"A story," Peter said, "maybe a book, but more likely a short story, with a real O. Henry punch."
"H'mph!" came in a disdainful grunt from the dozing Shelby.
"You keep still, old lowbrow," advised Peter. "Don't sniff at your betters. There's a great little old plot here, and we're going to make a good thing of it and push it along."
"Push away," and Shelby rolled himself over and dozed again.
"Where's Joshua?" asked Crane, later, as, the talk over, they prepared to bunk on their evergreen boughs.
"Haven't seen him since supper," said Shelby, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "Queer, isn't it?"
Queer it surely was, and more so, as time went by and they could find no trace of their guide.
"He can't be lost," said Kit; "he's too good a scout for that."
"He can't have deserted us," declared Peter. "He's too good a friend for that! He'll no more desert us than we'd desert one another."
"Well, he's missing anyway," Blair said, undeniably; "then something must have happened. Could he be caught in a trap?"