“Don’t build up that hope,” Mr. Livingston warned him. “We may be dealing with a man who is out of his mind.”
“That’s what alarms me,” agreed Craig Warner. “I’d feel safer if I had my gun.”
“We’re four to one,” Ken pointed out.
“True,” the rancher replied, “but numbers can be misleading. Besides, we don’t know for sure if there’s only one against us.”
Despite the discussion, no one considered turning back. The climbers had suffered too intensely to think of giving up their objective now. At least the valley was attainable, and the route down did not look too hard. But certainly the warning skeleton had alerted them to possible danger, and they knew they had to remain constantly on guard.
Pressing on, the Scouts followed Warner single file down the slope.
Deep blue shadows were lengthening by the time the four swung through a deeply wooded area. Here they proceeded with even greater caution. But, without incident, they finally came out on a flat shelf overlooking the valley.
With a common impulse, everyone halted, for the view snatched away their breath. A tiny sapphire lake lay far below. Against the dark backdrop of the mountainside stood a tiny cabin.
“That must be the place Stony and my father built,” Warner said. “We’ve reached our goal—Headless Hollow.”
“But not the gold,” Ken reminded him.