"Don't be too sure," muttered Mr. Hardy. "It may be a message saying there is no news," but he did not tell Jack this.
The sun was just crossing the zenith when Mr. Hardy took from the cleft of the branch a small packet wrapped in oiled silk, similar to the one he had left. Quickly tearing off the wrapping the guide disclosed a piece of white paper. On It was but one word:
"Come."
"Hurrah!" yelled Jack, throwing his hat into the air, and nearly losing his balance recovering it.
"Walloping washtubs!" yelled Nat.
"Let's hurry on," spoke John Smith, more quietly. But he, too, felt the excitement of the moment, only he was used to repressing his feelings.
"Prepare for a hard ride," said Mr. Hardy. "We must make Mr. Tevis's place by night, as it is dangerous to camp in the open around here. Too many wild beasts."
From the blasted oak the trail led in winding paths up the mountain. It was indeed a hard one. Great boulders blocked the path, and there were places where rains had washed out big gullies. But the horses seemed used to such traveling, for they scrambled along like goats on a rocky cliff.
It was just getting dusk when, as they topped a considerable rise, Mr. Hardy pointed ahead to where a light glimmered on the side of the mountain, and said:
"There is Mr. Tevis's house."