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.
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.
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, keenCr-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?'
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.'
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.
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.