Rupert did not wake till later than usual. The previous day had been unusually fatiguing and nature had asserted her rights.

He turned over and mechanically looked over to where his companion lay at the time he went to sleep. He was a little surprised to find that he was not visible. Usually Boone slumbered till Rupert went over and waked him up.

"Ben has gone to take a walk," he said to himself. "It must be later than usual."

He looked at his watch and found that it was eight o'clock.

"Well, I did oversleep myself," he said, as he rose to his feet. "No wonder Boone got the start of me."

Upon reflection he decided that Ben had probably gone down to the boat, which was tied to a small tree on the river bank not more than five minutes' walk distant. He turned his steps in that direction. When he reached the place where the skiff was fastened, a surprise awaited him.

The boat was not there!

Still he had not the faintest suspicion that his guide had played him false and deserted him in the wilderness.

"Ben must have taken a row himself," he decided. "It is rather strange, for he isn't generally enterprising enough for that. He must have had a headache or something that prevented his sleeping. Well, I might as well take breakfast."

There was something left from supper of the night before. Rupert ate this with a hearty relish. He did not stop to make any hot coffee. Ben usually attended to this duty, and he was likely to appear at any moment.

"I will wait for Ben to come," Rupert said to himself. "I hope he hasn't gone very far."

After eating he lay back on the ground, for he still felt a little tired.

"It seems odd to be alone," he reflected.

He had not formed any particular attachment to Ben Boone, but he had a certain satisfaction in his companionship. They had become closely acquainted, and though Ben was not especially sociable, they had had some long talks together, so that Rupert felt a certain interest in his rough companion.

Half an hour passed, and Rupert began to feel impatient, as well as solitary.

"Why doesn't Ben come?" he asked himself. "It is very strange that he should go away so early and stay away so long."

As this thought came to him he happened to put his hand into the pocket where he usually kept his money.

The pocket was empty.

A suspicion for the first time dawned upon him that startled and alarmed him. He made a hurried examination of the ground around him, for he knew that it was possible that the pocketbook had slipped out of his pocket.

But his search was fruitless. The pocketbook was nowhere to be seen.

Was it possible, he asked himself, that he had been robbed? Was Ben capable of such black treachery?

The thought that his companion had proved false disturbed him more at first than the sense of his loss, but he began almost immediately to realize his predicament.

Probably he was a hundred miles away from the ranch of his friend Giles Packard. Not only this, but he was without money and without provisions, except the small supply of food which remained over from his frugal breakfast.

Then, again, he was without a boat, for the skiff had been carried away by Ben. He was alone in a wilderness.

There were very few houses within the distance over which they had traveled. If he had been in any portion of the Eastern States, among settlements and villages, he would not have minded his destitute condition—that is, not so much. He would have felt sure of getting along somehow. But as it was, there was no one to appeal to. There was no one to lend him a helping hand.

If only Ben had left him the boat, matters would not have been so bad. He would, of course, have instantly started on his return. He didn't feel at all tempted to explore farther. The fine mountain scenery which he had enjoyed yesterday had no attraction for him now.

"I'd give fifty dollars—if I had it"—he added, as the thought came to him that he had no money whatever, "to be back with Giles Packard on his ranch. Shall I ever see him again, or am I doomed to starve to death in this wilderness?"