THE RETURN OF THE SCOUT MASTER.
The acting scout master of the Eagle Patrol was meanwhile making his way down the ragged face of the slope pretty much as Merritt had pictured him.
After giving that last "all right" wave of his flag, Rob had apparently started down toward the plain, and his course was, as nearly as could be seen, just the same as that he had taken in order to reach the crag from which he had wigwagged the news to his chums alongside the stalled train.
But this was only a "blind," intended to deceive the lurking Federals, if it happened that they were watching his movements. They would feel confident that, as he meant to retrace his steps, he would follow the line of least resistance. Then all that they would have to do in order to ambush him, would be to remain secreted in the cunningly arranged hiding-place where the other three scouts had seen them take their positions.
When Rob had reason to believe that he was safe from observation, he set about changing his downward course. It was not very difficult to run across some other descending gully or miniature arroyo, where in rainy weather doubtless copious streams of water flowed, but which now was quite dry. The face of the elevation was fairly scarred with such indentations.
The scout slipped along cleverly, stooping all of the time, and occasionally even dropping flat on his hands and knees, in order to crawl past a suspicious point, where the chances of exposure seemed greater.
Rob had practiced this sort of thing many a time just for the fun of it, when he and the other Eagles were camping out. Such tactics came well within the scope of actual scout work, for boys are expected to exert themselves while indulging in games that pertain to the open. They could imagine themselves Indians in the old days, when the copper-skinned natives of American forests had to depend on their skill as hunters, in order to secure their daily rations of food, because at that time there was no generous-handed Uncle Sam to issue such to them once in so many months as the wards of the nation.
This creeping game had always appealed to Rob so strongly that he had taken particular pains to perfect himself in it, not dreaming how at some future day his knowledge of it might come in handy, as it was now doing.
There was no particular hurry, he decided, as he picked his way cautiously along among the rough rocks, always surveying the prospect ahead before actually trusting himself to move on a little distance. The Federals who were lying in ambush and waiting for him to come along would hardly get impatient enough to start to meet him, he concluded. And besides, there was another reason why he should allow some little time to elapse before trying to reach the foot of the descent.
He had tried to picture in his mind just what his three comrades would be doing in the matter, and he came to the conclusion that Merritt must certainly appeal to Lopez, in order to have the rebels try to raise the siege.