Then they halted to listen.
"I don't know whether I'm any good at judging distances," Dick whispered, "but it seemed to me that whatever exploded was not much more than three hundred yards from camp." "About that distance, I should say," Tom agreed.
"Then we've gone about as far as the place of the explosion.
Suppose we keep very quiet and listen." "Ugh!" grunted Greg.

"I hope the earth doesn't blow up under our feet." "Go back to camp, if you're nervous," smiled Dick, but Greg remained where he was.
"I'm going out a little way and prowl," whispered Dick, pointing in the direction he had chosen.

"Tom, why don't you travel in about the opposite direction ?" Reade nodded.
"Where shall I go ?" asked Greg.
"You had better remain right here," Prescott whispered.

"If you should hear either of us yell for help then you could start in the direction of the sound." "Then I'll get into those bushes," whispered Greg.

"When you come back, come straight to the bushes, so I'll know that it's one of my own crowd.