"Just to think of it!" exclaimed Bumpus, "we were all sleeping sweetly like babes in the woods, out there in the hay, while our game passed us by. A healthy lot of scouts we seem like, don't we? When people hear of this they'll vote us a leather medal. Always on guard, hey? Never letting a single thing worth while slipping through our fingers? Oh! my stars, somebody fan me!"

Thad laughed at the fat scout.

"I wouldn't feel so bad if I were you, Bumpus," he remonstrated; "there's nothing on us that I can see. This happened to be an accident that we couldn't help. How were we to guess that the man we came after would drop in here and rob the farmer? The fortunes of war, Bumpus. Besides, it gives us a pointer. We know now that Wandering George isn't far ahead of us; and we're going to catch up with him before a great while."

"That's the way to talk, Thad!" commented Step Hen. "We never give up when we get started on a game. Keeping everlastingly at it is what wins most of all. George was kind to leave his card behind him; and in the morning we'll start out fresh on the trail."

It would appear from this that none of the others felt at all depressed because of the strange happening; and realizing this even Bumpus was soon looking satisfied again. The farmer declared he would not try to sleep any more that night, but as for the scouts they could see no reason why anyone else should follow his example, when that sweet hay called so loudly.

The consequence was that before long there was an exodus to the barn, for since the small hours of the morning had come the air was decidedly cool, and none of them felt comfortable.

Nothing more developed during the remainder of that night, and the first thing some of the sleepers knew they were hearing the bugle sounding the reveille. Bumpus had been aroused by Allan poking him in the ribs, and telling him it was sun-up; for somehow the two had bored into the hay together the second time.

Giraffe attended to the fire, as usual, and as everybody wanted to get warm there was no lack of cooks. The work of the farm had started long before, and already the girls were coming in with full buckets of new milk; while the cackling of many hens announced that the biddies were giving an account of themselves.

As the boys gathered around and started to partake of their breakfast the farmer and his family poured out of the house bearing all manner of additions to the menu, even to a couple of apple pies, which seems to be a standard early morning dish in the country along the Susquehanna, even as doughnuts are in New England.

Of course the boys fared like kings, and would not soon forget that splendid breakfast. When they packed their kits ready to make a fresh start, the girls insisted on pressing various little additions to their larder upon them, so that what with the apples, cookies, and the like, some of the boys could hardly manage to strap up their haversacks.

And there was Hiram looking so forlorn over their going that Thad took pity on the poor fellow.

"I'm going to remember you, Hiram," he told the farmhand, as he squeezed his big hand warmly, "and after we get home I'll send you a bunch of reading matter in connection with this scout movement, as well as several cracking good books that have been written covering the activities of our Silver Fox Patrol."

"Gosh! I hope yeou do that same!" ejaculated Hiram, brightening up; "'cause I'm jest bustin' to larn all about it. I'd give a heap if I ever hed a chanct to wear a suit like them be, an' camp out in the woods. I hearn thar be a troop o' scouts a-formin' over in Hicksville, an' by jinks I'm a-goin' to put in a application, as sure's my name's Hiram Spinks!"

"I hope you do, Hiram," the patrol leader told him, "and if I can do anything at any time to help out, let me know. First of all I'm going to mail you an extra handbook or Boy Scout Manual I've got knocking around home; and if you're feeling a touch of the fever now, that's guaranteed to give it to you ten times worse."

So they said good-by to the hospitable farmer and his family, none of whom would accept a single cent in return for what they had done for the scouts. Indeed, they vehemently declared they were heavily in the boys' debt on account of their having helped save the farmhouse after it had been set on fire by the action of the hobo thieves, surprised at their work of robbing the farmer's desk.

Thad had been off somewhere while the rest were finishing their packing. When he came back Allan, who noticed the expression on the face of the patrol leader, guessed he must have met with a certain amount of success. Apparently he knew what the other had started out to find; at least his first remark made it look that way.

"Well, was it there, Thad?" he observed.

