'What was I doing when you saw me first?' he asked lightly, and smiled. But the smile was of the lips only, a mere mockery of a smile. The eyes, the very heart of a smile, remained fiercely bright, and cold, and questioning. 'Fiddlin' wi' yer boot,' said Chippy calmly; 'gettin' the stone out, I s'pose.' 'Look here,' said the spy in quiet tones, 'have you seen me for the last five minutes? Yes or no.' He paused for a reply, but none came. Chippy was shaken. Yes or no. That position admitted of no manoeuvring. 'What's this?' said the spy softly, and fingered with his left hand Chippy's badge; his right hand was clutched with a grip of iron on Chippy's shoulder. 'Scout's badge,' muttered Chippy. 'Ah, is it really?' murmured the spy. 'Yes, I've looked into that movement. Well, on your word as a scout, yes or no.' Chippy looked up. He forced a laugh. 'Why--look 'ere, Albert,' he began, and then twisted like an eel, and tried to dive under the spy's arm. He had smiled and spoken, hoping to throw the man off his guard, but this man was not easily deceived, and his grip remained unshaken. He gave a low, savage laugh. 'Thank you; that is all the answer I want,' he said, and slipped his left hand into a hidden pocket under his coat. There is an instinct which teaches every living creature that the moment has come when it must fight for its life. Chippy felt it strongly, and he hurled himself upon the spy, kicking, biting, tearing at him like a little tiger, but all in vain; in that powerful grip he was utterly helpless. Yet no, that gallant struggle was not all in vain, for it held the spy's whole attention as he mastered his victim, and it prevented him from seeing a second boyish figure racing into the hollow down the slope by which the spy had entered. Chippy, clever Chippy, saw his staunch brother scout dashing into the combat, and began to yell at the highest pitch of his voice, not calling to Dick, but just making a noise, any noise, to cover the sound of those swift feet, and give Dick the advantage of a surprise as he darted up behind the spy. Dick made full use of the opportunity. He had watched every movement of the two in the hollow, and had leapt from his cover as soon as he saw Chippy begin to struggle. His patrol flag was fastened on a stout ashen staff, hard as iron, an old alpenstock cut down. He swung it up as he ran, and he was within a yard of striking distance, when he saw the spy's hand reappear with something in it glittering like the blade of a dagger. With a last bound Dick was within reach, and he brought the heavy staff down with all his strength, fetching the spy a ringing crack on the head. Half-stunned, the man staggered round to face the new assailant, and Chippy saw his chance. He tore himself free, made a swift dive to the ground, and was off. Dick joined him, and the two boys scoured away at full speed, leaving the spy all abroad for the moment from the effects of that shrewd stroke.