the distance riding toward them.

"Isn't that Mr. Wall?" Ritter asked anxiously.

It was Mr. Wall. Tim hurried up from the rear. He wanted to be where he
could hear what was said when scouts and Scoutmaster met.

Mr. Wall seemed to be riding hard. Suddenly, as he saw them, his pace
slackened.

"He's going to dismount," said Ritter.

"He's waiting for us," said the Eagle patrol scout.

Their steps unconsciously became slower, Don jumped from the bicycle and
walked with them. He studied Mr. Wall's face. Did Mr. Wall know?

He had gone to the Scoutmaster's house that morning ready to tell. Now,
though, he thought he faced a different situation. He was sure that the
Danger Mountain hike had been blocked--not for today alone, but for all
the days of the future. To bring it up again would be like trying to
re-heat a stale pie.

He had faced the situation alone. By luck--he called the use he had made
of Mr. Wall's absence a lucky stroke--he had conquered. What had happened
had been among scouts. They had settled it among themselves. He felt,
dimly, that a great lesson had been learned. Maybe it would be better to
leave things as they were.

The Scoutmaster's greeting was cheery. "Hello there, hikers! How did you
find the going?"

Ritter and the others glanced at one another sideways.

"Pretty dusty," Don said promptly.

"That's how I found it. How far did you go?"

"About a mile past Christie's Brook."

"Who was the star cook?"

"We didn't cook anything today."

"Cooking ought to be a part of every hike," the Scoutmaster said
pleasantly. He felt his tires. "I guess I've worked up an appetite for
supper. I'm going back. Want to ride in with me, Don?"

The patrol leader of the Wolves hesitated. Did Mr. Wall suspect something
and intend to question him?

"I--I guess I'll stick with the fellows," he said.

Mr. Wall called a good-by and rode off. A few minutes later his
retreating figure was outlined against a patch of bronze evening sky.

Ritter drew a deep breath. He hadn't exactly expected Don to tell, and
yet--

"Phew!" said the Eagle patrol scout, "That was a close shave."

"Close shave nothing," cried Tim, "He's wise. Four scouts in uniform, and
a patrol leader in baseball clothes and spiked shoes, and riding a
bicycle. What does that look like?"

"Well, what does it look like?" Ritter demanded.

"It looks as though somebody jumped on a bicycle and rode after us, you
gilly."

"Gee!" said the