. "For patrol leader?"

"Yes."

Tim knelt motionless. After a while he slung the canteen on his back and
slowly shook his head. "Nothing doing. What a fine mess I'd have made if
I had become patrol leader of the Wolves! I can see it now."

"Just the same," said Don, "I'm going to recommend you."

Tim stared away through the trees. Patrol leader! He had always wanted
that. As for Don recommending him--Gee! wasn't that a hot one?

"If I get it," he said in a low voice, "will you stand by me if I get
stuck? I'm an awful bonehead sometimes."

"Every patrol leader in the troop will be glad to help," said Don.

"I know." Tim nodded. "But I'd sooner go to you."

Their course still carried them north. By degrees, as they advanced,
Tim's boldness became tinged with caution. They had gone quite some
distance from their hiding place; there might be Eagles around.

The old whistling signals were resumed. Tim would slip off through the
trees and whistle after a while, and Don would go forward and join him.
There seemed to be no end to the trees. Were they never going to get out?

The third time Don went forward, Tim was frowning and biting his lips.

"I thought I heard something again," he said nervously. "It can't be that
the Foxes swung down and around and headed us off. Wait here; I'll sneak
closer."

When the whistle sounded, several minutes later, Don limped forward
eagerly.

"I knew I heard something," Tim warned. "Listen, now."

They held their breaths. Voices! No doubt of it. And then, faintly from a
distance, a call of:

"Bobbie! O Bobbie! Bob--bie!"

Don forgot that he was a woods fugitive. "That's Andy's voice," he
shouted. "We're almost out. Come on, Tim. Rush for it."

They gave no care now to what noise they made. Don felt Tim take his arm
to help him. He hobbled and hopped and squirmed, and only paused when the
tender ankle brought him up wincing and shivering.

"Easy," said Tim. "No hurry. See that opening? We're almost out. Easy
now."

But Don found it agony to go slow. Suppose they were gobbled here within
sight of victory! He took another chance on a hobbling run. Around a
clump of trees, straight ahead, another turn--and there was the wide,
free outside in front of them.

"Safe!" gasped Don. No need to hurry now. He sank to the ground and
rested his injured ankle. The Scoutmaster's Cup was theirs!

Three scouts, walking together, were disappearing over a knoll of ground
in the distance.