  Warner, the first one up, started the fire going and began mixing pan bread. Jack cut more wood and then went to get supplies from his pack. “Hey, who took my stuff?” he demanded loudly. The pack was not hanging where he had left it the previous night. While he searched, Willie let out a yip. “Hey, the food I carried is gone too!” he yelled. “All the tea, the flour, and our raisins!” Grimly, Mr. Livingston and the rancher joined in the search. Very quickly they realized it was a waste of time. “Someone sneaked up here during the night and went off with the stuff!” Jack said angrily. The loss of so much food was a serious matter. Carefully, the Scouts searched every building in the old ghost town. They came upon no one. However, as they went from cabin to cabin, they experienced a strange, uneasy feeling. “I feel as if someone is watching us,” Jack muttered, expressing the thoughts of the others. Back at camp, Warner rounded up everyone for a conference. “Loss of our food is serious,” he said. “We have some left, but not enough to go on.” The Scouts regarded him with sober faces. Until this moment, they had not realized how much it meant to them to attain their goal—Headless Hollow. “What’s the verdict?” Jack asked, after a long silence. “I hate to say this, boys,” the rancher replied. “But we’re up against it. There’s nothing we can do but turn back.” Jack poked at the rocks with a stick, thinking over the rancher’s decision. He knew it was a wise one. So did all the Scouts. “It’s like this,” Warner said. “I’ve made a fast check of our supplies. If we don’t have any further bad luck, there’s barely enough food to get us to Headless Valley, with nothing for the return trip.” “Fish,” Willie said hopefully. “We could cut our rations.” “Afraid it wouldn’t help much. We’ve made slower time than I figured. Naturally, we’ve consumed more food, and we were short enough even without this theft.” “Who do you figure did it?” Jack speculated. “Not Walz?” “I doubt Walz got this far. If he headed for the hollow as we assumed, he may have gone by a different route.” “That fellow I saw through the field glass may have done it,” Jack pursued. “Could be,” Warner agreed. “I thought you were wrong night before last when you said you saw someone, but it seems I was.” “Stealing a man’s food is serious business,” Mr. Livingston remarked. “It is,” the rancher agreed. “Why didn’t the fellow—whoever he was—come forward and ask for what he needed?” “Where is he now? That’s what I want to know,” Willie grunted. “Probably hiding out somewhere in the rocks and trees,” Warner replied. “For that matter, if he’s unfriendly, he could take a pot shot at us.” “You assume he’s armed?” Mr. Livingston asked in surprise. “Why not?” Warner hesitated and then added: “Along with the food, he took my gun. I thought I wouldn’t worry you by saying anything about it, but reckon I should.” This additional bad news hit the Scouts hard. It was War who broke the gloomy silence. “I’ve been a drag,” he admitted. “No, don’t try to feed me any soft soap. This is my point: suppose I turn back? Wouldn’t you have enough grub for the rest of the party?” “It would be shaving it too close,” Warner replied. “Maybe if two of us went back—?” suggested Willie slowly. “For instance, War and me.” “Even at that, I doubt we could make it,” Warner said after a moment’s thought. “Thanks, boys, for offering.” “Is there a forest ranger’s station near Elks Creek?” Jack asked suddenly. “Yes,” Warner told him. “Does the service have patrol planes?” “Yes. They’re stationed about fifteen miles from Elks Creek.” “The Headless Hollow area has a lake,” Jack reminded the group. “Do you suppose it would be possible to get the rangers to fly over that lake and drop a supply of food?” “Jack, you have a brain!” Ken exclaimed. “Only how do we get word to the rangers?” “That part’s easy,” Willie said quietly. “War and I will carry the message.” The unselfishness of the two Scouts drew everyone’s admiration. Jack and Ken insisted that if anyone turned back, they would be the ones to do it. But in this they were overruled by both Mr. Livingston and the rancher. After a thorough discussion, Willie’s plan prevailed. Accordingly, he and War took light packs with just enough food and bedding to see them safely back to Elks Creek. “We’ll have a plane speeding to Headless Hollow in a couple of days,” Willie promised. “But if it should be a little longer, don’t worry. We’ll get it there somehow.” “Take the return trip slowly,” Mr. Livingston urged them. He offered to go with them, but they would not hear of it. War insisted that he felt strong again after his night’s rest and could make the return journey without difficulty. “It’s better this way,” he said. “When I took a look at that mountain last night, I knew I never could make it to the pass.” “Just be sure you bring back some gold,” Willie said with a grin, as the Scouts bade him good-by. “And keep your eyes peeled for trouble.” The two trudged off, turning once to wave. Shouldering their packs, the others then started on the long climb in the opposite direction. The sun glistened brightly on the high peaks. Jack tried to distinguish the two sentinel rocks which Old Stony had led them to believe guarded the entrance into the valley. However, all the peaks looked alike to him. Warner had not exaggerated in warning that the climb would be hard. After two hours of it, the Scouts welcomed a rest. Jack dropped his bedroll and stretched out flat on his back. Shading his eyes against the glare of the sun, he let his gaze wander over the distant peaks again. For just an instant, he thought he saw the flash of color against granite rock. Getting quickly to his feet, he asked Warner for his field glass. “What do you see?” Ken demanded as Jack trained it on the rocks far above them. “The old man with whiskers?” “Nothing,” Jack reported, crestfallen. “Thought for a minute it was someone’s red shirt.” “You’re seeing things for sure!” “Guess so,” Jack conceded with a grin. He returned the glass to its case and flopped on the ground once more. After a twenty-minute rest, the party started on. The way became increasingly difficult and the footing insecure. Once Jack dislodged a small rock and it clattered down the mountainside hundreds of feet. Canyons bore the scars of sizable slides. Warner told the Scouts that in winter avalanches were a great hazard in this area—that even a small rock slide could be very dangerous. Lunch was frugal. Mr. Livingston boiled water for tea, but in the high altitude it took a long while. The Scouts satisfied themselves with crackers and cheese. “It’s always wise to eat lightly when you’re climbing,” Jack said with a grin. For another hour, they fought their way upward through the tumbled rocks. It was Warner’s hope that they could find the pass and before nightfall descend to a good camp site in the valley. |
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