'Test 7,' grunted Chippy. 'Ah, very likely,' agreed Mr. Hardy. 'I don't know the numbers. Hallo! that's good. Here's the doctor.' He sprang up, and took the medical man to the bedroom, while Joe came into the kitchen, wiping his face. 'Met the doctor on the road, so that's lucky,' said Joe, and then began to ask the scouts about the accident; for Fred was a great favourite, and all were anxious to know how ill had befallen him. Dick and Chippy would now have resumed their interrupted march had they not been desirous of hearing the doctor's report on their brother scout's condition. Twenty minutes passed before Mr. Hardy returned to the kitchen, and his face shone with joy. 'He'll pull through,' cried the farmer. 'Doctor says there's a chance for him yet. But if he'd lain there half an hour longer there'd have been no mortal hope of saving him, and I can never tell you how thankful his mother and me do feel towards you.' 'Oh, very likely someone would have found him in time if we hadn't tracked him,' said Dick. 'Never in this world,' said Mr. Hardy solemnly--'never in this world! That path is but little used. The village lies t'other way. He might have lain there for hours and hours.' 'Well, we're very glad we were so lucky as to be of service,' said Dick; 'and now we must push on our way. We're making a scouting journey, and have to finish it by to-morrow night.' 'Nay, nay,' cried the farmer; 'you'll have dinner, at least, before you go. 'Twill be ready soon, and I'd take it very onkindly if you left us without bite or sup.' At this moment Mrs. Hardy came in, and thanked the clever scouts warmly for the great service they had rendered. She seconded her husband's invitation, and as one o'clock struck in thin chimes from a tall eight-day clock, they sat down to a plentiful dinner. Over the meal the talk turned on the journey the scouts were making, and the farmer and his wife were deeply interested in their adventures. 'But look here, now,' said Mr. Hardy; 'this fine piece of work you've done for us--and we shall never forget it--has fetched you out of your way, and cost you a lot of time.' 'We'll make it up before dark,' said Dick. 'Ay, by overtiring yourselves,' said the farmer. 'Now, suppose I run you along a piece of your way in my trap. I've got a Welsh cob that'll slip us along as if he'd but a feather behind him. I'll set you ten or twelve miles on your road, and be thankful if you'd give me the chance.' The scouts looked at each other. It was a temptation. It was an undeniable temptation. It would make the march into Bardon a very simple affair on the morrow. Then Chippy spoke up, his keen eye reading Dick's puckered brow and considering face. 'Yer want to march all the way,' he said quietly.