The Wolf Patrol Part 43

'An' to think, arter follerin' him up, he turned out one of us,'

murmured Chippy.

'Wasn't it splendid!' cried d.i.c.k.

Yes, that was the very crowning touch of the adventure. They would have done it all with the most cheerful willingness for anyone, old or young, sick or poor; but to rescue a brother scout--ah! that gave a flavour to the affair which filled them with purest delight.

Now the scouts swung forward with steady stride; they had lost a good deal of time, and the miles stretched before them--a formidable array to be ticked off before the spires of Bardon would be seen. This sweep back from Newminster was longer than the road they had followed to the city, and the extra distance was beginning to tell. They made a good strong march for three hours, and then halted for a short rest; and upon this halt a rather awkward accident took place, in which d.i.c.k was the sufferer.

The scouts had been tempted to pause at a point where a shallow brook ran for some hundreds of yards beside the road, forming one boundary.

They had just made a long stretch of hot, dusty road, and their feet were aching. The water tempted them to halt, and strip off shoes and stockings, to bathe their heated and weary feet.

They sat down on the roots of a tree beside the stream, and dangled their feet in the cool running water, and found it very pleasant and refreshing.

'There's a fish acrost th' other side, just gone into a hole in the bank,' said Chippy; 'wonder if I could get 'im out?'

'Are you any good at catching fish with your hands, Chippy?' asked his companion. 'I never had any luck that way. I've tried in that brook on the heath, but they mostly seem to slip through my fingers.'

'There's a knack about it,' replied the Raven. 'Now, I dessay, d.i.c.k, ye tried to shut your hand round 'em.'

'Yes, I did,' said the Wolf.

'Ah, now, that's wheer ye went wrong,' returned his friend. 'Ye want to mark 'em down under a stone or in a hole, then press 'em hard agin the side, an' hold 'em theer a while. Then ye can jerk 'em out when they've lost their wind a bit.'

Chippy proceeded to show how it was done. He slipped his shirt-sleeve back to the shoulder, and introduced his hand cautiously into the hole.

He made a sudden movement, and snapped 'Got 'im!' and held on. A minute later he drew out a small trout, his finger and thumb thrust into the gills, and showed it to d.i.c.k.

'Quarter-pounder for ye,' he said, and dexterously broke its neck.

'Let's see if we can get enough for supper, Chippy,' cried d.i.c.k; 'they'd go down first-rate with the sandwiches;' for Mrs. Hardy had insisted on storing their haversacks with a plentiful supply of ham and beef sandwiches. They spent half an hour or more paddling about in the cool, clear water, but only three small ones came to hand.

Then Chippy thrust his arm up a hole among the roots of an alder, and gave a chuckle of delight. 'A big un at last,' he cried; 'I've got 'im.' But suddenly his note changed.

'Ow!' he yelled, in comic anguish, and whipped his hand out of the hole. Blood was streaming from his forefinger.

'I say,' cried d.i.c.k, 'what a savage trout!'

''Tworn't a trout at all,' wailed the Raven; ''twor a big rat, an' he bit me.'

The scouts roared with laughter as Chippy flipped the blood into the water.

'He'd got you that time,' chuckled d.i.c.k.

'Sure enough,' nodded the Raven. 'I thought it wor' a pounder at the least. He's nigh on bit my finger through.'

d.i.c.k had his patrol staff in hand: he thrust it up the hole and tried to poke the rat out. But the hole twisted among the roots, and was a safe fortress for its wily defender.

'Well, I've done all the gropin' I want, this time,' remarked Chippy, washing his finger in the stream.

'Yes, we must be off again,' said d.i.c.k, and began slowly to wade towards the bank where their shoes and stockings lay.

Suddenly he started and picked up one foot.

'Ah!' cried d.i.c.k, 'that was sharp, and no mistake.'

'Wot's the matter?' called out Chippy, approaching him.

'Trod on something sharp,' said d.i.c.k.

'I should think yer did,' cried the Raven; 'look at yer foot. We must see to this.'

d.i.c.k looked, and saw the clear water stained with blood as it swept past his foot. He bent down and looked at the bed of the stream.

'Confound it all,' he said, 'it's the end of a broken bottle I've trodden on. No wonder it warmed me up a bit. Somebody's chucked it into the brook as they pa.s.sed.'

The boys scrambled to the bank, and there d.i.c.k's wound was examined.

It was on the outer side of the right heel, not long, but deep, for the broken bottle had thrust a sharp splintered point upwards, and the cut bled very freely. They washed it well in the cold water until the blood ceased to flow, then rubbed plenty of the mutton-fat in, for that was the only kind of ointment they had.

'Quite sure theer's no salt in this?' asked Chippy. ''Cos salt 'ud be dangerous.'

'Quite sure,' replied d.i.c.k. 'I boiled it down myself. It's pure fat.'

Chippy looked anxious. 'It's frightful awk'ard a cut in yer foot,' he said. 'How are ye goin' to march, d.i.c.k?'

'Oh, I'll march all right,' said d.i.c.k. 'I wish, though, it had been my finger, like yours, Chippy.'

The Raven nodded. 'True for you,' he said, 'ye don't ha' to tramp on yer hands.'

They bound up the cut in a strip torn from a handkerchief, got into their stockings and shoes, and went forward. d.i.c.k declared that his cut gave him little or no pain, but Chippy still looked uneasy. He knew that the time for trouble was ahead, when the cut would stiffen.

CHAPTER XLVII

THE LAST CAMP

'We'll never see Wildcombe Chase to-night, Chippy,' said d.i.c.k, as they stepped along.

'Not likely,' was the reply; 'we've a-lost too much time for that. An'

now theer's that cut. What I say is this: let's mek' an early camp an'

give yer foot a good rest. P'raps it'll feel better in the mornin'.'

'It isn't very bad now,' said d.i.c.k, 'only a little sore.'

'H'm,' grunted Chippy, 'so ye say. I know wot a deep cut like that means. We'll rest it as soon as we can.'

They paused on a triangle of gra.s.s at some cross roads and got out their map. Wildcombe Chase was altogether too far now, and they looked for a nearer camping-ground. They saw that they were within a mile of a village, and beyond that a by-way led across a large common. On this common they resolved to make their last bivouac.

They pa.s.sed through the village without purchasing anything. They had plenty of food for supper in their haversacks, and though their tea and sugar and so on were finished, they did not intend to buy more. Even to purchase in small quant.i.ties would leave them with some on their hands, and they were not willing to spend the money. It was no mean, miserly spirit which moved them. Their scout's pride was concerned in carrying out the journey at as low a cost as possible, working their own way, as it were, through the country. For the money, as money, neither cared a rap. It must also be confessed that d.i.c.k was rather keen on handing back to his father a big part of the ten shillings.