So on the same day the corps was formed it set forth from camp, bound for Oakvale, where the National Guard maneuvers were soon to take place.
“There will be two divisions of the Guard,” explained Denmead, “the Red Army and the Blue Army. Within a day or two I expect a visit in camp from my old friend Major Brookfield, of the National Guard, who will give us further details.”
“How many miles are we supposed to cover to-day?” inquired Blake Merton, as the corps were descending the further slopes of Stormberg, and threading their way through a ravine or gulch that presented only a broken path between jagged rocks and moss-grown boulders, along the dried bed of a stream.
“About three miles in one group,” was the Scout Master’s reply. “When we come out at the end of this ravine, we’ll separate; Joe will lead some of you northward as far as Rainbow Lake, and the rest will follow me in an easterly direction until we meet at the lower end of the valley, near the town of Oakvale. That will be about the middle of to-morrow morning. Then, by pretty steady ‘hiking,’ we ought to be in camp again by to-morrow night, as we’ll return by a shorter route.”
Emerging presently from the shadows of the narrow gulch, the corps halted to rest and to draw lots for a division of their number. Half an hour later they were again on their way, separately; and, at twilight, Joe’s party came in sight of a small lake set like an emerald in the darker green of the hills.
“Rainbow Lake, hurrah!” cried Hugh.
“Hurro!” shouted Billy, the odd number.
“Don’t be too sure it is,” Alec advised scornfully; then, turning to the guide: “Is that Rainbow Lake, Joe?”
“Sure, him Rainbow,” grunted the halfbreed.
“I thought there could be no doubt,” said Hugh, politely. “The route which brought us to this spot was clearly marked on my map, and it opened up as we proceeded. For the last hour or more, in spite of Alec’s opinion, I’ve felt sure we were following the right course. Joe knows this country, trust him for that!”