In the sparse woods the tracks appeared as regular tracks again, sharply
cut in the hard earth. Where the ground was bare under the trees, the
tracks were as clear as writing on a slate, but in the intervening
spaces the vegetation obscured them and he found them with difficulty.
This tracking in the woods was the hardest part of his task because it
required patience and deliberation, and Hervey had neither.

But he managed it and was beginning to wonder how far his tracking had
led him and whether he was near to covering the required distance. When
he felt certain of that, he would drive a stake in the ground, fly his
navy blue scarf from it to prove his claim, and go back to camp in
triumph. He had made up his mind that he would at once report his feat
in Council Shack, and offer to escort any or all of the trustees back
over the ground in verification of his crowning accomplishment. The only
Eagle Scout at Temple Camp, except Tom Slade; and Tom Slade didn't
count....

Still, as he looked back, the base of the mountain seemed almost as near
as when he had made his discovery, the fields and wood which had seemed
so long to the tracker were but small to the casual glance and he
realized that his whole journey was yet far short of a quarter mile.

The tracks now ran, as clear as writing, across one of those curious
patches of damp ground with a thin, slippery skin, which was torn
straight across in a kind of furrow. Hervey was so intent on studying
this that he did not notice in the shadow about a hundred feet ahead of
him a log directly in line with the tracks. When suddenly he looked up,
he paused and stared ahead of him in consternation.

Some one was sitting on the log.