“How much farther?” he puffed.
“Not more than a mile,” the rancher replied.
The Scouts were all in good condition, and therefore the sharp climb was no test for their sturdy, muscular legs. Even War, who tired more easily than his older crew mates, found his breath holding.
At Tarta Lake Walz collapsed on the grass. He rested while Warner and the Scouts built a fire and set steaks to broiling.
The mountains had brought peace and relaxation to the Explorers. Even their irritation at Walz faded away as they gathered about the glowing log for an hour of rest and talk.
Warner, usually quiet, related a variety of stories about the area. Purposely, however, he avoided mention of Headless Hollow.
“It’s queer about mountains,” he said, watching sparks fly up from the fire. “They have a way of showing a man for what he is.”
Walz eyed him suspiciously but made no comment.
Soon it was time to start back to the ranch. Warner made certain every spark of the fire was out, and they began the long trek. Obviously very tired, Walz dragged at the end of the line. Warner slowed his pace, but even so the motel owner could not keep up. Once he stumbled against a tree and gave it a savage kick.
Finally, when they were at the ranch once more, the motel owner collapsed on the davenport with a little moan.