All of the scouts had heard what was said. They looked toward the forest with pitying eyes. It was terrible to think of children being lost in those smoke-shrouded woods.
“Can we do anything, Hugh?” asked Billy, looking as though ready to even rush out into the forest himself if Hugh but gave the word.
“Yes, there is one thing that might help,” the scout master decided.
“Start out and scour the woods, do you mean?” questioned Harold.
“No, because we might manage to miss them after all,” said Hugh. “Let’s all join together and give a yell. They’re bound to hear it, if what we believe is true, and can head this way. Now, ready!”
Like every other high school pupil, Hugh had watched the clever tactics of the cheer captain when they fought for honors on the diamond or the gridiron with some rival school.
He knew how to bring out a concerted shout, capable of carrying a long distance, and when they all gave tongue together the result was certainly satisfactory.
“Listen!” warned the scout leader, as the sound died away.
Plainly all of them caught what seemed to be an answering cry.
“It must be that boy Peter,” said Mrs. Heffner, excitedly, “he’s tried to lead those poor children over to my house, not knowing where else to go. Oh! please help him get here, Hugh! The dear little things, just to think of them being out in those terrible woods.”