"Well, we're going to do nothing of the kind, just remember that," said Thad, resolutely. "It's only natural that the men of these mountains should feel a whole lot of curiosity about us. I suppose now they never heard of the Boy Scouts; and these uniforms make them think we're connected with the army. Now, we don't want to stir them up any more than we can help. They're an ugly lot, Bob here says, if you rub the fur the wrong way. We didn't come down here to bother these moonshiners one whit; and if they'll only let us alone, we want to keep our hands off their affairs. Let the fellow dodge after us if he wants to; he'll find that we're only a bunch of happy-go-lucky boys, off for a holiday."
"Pity we can't meet up with that same old Phin, and tell him as much," Smithy went on to say.
"Perhaps it might be managed easy enough," Allan observed, and all of them immediately turned toward him, feeling that he had some scheme to communicate.
"Open up, and tell us what it is, Allan," urged the impatient Bumpus.
"Yes, don't keep us guessing any more than you can help," added Step Hen. "We've sure got enough to worry us, what with the troubles of Giraffe getting stuck in that quicksand; and Davy here, falling over every old precipice he can find, without you making us puzzle out a problem. How could it be done, Allan?"
"Why, we'll send Old Phin a letter," replied the other, calmly.
"Show me your messenger, then!" demanded Bumpus.
Allan picked up a stick, and deliberately split one end so that he could open it up. This he thrust into a crevice in the rocks close to the wretched road, and in such a position that it was certain to meet the eye of the tracker when he again started to follow them.
"Now, I'll write a few lines, and leave it here, addressed to Phin Dady," he went on. "I'll print the words in capitals, in the hopes that the old mountaineer may be able to read as much as that. If he can't, then some other of the clan may; and if all else fails, they'll have some boy or girl make it out. How's that, Thad?"
"Splendid, I should say," replied the scoutmaster, smiling. "Here, Bumpus, turn around, and bend over."
"What you goin' to do to me?" demanded the short scout, suspiciously, as he hesitated before complying.