Rounding the corner, he saw a party of Scouts ahead, walking slowly towards the village. It must be those who had been on duty all night, just going back to bed. Danny slowed down into a walk again to get his breath, but before long he had caught them up. Stepping up to Dick’s side, he saluted smartly.
“Hullo, Danny!” said Dick, surprised. The other fellows all opened their mouths to make the same kind of remarks that the first two Scouts had made, but Danny spoke at once without waiting for them.
“Dick,” he said, “I’ve got something jolly important to report to you at once. Can I speak to you, alone? We mustn’t lose a sec.”
“Right-o!” said Dick Church, and Danny noted with relief that he spoke perfectly seriously.
Some of the Scouts began to laugh and make jokes about “Danny the Detective,” but Dick rounded on them.
“Shut up, you chaps!” he said. “Can’t you see the kid’s as white as a sheet, and all over blood, and his clothes torn and soaked? He wouldn’t get in that state for fun. Go on—don’t wait for me.” He turned to Danny, and suddenly took his arm, for the boy was swaying, his head was turning dizzily.
“Jim,” he called, after the retreating Scouts, “have you got some tea left in your billy?”
Jim came back.
“Here you are, kid—have a drink!” said Dick, giving him the cup. “Sit down! You’ll be all right in a minute!”
The tea bucked Danny up no end. His knees stopped knocking together.