It seemed to him that Peter Fenton had been gone long enough to gain the camp.

The secret service men, he knew, had not had time to reach the point of danger, but they had, he thought, had time enough to make a noise like an advancing army.

There were bright-plumaged birds singing in the early sunshine, but no indications of the approach of the help Fenton had gone to arouse.

What the next move of the renegade and his companions would be the boy could not even guess.

He hoped, however, that the party would linger about the vicinity until the secret service men could come up.
This hope, however, was soon shattered.