In silent dejection Buck took his way back to camp, while his captors signaled the news to the eager watchers on the mountain, and then ran on to join their comrades who were hunting in the woods.
As Buck passed Hugh’s tree, Hugh called down to him:
“Cheer up, Buckie! You’ll do better next time! You would have got away from Billy easily.”
“That’s a cinch!” retorted Buck, in an effort to revive his drooping spirits.
“Wait! I’m coming down.”
“Stay where you are, Hugh!” warned the lad. “There’s Rawson coming this way, and he’ll see you!”
So saying, he walked away, and soon was lost in the shadows of the trail.
Nevertheless, Hugh descended cautiously, crawled on all fours through the tangled underbrush and ferns, and then, rising, strode swiftly yet noiselessly toward a group of lichen-covered rocks, behind which he crouched and waited.
All around him he could hear the rustling of leaves, the snapping of dry sticks, the low calls of unseen comrades who were trying to discover and surround the hiding-places of his division. At intervals there would be dead silence in the forest; and once, peering over a jagged boulder, he caught sight of Billy making questioning signals to the defenders.
Two others of his division passed him, returning to camp, having been found and “touched” by the attackers. It was evident that Division “B,” the enemy, was getting the worst of the game! Perhaps they had not had time to hide. Before starting out, he had told them to select the most unlikely places for concealment. Perhaps they were hidden where they could not watch and read the signals. Not much sense in that, but——