At three o'clock the lads bade farewell to their host, at the same time expressing their sympathy at the loss, and their regret at their inability to do anything of service in the matter.
As the patrol descended the hill leading to the village, Baker pointed to Seal Island.
"Look," he exclaimed. "There's something wrong with the 'Wolves,' I do declare."
CHAPTER XIV
PHILLIPS' DISCOVERY
As soon as his comrades of the "Otters" had embarked on the first stage of their journey to Wadebridge Station to meet their temporary Scoutmaster, Jack Phillips sallied forth on his shooting expedition.
He was a crack miniature-rifle shot, but although he understood the principle of a twelve-bore gun, he was an absolute novice at the task that had been deputed to him.
A few hundred yards brought him to the fringe of the rabbit warren—an extensive undulating tract of gorse-covered heath liberally honeycombed with holes. Pulling a couple of cartridges from his pocket, Phillips loaded; then, every sense on the alert, he moved cautiously forward.
Yard after yard he walked at a slow pace, but, although he saw hundreds of the swiftly moving little animals far beyond range, not one accommodatingly showed itself to be shot at.