"The bottom road," replied Telca. "All spread out here," he commanded, "we go up part way, come down again, so," and he showed the boys how they were to climb some distance up alongside of the trail and descend backwards so that the footprints would all point toward the top. By scattering over a wide space they would lead the British into thinking that they had decided to take to the upper path and had scattered to hide their trail, and by edging toward the right when they descended they would be able to come down on the branch track around the spur of the mountain and follow that to the end of the valley.
They hoped to make the mouth of the valley by nightfall, and if the British stuck to the upper trail, they would gain some distance unmolested.
"I hope this little stunt works," said Dick, as they scrambled down the steep mountain side, holding sometimes with their hands and at others slipping and clutching at rocks and bushes.
"Yah, mit all this troubles, it should some goot do yet, for sure," replied Fritz. "I have no more skin my hands on alreatty."
"Go right on and wear out the bones, then," laughed Dick. "You have got to get down some way."
There was a sudden slipping and sliding beside him, and before Dick could save himself, Fritz had grasped him by the heels in a vain effort to maintain his position and they both ended in a cloud of dirt and leaves at the bottom of the descent.
"For why don't you hold on, und not push me to the bottoms?" asked Fritz, digging the dirt out of one eye.
"You crazy Dutchman," said Dick. "I'll have to leave you home until you learn how to stand up after this."
"Such an unreasonable feller," sighed Fritz, resignedly. "Always I should got plamed for dings."
"If you don't get up and brush yourself off," said Dick, "the dust cloud will still be floating around here when that British party catches up."