the impression
of a hand, and dark spots lay along the trail.

'By Jove, Chippy! the poor chap!' cried the Wolf. 'The hill proved too
steep for his weakness. Look, he's finished it on his hands and knees.'

Dick bent, and laid his own hand over the clear impression on the sand.

'Same size again,' he cried; 'he's just about our age, Chippy.'

'It's the blood he's lost as fetched 'im down,' said the Raven, his
face very grave; 'but he's a good plucked un. He's fightin' his way
somewheer.'

At the top of the hill came a level stretch, and here the wounded rider
had gathered himself together again and stumbled forward. Within a
very short distance the road forked, and at the fork the trail was
lost. The two roads were hard and stony, and showed no trace of
footmarks, and the blood had ceased to fall.

'A road apiece,' said Chippy.

'Yes,' said Dick. 'You take right; I'll take left. First one to find
anything whistles.'

CHAPTER XLIV

THE BROTHER SCOUT

They parted instantly, and each took his track, his eyes glued to the
ground. They could work a great distance apart and yet keep in touch,
for their patrol whistles were very powerful, and the day was still.

Chippy went a good three-quarters of a mile, and yet had found nothing.
He feared he was not on the right track, for at last he came to a soft
patch where spoor ought to have been. There was one new track: the man
with the hobnailed boots had turned this way, but there was no other
sign of recent passage. Chippy was standing in hesitation, when faint
and far away the shrill call of a patrol whistle came to his ears. At
once he raised his own whistle to his lips and blew an answering call,
then turned and darted like a hare back along the road. He gained the
fork and raced along the path which Dick had followed. It was clear
that the Wolf had found the track or the injured boy, but the Raven did
not trouble about searching for signs of the rider. He knew that his
comrade would leave him full directions which way to travel, and his
only aim now was to join Dick. So he tore along the road, his eyes
fixed on the centre of the track.

Suddenly he pulled up dead. There was a broad arrow marked heavily in
the road with the point of Dick's staff. The head pointed to a
side-track, and Chippy wheeled and flew off in the new direction.
Again he was pulled up. A second broad arrow, square across the way.
This time the head pointed to a wicket