“Hold on!” Mr. Livingston said, smiling broadly. “We made a promise to Stony, and we shall do all we can to find Craig Warner ourselves.”
“You mean you don’t trust me.”
“It’s not that,” the Scout leader replied. “We just feel we owe it to Stony to deliver the map ourselves.”
“And if you fail?”
“Then there may be no reason why you shouldn’t have it. The Scouts, I assure you, have no intention of going on a wild gold chase.”
When it became clear to the motel owner that he could not move Mr. Livingston, he asked, “Then how do you plan to deliver the map?”
“The safest way would be to take it to Elks Creek—if there is such a place.”
“Elks Creek is a real place, all right,” Walz informed him, “but it’s an out-of-the way cow town off the main highway. I could take you there, only my car is out of commission.”
The Scouts waited, wondering what the motel owner had in mind. It was obvious that he was leading up to something.
“This is my proposition,” Walz said. “Elks Creek isn’t any more than seventy-five or one hundred miles out of your way, if you’re traveling east. Take me along, and I’ll pay the entire cost of the trip from here to Craig Warner’s place.”