"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!

They lay behind the brush and waited. It seemed, after a while, that they
had been there an hour. Don had just begun to believe that the pursuit
had gone off in a new direction, when Tim's hand grasped his shoulder
with a convulsive pressure.

There had been a faint sound of cracking wood.

Nearer it came, almost directly in front of them. Then another sound
echoed off to one side. All at once a khaki-clad figure slipped between
two trees.

Tim's hand grew rigid. Don tried to flatten himself into the earth.

They knew the boy--Larkins, patrol leader of the Foxes. On he came.
Suddenly he saw the haversack. He halted and jumped sideways behind a
tree.

Don and Tim knew what that meant. Larkins thought it might be a trap. It
was not going to be easy to fool him.

Would he never come out from behind the tree? They had heard, after he
disappeared, a queer woody sound that somehow did not seem out of place.
Now they heard it again and recognized its source. Larkins was hitting a
stick of light wood against other wood.

At the first signal, the echoing sounds they had heard off to the side
had ceased. At this new signal it began again. Larkins walked out and
picked up the haversack. A moment later another khaki figure came into
view. It was Rood, another Fox scout.

"It's Don's," Larkins said in excitement; "here's his name."

"Maybe they're hiding around here," said Rood.

Don's heart almost stood still.

"Maybe." Larkins stood up and walked slowly toward the brush.

Don felt Tim gather his muscles. He knew what that meant. If discovery
was certain, Tim was prepared to spring out and cry "Capture!" and let
Mr. Wall decide.

"Say," Rood called, "what's that?"

Larkins paused suspiciously. "What's what?"

"Down there. Looks like a canteen."

"Get it." Larkins turned quickly from the brush. Don buried his face in
his arm so that the searcher would not hear his sigh of relief.

Rood brought ba