"Back," said Uncle Felix.
"Front's better," decided the boy. "Then nobody'll think anything, you see." He was quick to put the new principle into practice.
On the lawn there was another pause, this time a question of direction.
"The wood, of course!" And they set off together at a steady trot. Few words were wasted when Tim went "busting about" in this way. Uncle Felix resigned himself and looked to him for guidance; there was some one to be rescued; there was danger to be run; the risk was bigger than either of them realised; but more than that he knew not.
"Got a handkerchief with you?" the boy asked presently.
"Yes, thanks; got everything," panted the other.
"For signalling," was offered three minutes later by way of explanation, "in case we get lost—or anything like that."
"Quite so."
"Is it a clean one?"
"Yes."