The fright had thrown them out of their reckoning. They did not remember in which specific direction they had been heading. After a while they had the uncomfortable feeling that they had gone on farther than the ordinary distance between blazes.
"Have to search," said Don.
So they began again. They worked at a tension, running when they could.
It did not take long to get out of sight of each other.
This time it was Tim who finally found the blaze. He whistled—no answer. He whistled again—still no answer. He'd have to make a louder sound. It was growing dusky, and he did not want to become separated from Don for the night. He put his fingers between his lips.
He did not mean to whistle loudly but, in the quiet woods, his summons echoed shrilly. His heart gave a frightened leap. Gee! Suppose anybody was near?
Don came crashing through the woods. "For the love of Mike, Tim, why did you do that?" he asked sharply.
Tim bristled. It was one thing for him to blame himself; it was another for Don to find fault. "I wanted you to hear me," he answered shortly.
"I did hear you!"
"Well, why didn't you answer?"
"I thought I heard something else. You'll have every Eagle and Fox around us."