"No harm can come of it, so pitch in Eben," the other told the troop bugler.
"And put in all the wind you c'n scrape together," added Seth.
Accordingly Eben blew a blast that could have been heard fully a mile away. He grew red in the face as he sent out his call; and doubtless such a sweet medley of sounds had never before been heard in that desolate looking place since the time of the ice period.
"No use; he don't answer; or if he does, we don't get it," Seth observed, in a disappointed tone.
"Then the only thing for us to do is to go ahead," Andy proposed.
"Paul's getting his bearings again," remarked Eben.
"I wanted to make dead sure," the scoutmaster observed, with a glow of determination in his eyes. "You see, we tried to note just about where the balloon seemed to fall; and it takes a lot of figuring to keep that spot in your mind all the while you're turning and twisting along this queer trail. But I feel pretty sure of my ground."
"Huh! wish I did the same," said Seth, holding up one of his feet, and showing that he had been in black mud half way to his knee, when he made some sort of bad guess about the footing under him.
Apparently Paul was now ready to once more start out. But they saw him give a quick hack at a tree, and upon looking as they passed they discovered that he had taken quite a slice off the bark, leaving a white space as big as his two hands, and which could easily be seen at some distance off in the direction whither they were bound.
That was called a "blaze."