When he reached the cliff, spent and sore, a new difficulty presented itself. A sheer fifty-foot drop still separated him from the road. He crept along the edge searching for a footing by which to descend, and presently found one that looked possible. There were broken, shelving places here, and tufts of growing things down the face of the dizzy wall. Danny began to climb down. But he found it harder than he had thought, and at times he was a mere human fly clinging to a rock wall. [Illustration: A man was sitting over some sort of instrument.] Nearly down--only about fifteen feet more! But at that moment the human fly's hold crumbled under his clinging fingers, and he dropped. It ought not to have been a bad fall, but the trouble was a loosened rock followed, and came down on one arm as its owner lay prostrate on the ground. Danny lay very still for a few moments, looking at the stars and thinking of--nothing! Then presently the sound of human voices came to him from somewhere out of the night. With an effort he raised up a little to push off the stone from his arm, but he dropped back again. The stars began to swim at that, and the voices to grow fantastic. But a scout--must--keep--his head! Those voices sounded familiar! Danny summoned all his strength, and sent the wavering call of a wounded whippoorwill along the night. Silence, and then a whippoorwill answered sharply from out the forest. Danny called again. Shortly after that came low voices and the sound of hurrying feet. Then Mr. Gordon, the Scout Master, McKenzie, their leader, and jolly old Biddie Burton were hovering over him. "Are you hurt?" they asked in one breath. But Danny cried out feverishly: "There's a German spy sending wireless messages from old Death Head, and our transports have put to sea!" And he told them, brokenly, the story of his find. There was consternation among them for one brief moment, and then everybody woke to action. They must get the man at once--but _which way_ to go? Mr. Gordon spoke quickly: "You stay with Danny, Burton; McKenzie and I will go back to the Death Head and follow the clue from there." And even as he spoke he and McKenzie were hurriedly, but tenderly, binding up the wounded arm, while Biddie improvised a comforting sling for it. But Danny knew that the route by way of old Death Head was long and circuitous. And he knew also that the shortest way is the only way to take when one's duty to one's country calls. He got to his feet. "I'll show you the shortest way," he said. * * * * * How they found means of scaling the cliff, how they accomplished their stealthy journey back to the hidden wireless station, piloted by the wounded tenderfoot whom they supported at every step, is too long a story to tell.