“Maybe not, Ken. You remember, Mr. Livingston told them we might be gone over night.”
“What bothers me, is how are they going to help us even after they discover our situation? One can’t build a bridge in five minutes.”
“We’ll have to risk a raft probably.”
“And maybe be swept down into the whirlpool. No thanks!”
The two Explorers rejoined Mr. Livingston and Phillipe, who were dishing up breakfast. The meal revived everyone’s spirits.
“What’s the plan?” Jack questioned the Scout leader.
“We’ll send up some smoke signals,” Mr. Livingston advised. “That should draw attention to our plight.”
The morning was clear and windless. Knowing that a column of smoke would rise high, the Scouts were hopeful that despite the rim of mountain peaks, it would be visible at the mining camp.
“War and Willie will soon know we’re in trouble,” Ken asserted, starting to gather an armful of dry twigs.
Jack already was accumulating a pile of green leaves and had dampened a blanket at the stream.