“Then he’ll be returned to Rocking Horse?”
“At the state’s expense,” Warner chuckled. “He’ll have to stand trial for manslaughter in the death of Old Stony. Perhaps he can convince a jury the attack was unintentional. I seriously doubt it.”
That night, the entire party had a big dinner in the hotel at Craig Warner’s expense. He introduced them to town officials and many of his friends.
“If this keeps on, we’ll begin to think we’re more important than a bank president!” War protested. “Anyway, I’ll be glad to pull out of here tomorrow morning.”
The Explorers expected to rise at dawn, slip quietly out of the hotel, and be on their way. Therefore, it came as a surprise the next morning, when they found Craig Warner waiting for them beside their car.
“Nice day for traveling,” he drawled. “Reckon I’ll drive a piece with you, to show you the first fork in the road.”
The rancher drove ahead through the sleepy little town and into the hills. A blue haze hung over the distant mountains. A few miles out of Elks Creek, Warner pulled up, and the Scout automobile drew alongside.
“Take the road to the left,” the rancher said, indicating it with a wave of his hand. “The highway is paved all the way.”
Gravely he shook hands with Mr. Livingston and each of the Scouts in turn. Then his eyes roved toward the high peaks, behind which Headless Hollow lay hidden.
“By the way,” he said casually, “I forgot to tell you. We’re changing the name of Crazy Mountain.”