"Well," remarked Davy, his eyes round with eagerness; "I declare, this is mighty interesting; and I must get the hang of this Indian picture writing as quick as I can. You'll see what stunts I'll do after a little while. I'll sure have the rest of you guessing at the puzzles I get up."
"You're near the end of the picture, Allan," remarked Thad; "and as I can see only one figure ahead now, I think something must have happened to our friend Limpy, because he doesn't appear again."
"I suppose that the scout who follows must have found a chance to cut down the number of the enemy in advance to one," remarked Allan; "and he wants to let his friend know he is still on the trail of that fellow. Here the pursued one must have spent the night, for you can see another dead fire. Away off here it looks like a village, for there are lodges and dogs and squaws. He marks that as ten miles off, and evidently expects to overtake the lone warrior before he reaches the shelter of the tepees. And so you see he has managed to tell the story of his adventure, crudely of course, yet just as well as any one of us might write it out. And once you've got the knack of reading this sort of talk, you can manage it just as fast as you would hand-writing. That's all I'm going to tell you about it to-day; but if you feel that way another time, I'll show you a lot more that is interesting."
Davy Jones declared that he would keep the Maine boy to his promise. This queer way of communicating a whole story without writing a single letter seemed to appeal to him especially. And all that evening he was scribbling away upon a pad of paper he had brought along, drawing all manner of remarkable figures, which he jumbled up in such a way that he actually forgot the key to the combinations; and had to get Allan's help in solving some of them, which the others considered a rich joke.
During the balance of the afternoon the boys amused themselves in various ways. Several tried the fishing, with the result that there was a good mess of gamey bass caught for supper.
Thad, Allan and Bob White lay in the shade for a long time, talking. The Southern boy was eagerly telling his chums various things in connection with his old home away off in the distant Blue Ridge; and from the way the others asked questions it was evident that the proposition to have the Silver Fox Patrol visit the mountain region where Bob had once lived must have sunk deeply into their minds.
"I know one thing sure," remarked Thad; "if we're lucky enough to go there, I'm going to carry my shotgun along. A Boy Scout as a rule is seldom seen bearing arms; but there's nothing in the rules of the organization that I can find to prevent a member from enjoying a hunt when he has the chance. Besides, if we camp out, as we expect to, we must depend on getting game for part of our supplies."
"And as for the money part," remarked Bob, "while a scout is required to earn the money for his suit and outfit, there's nothing to prevent him from accepting a railroad ticket from his folks, or any other cash to provide him with a summer's outing. So far as I can see it, suh, the whole intention of the organization is to make its members manly, independent, helpful to others, and thrifty. I hope, suh, all of us are trying to carry out those rules. And it would please me more than I can tell you, if you decided to accompany me to that mountain country where they grow men; because I am compelled to go there for my mother, and would be the happiest fellow alive if my seven chums went along to keep me company."
"Don't tell it around, Bob," said Thad, quietly, "but really it's as good as settled that if we get back from this first little camping trip in good shape, we're going to get the chance to make a bigger tour," and then the three exultant scouts shook hands, as they saw a glorious future prospect opening before them.