He changed his course at once, following the brook,
since in that no telltale footprints would be left.
Behind him he heard the sound of pursuit for a little while, but he judged
that the brook would save him. He could not be pursued very far. Even in
this sleepy countryside he would find it easy to get help, and the Germans,
as he was now sure they were, would have to give up the chase. All that
had been essential had been for him to get a few hundred feet from the
park; after that he was safe.
But, if he was safe, he was hopelessly lost. At least he would have been,
had he been an ordinary boy, without the scout training. He was in unknown
country and he had been chased away from all the landmarks he had. It was
of the utmost importance that he should reach as soon as possible, and,
especially, without passing too near Bray Park, the spot where the
motorcycles and the papers and codes had been cached. And, when he finally
came to a full stop, satisfied that he no longer had anything to fear from
pursuit, he was completely in the dark as to where he was.
However, his training asserted itself. Although Harry had been in charge,
Dick had not failed to notice everything about the place where they made
their cache that would help to identify it. That was instinct with him by
this time, after two years as a scout; it was second nature.
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