proposed, and the two
scouts sprang to help him.  They were trying to raise the poor brute
when a gamekeeper with his gun under his arm came through a gate near
at hand.

'Hallo, Thatcher, what's wrong?' he called out.

'Why, 'tis one o' these here danged motor-cars,' replied the old man.
'Gooin' faster than an express train along this narrow way, an' knocked
Jimmy into the ditch.'

The gamekeeper came up, and at the first glance called upon them to lay
the donkey down again.

'Let me have a look at him,' he said.  'That cut's nothing.  There's
worse than that cut, I fancy.'

'I hope no bones have a-gone,' said the donkey's master.

'That's just where it is, Thatcher,' said the gamekeeper, after a short
examination.  'The poor beast's shoulder is a-broke right across.
He'll ne'er stand on his four legs again.'

Thatcher uttered a cry of distress.

'Broke across, ye say, keeper!  Then what's to be done with him?'

'Nothing,' said the keeper; 'there's nothing ye can do to cure him.
The poor brute's in agony now.  Look at his eyes!'

'Nothin' ye can do,' repeated the owner in a dull voice, his eyes
almost as full of distress as those of his injured helpmate.  'An'
Jimmy were the best donkey as iver pulled a cart.'

'Nothin' at all,' said the keeper, ''cept a charge o' No. 6,' and he
tapped the breech of his gun significantly.

'Shoot him?' cried old Thatcher.

'It's that or let him die slowly in misery,' replied the keeper.  'If
ye like I'll put him out of his pain before I go on, but I can't stay
long, for I've got to meet someone in Hayton Spinney, and I ought to be
there now.'

'You're quite sure nothing can be done?' said Dick to the keeper.

'Perfectly sure, sir,' replied the man; 'the shoulder bone's clean
gone.  If it wor' a hunter worth three hundred guineas nothing could be
done to save the creature's life.'

Jimmy was not worth three guineas, let alone three hundred, but when
the keeper had mercifully ended the poor brute's sufferings with a
cartridge, and hurried on to his appointment, he left old Thatcher
heart-broken beside the body of his faithful servant.

'I dunno what I'm goin' to do now!' cried the poor old fellow to the
scouts, who remained at his side to see what help they could render.
'Ye see, wi' Jimmy to help me I've med a few shillin's a week, doin' a
bit o' higgling an' odd jobs in carryin' light things.  That's kept me
out o' the Work'us.  But I'm a lost man now.  There's nowt but the
Union for me, I doubt.  An' I've fowt hard to keep out o' that.'

The scouts tried to console him, but the loss of his donkey was a heavy
blow to the old higgler.

'Where am I goin' to get another?' he said.  'I'm a bit short-handed
now wi' my rent, for I've been ill a good bit on an' off last winter.
Eight-an'-twenty shillin' I gave for Jimmy; an' I ain't got
eight-an'-twenty fardens to spare.'

He heaved a bitter sigh, and began to strip the harness off the
companion of his daily journeys.  The scouts helped, and the harness
was tossed into the little cart.  That had escaped very well in the
overset: one shaft was cracked, and that was all.

'Joseph Thatcher, Little Eston,' read Dick, from the side of the cart.

'Ay, that's me,' said the higgler.  'Joe Thatcher: lived in Little
Eston all my life.'

'And you were on your road home?' went on Dick.

'Just comin' back from town,' replied the old man.  'I'd been wi' a
load of butter an' fowls an' what-not for two or three neighbours, an'
left the things at different shops.  An' now I must get my cart home
somehow an' tell my neighbours what's happened.'

'I see,' said Chippy.  'That's aw' right.  I'll run yer cart home for
ye.'

'Yes,' said Dick; 'we'll soon run it home for you.'

'No, yer don't,' said the Raven to his friend.  'Ye'll stop here an'
tek' care o' the traps till I get back;' and with these words he
whipped off haversack and jacket, and tossed them on to the bank.

'Oh, that won't do, Chippy,' cried Dick; 'that's just a trick to
prevent me lending a hand.'

'Trick or no trick, it's just wot 'ull happen,' said the Raven firmly.
'It's rather more'n two miles back to Eston--that's four goin' an'
comin', an' you wi' a game foot.  No, not an inch back do ye stir.
Besides, it gies me the chance to strip to the work nice an'
comfortable.'

'But you can't shift that cart by yourself,' cried Dick.

Chippy uttered a grunt of scorn.

'There's nothing in it 'cept the harness,' he said.  'Can't shift that,
eh?'

He took the shafts and ran the cart into the way as if it had been a
big wheelbarrow: there was surprising strength in his slight but sinewy
figure.

