“What’s that for?” demanded the puzzled Spud.
“First aid for the injured. These beauty plasters are goin’ to dry out pretty quick and we’ll want some fresh ones. You’d better bring along some too,” replied Billy briefly.
The advice seemed good, and Spud followed Billy’s example. Then they pushed on for drier ground, Billy in the lead. Already his active imagination had seized upon their predicament as savoring of real adventure. He pictured their return to camp the next day as heroes rather than culprits who had disobeyed one of the most stringent rules of the camp. He saw himself the center of admiring groups of his fellows because of his superior scoutcraft in knowing just what to do and how to do it in so severe a test as spending a night lost in the woods. The anxiety which would be caused by their absence never entered his head, or if it did was dismissed as of little consequence. He would show them that he was a real Scout, able to take care of himself under any conditions.
Presently they became aware that the ground was gradually sloping up. It was firm and dry under foot. By this time it was so dark that it was with difficulty they could make out their surroundings. In front of two trees standing some ten feet apart Billy stopped.
“We’ll camp here,” he said.
Carefully putting his precious ball of mud at the foot of one of the trees he singled out a tall two-inch sapling. “Here, Spud, you bend this over as far as you can,” he commanded.
“What for?” asked Spud.
“Never you mind; just get busy!” replied Billy.
By this time Spud had accepted Billy’s leadership without question and he meekly obeyed. With his stout scout knife Billy made a straight cut across the sapling at the point where the strain was greatest. The strained fibers of the wood yielded to the first pressure of the keen blade and in less than half a minute he had the tree in his hands with a clean square cut base.
“You can cut down a big tree with a penknife if you can only bend the tree over far enough,” said he as he trimmed the sapling. When he had finished he had a pole perhaps twelve feet long. Fishing some stout twine from one of his capacious pockets he lashed the pole firmly to the two trees about six feet from the ground.