"Shucks!" said Tim. "He may have it all mixed up. Look at Andy."
The assistant patrol leader of the Wolves was now running toward the
Scoutmaster. Two minutes later the Eagle scout came forward reluctantly.
"It's fierce," he said in disgust. "It doesn't make sense nohow."
The message had been, "A hundred men searched the hills for the Indian." The Fox scout had made but one error. Andy had made four, and the Eagle scout had twisted the message into a knot.
"Well," said Tim, "that gives us three points for second place. Now, if
Alex gets here—"
The calling cry of the Wolves sounded faintly.
"That's him," said Tim, and shrieked an answer. Andy and Bobbie went out to meet the newcomer and show him the way. Presently they led him into camp. He had ridden to Lonesome Woods on his bicycle, and had ridden hard. He was hot, dusty and thirsty.
After half an hour's rest on the grass he was ready. The semaphore signaling started.
All three patrols scored perfect messages, but the Foxes finished first, the Wolves second, and the distracted Eagles last.
"That gives the Foxes 10 points and us 6," said Bobbie. "The Eagles have 2."