“There’s only one thing to do,” Warner decided. “Something has happened to the Forest Service plane, I’m afraid. I’ll start right away for Elks Creek. The only thing—I hate to leave you alone here with two injured men.”
“We’ll make out,” the Scout leader assured him. “Wait a few hours, though, before you start. If I know Willie and War, they won’t let us down.”
Ken and Jack set out the signal cloth near the lake, hoping that any pilot flying that way would see it. Several hours elapsed.
The day was clear, with very little wind. Conditions were nearly perfect for flying, yet no plane appeared over the mountains.
“Something must have happened to Willie and War,” Mr. Livingston declared, pacing nervously up and down. “Otherwise, help would have reached us by now.”
“They’ve had plenty of time to get through,” Warner agreed. “To wait and hope any longer is foolish.”
Without further discussion, he gathered his gear together. Jack and Ken walked with him toward the trail to the pass.
“I’ll make as fast a trip as I can,” he promised.
A bright glare was on the jagged mountain peaks. Staring toward the pass, Jack thought he saw a small moving speck in the sky. He rubbed his eyes. Imagination, he told himself, for he had given up hope that the plane would come.
Then Ken let out an excited shout. He too had seen the moving object against the dark mountainside.