tly for his father, and now that the prospect of the injured man's
being assisted had grown brighter, the boy felt greatly relieved.

After all, only a brief time elapsed before they were ready to start.
Frank had of course seen to it that Doctor Will carried along some of
his stock in trade, in the shape of bandages and liniment. They would
certainly be needed, for the boy had assured them that his father was
losing considerable blood because of his wound.

"You're certain you can take us straight to the place, are you,
Sandy?" asked Frank, just as they were ready to start.

"I shore kin do that same!" replied the sturdy little chap. "I was
born in the woods, and never got lost even onct. I smell my way dark
nights."

This last assertion amused Bluff and Jerry, but Frank knew what the
boy meant. He had been given an intuition that never failed him in so
far as direction was concerned. If asked a question in connection with
any point of the compass he could reply with positive accuracy, and
without the slightest hesitation.

Watching how he made his way along, Frank soon ascertained that the
boy was actually leading them over the very route he had taken in
making for Cabin Point. He proved this several times by pointing out
where he had fallen when an unseen vine caught his foot; or made a
little detour in order to avoid some thorny bushes that had scratched
his face and hands on the other occasion.

One mile, two, had been passed over, and still the boy led them on.
Sandy had called it about three miles, and since he was so remarkably
clever at woodcraft in so far as direction went, Frank hoped his
knowledge of distance might be equally accurate.

No one complained. Even Will, who was less robust than his mates, and
not as accustomed to hurrying along through dense woods, shut his
teeth hard together and persevered. He had been sensible enough to
leave his camera behind, Frank having convinced him that it would be
an unnecessary burden, for if they had to carry the wounded man all
that distance back to the cabin they would find their hands full
without other impedimenta.

After more time had elapsed the question was put to the boy.

"Are we nearly there now, Sandy?"

"'Most nigh the place," came the prompt reply. "This here's the
burnin' where the charcoal was made last year. On'y a little furder,
an' we'll be up to dad. And oh! I hopes he's alive yet, I shore does!"

Frank of course comforted him the best