"I laid the canteens and the haversacks in a row," he whispered, "about a hundred feet apart toward the ravine. They'll think we went that way in a hurry and dropped our things so as to travel light. It will take them time to search that underbrush. As soon as they pass we'll go off to the left. Every minute we'll be getting farther away from them."
"Why won't they think we dropped the haversacks while heading the other way?" Don asked.
"What, toward them?" Tim grinned. "That would have walked us right into their arms."
Don thought it out. Through a peephole in the brush he could see the first haversack on the ground.
"Suppose they find it out there, Tim, and don't see the canteen?"
"Well, what of it?"
"Suppose they start to search right around here?"
"Gee!" Tim gave a low whistle. "I hadn't thought of that. How's this: if we see them coming, jump up and surprise them and yell 'Capture!'"
"Suppose they yell, too?" Don asked. "Mr. Wall may say that two sound scouts would have a better chance to capture than a team with one limping scout."
That was reasonable. The situation became tense. If the searchers took the false trail and went on, all right. If they started to search—good night!