The conversation between Step Hen, Bumpus and Giraffe having attracted the attention of the scoutmaster, he called out at this juncture:
"Whose knapsack is that you've got strapped on your back right now, Number Eight?"
A shout went up as Step Hen, quickly turning the article in question around surveyed it blankly; but apparently both Bumpus and Giraffe had known of its presence all the while, though pretending ignorance.
"Who strapped that to my back?" demanded the owner. "I don't remember doing it, give you my word for it, fellers. Mighty queer how things always happen to me, and nobody else. But anyhow, I'm ready to continue the march, if the rest of you are."
Five minutes later, and the boys were straggling along the rough road that wound in and out, as it pierced the valleys between the peaks looming up on either side. There was no attempt at keeping order on the march, and the boys, while trying to remain within sight of each other, walked along in groups or couples.
Giraffe and Bumpus, a strange combination always, yet very good chums, were at some distance in the lead. Bringing up the rear were Thad and Allan, examining some chart of the region, which Bob White had drawn for them, and talking over what the plan of campaign should be.
In the midst of this pleasant afternoon quiet there suddenly arose the piercing notes of the bugle, followed by a loud and hoarse shout; and looking up hastily, Thad Brewster was surprised to see Bumpus wildly waving both his arms. Although he was at some little distance away, and at the bottom of the decline, what he shouted came plainly to the ears of the young scoutmaster, giving him something of a thrill:
"Hey! come along here, you fellers; Giraffe, he's got stuck in the crick, up to his knees, and he says it's quicksand!"