But he was a scout, and a scout must "be prepared." Danny forced himself to think as he went. He was not following that gruesome trail in response to Whitman's dare--he was scouting old Death Head in the service of his country. Danny found that he could follow McKenzie's directions better than he had hoped. Now that his eyes were thoroughly accustomed to the dark, he could descry the blacker landmarks for which his leader had prepared him. After the turn in the mountain trail, an abrupt and jagged cliff ahead beckoned the way. The shadow of the cliff won, Danny waited for another appearance of the pale, cold moon by the help of whose light he hoped to locate the three giant pines--his next objective. From the pines, McKenzie had told him, old Death Head could be sighted plainly enough, for from that point it was silhouetted, black and unmistakable, against the sky, and its summit was marked by the stark, white, blasted tree of evil fame. "That's where the dead man swings!" echoed in Danny's memory. And for a moment it seemed that he _must_ give up and fly back to safety. But something said: "I'll disown you, sir!" And Danny again turned his face in the direction of his duty. The moon looked out of the drifting clouds. Danny located the three giant pines in the distance, and for one blessed moment saw a reasonably clear path, skirting along the mountainside. Darkness again! But Danny took the skirting path to the pine giants. Once he nearly lost his nerve altogether, for suddenly there was behind him a sound as if some human foot had stumbled. The tenderfoot dropped warily to the long grass at one side of the path, and listened. A long, long time he listened, but not another sound did he hear. At length he told himself that the step was that of some wild creature which he had disturbed. Then forward again! Creeping, panther-footed. Danny reached the pines at last--and sure enough, old Death Head rose all too plainly before him. He saw, or thought he saw, a tall white something on its summit. In thinking it over afterward, Danny was never quite sure just what happened between the pines and the haunted tree. He had a vague recollection of imagining that step behind again, and he recalled at one point the almost welcome pain of a stubbed toe. But for the rest, he was too frightened to take it all in. By the time the tenderfoot reached the summit of old Death Head and stood within fifty feet of the haunted tree, he was too frightened to move, and he almost _expected_ to see the thing which he most feared. The sky was overcast again, but a dim white something towered before him--the haunted tree--and--and----! But just at that moment the clouds broke, and the full moon, now all unveiled, flooded the scene with light.