'Come on, gaffer!' cried Chippy, and he trundled the cart rapidly away
down the road, leaving Dick on guard perforce beside his comrade's
equipment.

Within three-quarters of an hour Chippy was back, travelling at scout's
pace.

'You've been jolly quick, Chippy,' shouted Dick.

'Had a bit o' luck,' returned the Raven, wiping his sweat-soaked face;
'met a farmer's cart goin' into Eston, and tied th' old man's cart at
the back, so I didn't 'ave to go all the way.'

'What about the motor-car?' asked Dick.  'Had it run through the
village?'

'Not it,' replied the other; 'turned sharp to the left at the
cross-roads.'

Dick got out the map, and the scouts saw that the driver knew the
country; he had taken the most solitary road of the neighbourhood.

'A set of sneaks,' said Dick.

'Bad uns,' agreed his chum.

'I say, Chippy, it was no end good of you to cut off like that with the
cart, but I would rather have lent a hand,' cried Dick.

'Let's 'ave a look at that 'ere foot,' was the Raven's only reply.

The foot was looked at, anointed with vaseline, bound up afresh, and
then the march was resumed.

Dick now had a very bad quarter of an hour, for his foot had stiffened
rather while Chippy was away.  But he set himself to tramp it out, and
when they passed a station beside the road, and heard an engine
whistle, and saw from a bridge the rails running away towards Bardon,
he only limped on faster, and put aside the temptation of a lift in by
train.

After a while his foot became more easy, and he was able to set it down
without giving any decided indication that there was something amiss.
For this he was very glad before long, when the two scouts met friends
who would soon have spotted a lame walker, and have cut his march short.



CHAPTER LI

THE WELCOME HOME

It was about half-past four when they gained a point where the country
began to wear a familiar look.

'Shotford Corner!' cried Chippy.  'We'll see Bardon from the cob.'

The cob, as Chippy called it, was a small knoll on which stood a finger
post, with many arms to guide wayfarers along the roads which met at
Shotford Corner.  The boys gained the knoll by the smallest of the
side-roads which ran in at that point.

They paused beneath the finger-post, and looked ahead.  There was their
old familiar heath spreading away to the distant spires of Bardon, and
from this point on they knew every step of the way.  'Six miles to
Bardon' was on the arm above their heads.

'We'll be home in less than a couple of hours now,' said Dick.  'We'll
put this journey to our credit easily enough, Chippy.'

Suddenly behind them a wild honk-honk--h-o-n-k of a motor-horn broke
out.  The boys looked along the road, and saw a car coming towards them
at full speed with two figures in it.  The driver was performing a
fantasia on his horn; the passenger was waving his cap.

'Why,' cried Dick, 'it's my father out in his car with Uncle Jim.'

'Well, here you are,' shouted Mr. Elliott, as the car sped up to them.
'We've been scouring these roads all the afternoon in search of you.
How have you got on?'

'Oh, splendid, father--splendid,' cried Dick.  'We should like to start
again on Monday, shouldn't we, Chippy?'

'It 'ud suit me fust rate,' said the Raven, respectfully saluting his
employers.

'Well,' laughed Mr. Elliott, 'I don't know about that.  I'm afraid
there'd be trouble with your headmaster and with Mr. Malins, who has
rather missed Slynn.'

The Raven saluted again, blushing with pleasure to find that the
manager had missed his services.

'You look uncommonly fit, the pair of you,' said Mr. Jim Elliott,
marking the brown faces, the lean, lithe look of the hardy, toughened
scouts.

'Yes, uncle, we feel up to the work all round, and we've had a grand
time.'

'Have you had plenty to eat?' asked Dick's father.

'Plenty, father,' cried Dick;' and we've had the jolliest times
sleeping.  Three nights we camped, one we slept in a hayloft, and one
in the cabin of a barge.'

'Lodgings have been cheap, then?' chuckled Mr. Elliott; 'but how much
of the second half-sovereign have you spent for food?'

Dick laughed in triumph, and fetched out the bit of gold.

'Not a stiver,' he said; 'and there's the best part of the other
half-sovereign too.'  And he laid a heap of silver and copper in his
father's hand.

Mr. Elliott counted it in surprise.  'Why, there's seventeen and
fourpence farthing here,' he said.  'Do you mean to say you two have
been out for a week, and only spent two and sevenpence three-farthings
all told?'

'We do,' cried Dick.  'We've won and earned fairly all the rest of our
food.  I'll tell you everything, and you shall judge for yourself,
father.  But it's too long a tale to go into now.'

Mr. Elliott stared through his goggles in wonder at the money.  'Well,
Jim,' he said at last to his brother, 'these scouts of yours can look
after themselves, it seems.'

