Late the previous night, the four Scouts and their guide had reached the hotel. The long hike over the mountains had been exhausting, if uneventful. Nevertheless, even War and Willie had stood the hard trip surprisingly well. A good night’s rest and a hearty breakfast had revived everyone.
Very early, both Mr. Livingston and Mr. Warner had been called to the hospital. The Scouts had received no word from them since their hurried departure.
To kill time, the Explorers began mapping out the route they would take on the remainder of the trip back to Belton City. For the first time since they had left their homes weeks before, they eagerly looked forward to returning.
“Route 52 looks the best to me,” Ken said, marking it with a red pencil. “To be sure, though, we’ll have to check at the first Automobile Club office.”
Footsteps were heard outside the hotel room. Instantly, the Scouts lost interest in the map. The door opened, and both Mr. Livingston and Craig Warner came in. Looking tired, the two men sat down.
The Scout leader said, “Joe Hansart is dead.”
“Dead!” Jack repeated sadly.
Mr. Livingston nodded. “Pneumonia,” he explained briefly. “The doctors did everything possible, but not even the miracle drugs could save him.”
“Did he die without recovering his senses?” Willie asked in a low voice.
“No,” the Scout leader answered. “At the end he was quite clear in his mind. That was why the hospital officials sent for us.”