Don Strong, Patrol Leader Part 36

"We've shaken them," said Don, and drew a long breath of relief.

An hour later they came to a slight ravine with a brook flowing along the bottom. They squatted on the bank and opened their beans, but beans and pilot biscuit made dry eating, and soon the canteens were empty.

"I'll fill them," said Don, and scrambled down the bank. A stone slipped under his foot; he fell, cried out sharply, and rolled to the bottom.

When Tim reached him he was sitting up and unlacing one shoe. It did not take them long to know the truth. The ankle was sprained.

Tim dipped his scarf in the water and wrapped it around the hurt. Of course, it might be a slight sprain, or it might be severe. Don kept staring at the foot and frowning. Tim, whistling softly under his breath, changed the compress twice.

"It hasn't swollen much," said Don. "Maybe I could walk on it."

"Here," said Tim; "lean on my arm."

Don hobbled. The pain was slight. He could walk on the foot if he favored it carefully, but speed was out of the question. He let go of the supporting arm and sank to the ground.

He was a hindrance--just so much dead weight. Sooner or later the pursuing scouts would find that they were on a false scent, and would begin to scour the woods. Mr. Wall had said that the treasure had to be brought out safely, but he did not say that two scouts had to bring it out.

Don bent over the ankle. "You'd better make a run for it, Tim."

"What's that?" Tim's eyes opened wide. "How about you?"

"Bring the fellows back for me after you get out. Hurry."

But instead of hurrying, Tim stood still. "Nothing doing," he said.

"You'd stick to me if I were in a fix. I'd be a fine scout to run away, wouldn't I?"

Don bent lower over the ankle. Once Tim would have gone off promptly and have taken glory out of individual achievement. Now he stuck. Oh, but scouting was a great game when fellows played it right!

CHAPTER XI

CLOSE QUARTERS

After a while they bandaged the ankle tightly with wet cloths. Don put on his shoe but did not lace it. He tried to climb the ravine bank, but that was a bit too rough. Tim picked him up with a fireman's lift and surged with him to the top.

That experience set Tim to shaking his head. He could carry the patrol leader easily enough on the level, but climbing was a vastly harder job.

"Wait here," he said. "I'll see how the ground looks ahead." In ten minutes he was back. "Two or three ravines. You couldn't make them on that foot. We'll strike north and follow the brook."

Don puckered his eyes. "If the Eagles and Foxes get scouting around that will throw us right into them."

"All right," said Tim. "Maybe we'll capture some Eagles and Foxes along with the cup." He wasn't going to get scared until there was something to be scared of.

At first Don limped along with one hand on Tim's shoulder. By and by he found a tree limb that would answer as a cane, and let go the shoulder.

"You scout ahead," he told Tim. "You've got to be the eyes of this party.

We can guard against surprise better if we separate. Wait for me every little while. Whistle twice if anything goes wrong."

"How about one whistle if everything's all right?" Tim asked. "Then you'll know where I am if I change direction."

"All right," Don agreed, and Tim slipped away among the trees.

After that Don followed the sound of soft, guarded whistles. The combination of a cane and a bad foot made it slow work. Once he tried to hurry, and the ankle stabbed him cruelly. He was all right so long as he used the foot carefully, and he sighed and resigned himself to a snail's pace. Every now and then he would come upon Tim, standing like a statue--waiting and listening. Once Tim took off the bandages, wet them, and put them back.

When the job was finished, Tim gave him a hand and helped him up. They stood looking at each other. Each boy read something in the other boy's eye. An embarra.s.sed grin twisted Tim's mouth.

"You're all right," Don said suddenly.

"Well--" Tim looked away. "I'm going to be."

The flight with the treasure was resumed. Tim disappeared ahead. Almost immediately he was back.

"We've got to swing out," he said. "There's a lot of tangled underbrush near the brook. We'll go more to the west."

"That will carry us over toward our old trail," said Don.

Tim nodded. They both knew what that meant. Either Eagles or Foxes had been following the blaze. The dangers of a meeting were increased.

They had completely lost track of distance. They did not know how far they were from the edge of Lonesome Woods. They did not even know where they were.

The flight slowed down to a cautious advance. So slow did they go that Don's tender foot scarcely impeded them. Tim would go out in front and come back, and then go off to the sides. He ranged about tirelessly. And always his whistle, low, soft, kept guiding.

There came a time when for a quarter of an hour the whistle did not sound. Don became alarmed. Which way to continue he did not know. In doubt he stopped. He heard a stirring off to his right, and quickly faced that way. Tim stole toward him.

"I think I heard something," he whispered.

They listened, but heard only forest noises.

"Careful," warned Tim, and slipped away once more.

Don watched him until he disappeared. Following, he made sure not to stray from the direction Tim had taken. He limped around trees, and tried to avoid places where there were deep leaves and dead branches, because leaves and branches made noise.

Suddenly a sound halted him abruptly--two low, short whistles--the signal of danger.

Tim came back with concern on his face. "They're over there, Don. Quick!

this way."

They changed their course to the east again. After a while they halted.

For a moment they heard nothing. Then, to the left, came unmistakably the faint sound of voice.

Again they changed their course. Each step now was made with caution. By and by, when they thought they were safe, they stood still and strained their ears.

This time the sound was even nearer.

"We can't go back deeper into the woods," Tim argued breathlessly.

"Your ankle won't stand it. We've got to get out. We can't go to our right--there's the ravine and the underbrush. If we keep going ahead they'll overtake us. If we try to get off to the left, we're sure to cross them on an angle."