'Now, Chippy,' said Dick, 'the point for us is this: Has he got safely home or not?'
'Foller 'im up,' said the Raven briefly; 'scout's job to mek' sure.'
Dick nodded, and without another word they struck the trail, and worked their way up the steep slope.
'Blood,' said Chippy, and pointed out two stains on the grass.
'Blood it is,' replied his companion, and they pressed forward.
Near the top of the slope, where, just at the crown, the hill was at its steepest, the boys stopped in amazement. Here was a trail with a vengeance! The roadside grass gave way to a sandy patch twenty yards long, and the patch was scored with long, dragging marks. Then Dick-pointed with his staff. There in the soft soil was the impression of a hand, and dark spots lay along the trail.
'By Jove, Chippy! the poor chap!' cried the Wolf. 'The hill proved too steep for his weakness. Look, he's finished it on his hands and knees.'
Dick bent, and laid his own hand over the clear impression on the sand.
'Same size again,' he cried; 'he's just about our age, Chippy.'
'It's the blood he's lost as fetched 'im down,' said the Raven, his face very grave; 'but he's a good plucked un. He's fightin' his way somewheer.'