Mickey replied that he had a general idea of his meaning, and he might as well go ahead with the circus.  Fred had caught the whispered conversation, and, of course, knew what it meant.  As Mickey turned round to see where he was, he found him at his elbow.

“Sh!  Come ahead, now.  We’re going to creep straight across the pass till we reach t’other side, when we’ll go down that some ways, and I’ll tell yer the rest.”

A second or two afterward the long, wiry frame of the scout emerged from the dense shadow at the side of the boulder, and crept forward in the direction of the middle of the main ravine or pass.  Close behind him followed Mickey and Fred, the trio forming a curious procession as they carefully picked their way across the moonlit gorge, the grass for most of the distance being so dense that they were pretty well screened from view.

The directions of the scout were carefully obeyed to the letter, for, indeed, there could have been no excuse for disregarding them.  He understood perfectly the nature of the task he had undertaken, and the risk he ran was entirely for the benefit of his friends.

One of the first and most important requisites of a scout is patience, without which he is sure to commit all manner of errors.  In the present case, it seemed to Fred that much valuable time could be saved if they would simply rise to their feet and make a dash straight across the ravine.  Even Mickey was of the same opinion, at least to the extent of varying the pace so as to go slowly part of the time and rapidly the rest, as the ground became unfavorable or favorable.  But it was very clear that Sut Simpson held very different views.

A piece of machinery could not have advanced with a more regular movement than did he—­a movement that was excessively trying to an impatient person who could not understand his reason for it.  Mickey could see that he turned his head from side to side, and was using his eyes and ears to the extent of their ability.  At the end of some fifteen or twenty minutes the base of the perpendicular wall on the opposite side was reached, and, greatly to the relief of his companions, he arose to his feet, they following suit.

“Begorrah, but that’s a swate relief, as me Aunt Bridget obsarved, when her ould man.”

A turn of the head, and an impatient gesture from the scout, silenced Mickey before he had time to complete the remark.  He subsided instantly, and began a debate with himself as to whether he ought not to apologize for his forgetfulness, but he concluded to wait.

The long, lank figure of Sut Simpson looked as if it was a shadow slowly stealing along the dark face of the rock, followed by that of Mickey and the lad.  They were as silent as phantoms, each walking as tenderly and carefully as though he was a burglar breaking into the house of some sleeping merchant, whose slumbers were as light as down.  Mickey had no doubt that this was continued twice as long as necessary, although he conscientiously strove to carry out the wishes of the scout in that respect.  He stumbled once or twice, but that was because of the treacherous nature of the ground.