The Banner Boy Scouts Afloat or, the Secret of Cedar Island by Warren, George A.

They had hardly fallen than one and all scrambled to their feet, and fled madly from the scene, as if fearful lest the whole end of the island might be blown up behind them, and catch them in a trap from which there could be no escape.

CHAPTER XXVI

HONORABLE SCARS

So it turned out after all that the scout master did not have to change his mind, and give the order for retreat. When that dreadful panic overwhelmed the scouts, it was really a case of "every one for himself."

Either by rare good luck, or some sort of instinct, the seven lads managed to keep pretty well together as they ran. Not a single fellow dreamed of allowing himself to get separated from his comrades. It seemed to be a case of "united we stand, divided we fall," or "in union there is strength."

If in their mad rush some of the boys collided with trees, or stumbled over obstacles that they failed to discover in time, they were not of a mind to let such trifles interfere with their making record time.

In such cases it was only necessary to scramble erect again, and put on a little extra spurt in order to overhaul their comrades.

What had taken them half an hour to cover when they were "scouting" in such approved fashion, was passed over in about five minutes.

It was Paul who came to his senses first. He realized that there was no one chasing them and that, to tell the truth, not one of the boys could have been seriously hurt by what had befallen.

So he began to laugh, and the sound reaching the ears of the others, appeared to act on their excited minds like soothing balm.

Gradually the whole lot slackened their pace until they were going at a jog trot; which in turn settled down to a walk.

Finally Bobolink came to a full stop.

"Whee! let's get a few decent breaths, fellows!" he managed to gasp.

The others were apparently nothing loth, and so they all drew up in a bunch. A sorry lot they looked just then, to tell the truth. It seemed as though nearly every fellow had some distinguishing mark.

Phil's rather aristocratic face had a long scratch that extended down the right side, and gave him a queer look; Jack was caressing a lump on his forehead, which he may have received from a tree, or else when he was knocked down without warning by that singular explosion; Andy was trying to quench a nose-bleed, and needed his face washed the worst way; Bluff's left eye seemed partly closed, as if he had been too close to the business end of an angry bee; while Bobolink had two or three small cuts about his face that made him look as if he had been trying to tattoo himself--with wretched success.

So they looked at one another, and each thought the balance of the crowd had the appearance of a set of lunatics on the rampage.

Hardly had they stared at each other than they set to laughing.

"Oh! my stars! but aren't you a screamer though, Andy, with all that blood smeared over your face; and Bluff, why he looks as if he'd been in a prize fight!" was the way Bobolink expressed his feelings, bending over as he laughed.