'That's the chief thing that Baden-Powell's scouts are expected to
learn,' said the instructor, smiling; 'it is quite clear that Dick and
Slynn have picked up the art in great form.'

'Done the whole thing on two and sevenpence three-farthings!' repeated
Mr. Elliott, his wonder growing as he thought it over.  'Dick, you'd
better come into the business straight away.  You'd be able, I should
say, to give your uncle and myself most valuable advice on the subject
of cutting down expenses.'

Dick laughed, for his father's surprise filled him with the utmost
delight.  Chippy, too, was on the broad grin.

'Here,' said Mr. Elliott suddenly, 'take it; it's yours.  Share it up
between you.'  He poured gold, silver, and copper into the hat which
Dick promptly held out for the money.

'I'm not going to say "no" to that offer, father,' said Dick; 'for I've
a use for my half of the money.'

'Same here,' murmured Chippy; 'the party's name is Joseph Thatcher,
Little Eston.'

'Now, Chippy,' cried Dick, 'how in the world did you know what was in
my mind?'

The Raven chuckled.  'I knowed,' he murmured, and would say no more.

Dick explained who Joseph Thatcher was, and what misfortune had
befallen him.

'He gave twenty-eight shillings for the donkey,' concluded Dick, 'and
this will go a long step towards setting him up again.  The poor old
chap's horribly frightened of the workhouse at present.'

'Ah,' said his father, 'the road-hog is the curse of decent
motor-drivers.  One black sheep can cover the whole flock with
discredit.  Well, now, boys, jump in, and I'll run you into Bardon in
triumph.'

'Oh no, no, father,' cried Dick; 'thank you very much, but that would
spoil the whole thing.  We must finish it out to the last step on foot.'

'What Spartans!' said Mr. Elliott; 'still ready to face six miles of
hot, dusty road after a week's tramping.'

'Yes, father, we must do it,' replied Dick.  'To finish up in a
motor-car would take the shine off the whole affair.'

'Well, well, as you please,' laughed Mr. Elliott; 'then, you can hand
that money back.  Your uncle and I are out for a spin, and we'll slip
over as far as Eston, and see Mr. Joseph Thatcher, and console him for
his loss with your offering.  If one motorist upset him, it's only
right for another to do the friendly.'

Dick hailed this proposal with delight, and handed back the seventeen
shillings and four-pence farthing.  'I'll be bound the poor old chap
will get enough to buy a new donkey before all's done,' chuckled Dick.

'Can't say,' said Mr. Elliott, preparing to back and fill till he had
his car round; 'depends on whether your uncle's got any loose silver to
throw away.  Well, we shall catch you up again long before you reach
Bardon.'

The car sped away, and the boy scouts watched it for a moment, then
marched on down the Bardon road.

'Bit of a temptation, worn't it, to tumble into the car?' said Chippy.

'Oh, Chippy, that would have spoilt it all!' cried Dick.  'My foot's
giving me beans rather, but I'm not going to chuck it for a six-mile
tramp.'

'I know just how ye feel,' replied the Raven; ''twould ha' seemed to
tek' the polish off, but I was thinkin' o' yer foot.'

'That will be all right after a day or two's rest,' said Dick; 'but
with the end of the journey in sight I mean to stump it out.'

A couple of miles on he was stumping it out steadily, when all thoughts
of lameness and soreness were put to flight by a joyous vision; for
just as they gained the heath two files of marching figures came into
sight in the distance.  The familiar uniforms at once caught the eye of
the two patrol-leaders.

'Scouts!' cried Chippy.

'Our own patrols!' yelled Dick.  'Look, Chippy; our patrols have come
out to meet us!'

At this instant the two marching figures were seen by the advancing
patrols, and on dashed Wolves and Ravens, eager to greet their leaders.
Dick and Chippy hurried to meet them, and at the next moment the two
leaders and their comrades met, and there was such an outburst of
cheering, questioning, shaking hands, and chanting of the scouts'
war-song and chorus--a general merry babel of welcome and greeting!

The first to recover were the corporals, who had been in charge while
the leaders were absent.

They gave orders for the patrols to line up, and the Scouts obeyed
instantly.  Wolves on the right of the way, Ravens on the left, they
formed up shoulder to shoulder to be inspected by their leaders.  Dick
and Chippy each went along his own line, and saw that the men were
turned out in proper style, and the inspection was careful and
thorough.  Everything was found correct, and the corporals were
congratulated on the manner in which they had handled the patrols
during the absence of the leaders.  Then review order was broken up,
and the patrols gathered in cheerful, laughing, chattering groups to
discuss the week's march with the heroes of the day.  The Wolf Patrol
was a member short.  No. 6 had left the town during the week, and his
place was vacant among Dick's followers.

