“Watch him,” called Tom from the other boat.
The eyes of the whole troop were upon the nimble figure as it worked its way upward, now scrambling, now climbing among trees, now going zigzag over a precipitous area.
THE EYES OF THE WHOLE TROOP WERE UPON THE NIMBLE FIGURE AS IT WORKED ITS WAY UPWARD.
“Some monkey, hey?” called Garry, to the boys in the smaller boat, where Harry Stanton watched, fascinated.
“Some scout, all right,” one of the O’Connor boys called back.
“That’s a most amazing feat,” said the scoutmaster, watching with the glass.
Soon the agile form, verging to right or left to follow a path of less resistance and sometimes pausing to use his brains as a scout should, had reached a little clump of freakish trees, growing out of rock, and for a few moments he was hidden from the distant watchers.
They had shut off the power of both boats and lay drifting. A scout is brother to every other scout, and I dare say the whole party took a pride in the scout who dared attempt so hazardous an undertaking.
“I could see it in his face,” Tom said.