“What’s that over there; looks like a man kneeling down, and aimin’ a gun!” called out Step Hen just then; and forgetting the boast that was still on his lips, Bumpus threw himself on the ground, and started to crawl behind a clump of thick bushes.
“It’s only a stump, after all,” announced Thad, throwing the light of his lantern in the direction of the suspicious object.
“Get up, Bumpus, the coast is clear,” said Giraffe, sneeringly.
“These old leggings keep gettin’ under my feet the worst kind,” remarked Bumpus, complacently, as though a poor excuse might be better than none. “But see there, the Indian’s found something or other. Just as like as not it’s them tracks we’re all lookin’ for.”
“Just what it is,” added Davy Jones, eagerly.
As scouts who yearned to learn the many interesting things connected with woodcraft, it can be set down as certain that Step Hen and his comrades gathered about Sebattis and Thad, then and there, convinced that something was coming worth while.
“Just as Sebattis told us, there were two of them,” Thad was saying, while he bent down to see the imprint of footgear at closer range.
“Seems to be something familiar about one of them tracks, Thad,” remarked Giraffe.
“Yes, our old friend, the patched shoe, has turned up again,” chuckled the patrol leader, pointing to the plain, unmistakable sign across the toe of the impression of the shoe.
“Which of course means that Charlie is doing it again,” Step Hen remarked. “He wants to be in every mix-up, seems like. But if here are two, where is the other feller?”