'I say, Dick,' said Billy Seton, corporal of the Wolves, 'there's a
fellow been following us from the town.  He's kept at a distance,
dodging behind bushes and gorse on the heath, but I'm sure he was after
us.  I've looked back a dozen times, and seen him making ground when he
thought he wouldn't be observed.'

'That's odd,' said Dick.  'Why should anyone want to follow you?'

'To see where we were going, I suppose,' replied Billy; 'and though
I've never had a fair look at him, there seemed to me something
familiar about the chap.  I can't make it out.'

'Where is he now?' asked Dick.

'Haven't seen him for quite a bit,' replied Billy; 'but I've an idea
he's watching us from somewhere.'

The words had scarcely fallen from Billy's lips when a boy in civilian
dress stepped from the shelter of a clump of hollies and walked swiftly
towards the patrol.

'Why, it's Arthur Graydon!' cried Dick in surprise.

'So it is,' said Billy; 'no wonder I thought I knew him.'

Yes, it was the lost leader of the Wolves who now came striding up to
his old friends, as the latter stared at him in wonder.

Arthur's face was pale, and his teeth were clenching his under-lip; but
he had made up his mind, and he said what he had to say like a man.

He walked up amid a perfect silence, and saluted the two leaders, who
now stood side by side.

'Look here, Dick,' he began--and his voice shook a little--'I heard, by
accident, of this march to meet you, and I took the chance of coming
when the patrols were together.  I'm awfully sorry I made such an ass
of myself in the beginning.  I've been miserable every day since I left
the patrol, and I should like, above everything, to get back to it.  I
know I behaved badly to Slynn, and insulted him, when he had given me
no cause at all.  I'm sorry, Slynn.  Will you shake hands?'

'Won't I?' roared Chippy, his honest face ablaze with pleasure and
friendship.  'An' proud to--prouder 'n I can tell yer.'  And the two
lads clasped each other's hands in a hearty grip, while both patrols
gave vent to their excitement in a tremendous outburst of the scouts'
chorus, stamping their feet and clashing their staves together in
joyous uproar.

Every boy had been touched deeply by Arthur's speech.  His pale face
and shining eyes had told of the effort it had cost him to make it, and
now everybody set up as much noise as he could to celebrate the
reconciliation, and to work off the constraint of the moment.

When Chippy dropped Arthur's hand, Dick seized it.

'I'm jolly glad to see you back, Arthur, old chap,' he cried.  'We
shall be delighted to have you in the patrol once more.'

'Thanks awfully, Dick,' said Arthur.  'I heard No. 8 had gone.  If I
can only get his place, that's what I should like.'

'It's yours, old fellow,' said Dick, 'and long may you wave!'

'H-o-n-k!'  A long blast of the motor-horn warned the patrol that Mr.
Elliott's car was close upon them.  The scouts recognised their
instructor seated beside the driver, and formed up to receive him with
the full salute.

'I see you've got a guard of honour back to town,' laughed Dick's
father, as he brought the car up between the two lines of scouts.

'Yes, father,' cried Dick; 'we think it was immensely good of them to
come out to meet us.'

The instructor leaned over the side of the car towards the line of the
Wolves.

'Arthur!' he cried, 'this is splendid to see you among the Wolves
again.'

'Yes, Mr. Elliott,' said Arthur Graydon, saluting.  'Dick has given me
a place there was to spare, and I'm glad to get it.'

The driver blew a long toot on his horn to call attention to something
he had to say.

'Wolves and Ravens,' he called out, 'I beg to invite you all to
conclude your march this afternoon at my house.  With your permission,
your instructor and I will now go ahead to announce your arrival, and
to see that preparations are made to welcome you in a fitting manner.'
And at the next moment the car sped away amid the ringing cheers of the
scouts, who now felt certain that the day was to close with a noble
feed.

The march was at once resumed, and the scouts tramped over the heath to
Bardon chanting the Ingonyama chorus in honour of their leaders.  The
corporals sang the opening phrase, and then the patrols swept in with a
joyous roar of 'Invooboo!' and struck the ground with their staves in
time to the long-drawn notes.  And at their head marched the brother
scouts, their journey nearly ended--the journey which they had made in
true scouting style--helpful and courteous to all, hardy, resolute, and
enduring, staunch to their oath and their badge, bearing themselves at
all points as true knights in the chivalry of Baden-Powell's Boy Scouts.



THE END



OTHER FINE STORIES BY THE SAME AUTHOR


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RED MEN OF THE DUSK

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