"Let's go at once and find it," said Tim, putting a text-book into seven words. He hitched his belt up, and looked round to make sure his sisters were not within reach of interference. There was a moment's pause, during which Uncle Felix hitched his will up. They rose, then, standing side by side. They left the room arm in arm on their way into the garden. The dusk was already laying its first net of shadows to catch the Night. "Hadn't you better change first?" asked Tim, thoughtfully, on his way down. He glanced at his companion's white flannel suit. "You're so awfully visible." "Visible!" It was not his bulk. Tim was never deliberately rude. Was it the risk of staining that he meant? "Any one can see you miles away like that." The other understood instantly. In an adventure everything sees, everything has eyes, everything watches. The world is alive and full of eyes. He hesitated a moment. "Oh, that's all right," he replied. "To be easily seen is the best way. It disarms curiosity at once. Tell all about yourself and nobody ever thinks anything. It's trying to hide that makes the world suspect you. Keep nothing back and show yourself is the best way to go about unnoticed. I've tried it." "Ah," exclaimed Tim, in an eager whisper, "same as walking into the strawberry-bed without asking--" "So my white clothes are just the thing," said the other, avoiding the pit laid for him. "Of course, yes." Tim still chased the big idea in his mind. "Besides," he added, full of another splendid thought, "like that they won't expect you to do very much. They'll watch _you_ instead of me." There was confusion in the utterance, but things were rather crowding in upon him, to tell the truth, and imagination leaped ahead upon two trails at once. He looked at his big companion with more approval. "You'll do," he signified, pulling his cap over his eyes, thrusting both hands in his pockets, and slithering rapidly down the bannisters in advance. "Thanks," said Uncle Felix, following him, three steps at a time, with effort. In the hall they paused a moment--a question of doors. "Back," said Uncle Felix. "Front's better," decided the boy. "Then nobody'll think anything, you see." He was quick to put the new principle into practice. On the lawn there was another pause, this time a question of direction. "The wood, of course!" And they set off together at a steady trot. Few words were wasted when Tim went "busting about" in this way. Uncle Felix resigned himself and looked to him for guidance; there was some one to be rescued; there was danger to be run; the risk was bigger than either of them realised; but more than that he knew not. "Got a handkerchief with you?" the boy asked presently. "Yes, thanks; got everything," panted the other. "For signalling," was offered three minutes later by way of explanation, "in case we get lost--or anything like that." "Quite so." "Is it a clean one?" "Yes." "Good!"