"Sure. But if that's our burro we ought to take her." And the major explained.
The Red Foxes nodded.
"But if she isn't, then we don't want her. One of us ought to reconnoiter." And the major hesitated. "Fitz, you go," he said. And this rather surprised me, because naturally the major ought to have gone himself, he being the leader. "I've got a side-ache, somehow," he added, apologizing. "It isn't much—but it might interfere with my crawling."
Fitz was only too ready to do the stalking. He left his pack, and with a détour began sneaking upon the lean-to. We watched, breathless. But the figures never stirred. Fitz came out, opposite, and from bush to bush and tree to tree he crept nearer and nearer, with little darts from cover to cover; and at last very cautiously, on his hands and knees; and finally wriggling on his belly like a snake.
'Twas fine stalking, and we were glad that the Red Fox Scouts were here to see. But it seemed to us that Fitz was getting too near. However, the figures did not move, and did not know—and now Fitz was almost upon them. From behind a tree only a yard away from them he stretched his neck and peered, for half a minute. Then he crawled backward, and disappeared. Presently he was with us again.
"It's they, sir," he reported. "Bat and Walt. They're asleep. And that is Sally, I'm certain. I know her by the white spot on her back."
"We must have her," said the major. "She's ours. We'll get her and pack her, so we can travel better."
"Can we catch her, all right?" queried Red Fox Scout Van Sant. "We're liable to wake those two fellows up, aren't we?"
"What if we do?" put in his partner, Scout Ward. "Three of us can guard them, and the other two can chase the burro."
"No," said Major Henry. "I think we can rope her and be off before those renegades know anything about it. Can you, Fitz?"