CHAPTER XVII
THE WINNING OF THE GOLDEN CROSS
The wind had become so strong that it was necessary to move the mess boards around to the leeward side of the pavilion. Several fellows remarked on the pungent odor which permeated the air and a couple who had been stalking spoke of the woods fires over beyond Tannerstown.
Garry was not at supper, nor the little sandy-haired fellow, but the others of his patrol came down before the meal was over.
"Guess we'll cut out yarns to-night," said Jeb Rushmore, "and hike out on a little tour of inspection."
"There are a couple of tramps in the woods this side of the cut, right up the hill a ways," said Tom.
"We need rain, that's sure," said another scout.
"Maybe we'll get some with this wind," remarked another.
"No, I reckon it's a dry wind," said Mr. Rushmore, looking about and sniffing audibly. "Gol smash it," he added, rising and sniffing still louder. "Thar's somethin' in the air."