"As plain as print," came the immediate reply, accompanied with a smile of satisfaction, such as a fellow may assume when he is in a position to say "I told you so!"

"That is, the track of a broken shoe which has the sole held in place by a rag bound about it, hobo fashion?" continued Allan.

"Yes, and belonging to the right foot at that, just as we learned long ago was the case with Wandering George," Thad continued.

"Where did you run across the trail?" questioned Allan.

"I'll show you when we're leaving here," he was told. "It's so plain even a tenderfoot couldn't miss seeing the same. And when the road is reached you can follow it for some little distance."

"Toward the river, Thad?"

"Yes, in an easterly direction," answered the leader of the patrol; "and that just suits us right up to the notch, you know. But the boys are ready to start, so we'd better be hiking out."

The last they saw of the farmer and his family the two girls were waving their sun-bonnets wildly, while the older people contented themselves with making use of their hands. This little visit of the scouts had made a very enjoyable break in the monotony of their lives, and would not be soon forgotten.

As for Hiram, he had received permission to accompany the boys for a mile along the road; though Thad had solemnly promised the farmer to send him back in due time, for there were daily chores to be looked after that could not be neglected.

While some of the others, notably Bumpus and Smithy and Davy, were paying attention to answering the fervent signals of the jolly country girls, Thad was showing Allan, Giraffe, Bob White and Step Hen the plain impression of the marked shoe belonging, as they very well knew, to the particular tramp whom they were so anxious to overtake.

How Hiram did listen eagerly to every word that was uttered, and even got down on his hands and knees to scrutinize that impression. He had of course hunted at times, as every country boy does, and shot his quota of small game like rabbits, squirrels, quail and woodcock; yet knew next to nothing concerning the real delights of woodcraft. But the seed had taken root in Hiram's soul, and would sprout from that time on. The coming of these scouts had aroused an ambition within him, and he could never again be the same contented plodder that he had seemed to be in the past.

Down the road the boys walked at a brisk pace, chatting and joking as they went on. Those in the van of course had the task of keeping in touch with the tracks and every once in a while they made sure that these could still be discovered in the rather soft soil alongside the road.

When the mile had been passed and more Thad reminded Hiram of his promise, and in turn every scout pressed the big fellow's hard hand warmly. So they passed out of Hiram's life; but the result of his meeting these wide-awake scouts was destined to mark an epoch in the career of that country boy, a turning point in his destiny as it were.

The day was another gloomy one.

It seemed as though Nature might be frowning her worst, and giving all sorts of portentous signs concerning what was coming before long. If anything the damp feeling in the air had grown more pronounced than before, which would indicate to a weather prophet the approach of wet weather.

It takes considerable to dampen the enthusiasm of lively scouts, however; and as the morning crept along they continued to make merry as they plodded on their way.

It was about eleven o'clock when a shout from Giraffe in the front announced a discovery of some moment. Trust "Old Eagle Eye" for finding out things ahead of others; he was not gifted with that keenness of vision for nothing.

"What is it, the river at last?" called Bumpus, between puffs, for the pace was fast enough to make the stout scout breathe hard.

"That's what it is, as sure as you live!" exclaimed Step Hen.

"And let me tell you, suh, she looks mighty fine to me," remarked Bob White, who was particularly fond of the water, and a good boatman as well as canoeist.

"Whew! Strikes me the old Susquehanna must be on a tear already!" came from Bumpus, as he caught his first glimpse of the wide expanse of flowing water.

"It is pretty high for a fact!" Smithy admitted; "I'm somewhat familiar with the river, because I visited here several summers; and I never saw so much water running down between its banks."

The road they were following, upon drawing near the river, turned sharply to the south. After that the boys knew they must be within reaching distance of the water as long as they kept to that thoroughfare; though of course should they learn, through the tracks they followed, that the hobo wearing the old army coat had taken to a side path they would be compelled to do the same.

