r chances," declared George.

"Hark!" exclaimed Tom just then.

"What did you hear?" cried Carl.

"It sounded like voices to me, though some distance off, and coming
from further along the trail," the patrol leader asserted.

"They may be stuck in the mire and trying every way they can to get
out," observed the naturalist. "Let us give them a shout, boys. Now,
all together!"

As they all joined in, the volume of sound must have been heard a mile
away. Hardly had the echoes died out than from beyond came loud calls,
and plainly they heard the words "Help, help! Oh! come quick, somebody!
Help!"

CHAPTER XXIV

RETURNING GOOD FOR EVIL

When that wailing cry reached their ears it thrilled the scouts through
and through, for now they knew that the worst must have happened to the
wretched Tony Pollock and his three cronies, adrift in the treacherous
muck bog.

"Forward, but be very careful to keep in my tracks all the time!"
called out the naturalist as he started off.

They wound around this way and that. There were times when Rob, who
came directly on the heels of the pilot, could not see the slightest
trace of a trail; but he realized that from long association and
investigation Mr. Henderson knew exactly where to set his feet, and
thus avoid unpleasant consequences.

They now and then sent out reassuring calls, for those unseen parties
ahead continued to make fervent appeals, as though a terrible fear
assailed them that the rescuers might go astray and miss them.

By degrees the shouts sounded closer, though becoming exceedingly
hoarse. Presently Felix called out that he believed he had glimpsed the
unfortunate boys.

"Oh! they're all in the mud, and up to their waists at that!" he cried.

"No, you're wrong there, Felix," said Josh. "Three of them seem to be
stuck fast, but there's one up in that tree nearly over them. He must
have managed to pull himself up there, somehow or other."

"He's got a branch, and is trying to help one of his mates," asserted
Rob. "But he doesn't seem to be making much headway."

"They're in a peck of trouble, believe me!" admitted George, for once
neglecting to sneer at the prospect of a fatality.

Carl was trying to make out who the three in the bog were.

"Can you see if _he's_ in there, Tom?" he asked, eagerly.

"Yes, it's Wedge McGuffey up in the tree, and the others must be Tony,
Asa and Dock," the patrol leader assured him; nor did he blame poor
Carl for s