Silence fell over the group. The scout from the Eagle patrol took off his hat and fanned his face.
"Mr. Wall won't think we sneaked off just because he was away," he said uneasily.
"Why shouldn't he think it?" cried Don. One of the party was weakening, anyway. He pressed his advantage. "You fellows know what he said on the last hike—that Danger Mountain was a bad place. And the moment he leaves town, a bunch of scouts start for the mountain. How does that look?"
It looked distinctly bad. Tim's carelessness vanished.
"Well," he demanded of Ritter angrily, "what are you looking at me for? I didn't know he had gone to the city."
The hikers were demoralized and leaderless. The right word now—
"Fellows," said Don, "let us show Mr. Wall that he can leave the village as often as he pleases and not have to worry about a single scout of Chester troop."
Ritter took a step toward him. But the others were still just a bit uncertain.
Don almost held his breath. There was nothing more for him to say. He ran a nervous hand into the pocket of his sweater. His fingers closed on some cord, and something round and hard. Bobbie's whistle!
He put it to his lips and blew a long, shrill blast.