Without another word the Little Captain turned and, with Mollie at her side, made off in the direction the boys had taken. Amy and Grace, arms entwined about each other, followed a little lingeringly in the rear of their bolder companions. They had not gone far, when they heard the welcome sound of masculine voices in excited altercation, and the heavy tramp of feet coming toward them. "Oh," sighed Betty, her lip quivering, now that the need of courage had passed, "they never sounded so good to me before." "Thank heaven you're safe," cried Allen, while relief banished the fear in his eyes. "I don't know what we could have been thinking of, to leave you all alone--" "But did you get him?" cried Mollie impatiently. "No, worse luck," responded Will disgustedly, while the guard mopped his perspiring forehead. "That spy was a slippery customer. We did get something out of it, though." "What?" they cried eagerly. "This," said Will, holding up something that gleamed white in the moonlight. "It's a letter, and it ought to tell us a number of things we want to know about Mr. Adolph Hensler." "Oh, is that his name?" cried Betty eagerly. "That tells us a good deal without even opening the letter." "It's German enough," agreed Will. "But, gee! I'm sorry we didn't catch the fellow. The government needs him." "But we're so glad you didn't get shot," Amy ventured mildly. "We heard that last one back there in the woods, and we thought--" "We'd gotten ours?" grinned Roy. "Well, we hadn't--not yet." "It was too near for comfort, just the same," Frank added. "I could almost hear the wind from it as it whizzed past me." Here Betty, who had been watching Allen closely, uttered a sharp exclamation, and all turned to her. "Allen," she cried, for he had swayed a little and rested his hand against a tree as though to steady himself, "why didn't you tell us? Oh, Allen! It's blood!" "Nothing at all," said Allen, laughing a little unsteadily, as Mrs. Irving and the girls and boys gathered about him anxiously. "A little thing will bleed like a shambles sometimes. It's nothing--Betty--" But Betty, with a little catch in her breath, was tearing aside the soft shirt, which was clotted with blood at the shoulder. "Oh, Allen, Allen!" she was murmuring over and over in a way that sent the blood pounding madly to Allen Washburn's head, and made the wound a blessing. "Why didn't you tell me? Oh, your poor shoulder! Some one get some water, quick," she ordered imperiously, turning to the anxious group. "I don't think it's serious, but we must stop this bleeding. Please hurry." And hurry they did, bringing water from a near-by spring in cups they expertly improvised from leaves as they had done so many times just for the fun of it.