Before long the odds went far to be equalized by the capture which Dick made of No. 3 of the Ravens. This able scout fell a victim to his own impulsiveness. He saw six Wolves on the hill; he became most eager to seize the other two; he forgot that for a scout there is only one word--caution, caution, always caution. So he jumped into a little gully to hide himself, without first making sure that no one was there already. As it happened, Dick had crept into it three minutes before, and No. 3 felt Dick's missile before he knew what was in the wind. Rather crestfallen, he gave up his own black flag and the two yellow ones, of which he had been so proud, and made his way to the Beacon. Dick had now five flags in his cap--two black and three yellow--and he redoubled his vigilance now that he had become so valuable a prize. He went on and on, but he never saw another Raven. Soon he became aware that Billy had not only seen some, but seized them also, for Raven after Raven marched up to the summit, until Billy's captives numbered three fresh ones. When the patrol leader and his corporal met at last under the oak, they greeted each other joyfully. 'Well done, Billy!' said Dick. 'You've pulled 'em down in great style. I've only had one; but he'd got a couple of our fellows' flags.' 'Oh,' said Billy, 'a couple of 'em were very easy shots. The third chap was rather more sticky, but I had him at last.' 'Now we'll work back and tackle the other two,' said Dick. 'There are two on each side in the game now.' 'All right,' said Billy; 'we'll go for 'em in style this time. There'll be some flags handed over, whoever gets collared!' Each of them showed five flags in his hat. Billy had his own yellow and four of the Ravens' black. Dick had three yellow, two recaptured, and two black. And now they plunged into cover for the final round. Billy was the first to come into touch with the enemy. He was stealing along under cover of a patch of hollies, when, faint but clear, he caught the Ravens' patrol call--'Kar-kaw! Kar-kaw!' 'Where's that merry hooter?' thought Billy. 'He's giving himself away, calling for the other fellow. He's mine if I can spot him.' Again the call came, a short distance ahead, and Billy crept forward with the utmost caution. The cry seemed to come from the other side of a space littered with blocks of turf. Some cottagers who lived on the heath had the right to cut turves, and this was a place where they worked. Here and there the turves were gathered into little heaps. In the centre of the open ground was a larger heap. 'I can get a shot, perhaps, from cover of that bigger heap,' said Billy to himself, and he began to worm his way across the ground. He reached the big heap and crouched behind it, and peered round it in search of the Raven who had been uttering his patrol call.