It was at this moment that an “enemy Scout” trod on a dry stick the other side of the hedge and set Danny on his guard. Lying flat on his tummy in the ditch and peeping through a patch of nettles, he caught sight of a flutter of red and grey that was unmistakably a Kangaroo shoulder-knot!
Creeping along the ditch, regardless of the hundred nettle-stings that raised great white lumps on his knees, Danny indulged in a little strategy. Taking off his cap, he arranged it on a stump so that it just showed above a mass of green and would be well in view from a gap in the hedge.
Then he doubled along the ditch to where a hidden gap gave a beautiful chance for the enemy to cross the road, and, getting over a stile into the wood opposite, to get in touch with their own party. By this tempting gap Danny took cover.
“I hope he sees my cap,” he said to himself, “then he’ll think I’m there, and will bring his party up to this fence.” Suddenly a bright idea struck him. “I’ll make him have a look at it,” he said. Standing cautiously up in the ditch, he picked up a stone and took careful aim. Plump—it fell among the nettles, just by the cap. “That’ll make him think there’s a chap there,” said the detective to himself with satisfaction. And sure enough, before long, the Kangaroos, thinking the sentry was safely ensconced in the ditch further up, were making their way with an unguarded amount of crackling towards the gap. Two minutes later Danny had taken three important prisoners and sent them to the base “out of action.”
“Jolly smart piece of work,” said Patrol-Leader Church, when the field was called in at five o’clock. “I knew I had put a good man on to patrol that road, but I never thought he’d succeed in taking prisoners!”
Danny’s heart glowed at the praise, but his mind was more intent upon the piece of real scouting he had on hand than on the game. When the other boys trooped home to tea, happy and hungry, Danny turned his eager steps in the direction of the lonely piece of road he had been patrolling. He forgot how hungry he was and how nice the cup of tea and the plum cake at home would be. There was work to be done.
In about half an hour Danny was back at the place where he had last seen the tramp. It was a still, summer evening. Not a breath of wind stirred. Danny was glad, for it meant that the scent, in the form of the scraps of paper, would not have blown away. Yes! There was a little piece on the road. Here was another on the bank. Another—another—another! Now there was none for quite a long way. Then—a whole patch on the dusty road! Just here the tramp had been walking at the side of the road, where the dust was soft and white and thick. Joy of joys—his footmarks were distinctly visible!
Out came Danny’s precious notebook, and in a moment he had drawn a quick sketch of the footprint and added its size in inches. Then he went on carefully. Every here and there a little piece of white paper showed distinctly. He had reached the old mill. And sure enough the trail turned down the very path where he had followed the bicycle tracks six weeks ago! In the same way it seemed to indicate that the man had taken cover behind walls and hedges, so as not to be seen from the road or from the mill. Little did he know that he left a tell-tale track of white paper behind him! And as Danny reached the pond he had to put his hands over his mouth to suppress a laugh of delight. There, on the surface of the still, black water, showed a quantity of little scraps of white paper!
Danny walked round the bank, thinking hard. What on earth could the man have got into the pond for?
There were no wet marks on the dust where he got out. It was the most mysterious thing he had ever come across. Here was a pond in which a man and a bicycle had disappeared, and also a tramp with something alive in a sack! Had they drowned themselves? No—for the Kangaroos had dragged the pond and nothing had been fished up.