nybody ever tried," declared the
scoutmaster without even looking back over his shoulder, for he needed
his eyes in front constantly.

"So I understand," continued Mr. Anderson, "but then, it isn't everybody
who can be smart enough to do the right thing at the right time."

"How do you make out, sir?" asked Paul, wishing to change the
conversation, for, strange to say, he never liked to hear himself
praised, in which he differed very much from the vast majority of boys.

"Getting along better than I expected, Paul," replied the wounded
balloonist.

"It's only a question of time, then, before we pass out of the swamp,"
the other went on to say. "And as we've got our trail all laid out, and
Seth knows the best places to try the mud, I guess we'll make it."

He was already thinking deeply and seriously. A sudden wild hope had
flashed into Paul's brain, and if all went well he meant to put it up to
the other scouts after a while.

When he looked at his watch he found that it was now just a quarter
after ten; and doing some lightning calculating he believed they could
be out of the morass, discounting any serious trouble, by another hour.

Then, supposing it took them forty-five minutes to get Mr. Anderson to
the nearest farm house, even though they had to make a rude stretcher,
and carry him, that brought the time to exactly noon.

Could they really do it, make the eighteen miles that still lay between
themselves and the field at Beverly, where they were expected to show up
some time that day, if they hoped to win the prize?

Some how the very possibility of being put upon his mettle gave Paul a
thrill. He had no doubts concerning his own ability to finish the great
hike within the specified space of time, before the sun had vanished
behind the western horizon, but it was a grave question whether some of
the other scouts could accomplish the task. There was Eben for instance,
never a wonder when it came to running; and then fat Noodles would be
apt to give out before two-thirds of those eighteen miles had been
placed behind them.

But if there was a ghost of a chance Paul was determined to take
advantage of it, and he believed that even the laggards would be keen to
make the attempt, once he mentioned the subject to them.

And so they kept pushing steadily along, Mr. Anderson showing wonderful
pluck, considering the pain he must be suffering all the while from his
numerous bruises and cuts.

CHAPTER XV