LITMIR.BIZ

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let 'em make you take a dare," came in another whisper. "Go." Biddie was not smiling now, and there was a note of serious friendliness in his voice.

      It suddenly came to Danny that he would give more to merit that new confidence on Biddie's part than to break down the taunts of the others. And yet he could not. He could no more command his shaking nerves to carry him to that unhallowed, ghostly spot than he could command the unwilling nerves of another. His will-power had deserted him.

      "I dare you to go!" badgered L. C.

      Danny's spirit flamed for one brief moment. But in the very next his head dropped, and he turned away.

      "This is going too far," the wretched little fellow heard Biddie Burton exclaim sharply.

      "What is 'going too far'?" a new voice asked out of the darkness, and Willard McKenzie advanced into the group. "What is 'going too far'?" he repeated, glancing from one to another. No answer being volunteered, his keen glance quickly singled out the shamed tenderfoot.

      "What have they been up to, Danny?" he asked.

      Danny turned and faced him.

      "Nothing that makes any difference," he said.

      It was generous in him not to "peach," and so Biddie Burton's friendly glance assured him.

      The incident passed with that, for McKenzie was full of something repressed, and, seeing it, the boys gathered close about him in eager questioning – all except Danny.

      All except Danny! His brief career – his career that only an hour ago had promised so much – had ended, and in disgrace. He had taken a dare! Nothing would ever matter to him again – Danny told his aching heart – the boys despised him, all except Biddie Burton, and, somehow, Biddie's pity was harder to bear than despite.

      "I went to the gap and wired Mr. Gordon," McKenzie was saying now, "and he told me I could put you to it at once. He's had an accident to his car and may not get here for some time."

      "What's up?" It was Roger who asked the question.

      "Something serious," answered McKenzie, "but Mr. Gordon didn't say what. Have you had supper?"

      They replied in concert, eager to receive orders.

      "Well," continued McKenzie, "we've got to cover the mountain here, for signs of – anything unusual. You'll have to be careful not to run into trouble yourselves, but you must know your ground. There'll be a good moon if the clouds break."

      "Glory be!" Danny heard Elsie Whitman breathe in expectant ecstasy, and he would have given the world to have felt with him that eager joy. But Danny had taken a dare!

      The others were chattering now, as eager as Whitman to be off on the trail of adventure.

      McKenzie was giving orders:

      "Whitman, you can take the north trail, and bear down over the mountain. Ham will strike out down the creek to the left there, and work around to your territory. There's an old cabin hidden by scrub-oaks and rocks about a quarter below the bridge there, Ham. Know it for what it is, but don't you run your long neck into danger."

      In spite of his hurt Danny was getting interested. He crept up on the outer edge of the group and listened, wide-eyed, as the other boys eagerly accepted their several commissions.

      "Roger and Ed," their leader was continuing, "bear south till you get below the drop of the cliff, and then separate and work that territory between you" – with a sweeping gesture. "Alex and Biddie – let me see – you two go over the mountain to the right of Elsie – No, there's the Death Head trail – " He paused a moment in thoughtful survey of them, and the boys looked at each other apprehensively. Not one of them was anxious to work the trail of evil name. Suddenly, however, McKenzie's eyes lighted on Danny Harding, and an inspiration seemed to come to him.

      "Say," he exclaimed, "I'll give the new recruit a chance at that. Come here, scout." And he laid a kind hand on Danny's shoulder and drew him into the circle.

      Somebody on the outskirts of the group laughed.

      "Now you are going to do your first service for your country," McKenzie said to the tenderfoot; "but whatever you do, be wary, because – "

      Somebody else laughed, and McKenzie looked about sharply. "What's the joke?" he asked.

      "Danny's afraid," the mocker explained; "that's where the dead man swings."

      Biddie strolled forward. "Alex will be enough to work Elsie's right," he said to McKenzie. "Give me the Death Head trail. You'll need Dan here about the camp."

      But Danny raised his head quickly. It is true that his face was dead-white, but his head was up.

      "I'll go to the Death Head," he said to McKenzie.

      The crowd was dumb-struck.

      "But you got white-livered and backed down – " L. C. began, after the first shock of his surprise.

      "I wouldn't go when you dared me to," said the tenderfoot, "but this is – different." And he added in his heart: "This is for my country."

      "But he is afraid," put in Roger. "Look at him!"

      McKenzie took a long, straight look into Danny's white face and determined eyes, and then turned to Roger.

      "All the gamer of him," he said, "to go in spite of being afraid – that's the stuff that Pershing is looking for. And Mr. Gordon says that a boy who 'isn't afraid of anything' hasn't sense enough to be trusted with a commission. "Kid," he continued, turning to Danny, "you find out all that there is to be known about the Death Head vicinity before you show up in camp again."

      "All right," said Danny.

      There was a gasp of surprise among them at the tenderfoot's final acceptance of the commission, but not one of them – not even Biddie – believed that he would be able to carry it through. And the sensitive, high-strung Danny went out from among them burdened with the feeling that they did not look for him to succeed.

      McKenzie walked a little way with him – big-brother fashion, with an arm over his shoulder – and gave him careful directions as to how to proceed. There would be a moon if the clouds broke, his leader warned him, and he was to keep to the shadows.

      "I'll be leaving camp myself," said McKenzie, "and will not show up again for a couple of hours. You will probably get back before the rest of us, so just roll up in your blanket and lie close under that ledge yonder – you will be perfectly safe there." A little farther up the mountain trail and McKenzie paused.

      "Never mind about the dead man, scout," he admonished finally, "but keep your eye peeled for the live one, and – 'the best of luck!'"

      "'The best of luck!'" That was what the men at the front said to a fellow when he was going over the top of the shielding trench into the dangerous unknown.

      At the familiar phrase in parting, Danny drew a quick, deep breath. Yes, he was going "over the top" – and he was going alone!

      Then McKenzie slipped quietly back, and Danny started forward up the long, dark trail alone. The ghost of a moon showed dimly through the black cloud-rack, now and again, and fitfully relieved the enveloping darkness.

      Only once did Danny look back. That was when he came to the first turn in the mountain trail which his leader had carefully explained to him. Beyond that turn, and it would be good-by to the last cheering, reassuring gleam of their camp-fire, to the last faint sound of comforting voices.

      Danny paused and looked back. Only two remained in the bright circle toward which his rapidly chilling spirit was reaching back. He recognized at once the tall, slim form of McKenzie, but – Yes, that chunky one was Biddie Burton. The two of them were standing close together, talking earnestly. And now Danny caught, by a sudden leap of the firelight, the fact that they were looking toward him. Biddie was nodding.

      It was so bright, so safe back there where they had laughed and feasted and wrangled together. Then suddenly Danny thought of the young crucifer in the little Church of the Holy Innocents.

      "Onward, Christian Soldiers!"

      The

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