"Mr. Wall may say that two sound
scouts would have a better chance to capture than a team with one limping
scout."
That was reasonable. The situation became tense. If the searchers took
the false trail and went on, all right. If they started to search--good
night!
They lay behind the brush and waited. It seemed, after a while, that they
had been there an hour. Don had just begun to believe that the pursuit
had gone off in a new direction, when Tim's hand grasped his shoulder
with a convulsive pressure.
There had been a faint sound of cracking wood.
Nearer it came, almost directly in front of them. Then another sound
echoed off to one side. All at once a khaki-clad figure slipped between
two trees.
Tim's hand grew rigid. Don tried to flatten himself into the earth.
They knew the boy--Larkins, patrol leader of the Foxes. On he came.
Suddenly he saw the haversack. He halted and jumped sideways behind a
tree.
Don and Tim knew what that meant. Larkins thought it might be a trap. It
was not going to be easy to fool him.
Would he never come out from behind the tree? They had heard, after he
disappeared, a queer woody sound that somehow did not seem out of place.
Now they heard it again and recognized its source. Larkins was hitting a
stick of light wood against other wood.
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