station beside the road, and heard an engine
whistle, and saw from a bridge the rails running away towards Bardon,
he only limped on faster, and put aside the temptation of a lift in by
train.

After a while his foot became more easy, and he was able to set it down
without giving any decided indication that there was something amiss.
For this he was very glad before long, when the two scouts met friends
who would soon have spotted a lame walker, and have cut his march short.

CHAPTER LI

THE WELCOME HOME

It was about half-past four when they gained a point where the country
began to wear a familiar look.

'Shotford Corner!' cried Chippy. 'We'll see Bardon from the cob.'

The cob, as Chippy called it, was a small knoll on which stood a finger
post, with many arms to guide wayfarers along the roads which met at
Shotford Corner. The boys gained the knoll by the smallest of the
side-roads which ran in at that point.

They paused beneath the finger-post, and looked ahead. There was their
old familiar heath spreading away to the distant spires of Bardon, and
from this point on they knew every step of the way. 'Six miles to
Bardon' was on the arm above their heads.

'We'll be home in less than a couple of hours now,' said Dick. 'We'll
put this journey to our credit easily enough, Chippy.'

Suddenly behind them a wild honk-honk--h-o-n-k of a motor-horn broke
out. The boys looked along the road, and saw a car coming towards them
at full speed with two figures in it. The driver was performing a
fantasia on his horn; the passenger was waving his cap.

'Why,' cried Dick, 'it's my father out in his car with Uncle Jim.'

'Well, here you are,' shouted Mr. Elliott, as the car sped up to them.
'We've been scouring these roads all the afternoon in search of you.
How have you got on?'

'Oh, splendid, father--splendid,' cried Dick. 'We should like to start
again on Monday, shouldn't we, Chippy?'

'It 'ud suit me fust rate,' said the Raven, respectfully saluting his
employers.

'Well,' laughed Mr. Elliott, 'I don't know about that. I'm afraid
there'd be trouble with your headmaster and with Mr. Malins, who has
rather missed Slynn.'

The Raven saluted again, blushing with pleasure to find that the
manager had missed his services.

'You look uncommonly fit, the pair of you,' said Mr. Jim Elliott,
marking the brown faces, the lean, lithe look of the hardy, toughened
scouts.

'Yes, uncle, we feel up to the