Occasionally they came to an isolated house, and once passed through a small hamlet; but made sure to find the trail beyond, showing that Wandering George had safely navigated through the outpost of civilization, and not been locked up. In fact, Thad was of the opinion that the pair of nomads must have circled around the village on general principles. After having been discovered in the act of robbing the farmer's home bank they may have feared arrest; and while one hid in the thickets the other possibly ventured into the village in order to purchase supplies, principally strong drink at the tavern.

No matter what their tactics may have been, the pair still held to the river road, and that was sufficient for the scouts who followed the trail.

"What do you make of it, Thad?" asked Giraffe, after he had seen the leader and Allan closely examining a pretty fair footprint left by the tramp; "and are we a long ways behind right now?"

"It isn't an easy thing to say," he was told, "because we haven't much to go by, you see, and have to figure it out on general principles; but we've concluded that this print is about two hours old; and that the men are taking it fairly easy as tramps walk."

"Every once in so often they stop, and sit down on a log that looks inviting, as you see they did here," Allan added, pointing as he spoke. "We figure they must have invested some of the stolen money in whisky at that village tavern, and that every time they stop they indulge themselves in a good swig."

"Just what they do, Allan!" announced Step Hen, who had been aimlessly prowling around on the border of the road back of the log where the tramps had rested; "see here what I've picked up. That flask must have held a full pint, and it's been drained to the last drop. More where that came from; and chances are before long we may run across our men sprawled out in the bushes in a drunken sleep."

"Well, as most tramps can soak in any amount of bug juice without showing signs of it," Giraffe ventured, "you mustn't count too heavy on that same; though it'd be a bully good thing for us, as we could get back the Judge's blue overcoat without any row. The question is, ought we to arrest the hoboes on account of what they did up at Bailey's farm?"

"We won't cross that river till we come to it, Giraffe," laughed Thad; but all the same some of the scouts felt positive their leader had his plan of campaign mapped out already, because that was his invariable rule, so as not to be taken unawares.

Another half hour passed. Just ahead of them was a small cabin between the road and the river. A fenced-in patch showed where the occupants managed to have a little garden in season.

"What ails that woman standing there and calling out, d'ye suppose?" remarked Step Hen, as they were passing the cottage.

"She seems to be bothered some, if you can judge by the way she waves her hands, and keeps on beckoning," Giraffe went on to say, becoming interested. "She's facing out on the river, too, you notice. Now, I wouldn't be surprised if she's got a cub of a boy who's gone out further than he ought to on the swift current in some tub of a boat, and she's trying to make him come ashore. There, didn't you hear her yell to Johnny to come back at once? And here's where the bushes end, so we can see for ourselves."

It turned out that Giraffe was correct, for there was a makeshift of a boat out on the current of the river, containing a boy who was clumsily trying to turn its head in the direction of the shore. The obstructions in the Susquehanna make it a very treacherous stream, with eddies and stealthy currents that take one unawares, and "Johnny" was making a sorry mess of his work, Thad saw at a glance.

"He's apt to get upset if he doesn't take care!" exclaimed Bob White, who knew the signs all too well.

The woman kept shouting and no doubt this distracted the boy more or less, causing him to lose his head. In fact he did just what he should never have done; for when the bow of his boat ran up on a partly submerged rock he let go the oars, picked one up, and rising to his feet stepped forward to push the craft off again.

"Sit down!" shouted Thad, between his hands; but if the boy heard he gave no sign of obeying, his one thought being to push his oar against the obstruction, and get the boat moving free again.

Then came a shriek from the poor mother. The current had got in its treacherous work, just as Thad and some of his chums had expected would be the case.

"He's gone in, and the boat turned turtle!" cried Step Hen, aghast.

"Help! oh! somebody save my poor Johnny, because he can't swim a stroke!" shrieked the woman, wringing her hands, and appealing to the detachment of scouts, of whose presence near the spot of the tragedy she had just become aware.

Chapter 7 ON THE RIVER ROAD.

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