"Glory be!" Danny heard Elsie Whitman breathe in expectant ecstasy, and he would have given the world to have felt with him that eager joy. But Danny had taken a dare!
The others were chattering now, as eager as Whitman to be off on the trail of adventure.
McKenzie was giving orders:
"Whitman, you can take the north trail, and bear down over the mountain. Ham will strike out down the creek to the left there, and work around to your territory. There's an old cabin hidden by scrub-oaks and rocks about a quarter below the bridge there, Ham. Know it for what it is, but don't you run your long neck into danger."
In spite of his hurt Danny was getting interested. He crept up on the outer edge of the group and listened, wide-eyed, as the other boys eagerly accepted their several commissions.
"Roger and Ed," their leader was continuing, "bear south till you get below the drop of the cliff, and then separate and work that territory between you"—with a sweeping gesture. "Alex and Biddie—let me see—you two go over the mountain to the right of Elsie—No, there's the Death Head trail—" He paused a moment in thoughtful survey of them, and the boys looked at each other apprehensively. Not one of them was anxious to work the trail of evil name. Suddenly, however, McKenzie's eyes lighted on Danny Harding, and an inspiration seemed to come to him.
"Say," he exclaimed, "I'll give the new recruit a chance at that. Come here, scout." And he laid a kind hand on Danny's shoulder and drew him into the circle.
Somebody on the outskirts of the group laughed.
"Now you are going to do your first service for your country," McKenzie said to the tenderfoot; "but whatever you do, be wary, because——"
Somebody else laughed, and McKenzie looked about sharply. "What's the joke?" he asked.