In the general excitement the miles slipped away unnoticed. All at once the woods were ahead. Mr. Wall halted the column and called the teams.
"I want you to compare your watches with mine." The Scoutmaster's timepiece said ten minutes of three. Don and the others set their watches.
"At 3:30," Mr. Wall continued, "each team will enter the woods. Some place near where it enters it will find the first blaze. At 3:30. Is that clear?"
They said it was. He led them to a point a quarter of a mile on.
"Here's where the Wolves go in. Foxes and Eagles, follow me."
The other patrols went on, nervous, high-strung. The Wolves were left alone.
Tim tried to stretch off on the ground and lie there quietly. With his head pillowed on his arm he could see the group that followed Mr. Wall. On they went, on, on—and then a turn hid them. Everything from now on would be mysterious, unknown.
Lying there quietly became impossible. He jumped to his feet and walked up and down. Every few minutes he looked at his watch. Ten after, fifteen, twenty.
"Better get on our haversacks," said Don.
They waited. Twenty-five after. Tim felt the throb of his pulse.